In a Heartbeat

by Janice Kay Johnson

  What he couldn’t tell was whether she believed herself or was only saying the right thing for Josh’s benefit. And, damn, he might be sorry if he asked, but his memory of the one, shocked stare that day at the hospital remained like a rock in his gut. Indigestible.

  His voice came out gravelly as he challenged her. “What about you, Anna? Do you still blame me?”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  ANNA’S THROAT CLOSED at a question that had hovered over them all along even as they developed a cooperative relationship, one that sometimes felt so smooth she’d almost blurted something stupid a few minutes ago.

  She hadn’t foreseen that they might start functioning as a unit: parents who wanted the best for all the kids and watched out for each other, too. Unit? No, they felt like a family. Not all the time, but too often. Without consciously realizing it, she liked being someone he could come to, as she turned to him. The constant sizzle of sexual awareness...that she did her best to bury down deep.

  His question... She had to be honest.

  “The part of me that’s rational doesn’t blame you.” Anna tapped her temple. “I saw Sonja. I know why Molly was able to slip away.”

  He leaned forward. “What—”

  “That doesn’t matter to this.” Us. “I never should have blamed you. Like I told Josh, you weren’t even there.”

  He visibly reined in his impatience, clearly knowing that she wasn’t done.

  “In my heart,” she said quietly, “it’s not so easy. I’m...pretty mixed up still.”

  “You don’t blame yourself.” He sounded incredulous.

  “No. But I have a lot of complicated feelings about Kyle.” Why was she telling this man about her marriage? Yet she continued. “We had problems, and I felt so angry after he died—”

  His gaze had somehow sharpened. “Because he left you and the kids without any financial cushion.”

  “That’s...only part of it. The rest is private.” She had to establish some boundaries. “But I know I’ve been moody, and you must wonder why.”

  “Do you think I haven’t guessed?” he said after a minute, with an undertone of temper. “Or do you assume I’m satisfied if you take care of my daughter and don’t really see you as a person?”

  “I—”

  “Well, you’re wrong.” Muscles spasmed in his jaw even as dark gray, troubled eyes never looked away from her. “You’re on my mind a whole hell of a lot more than I find comfortable. And if you don’t know why that is, you’re not as observant as I think you are.”

  In shock, she quit breathing as she stared at him. He was implying—no, he was saying—that she hadn’t just been imagining he was attracted to her. And...that he knew his feelings were reciprocated?

  She shot to her feet. “I won’t talk about this. I work for you.”

  Still watchful, he rose more slowly. “That doesn’t make it any less true.”

  Anna shook her head and kept shaking it. “No. It can’t be. I can’t...”

  “Can’t you?” One stride, and he was inches from her. This close, she couldn’t look away from a lean, rough-hewn face that fascinated her. Unwittingly frozen, she took in the shadow of his evening beard, the way his eyes had darkened to charcoal.

  Heated by a horrible mix of panic and the same intense awareness she’d felt when his body had covered hers that day on the soccer field, Anna tried to shuffle back.

  He lifted a hand and cupped her cheek, his thumb tapping her lips. Only once, but they tingled as if he’d kissed her.

  “No,” she whispered. The temptation was there, to lean into that warm hand. In fact...had she swayed toward him? Her second “No” was aimed as much at herself as him.

  Familiar creases formed on his forehead. “Is it so bad if we acknowledge—”

  This time she cried, “Yes!”

  His hand dropped to his side. She slid back a couple more steps, until she was no longer trapped between the sofa and the coffee table.

  “My husband died not even five months ago. Five. We may have had our problems, but how can you think I’d be ready to happily move on that fast? And especially with—” Oh, dear God. She hadn’t said that. But, seeing his shock and quickly hidden hurt, she knew she had.

  “Guess I shouldn’t have bothered asking that question,” he said, his face now wiped of expression. The chill in his voice conveyed enough on its own.

