by Shirley Jump
“And you think I can write about an emotion like love? Because why?”
“Because…” And now he stepped forward, as if he could plumb the mysteries of that feeling right out of her eyes, and the way she held her child, and transpose them now onto the blank pages in his computer. “Because I see it every time you look at your kid. In the way you kiss her, hold her.”
A quiet smile stole across Ellie’s face. “Well, Sabrina does her part. Even when she’s grumpy, she makes it pretty easy to love her.”
“There. That right there,” he said, narrowing the gap even further. “If I could get you to describe what you’re feeling, then maybe I could work that into my work. And that would make my editor, and eventually, my readers, happy.”
She shook her head. “I still don’t get it. Do you have a baby in your story?”
He laughed. “Not at all. No kids ever appear in my books.”
“Why not?”
“I just don’t work well with them. On paper or off.” Then he realized how that sounded, considering he’d taken on the job of temporary babysitter. “Except with your kid, of course.”
“Of course.” Her sarcastic grin told him how much she believed that addition. “Anyway, it’s a nice idea, but I still don’t see how I can help you. And, I have to get to work. Which means it’s your turn to take Sabrina.”
“What if—” he paused a second, formulating the idea in his head “—you called in sick for a couple days, and worked for me instead?”
“Call in sick. Work for you.” She repeated the words, flatly, in disbelief. “How could I afford that?”
“I’ll pay you.”
She let out a chuff of disbelief. “You can’t afford to do that. And what exactly is it that you are paying me to do?”
“To help me with my book, like I said earlier.” He sank into his chair and ran a hand through his hair. “Listen, I’ve got two weeks to finish this book. To make it into something amazing. Something that will sell. My last few books have…well, let’s just say they’ve—”
“Tanked.” She gave him an apologetic smile. “I know how to use Google.”
She’d researched him. Well, well. Maybe Ellie was more attracted to him than Dalton had thought—or maybe he was just reading more into a simple computer search than he should. “Tanked is probably a compliment, but yeah.”
“And if I don’t help you?”
“My new book does just as badly as all the others, and I don’t go back to contract, which means I’ll eventually have to get a real job. And you know how well I get along with others, particularly grown-ups.” She smiled, which he took as a sign he was wearing her down. “You’re only as good as your last sale. And I haven’t sold well in a long, long time. It’s like—”
When he didn’t continue, Ellie moved forward, shifting the baby’s weight as she did. Sabrina tugged at Ellie’s hair, winding her chubby fist in and out of the brunette locks. “Like what?”
He shook his head. “Nothing. I just need help. That’s all.”
She turned away and started to circle his office, patting the kid’s back as she did. “If I call in sick, my boss will completely freak out. We’re in the middle of producing next week’s show and—”
“Can he live without you?”
She laughed. “He doesn’t think so.”
Dalton thought for a minute. “How much more work do you have to do to get this show ready to go?”
“On my end? Actually, I’m ready. I’ve got all my guests lined up. The rest is all fine-tuning. Making sure they have their bottles of Perrier and bowls of just green M&M’s, those kinds of things.”
“Then he can live without you.”
“Maybe he could,” she conceded.
“Right now, I can’t. So that decides it.” Though the words had come out as a joke—and had been intended as one—Dalton had closed the gap between himself and Ellie, and suddenly, it seemed as if what he meant had become ten times more serious. As if he’d stopped talking about his career and veered into other, deeper territory. Relationship grounds.
Which he definitely hadn’t. He was talking books. Nothing more.
“I suppose I could take a few days off,” Ellie said, dubiously.
“I’ll take what I can get.” He grinned. “And, if you promise to throw in another one of those homemade dinners, I’ll call it even.”
Ellie thrust out her hand. Dalton took it, noting the delicate bones, the way her skin mirrored silk against his rougher palm. “You have a deal, Mr. Scott.”
