The Parent Trap. Lissa Manley
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the time?”
Brandon gave her an indulgent smile. Nine-year-old girls certainly weren’t very subtle. “Actually, Zoe, I do. I’ve been running since we moved here because I haven’t had time to join a gym.” He turned his attention to Jill. “What do you think of The Health Hut?”
She lifted one slim shoulder. “I think it’s the only gym in Elm Corners, so I like it.”
“Maybe you should join, Mr. Clark,” Zoe suggested, her eyes alight with enthusiasm. “You two could work out together.”
While the thought of Jill Lindstrom in workout gear sounded great—he was pretty sure she’d have great legs—Brandon wouldn’t ever spend any personal time with her; dating definitely wasn’t on his to-do list. “I don’t know,” he said, attempting to sound noncommittal. It wouldn’t be fair to get the girls’ hopes up.
His tactic rolled right off Zoe, who looked at her mom and said, “Mom, you should take him to the gym with you tomorrow and help him find out about a membership.”
Jill glanced at Zoe, then took a healthy swig of wine. “I’m certainly willing to show him around the Hut if he wants me to, but it’s up to him.” She turned her attention his way, her mouth curved into a tight smile that seemed to say, Humor them and they’ll lay off.
He liked her style, and her idea. “I’ll get back to you on that, okay?”
“Okay,” Jill said, pushing her hair behind one ear. “I go three times a week after Zoe goes to school.”
He nodded but didn’t reply, eating instead. Man, she was pretty, and nice, too. Very, very appealing in a lot of ways. Honestly, he kind of wanted to take her up on her offer and hang out at the gym with her. Just the thought of Jill in shorts and a T-shirt turned him on.
Whoa. Spending any personal time with Jill, especially any time that exposed her long, lean legs was a bad, bad idea, one that he was sure sounded so damn good only because he’d been without any serious female companionship for so long. A necessary evil he ruthlessly enforced to protect himself and Kristy from hurt.
He had to remember that. Though surprisingly he regretted it, Jill had to remain nothing more than his daughter’s best friend’s mother.
After a lively discussion about the girls’ school, an amusing story about Kristy’s kitty, Beau, and Jill’s advice to Brandon about the best place to have his dress shirts dry-cleaned, Zoe and Kristy popped up from their seats, grabbed their plates and hightailed it out of the dining room. Zoe, the crafty little manipulator, dimmed the dining-room lights on the way into the kitchen, leaving Jill alone with Brandon in the slightly darkened room.
Jill suppressed an amused yet wary smile and finished off her glass of wine. Before she could start the conversation back up, flowery instrumental music floated in from the stereo in the family room. Apparently the girls were setting the mood.
A shiver of anxiety shot through Jill. She deftly avoided Brandon’s hot, dark gaze, forcing herself to relax, even though sitting in a darkened room with a good-looking man she’d just met, music wafting through the air, wasn’t exactly relaxing.
She shoved that thought aside. She was in charge of her romantic destiny, no matter what kind of corny, contrived romantic situations Zoe and Kristy cooked up.
“They’re not terribly subtle, are they?” Brandon said over his wineglass, his dark eyes twinkling.
Jill shook her head. “No, they’re not,” she said.
“Next thing you know they’ll be herding us to a church to get married.”
While she liked the fact that Brandon could joke about a situation that could be construed as embarrassing and awkward, a flash of guilt shot through her. “I’m…sorry for all of this. I knew they were up to something, but I had no idea how far they’d take it.”
He put down his empty wineglass, holding up a hand. “Don’t worry about it. I think it’s kind of endearing, and I have to admire the lengths they’ve gone to to make this work. They’ve really put some thought into all of this.”
Jill’s face warmed. “I’m afraid we have my daughter to thank for most of it. She’s quite determined, and I’m pretty sure she had some outside help.”
He raised his eyebrows in an unspoken question.
Jill sighed. “My dad spends a lot of time with Zoe, and he’s…well, he’s an inventor of sorts, and Zoe is really into the whole inventing thing.” Jill accepted that situation because of the good relationship Zoe and her grandpa had. But deep down, it bothered Jill that her daughter was so keen on following in “Wacky” Winters’s footsteps, a path that had been a burden to Jill her whole life.
“So…what?” Brandon threw her a quizzical look. “You think they’re trying to invent a mom and dad by having you and me get together?”
“Pretty much.”
Brandon laughed, a deep rich sound that made goose bumps scatter across Jill’s skin. “Well, I have to hand it to them. They’ve done an amazing job.” He hit her with a crooked grin, his eyes intent on her face, setting off a hot shiver. “If I were in the market for a romance, I’d hire them.”
Jill quickly looked at her plate, ignoring how his simple look lit fires inside her, choosing instead to focus on how much she wanted to ask Brandon why he was so obviously not in the market for a romance. But she held back. That was too personal a question to ask a man she’d just met, even if he did light up her senses and turn her dormant libido back on.
She focused instead on how she appreciated that he was being such a good sport about their scheming daughters. She sneaked a glance at him, also really liking his dark good looks, charming sense of humor and knee-weakening smile.
Before she could go very far with that thought, a loud explosion sounded from out back, rattling the silverware on the table.
Her face heating—darn her dad’s timing—Jill quickly glanced at Brandon, noting with little surprise that his dark eyes were wide with shock.
“What was that?” Brandon asked.
“Oh, don’t worry,” she said, casually waving a hand in the air, hoping to minimize the whole embarrassing event. “It’s just my dad…inventing in his workshop out back.”
She fiddled with her napkin, praying her dad didn’t follow his usual routine and come inside. The last thing she wanted was for Brandon to meet her eccentric father—many people reacted to his goofy looks with disbelieving laughter—although why she cared at all what Brandon thought was a mystery.
Brandon smiled, his dark eyes twinkling. “Ah, good. I thought maybe an airliner had crashed in the backyard.”
Jill let out a sigh, wishing she could appreciate his joke. “No, no, nothing as dramatic as that. Just my dad doing his thing.” The thing that had set her apart from everybody when she’d been growing up. How many times had other kids teased her because of her dad’s crazy invention antics, chanting “Wacky Winters is so weird,” over and over again? How many times had someone in town laughingly asked how Wacky was, a question that was always followed by something like “Has he blown up anything important yet?”
Right on schedule, she heard the back door open and close. “Jilly,” her dad called. “You here?”
Jill rolled her eyes. Oh, brother. Her dad knew darn well she was here, since he’d undoubtedly been in on the girls’ matchmaking plan. “Yes, Dad,” she replied, resigned to the inevitable introductions—and Brandon’s amusement. “In the dining room.”
A moment later her dad burst through the door into the dining room, his wild gray curly hair sticking out at all angles, his black horn-rimmed glasses—held together with duct tape—askew. Every inch of his six-foot-two-inch frame was covered in black soot and bits of what looked like…bright pink silly string? What in the world had he been doing this time?
He