Chapter Three

      Julie looked around with interest as Caleb pulled into the parking lot of a diner. The front of it was shaped like an old-fashioned trolley car, and it exuded a homey charm that appealed to her. But that it would appeal to Caleb surprised her. It was not at all the type of restaurant she would have expected a wealthy, sophisticated man like Caleb Tarrington to patronize.

      “Coffee, please,” Caleb told the waitress who appeared beside their booth the moment they sat down.

      Julie studied his long, tanned fingers as they beat an impatient tattoo on the tabletop while he waited for their coffee to arrive. They were strong fingers, but it wasn’t just physically that he was strong.

      Caleb Tarrington was strong inside, where it really counted. In the character department. His dogged determination to do his best by his son was proof of that. His entire concentration had been on Will and how to best help him adjust to his new life.

      The man deserved the truth from her.

      “Thank you,” Julie murmured absently as the waitress set her coffee down. But how much of the truth would be beneficial without discouraging him? she wondered.

      “Spare me the euphemisms.” Caleb seemed to read her mind with no difficulty. “Tell me what you think in plain English, not wrapped up in a lot of educational jargon or psychobabble.”

      “Okay, if the plain unvarnished truth is what you want, then it’s what you’ll get.

      “First of all, I think your son has been neglected. Not physically, but emotionally and socially.”

      Caleb clamped his lips together as if holding back angry words, but who they were directed at, Julie didn’t know. His ex-wife for what she had done to Will, or, more accurately, hadn’t done, or herself for having the audacity to point it out.

      “I figured that one out myself,” Caleb finally said. “But that’s past. It can’t be changed. Now we need to devise a strategy for dealing with it.”

      Not we, Julie mentally corrected him. Caleb. She wasn’t going to get involved.

      “I will give you my input, but I have plans for the summer,” Julie said.

      “And your input is?” Caleb ignored the second part of her sentence.

      “Based on my brief, my very brief, observation of your son, I would say that you have a two-pronged problem. The first and the easiest to deal with is his lack of necessary first-grade skills. It’s a big plus that he reads well. Hopefully, his reading has brought him into contact with some of the history he should know.”

      “History!” Caleb’s dark eyebrows arched in surprise. “In the first grade?”

      “Definitely. Oh, we still do a few of the old-style social studies units on family and community, but we also give the kids a solid grounding in the history of the world and the United States.”

      “Don’t you think you’re pushing them a little? These are six-year-old kids, after all.”

      “Inquisitive six-year-old kids. Giving them a sense of history early is crucial.

      “But that’s a side issue,” she said. “Scholastically, Will’s most pressing need would appear to be bringing his writing and math skills up to speed. I don’t anticipate much of a problem because he seems to be a very bright little boy.

      “However, his social skills…” Julie paused, mentally searching for a diplomatic way of saying it.

      “You mean his language would send any suburban soccer mom running for her four-wheel drive?” Caleb said bluntly.

      Julie sighed. “Unfortunately that’s exactly what I mean. But even worse than his colorful language is that he doesn’t seem to realize that he shouldn’t say…the things he does.”

      Caleb smiled ruefully. “He’s more amoral than immoral?”

      “Got it in one! Which unfortunately is going to make the job that much harder.”

      Caleb frowned, and Julie watched as a muscle in the corner of his mouth twitched with the strength of the emotions he was holding in check. Seeing Caleb angry would be a formidable sight, Julie thought with an inward shudder. She wouldn’t care to have that anger directed at her.

      “Why harder?” Caleb asked.

      “Because if Will knew that the words he used were…”

      “Bad?” Caleb filled in.

      “No!” Julie vehemently shook her head, and Caleb watched in fascination as the light-brown strands brushed the velvety skin of her cheeks. Her hair looked so soft and silky.

      He wondered what it would feel like to leisurely run his fingers through it. To have the curly ends brush against his bare skin. He swallowed uneasily as his body began to react to the images flooding his mind. With an effort, he wrenched his thoughts back to what she was saying and not what she looked like.

      “Words in and of themselves are not bad,” Julie insisted. “It’s people’s reactions to them that cause the trouble. Most kids learn very early which words get a rise out of their parents, and they tend to save those words to use on the playground to try to impress the other kids with how daring they are.”

      “But Will isn’t being daring,” Caleb said. “He’s simply repeating what he thinks is normal.”

      “Exactly. You’re going to have to teach him to substitute more acceptable words.”

      “How am I supposed to do that? I can’t stand over him twenty-four hours a day and correct his English.”

      Julie chuckled at the image Caleb’s words evoked.

      Caleb momentarily forgot his growing sense of impending disaster at the enchanting sound of her laughter. It trickled through his mind, lightening his mood, and making him believe that he really could cope with his son’s problems.

      “Maybe if I found Will a playmate or two from among my friends’ sons,” Caleb said thoughtfully.

      “Bad idea,” Julie vetoed. “At least, initially. Kids being kids, Will is far more likely to teach his language to them than learn to suppress it because they don’t use it.”

      “You think so?” Caleb asked doubtfully.

      “I know so,” Julie said firmly. “And I also know that the mothers’ reaction will be to refuse to allow their sons to play with Will, which will effectively isolate him. And social isolation is a recipe for a very unhappy childhood. Give him a month to get used to not using objectionable words, and then you can find him a couple of playmates.”

      “I suppose—” Caleb broke off as the cell phone in his pocket rang. “Excuse me, I’d better get this,” he said. “It could be Miss Vincent about Will.”

      Julie leaned back against the vinyl cushion as he answered the call. It quickly became apparent that the caller wasn’t his housekeeper. From the totally incomprehensible conversation Caleb was carrying on about stress mass, she guessed the call was work-related.

      She watched him as he talked, fascinated by the way he gestured with his hands to make a point. Caleb Tarrington was the most physically compelling man she had ever met. There was something about the sum of his parts that appealed to her on an instinctive level as no other man ever had.

      Intellectual attraction she could understand and deal with. But how on earth could she reason with the breathless excitement that flooded her every time she looked at him? She had no idea