We Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus. Brenda Novak
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is labeled, in case you forget. And tomorrow I’m going to do an index that will help you find any file you need in seconds.”
An attack of conscience over his earlier reaction to her efforts on the files caused Cole to clear his throat and turn away. Discovering his keys on the counter, he dropped them into her palm and forced himself to thank her. “That was a lot of work. I appreciate that you went the extra mile,” he said. “You know I don’t expect you to stay past five o’clock, though, don’t you?”
She smiled. “Oh, I know. I wanted to finish. And I’m glad I did. It really taught me a lot. I bet I know more about you now than most people.”
When Cole met her eyes, he pictured Terry’s arm slung casually around her shoulders, remembered seeing them dance at the senior prom as king and queen—right before he cut out of the dance for good. She didn’t know anything about him. Not really. And if he could help it, she never would.
“I’d offer you something to eat,” he said, “but I usually eat out so my cupboards are bare. I do have a microwave dinner, if you’re interested.”
“You eat microwave dinners?”
He used to cook every night, but only because he had to. When he was young, he had to feed his brothers. When he left Feld, he was still living on a shoestring and survived on macaroni and cheese and corn dogs—not that he called that cooking. Since then, things had changed considerably. “I don’t have time for anything else.”
“Who’s Laura?” she asked. “Your girlfriend?”
“Just a friend.”
“Doesn’t she cook for you?”
“Occasionally,” he said, because he didn’t want to go into the fact that even if she had cooked for him at one time, she probably wouldn’t be doing it anymore. He didn’t like talking about Laura. She was a nice person who deserved a husband and children, if that was what she wanted. And he felt guilty for not giving her that. Sometimes he told himself it was pure selfishness that made him refuse her, but if he’d learned anything from Rochelle, it was that a sense of obligation wasn’t a reliable basis for marriage. Bottom line, he wasn’t walking down the aisle again for anyone. Marriage made him feel smothered, restricted, and only added to his burden of responsibility.
“Well, work comes early in the morning,” she said, singling the ignition key out from the others and edging toward the hall that would take her back around to the office.
“You can go out the main entryway. I’ll lock the office,” he volunteered.
“Thanks.” She followed as he led her through the living room to the front of the house. “I’ll be careful with your truck.”
He held the door as she went out, bade her good-night and watched her drive away. Then he locked up and went to do the same in the office. But when he passed the copier room, he couldn’t help stopping in and opening the file drawers. Sure enough, every folder was now clearly labeled and perfectly organized. He’d been wrong to assume the worst.
“I’ll be damned,” he muttered, closing the last drawer. “And she did it on her first day.”
Maybe hiring her hadn’t been so stupid. Maybe she was just what Perrini Homes needed.
Maybe she was just what he needed.
No. Laura, or someone like her, suited him better, he told himself. But he couldn’t explain why he wasn’t more disappointed that his ex-girlfriend hadn’t contacted him. Neither could he say why it wasn’t her lips he imagined kissing as he climbed back into bed.
LEATHER INTERIOR. Nothing smelled better, Jaclyn decided as she drove the ten miles to her house, coveting Cole’s smooth-riding Navigator. Once she got her real-estate license and started selling homes, she’d be able to buy herself a new SUV. She used to drive expensive cars and trucks all the time when she was with Terry, but it wasn’t the same. Like everything else, their vehicles had belonged to Burt.
Jaclyn grimaced as she pictured Burt’s face. If she disliked anyone, she disliked him. He ruled his house with an iron fist, had Terry’s mother, Dolores, completely cowed, and thought Terry should have been able to exert the same kind of control over Jaclyn. When Jaclyn had sued for divorce, it was Burt who headed up the opposition. First he tried to shame her into staying, then he tried to bribe her with a new house and a larger monthly allowance. At last he waged a smear campaign against her on the basis of her parenting skills and tried to take away her children. Fortunately, the judge hadn’t allowed him to take them completely—he’d given her and Terry joint custody. But the courts had cooperated more fully with the Wentworths in the financial realm. The smile on Burt’s face the last time she’d seen him told her the court battles might finally be over, but nothing was set in stone. He thought poverty would eventually drive her back to Terry. But thanks to a little help from Cole and a whole lot of determination on her part, the great Burt Wentworth wasn’t going to get what he wanted. Not this time.
Signaling, Jaclyn pulled into the 7-Eleven only a few blocks from her house. It was late and she was tired, but she was enjoying driving Cole’s SUV, listening to his CDs and smelling the lingering scent of his cologne. When they were in high school, she’d never really let herself think about him—her heart had always belonged to Terry, and Cole had seemed too…sensual, too dangerous somehow—but she had to admit he was attractive. She could definitely see how Rochelle had fallen for him.
Jaclyn browsed through the store, eventually buying an iced mocha and a microwave burrito for dinner, along with a couple of candy bars for dessert. How long had it been since she’d felt this good? she wondered as she carried it all back to Cole’s truck. Ages. Since before the divorce—years before, when her parents were alive, and she was still hopeful that her marriage had a chance.
She sat in the lot and ate her meal to a Santana CD, then tossed her garbage into the trash and headed home. Maybe her life was about to get easier, she thought. But then she pulled into her drive and saw Terry’s truck parked at the house, and knew, for tonight, it was only going to get worse.
“What’s he doing here a day early?” she muttered, parking to the side so he could still get his truck out.
The door to the house opened before Jaclyn ever reached the porch, and Terry emerged, wearing his usual Wrangler jeans, T-shirt and cowboy hat.
“Where the hell have you been?” he demanded, taking one look at her dress, and the high heels she carried in her left hand.
“At work,” she said.
“Like hell. We went by Joanna’s. They said you don’t work there anymore. They said you were fired.”
Jaclyn would rather Terry not know about the firing, but now that the truth was out…“I was,” she admitted. “There was a misunderstanding. But I’ve got a new job now.”
He glanced beyond her to Cole’s truck, and his lips twisted into a sneer. “Looks like it pays a whole lot better than waitressing.”
Jaclyn’s stomach started to hurt. Maybe she’d eaten too fast. Or too much. Or maybe she felt another argument coming on. “It does. But the Navigator’s not mine.”
“Whose is it?”
Remembering his reaction the last time she mentioned Cole, Jaclyn decided to keep him out of it. “A friend’s. What are you doing here today, anyway? You weren’t supposed to come until tomorrow.”
“What’s the matter? Now that the kids are back, you afraid you’re not going to be able to run around anymore?”
“Why are you acting as though you’re doing me some kind of favor taking the children?” she asked. “You’re the one who sued for custody!”
“That doesn’t mean I’m going to let you use me to baby-sit while you go out on the town looking for another meal ticket.”
Anger made Jaclyn’s hands shake. “I’m