When her deep green eyes met his, with their unplumbed depths, something turned over in his chest. And Dalton had to wonder just what kind of deal he’d just made.
CHAPTER SIX
“SO,” Mrs. Winterberry asked as way of saying hello, “how are things going with you and our handsome neighbor?”
A loaded question, if Ellie had ever heard one. No matter how she answered, the response required qualifying. So she stuck to one word. “Fine.”
“Come now, you must have more to say than that. Dalton Scott is a man who requires more than a single ‘fine.’” Mrs. Winterberry, Ellie could swear, giggled.
“I’ve been very busy working,” Ellie said.
“My dear, you really need to take a break. Take time to smell the roses.”
“I do. I mean, I did. I went on a picnic yesterday.” As soon as the words left her mouth, Ellie cringed.
“With Dalton? Oh, my. That’s wonderful!”
“Mrs. Winterberry, tell me the truth. Did you leave Sabrina with Dalton because you were hoping he and I would…well, date or something? Because really, I simply don’t have time for anything like that.”
“Oh, no, not at all. I was in a pinch. And Dalton’s the only neighbor home during the day. But if something does spring up between the two of you…” Mrs. Winterberry’s voice trailed off on a hopeful note. “You really do need a man in your life.”
“Nothing’s going to happen. The man is…impossible.”
“That’s because he’s had his heart broken. Mind you, I don’t know all the details, just something his brother alluded to once when I ran into him outside Dalton’s house. There was a woman, and it ended badly. I get the feeling there was something more involved than just a simple love affair gone awry, but whatever it is, I know Dalton has terrible regrets because he doesn’t want to talk about it. Just try to be understanding, Ellie, and most of all, be patient.”
Ellie was not about to get into a discussion of Dalton, or the potential of a relationship with him. She’d been up half the night, tossing and turning, thinking about Dalton—which, considering Sabrina had slept through the night, probably worn-out by all the fresh air after the trip to the park—had been a foolish waste of a good night’s sleep. After all those hours, her conclusion had been the same as before she went to bed.
Getting any further involved with him wouldn’t work.
Except, she was heading back to his house today. To spend the entire day with him. Working side-by-side. Avoiding the simmering attraction between them, and pretending it didn’t exist, well…
That would be about as easy as not breathing all day.
“How’s your sister doing?” Ellie asked, to head off any further questions from Mrs. Winterberry.
“She’s doing much better, thank you. She had to have a stent put in yesterday, but she came out of the surgery with flying colors, and she should be out of the hospital here in New Hampshire in a few days. If you need me, I’ll come home to Boston until she’s released, but after that, she really needs someone to take care of her until she’s completely back on her feet. She’s seventy-five, you know. Not near as spry as me. I’m the younger of the two of us.” Mrs. Winterberry laughed.
If Ellie had been hoping for a fast resolution, there clearly wouldn’t be one. She needed another sitter. She couldn’t ask Mrs. Winterberry to put Sabrina ahead of her sister. That wouldn’t be fair. “No, you stay there. I’ve got this under control. Dalton and
I worked out an arrangement.”
They’d done no such thing, but she wasn’t about to tell Mrs. Winterberry that. Instead, she’d simply find someone else, and pray she could be lucky and get another inexpensive interim babysitter. She’d call the local college. They often had a list of daytime sitters. No need to worry Mrs. Winterberry.
“I knew you would,” Mrs. Winterberry said. “That man is a saint, I tell you. He’s helped me out dozens of times, with never a complaint.”
“Are we talking about the same man?”
Mrs. Winterberry laughed. “Why, dear, Dalton Scott is the nicest man I’ve ever met. You’ll see. Just give him a chance. You might be surprised at how wonderful you find him to be. And my dear, you need to move on, it’s time.”
Ellie didn’t contradict Mrs. Winterberry, because doing so would be disrespectful to a woman who had been nothing but generous and incredible to her and Sabrina. But if there was one thing Ellie knew to be true, it was that giving Dalton Scott a chance—especially with her heart—would be the biggest mistake of her life.
