Second Time's the Charm

by Tara Taylor Quinn

  “He loves cartoons.” Not that Jon let the boy spend too much time in front of the television set.

  “It wasn’t about the movie,” Lillie said. “Or, I’m beginning to suspect, about being left at day care, either. Abraham struggles with coping with large groups of people. Have you had him out in public much?”

  He had to think about that. “I don’t know. It hasn’t been something I’ve given conscious thought to. But I don’t avoid taking him out in public, either.” At least not until recently, when he started worrying about these sudden and unexpected tantrums.

  “It’s okay, Jon.” Lillie’s touch against the back of his hand was fleeting. Gone in an instant. And it affected him more than it should have.

  He wanted her to do that again. To touch him.

  “It’s not uncommon for a single father to avoid taking his child out in public. Men are more anal than women about needing to maintain control, about fixing every little problem the second it happens, and it’s easier to do that when you can control the environment. Which you can do at home.”

  There was some truth to what she said.

  The waitress was back, asking if they wanted anything else. She left the bill at Jon’s elbow. Lillie reached for it, but he grabbed it before she could get her hands on it. “I’ll get this.”

  “I asked you to dinner.”

  “To talk about my son.”

  She reached for her purse. “Then at least let me pay my half.”

  “Let me get this, Lillie, please.” He looked her straight in the eye. He didn’t understand why it was suddenly so important to him to pay her way, but he knew that it was.

  “Okay, but only if you’ll let me make dinner for you one night this week—even if I have to drop it off at your house.” Her expression was dead serious.

  And lovely enough to catch his breath.

  “Okay.”

  She stood, waited for him while he laid a tip on the table and again at the register while he settled their tab.

  Jon liked knowing she was there. Waiting.

  “You want to walk a bit?” he asked as they left the pub. There had been some couples out before. Now the campus seemed to be swarming with them.

  It was probably just his imagination.

  “Sure, I guess,” she said, a note of tension entering her voice again as she looked around.

  And he remembered that she’d met her husband on Montford’s campus. Remembered that she was divorced.

  “Or I can walk you to your car,” he offered.

  “Would you mind?”

  “Not at all,” he said, falling into step beside her.

  But he did.

  * * *

  “I HAVE A suggestion,” Lillie said, keeping her gaze on the sidewalk and her mind on Abraham Swartz as she walked beside Jon across campus.

  Friday night had been date night when she’d been in school.

  And somehow, anytime she was on campus, she felt like that college kid again.

  “I’m listening.”

  “What would you think about the two of us taking Abraham on some outings in Phoenix? We could go to the zoo. To the mall. To a children’s museum that I know about. They have hands-on exhibits for toddlers. If I’m right, and all he needs are some skills to help him cope in large groups of people, a few outings should take care of it.”

  “I’m good with that,” Jon’s answer came just before they reached her car. “I’ll give anything a try if it’ll help Abe.”

  Lillie relaxed again, smiling up at Jon as she opened her car door. “How about Sunday afternoon? Are you off again this week?”

  “Yeah. I don’t work Sundays. No day care. Sunday afternoon would be fine.”

  She would be in the city, anyway—except that her relationship with Papa and Gayle was her business.

  “How about if I pick you up?” Jon asked. “I’ve got the car seat and all the paraphernalia in the truck. If he throws up, it’s on my seat.” He was grinning, but Lillie sensed that he was also completely serious. Jon Swartz was nothing if not prepared.

  Overprepared, in her opinion.

  Which endeared him to her.

  So she’d make two trips to and from the city. It wasn’t that far. Agreeing to be ready at one, Lillie stood for a second too long, waiting for Jon to say something.

  She didn’t know what.

  He didn’t say it.

  She got in her car and drove away without looking back.

  CHAPTER NINE

  JON DROPPED ABE off at day care as soon as they opened at six on Saturday morning. That early on a weekend morning, he and the Saturday teacher, Laura James, were the only ones there. There were only a handful of little ones who even came to day care on Saturday, but Bonnie kept the place open for them.

  This morning, with the reception room to themselves, Abe took Laura’s hand and walked off to the playroom without so much as a backward glance at Jon.

  Maybe Lillie was right. His son had a problem with crowds. They could fix that.

  Easily.

  Jon arrived at work only to find out that there was no electricity and everyone was being sent home. So, just before nine-thirty, he walked out to his truck and dialed Lillie’s cell. Exchanged pleasantries with her because he was in a good mood.

  Because he wanted her to like him.

  To think he was a good dad.

  Even if she was working for Clara Abrams on the side, her loyalty could be changed. If Jon did his job well enough. He was the one spending time with Lillie, not Clara. And he’d seen enough to know that Lillie had a good heart. She’d want what was best for Abe. Money clearly didn’t matter to her. It wasn’t like she lived big or associated with the kinds of people Kate came from.

  She was like him, down-to-earth, working for a living, wearing regular clothes, cleaning her own house.

  Jon just had to prove to her that he was what was best for Abe—not Abe’s rich and influential maternal grandparents.

  Except that Clara knew about Jon’s past. Which meant that Lillie might know, too.

  “You’re at home?” he asked, stopping in the parking lot with his hand on the door handle of the truck.

  Why hadn’t he thought of it before? What if Lillie knew about the years he’d spent in juvenile detention?

  And then he started breathing again. She’d given him a key to her home. There was no way she’d have done so if she’d known he was a convicted burglar.

