One In A Million. Susan Mallery
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or a secret finish or something that cranked up the price tag to the stratosphere.
“We’ll talk,” she told her oldest.
“You always say that, but we never have the conversation,” he complained as he stalked out of the room.
She watched him go and was pleased when he turned into the kitchen rather than heading toward the stairs and up to his room. Brett was twelve—nearly a teenager. She didn’t want to think about handling a teenage boy all on her own. She didn’t like to think about dealing with any of it all on her own. Unfortunately, she didn’t have a choice. The past few years had taught her that alone was a whole lot better than marriage to the wrong guy.
She turned back to Nash. “How about coffee and shortbread cookies?”
He finished putting the tools in the box and stood. “Sounds terrific.”
“I’ll bring them into the dining room in about five minutes.”
She started to leave, then stopped. The washer clicked over from spin to rinse. “I still can’t believe you fixed that. I have laundry piled up to the ceiling. We’ve been running out of clothes. I really do appreciate your help.”
“I was glad to do it.” He leaned against the washer. “My work keeps me pretty busy. I’m not used to having a lot of free time and this gave me something to do.”
She laughed. “Uh-huh. Next you’ll be telling me I was doing you the favor by letting you work on the washer.”
“Exactly.”
“Nice try, Nash, but I don’t buy it.”
She headed for the kitchen. Every single cell in her body tingled from their close encounter. Did sexual attraction burn calories? Wouldn’t it be nice if it did?
She started a fresh pot of coffee, then got out glasses for the boys. Brett poured the milk while she set out grapes, string cheese and a plate of cookies. By the time that was done, the coffee had finished. She poured it into a carafe, then set it on the tray, along with shortbread cookies, grapes and some crab puffs she’d been defrosting.
“Be right back,” she told her children as she picked up the tray and walked toward the dining room.
Nash stood by the front window, staring out onto the street. When she entered, he turned and smiled.
“Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.” She put down the tray. “Let me know if you need anything else.”
“I will.”
She would like to tell herself that he was talking about more than just the food. While she was busy imagining that, she could pretend that his gaze lingered on her face and that his relaxed stance belied pulsing erotic tension building just below the surface of his calm facade. Or she could be realistic and get her fanny back to the kitchen.
Being reasonably intelligent, she chose the latter and left Nash in peace. The poor man hadn’t asked for her sudden rush of hormones. If she didn’t want to embarrass them both, she was going to have to find a way to get her wayward imagination under control. If logic wasn’t going to work, she was going to have to think of more drastic measures.
“Tell me about school,” she said as she slid onto the chair between Adam and Jason.
Her twins were in third grade, while Brett had just finished his first year in middle school.
“Mrs. Roscoe said we’re her best class ever,” Adam told her. “We beat all the other classes.” He gave his twin a triumphant grin.
Jason ignored him. “We got our summer reading lists today, Mom,” he said. “I’ve picked out five books already. Can we go to the library this week?”
“Sure. You’ll all want to think about summer reading. We’re going to have to talk about how many books you’ll be getting through. Are there book reports?”
Adam reached for the backpack he’d left on the floor and pulled out a folder. He passed a single sheet of paper to her.
Stephanie scanned the directions, then glanced at Brett. “What about you?”
He rolled his eyes. “It’s up in my room. We have to do about two pages. I want to do mine on the computer. Are we getting a new one? You said we’d talk about it when school was out.”
“You’re right. And unless I’m reading the calendar wrong, school isn’t out yet.”
“We’ve got four days left.”
“Which gives me ninety-six hours until you can start bugging me.”
Brett tried to hide his smile, but she saw it. He’d been after her for a new computer for the better part of a year. While there was nothing wrong with the one they had, it didn’t play the really cool games. She figured she could probably put him off until Christmas when her “twenty dollars a week” fund would have reached computer size. Then the new computer would be a family gift.
Adam bounced in his chair. “I have a new joke,” he announced. “Knock knock.”
“Those are baby jokes,” Brett said as he took a cookie.
“They are age-appropriate,” Stephanie told him. “I listened to yours when you were his age.”
Brett sighed, then dutifully went through the joke with his brother who squealed with delight when he repeated the word who enough for Adam to ask him why he was being an owl. Jason giggled at his older brother.
As the three of them took turns talking about their day, Stephanie found her attention sliding to the man in the next room. He was sitting out there alone while she was in here with her family. She kept having to fight the impulse to invite him to join them. Which was crazy. She’d never once encouraged guests to befriend her children. Besides, if Nash was alone, it was by choice.
He was probably married, she told herself. Or he had a serious girlfriend back in Chicago. She knew he had family here—he’d mentioned the Hayneses, although not how he was related to them.
Indecision made her fidget in her seat until she couldn’t stand it anymore.
“I’ll be right back,” she told the boys and stalked out of the room.
This was insane, she told herself. She was asking for trouble. Worse, she was asking for humiliation. She needed therapy.
As there was no psychologist standing by to offer advice, she walked into the dining room only to find Nash where she’d last seen him. Standing in front of the window looking out onto the street.
A quick glance at the tray told her he hadn’t touched the food she’d brought him. He hadn’t even poured any coffee.
He turned around and raised his eyebrows in silent query.
After clearing her throat, she tried to figure out what to say. Nothing brilliant occurred to her so she was left with slightly awkward.
“You must miss your family,” she said.
His eyebrows lowered and drew together. “I haven’t met them yet.”
What? Oh. “I meant your family in Chicago.”
“I don’t have any there. I’m not married.”
Score one for the hormones, she thought, trying not to feel or look relieved. The good news was that when Nash left, she would have a great time remembering all the surging feelings she’d experienced while he was here. It would be a lot more interesting than sorting coupons or ironing.
“Okay.” She sucked in a breath. “You can tell me no. It’s completely crazy and not even why you’re here. I don’t usually even ask. Why would you want to?” She shook her head. “Forget it.”
She took a step back.
He blinked at her. “Was there a question