“Is there something I should know about you?” Peter held up the pacifier and grinned at Dalton.
Dalton ripped the plastic thing away from his brother and tossed it onto the coffee table. “No.”
“Then where did that come from? I gotta say, it’s the last thing I ever expected to see in your house. Even if this is the perfect house for a family, might I remind you.” Peter dropped his tall thin frame into one of the leather armchairs, draping his arms over the sides.
“I had company yesterday. She brought her kid.”
Peter arched a brow. Waited for Dalton to continue.
“That’s all. There’s no more to tell.”
“There’s always more to tell, little brother,” Peter said. “Now, do I have to bring over the lie detectors, or are you going to tell me?”
The lie detectors, AKA, their sisters, who could ferret the truth out of a mute. They had followed their brothers everywhere when Dalton had lived at home, then run home to their mother and tattled on anything bad the boys had done. Thereby scoring brownie points, and sometimes even real brownies, for getting the boys nabbed for things like playing in the creek when they should have been doing yard work.
He loved his sisters—but he owed them some payback. Which was why he sent their kids drum sets for Christmas.
Dalton popped open two cans of soda, handed Peter one, then took a seat on the sofa and propped his feet up on the coffee table. “The woman is named Ellie Miller. She lives across the street. She needed a temporary babysitter and being that I’m the only one around during the day, I got elected.”
“But you don’t do babysitting. You avoid kids like the black plague.”
“It’s only for a couple days.” Dalton took a sip of soda. “No big deal.”
“Uh-huh. You’re getting involved. Coming out of the hermit cave. I’m proud of you.” Peter leaned forward, scooped up the pacifier, and juggled it in his palm. “And with a woman who has a kid? I’d say this is a big, big deal.”
Dalton shrugged.
“Is she pretty?”
Dalton scowled. “What does that have to do with anything?” Peter chuckled. “She must be gorgeous. You’re trying so hard to pretend you don’t care. I think the man doth protest too much.”
“And I think you’re sticking your nose in way too much.”
That only made Peter laugh some more. “So, are you going to take a chance this time, little brother?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You know what I mean. Just because one relationship went down the sewer pipe of life doesn’t mean you have to close yourself off to everyone else. You deserve a second chance, you know.”
Dalton dropped his feet to the floor. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. And I’m not looking for a relationship, either.”
Peter glanced out the window, and let out a low whistle. “Wow. Is that the neighbor you’re not getting involved with? The same one who doesn’t have your attention at all?”
Dalton followed Peter’s gaze. Ellie was coming across the street, Sabrina perched on her hip. Ellie had put on a deep brown floral print skirt today, one that flared out around her knees, exposing a great set of legs. Kitten heels accentuated her calves, while a short-sleeved off-white sweater outlined the rest of her curves.
Damn. Dalton wasn’t going to get a single thing done today, that was for sure. Why couldn’t the woman have worn sweats and a T-shirt like other people who worked at home? Or jeans and a T-shirt, like he had chosen?
Then another thought occurred to him. Had she chosen the skirt and sweater for him? Because she—
Liked him?
The thought should have bothered him. Should have had him upset, because he had just gotten through telling Peter no way, no how, was he getting involved with a woman again. But it didn’t. Instead, the thought that Ellie might have had him in mind when she went through her closet today, that she had considered his reaction when she’d opted for the skirt, sent a thrill racing through his veins.
“Yeah, you’re not interested one bit,” Peter whispered in his ear. Then he laughed, and dropped the pacifier into Dalton’s palm.
Ellie had taken the coward’s way out. Twice.
She’d called in sick by leaving a message with Connie, who hadn’t believed for one second that Ellie herself was actually sick, and had simply assumed it was Sabrina who had a cold. Ellie let the assumption stand, and said she’d probably be back at work tomorrow.