  “I didn’t mean that. I told you—”

  “You did.” He turned to go around the other end of the sofa. “I’ll finish cleaning the kitchen, if you want to get Josh started on his homework.”

  Back at the apartment, he meant. Feeling sick, she nodded but felt compelled to say, “I’m sorry. I told you I’m a mess.”

  “I understand.” He started for the kitchen to do her job.

  To his back, Anna said, “If you want us to leave...”

  He barely paused. “No. I was an idiot. Like we’ve agreed before, this arrangement has worked out well. If you don’t feel the same, I’d appreciate some notice.”

  “Yes.” She felt as if she was being strangled. “Of course.”

  One nod, then Nate turned on the water to start rinsing dishes. To all appearances, he considered himself to be entirely alone.

  The irony was, she, too, felt alone in a way she hadn’t since she accepted Nate’s offer of a refuge that allowed her to keep her dignity.

  * * *

  IF NATE COULD have kicked his own butt, he would have. Instead, he stared up at the dark ceiling of his bedroom and tried to understand why he’d been so stupid.

  Anna had provisionally let him off the hook as far as her husband’s death went, and what had he done? Come on to her. Four and a half months after said death. And right after she’d told him she still had mixed feelings, that her rational belief that he wasn’t to blame hadn’t convinced her emotional self.

  What if he’d screwed this up so bad she did decide to take her kids and leave? He might have to hire the damn PI again so he’d know where she’d gone and that she was okay. Then if she found out, she’d be mad again.

  She’d been magnificent when she stormed into his office to tell him off. For a long time, Nate had convinced himself that his need to help her was driven solely by guilt, but now he thought that he’d toppled that day. He wasn’t close to putting a label on what he felt for her, but his anguish bit deeper than it had since he and Sonja parted ways—and then he’d hurt because he was losing his daughter, not because of Sonja.

  He slapped his pillow over his face, mumbled some obscenities into it, then yanked it off.

  He’d apologize to Anna. Grovel. Talk her into staying.

  If she agreed...then came the hard part. He’d have to quit with the lust, be pleasant, collegial, friendly at the most. He’d be whatever she wanted him to be. Give her the time she shouldn’t have had to ask for.

  And then they’d see.

  * * *

  THE CONVERSATION WAS every bit as difficult as Nate had feared.

  He’d barely crossed the threshold after work the next day then she was hustling her kids out the back. Seeing Molly’s bewilderment, Nate felt even more like a shit.

  My fault.

  He said, “Anna, can we talk for a minute?”

  She went still, her back to him, then bent and spoke quietly to her kids. Accepting a casserole dish from her, Josh ushered his obviously reluctant sister out of sight and presumably upstairs to the apartment.

  Nate hugged his daughter and said, “Can you give us a minute, punkin?”

  Perplexity showed on her small, freckled face as she said with her worrisome docility, “Yes, Daddy.”

  Stripping off his tie, he walked to the kitchen, where Anna waited. She must have subbed at one of the schools today, he realized, seeing that she wore black slacks and a thin three-quarter-sleeve, formfitting c
otton cardigan with tiny buttons that served to emphasis the curve of her breasts.

  Damn it. He had to suppress that kind of awareness. There he went, despite his resolve of last night. Yeah, this wasn’t going to be easy. The fact that he hadn’t had sex in, what, eight months or more didn’t help. In fact, he’d quit assessing women as possibilities even longer ago than he’d thought. Say, from the minute Anna had confronted him in his office.

  She nervously brushed her hair behind her ear. “Yes?”

  Nate stopped this side of the breakfast bar, sensing that he couldn’t afford to crowd her. “I owe you an apology.”

  “No, you—”

  “I do.” He cut her off without compunction. “Please don’t decide you have to leave. I trust you. I’d...miss you and your kids, both. Losing you, too, might break Molly’s heart.” Using his daughter was low, but he also thought he’d spoken the truth. Molly was unbelievably fragile right now. “I trust you to keep her safe.”

  “How can it help but be awkward if I stay?”

