Undercover Princess. Suzanne Brockmann
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“No, I’m sorry,” he said.
She’d lost her hold on some of the slippery plastic bags, and now they were pinned between them. Trey grabbed for the bags with his left hand, juggling his morning mug of coffee in his right.
He should have just let them fall. Instead, he grabbed the swiss cheese and a packet of ham—along with Kathy’s right breast.
“God, I’m sorry,” he said again.
She made it to the counter and dumped the cold cuts there. She was laughing, thank God, although her cheeks were tinged pink with a blush.
She looked about eighteen years old this morning, with her hair pulled back into a ponytail, face scrubbed freshly clean of makeup, dressed in an oversize sweatshirt and jeans.
“Well,” she said. “That certainly woke me up.”
“Sorry.” Damn, he was blushing, too. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d actually blushed. Was it back in sixth grade or maybe third…?
He refused to think about how soft her body felt, or the fact that the accidental full body block had been the closest he’d been to a woman in far too long. He refused to acknowledge the sharp flare of sensation and emotion. He didn’t want to analyze whether that sudden turmoil in his chest was the result of longing or need or even attraction—he’d already decided that his feelings toward Kathy were brotherly.
He quickly changed the subject. “And as long as I’m apologizing, I’m sorry I had to cancel our meeting last night.”
“No problem,” she said briskly. “Thank you for leaving a note.”
“I had to go into the office—I didn’t get back until late. I think it was around two-thirty,” Trey explained. He didn’t want her thinking he’d blown her off for anything other than work. “We’ve got a deadline for a big software project for an important client. We’re down to the wire—I’ve got teams working around the clock. There was a problem and the project manager was home celebrating her tenth wedding anniversary, so I went in instead.”
She looked up from making Doug’s sandwich to smile at him. “That was so sweet of you.”
Sweet. God. He didn’t think he’d ever been called sweet in his entire life. He shrugged. “Anyone who can stay married for ten years these days deserves a night off.”
“I’m never getting married. It’s definitely overrated.” Stacy was wearing her standard black, and this morning she’d accessorized it with an equally dark scowl. She got on her skateboard and rolled with her bowl and a box of her current favorite nuts-and-twigs-type cereal to the kitchen table.
“Is it possible,” Trey said to his daughter, “for you to leave that thing at the door?”
She didn’t answer him. He hadn’t really expected her to.
She rolled back to the counter and glared at the orange juice as she poured herself a glass.
Mornings were by far one of the roughest times of the day. Like Trey, neither Stacy nor Doug were morning people, and the rush to get ready for school could be fraught with real peril.
“So, Stacy,” Kathy said exuberantly, “what do you want on your sandwich? Roast beef or ham?” It was possible that her British accent made her sound extra cheerful. Or maybe she simply was bright and upbeat in the morning.
Stacy didn’t look up from the table where she was slumped over her bowl. “I don’t want lunch.”
“Too bad,” Trey said. “You’re going to have lunch whether you want it or not.” As soon as the words left his mouth, he knew it had been the wrong thing to say. But he couldn’t seem to be in a room with his daughter these days without triggering some kind of disagreement. He couldn’t so much as look at the kid without feeling this flare of frustration and despair. “Give her ham and cheese,” he told Kathy grimly.
But Kathy was still being cheerful, ignoring the tension that filled the room. “How ‘bout it, Stacy? Ham and cheese today?”
“I’m a vegetarian.”
“But last night you ate Anita’s stew—”
“Today,” Stacy said rudely. “I’m a vegetarian today.”
Lord, help me. Trey realized from Stacy’s belligerent expression and from Kathy’s sudden wide eyes that he’d spoken aloud. “Sorry,” he said. Damn it, all he was doing this morning was apologizing. “Fine, Stace. Take a cheese sandwich.”
“I’m vegan.” At his blank look, she added, “No cheese.” You idiot. She didn’t say the words aloud, but they certainly were implied.
“Great. Take a salad.” He tried to mimic Kathy’s upbeat style as he turned to her. “Do we have lettuce?”
“Absolutely.” Kathy’s smile was warm and welcoming after Stacy’s icy look. “One salad, coming up.”
Doug skittered into the kitchen on all fours and Trey felt his neck and shoulders get even tighter. He was about to bark out an order for his son to get to his feet and walk, when Kathy stepped very firmly on his toe. “Ow,” he said instead.
Then he watched as Doug stopped short at the sight of his favorite bowl—a plastic dog dish bearing the word Rover—out on the floor, filled with unappetizingly hard pellets of kibble.
Well, now, that was interesting. Trey had never tried pushing Doug’s game to the extreme, actually trying to feed the kid dog food.
The look on Dougie’s face was comical. Or, at least, it would have been had Trey found anything at all funny about the fact that his son was more comfortable as a canine than a human.
“Good morning, Douglas,” Kathy said to him cheerfully, Mary Poppins in a sweatshirt. “Are you going to be a dog this morning or a boy? I bought the boy a special treat, but in order to have it, you’ve got to sit at the table and eat with a spoon.”
Sure enough, she’d set a place at the table for Doug, in front of which was a pitcher of milk and a box of sugary cereal.
Doug’s eyes widened, and then—for the first time in weeks, at least as far as Trey had heard—he actually spoke. “Lucky Charms!” He pushed himself onto his feet and ran for the table, sliding into his seat.
And then, maybe even more miraculously, Stacy actually lifted her head from her own breakfast and smiled. Of course, her smile was for Kathy, who was smiling back at the girl and giving her a thumbs-up.
Clearly, they’d been coconspirators in this Lucky Charms plot.
Kathy was wearing black nail polish—a definite sign that she’d spent at least part of the evening in his daughter’s company. Trey was pleased. Or at least he hoped he was pleased.
He leaned closer to Kathy, lowering his voice. “You didn’t leave the kids home by themselves to go buy that, did you?”
She gave him her oh-dear look. “Of course not. I had it delivered.” She leaned closer. “Sorry about your toe.”
She smelled amazingly good, a mixture of clean soap and some softly, delicately fragrant lotion. From this proximity, he could count the freckles that were scattered across her nose and cheeks. They took her adorableness to a completely new level. Why on earth would she ever want to cover them with makeup?
“How do you get the grocery store to deliver that late at night?” he asked. Her eyes were a very light shade of gray-blue, with a very thin ring around the outside of the iris so dark it was nearly black. Her lashes were thick and lush and—Trey took a step back, suddenly aware they were still standing much too close.
“You don’t,” she answered, putting the lid on the plastic container that held Stacy’s salad. “But if you’re creative, you order a pizza and then when it arrives, you tell the pizza delivery boy that he’ll get