Then, once Sabrina was down for her morning nap, Dalton had asked her to pull up a chair beside his and help with his manuscript. Instead, she’d stood behind him. Well behind him. Putting a couple of feet of space between his back and her front, because—
Well, because in the last thirty-six hours everything between them had changed. Ever since he’d come close to kissing her—or she’d thought he had, she still wasn’t sure if she’d read him right on that account—the equation that had seemed so balanced, had tipped to one side, and Ellie had yet to find a way to even it out again. She simply couldn’t make A equal anything but confused.
“Unless you have X-ray vision, you can’t read anything from way over there.”
“I’m fine.”
He swiveled around in his chair and tossed her a grin. “You seem anything but. In fact you seem uncomfortable. I do have another chair, you know. You could sit right next to me and make yourself at home.” He pointed toward a second seat a few feet from where she stood.
“Speak for yourself. You don’t seem so comfortable.”
“Me? I’m just peachy.”
She laughed. “What guy uses a word like that? Peachy?”
“Hey, I’m a writer. My vocabulary is wide and varied.” Dalton turned back to his desk. He paged down in the computer, then pointed at the screen. “All right, stay there if you want. In this scene, the hero and the heroine are reunited for the first time in ten years. There are supposed to be all these emotions swirling in their heads, you know? That whole what-are-we-doing-here-together-again kind of thing, all the while there’s a sense of danger in the background because they know the bad guy could be lurking around the corner.”
“So there’s still a lot of attraction brewing?”
“Yeah. And all those unanswered questions from their past.” Dalton leaned back in his chair, unwittingly closing the distance between them, and ran a hand through his hair. “Except every time I try to show that, it comes out like they’re a couple of guys talking about the Patriots’ chances of making it to the Super Bowl again.”
“Oh, it can’t be that bad.”
He waved at the screen. “Read it for yourself. You’ll see. It has all the feeling of a punk rock song.”
She stepped closer, peering over his shoulder and scanned the sentences. He was paying her to do that, after all, and she had agreed to offer her opinion. A few seconds later, she was forced to agree. “I’m no expert with emotion
s in books, because all I really have to go by is the romance novels I’ve read before, or at least the ones I used to have time to read,” she said with a laugh. “Someday I hope to have time to read again.”
“Kids get easier.” Then he shrugged. “I hear. Not that I know myself, of course. Just my mom, you know, she had no free time for herself when we were little. But once we were up and ambulatory, and feeding ourselves, she had time to do stuff like read. And eat.” He grinned.
“So there is hope for me to have a life.” She echoed his smile and he met her gaze, held it for a long time. A tremor of connection ran through Ellie and she stepped back, allowing a bit of cold air to infiltrate the space. “Uh, you have the guy more or less captured, I think. But the woman…well, she’s almost cardboard.”
Dalton rose. He crossed to a bookshelf, and ran his hand over a half dozen hardcover books with his name running down the spine in bold letters. “The critics have blasted me for this for years.” He shook his head and headed back to Ellie. “If I knew how to write women, I’d be a bestseller. I did one book right…and then seemed to lose my touch.”
“Why?”
Her eyes were clear, guileless. She had no idea what she was asking him, what wounds she was opening up. “Because back with that first book, I was pouring out a whole other story on the page. I wasn’t writing fiction so much as…” He let out a breath and instead of speaking, reached up a hand and cupped her jaw. Would she understand? Would she know what he had gone through, how he had torn his own heart out of his chest, slapped it on a page and called it a book? And how, after doing it once, he’d never been able to write another book like that again?
Could Ellie, who had lost a loved one herself, but in a different way, could she, of all people, understand?
He held her, his fingers touching her, searching for a connection, hoping for one. “Have you fallen in love before, Ellie?”
Her mouth dropped open. The temptation to run his thumb along her lower lip, to taste what he had tasted before, roared inside Dalton. “Yes,” she said, the word a whisper.