  “Because you can trust me, too.” He expected the tiled countertop to crack any minute beneath his flattened hands, but she didn’t have to know how much pressure he was putting on it. “I was out of line. We can be friends, co-parents, just like we have been. And that’s it.” He wanted to add, Unless or until you signal me that you’re ready for more, but knew he couldn’t. Then she’d feel like a mouse with a cat watching, waiting.

  He couldn’t tell what Anna was thinking, but she looked away for a minute. She’d knotted her hands in front of her.

  Her eyes met his again. “All right. The kids are really happy here, and I have to admit I’d really miss Molly.” Her smile was so brief he wouldn’t have seen it if he’d blinked at the wrong time. “She did a lot of the work tonight on dinner. Be sure to rave about it. I think she really enjoys cooking.”

  He nodded.

  “Despite Josh’s current...uncertainty, he’s thrived with the attention you’ve given him. That wasn’t part of our deal, but I appreciate it.”

  “I like him.” He had to swallow to loosen his throat. “Jenna, too.”

  Anna dipped her head. “So...we can go on the way we have been. If you change your mind, though, all you have to do is tell me.”

  “I won’t,” he said roughly.

  Her eyes searched his for the briefest of moments. “Then, good night.” This time her nod was as awkward as she undoubtedly felt. She turned and was out of sight in seconds. He heard the door open and softly close.

  Nate’s shoulders sagged. He’d ached to ask if she wouldn’t miss him, too, but somehow had kept his mouth shut. He only had—God—seven months and a few weeks of restraint to go until the end of the school year...and the anniversary of Kyle Grainger’s death.

  * * *

  KNOWING THE KIDS had a project that was more time-consuming than usual due this week, Anna had sat them down at the table with their packs not long after dinner. As Jenna got bored, she’d taken to distracting the others. Anna had just decided to put in a movie for her when Nate walked in.

  The week since the scene with him had been really hard. To start with, all three kids were clearly disturbed by the new stiff courtesy between them. Anna didn’t know how Nate felt about it, but she was bothered, too, felt as if she’d lost something she might never find again. In self-defense, she’d ensured the time they spent together was extremely limited.

  Her biggest struggle was with her increased awareness of Nate—his every move, breath, flicker of expression. She couldn’t seem to block it out anymore. When she felt the hot coal low in her belly, guilt stabbed, sharp and unstoppable. How could she be attracted to another man so soon after Kyle’s death?

  No, things hadn’t been right between them in several years, but she had made the decision to stay with him. To accept his flaws because of all the qualities that made him a good man and father. What horrified Anna now was wondering what would have happened if she’d met Nate Kendrick while she was still married. Would she have responded as helplessly to a casual touch? To a steady regard from his gray eyes, or the sight of his bare throat and a hint of dark, curling chest hair when he undid the top buttons of his dress shirt soon after getting home after work?

  It wasn’t as if she hadn’t admired men while she was married. She’d seen Kyle’s eyes tracking sexy women now and again. But that was just nature, and very different from the need she felt for one particular man anytime her guard slipped.

  But...they’d gone on. And just today, before dinner, she’d been playing Chutes and Ladders with Jenna when she heard Molly’s indignant, “Jo-shu-a! You bring that back!”

  Anna sat cross-legged on the floor in front of the coffee table in the living room, Jenna on her knees across from her. Suddenly, Josh burst out of the family room and zigzagged through the dining and living rooms, tauntingly waving something above his head, laughing like crazy. Molly tore after him. Astonishingly, she was giggling the whole way.

  Anna had a feeling her mouth had dropped open.

  Now she wanted to tell Nate. To be able to talk the way they had before he’d bluntly put into words something she already knew and feared.

  At that moment his gaze flicked to her as if he’d sensed what she was thinking. Their eyes held for a minute too long, enough to make her heart pound.

  Grabbing for her defenses, she said, “Molly, tell your dad about the Thanksgiving celebration.”

  Molly wrinkled her nose. “I like having a feast, but I hate having to be in a play. What if Mrs. Tate makes me say something?”

  Nate smothered a chuckle. “I’m sure you’ll do fine.”

  “Molly is supposed to be a girl Pilgrim,” Josh informed them. “I get to be the turkey.”

  Had he thought about the dying part? Anna worried. Another quick glance from Nate suggested he’d read her mind again.

  “I want to trade so I can be a pumpkin,” Molly whispered. “’Cuz that’s what Daddy calls me. And I can just sit there.”

  “Did Mrs. Tate assign parts?”

  She bobbed her head.

  “You could talk to her,” he said. “On the other hand, if she’s given you a speaking role, it’s probably because she has confidence you can handle it.”

  Surprise widened Molly’s eyes. “Oh.”

  Anna prepared to kick Josh in the shin if he said a single denigrating word. When he kept quiet, she smiled at him.

  Instead of gathering her kids to go back to the apartment, the way she had every other evening this week the minute Nate walked in the door, she stepped away from the table. When he turned, she said, “Do you have a minute to talk?”

  “We should catch up on how the week has gone.” Agreeable, pleasant, remote.

  That hurt even though it was what she wanted.

  When she emerged from the family room after putting in a DVD for Jenna, she saw that Nate had poured coffee and carried two cups out onto the covered terrace.

  At least it was clear tonight, though undoubtedly cold. She took a red cashmere throw from the back of a chair and wrapped it around herself before following him out.

  “This is sinfully soft,” were the first words out of her mouth.

  There was a pause. “Soft shouldn’t be sinful.”

  “I’ll have to be careful not to spill on it.”

  He shrugged and turned too-discerning gray eyes to a sailboat gliding in to dock a couple houses away.

  Anna took a deep breath. “It’s this Thanksgiving event, which isn’t far away. I was thinking you could invite Sonja.”

  He thought about it and then gusted out a sigh. “Can we trust her to come semi-sober and behave herself?”

  We. He was including her as if they were a team. Despite everything, that gave her a warm glow. “I don’t know,” she said, “but she’s Molly’s mother.”

  “You think she sh
ould be there for Molly’s sake.”

  “Sonja’s, too. It might be, I don’t know, a lure. A normal, happy event for parents.”

  “I’ll think about it.”

  She nodded. After a minute, she told him about Molly’s delight in the great chase, and about the project the two older kids were currently working on. He talked about another meeting with the two twenty-five-year-old guys with the “awesome” idea for an improved snowboard. Finally, he said, “Can we have Thanksgiving together? All of us?”

  “What about Sonja?”

  He groaned.

  Anna laughed.

  Just like that, they were looking deeply, searchingly at each other. Happiness tangled painfully with guilt and a deep but less identifiable fear, inciting panic.

  She should run away. Snatch her kids and never come back. How on earth had she ever thought she could work for Nate and keep her distance?

  He was the one to stand up. “My fault,” he said huskily, and went into the house, leaving her to huddle in her cashmere throw and calm herself.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  AFTER SONJA ARRIVED at the house on Thanksgiving Day, she handed an unopened bottle of wine to Nate without saying a word, drew Molly into a hug that lasted too long, then said hello to “John” and “Jennie.” She strolled over to the breakfast bar and swept Anna with a disdainful expression. “You’ve certainly made yourself at home in my kitchen, haven’t you?”

  Anna’s vision of them having a warm, comfortable, blended-family holiday crashed. Straightening from the hot oven, she did battle with her temper. Despite the smells of turkey and stuffing and the pies that had come out of the second oven only minutes ago, she’d swear the odor of alcohol wafted her way from Sonja. She hadn’t bothered with breath mints today. On the other hand, she wasn’t staggering, which was something.

  Anna said pleasantly, “I’m so glad you could come, Sonja. Happy Thanksgiving.”

  “It’s so sweet of Nate—” she glanced over her shoulder at him “—to include the housekeeper and her children.”