  “A rare Saturday morning off.” She answered his question with a chuckle. “Unless someone breaks something or needs stitches or falls unexpectedly ill,” she added. “As long as the clinic is open, I could get called.”

  He realized she didn’t get much more sleep than he did.

  “So what’s up?”

  “A semi lost control on the highway and ran into the transformer that supplies our electricity at the plant. Management wants to preserve the backup generator for perishable food and have shut down the production lines for the rest of the weekend.” TMI, man, he reprimanded silently as he climbed behind the wheel of his truck.

  “I thought maybe I could get those faucets changed for you,” he said. “But if you’re home, I can always do them another time.”

  “Now’s fine,” she said easily. And Jon refused to think that her ready acceptance of his offer meant she was interested in him.

  He refused to consider the idea.

  * * *

  SHE HADN’T BEEN alone with a man in her home since her divorce. She dated. She’d just never brought her dates home.

  She’d left her door unlocked for the cable guy. Had Caro meet the carpet people for her when she’d had her bedrooms redone. They hadn’t been conscious choices, just the way things had worked out.

 
And now here she was, with a six-foot-tall, dark-haired specimen of male perfection and her palms were a little sweaty.

  She washed them. And the bathroom sinks, too, while he worked in the kitchen. Wouldn’t be proper to expect him to deal with traces of toothpaste spit when he installed her new faucet.

  He’d asked, the previous week, if they could be friends.

  She didn’t know what that meant.

  Her curiosity bothered her.

  “All done.” The subject of her thoughts stood, tools in hand, at the door to her bathroom. His jeans and T-shirt hugged his body and the way they fit turned her on.

  Uh-uh. Not happening.

  Except it was.

  Which pissed her off. Or something.

  God, what was the matter with her?

  “I can come back and do these later if you’re busy in here,” he said, his big brown eyes seeming to see her, the sink and tub, and probably any hair she’d lost while she’d hurriedly showered during the time it had taken him to drive from the cactus jelly plant to her place.

  “No!” Giving the counter one last swipe with the paper towel in her hand, she took a deep breath. “Really, it’s fine. I’ll just go.”

  She retreated to her office to look at the pile of bills she put off paying until they were absolutely due because she hated the paperwork involved.

  Kirk hadn’t minded household bookkeeping. He’d been good at it. And good at spending whatever was left over each month, too.

  With her computer screen open to her online bill payment screen, Lillie was typing in the last amount when Jon’s voice sounded behind her.

  “I’m really sorry to bother you,” he said. “But I could use your help if you’ve got a second.”

  Lillie jumped. Bought herself a breath of time to calm down as she minimized her screen. And followed him out the door.

  “There’s hard-water corrosion on your shutoff valve.” He chatted as he led her through her living room and down the hall toward the bathroom. His ass was rock solid, sitting above thighs that were clearly muscled. And perfectly proportioned. Probably had a lot of hair on them. She’d seen the dark chest hair curling at the opening of his shirt the other day.

  She was a hair girl—liked it gone on her but all over her man. Her preference was natural, instinctive—necessary for the procreation of the human species.

  It had nothing to do with Jon Swartz.

  “I’m going to have to replace the valve,” he was saying. “I had one in the truck, just in case.”

  His tight ass preceded her down the hall. And turned into her bathroom.

  “If you could just turn on the shower while I hold this bucket under here...” Now he was lying flat on his back on her floor, scooting himself beneath the sink. “I’d have done it myself, but the bucket I have won’t fit under the lines. I have to hold it at an angle.”

  As he shifted his body, her gaze collided with his zipper. And it stuck there. She couldn’t help herself. She looked.

  Her body reacted.

  And on the floor not too far away, in a very neat pile, was her bin of nail polish, her hair spray, a container filled to the brim with hair ties. And a brand-new box of tampons.

  “Why do you need the shower on?” Her words came out more sharply than she’d intended, so she added, as she stepped over the tools and opened her shower curtain, “I thought you shut off the water to the house.”

  “I did, but there’s always water left in the lines, and if you open the shower faucet, the pressure will release the water that’s resting in these pipes. I catch it now, or catch it in the face later when I change the shutoff valve. If everything was working properly, I’d just shut off the valve and that would take care of any excess water in the lines. Since it isn’t, it’s less messy this way.”

  Without another word, Lillie turned on the shower. Water gushed. And then, almost immediately, slowed to a mere trickle.

  Jon emerged from under the sink with a bucket sloshing a couple of inches of water.

  “Thanks,” he said, reaching for a heavy-duty-looking wrench from the big toolbox he’d carried in.

  Those same hands had moved her personal items.

  “If you don’t mind hanging around, I could use your help again in a minute,” Jon said from beneath the sink. Steel clanged against steel—tool against pipe. “It’ll be a lot easier to fasten the new faucets if you could hold them straight for me while I’m under here tightening them.”

  He knew what brands of products she used.

  “Sure. No problem.” She’d just stand there. Waiting.

  There was that zipper again. Lillie tried to swallow, but there was nothing there. Her throat was uncomfortably dry. Other parts of her were uncomfortably wet.

  Because a good-looking man was in her bathroom? Changing a faucet?

  Lillie definitely had to get out more.

  * * *

  CRAZY AS IT seemed, Jon had never been to a zoo. His foster mother until he was twelve had not been one for extracurriculars with the kids she took in. The money she made from the state was for their health, their well-being and for her pocket. Not for fun.

  After that, he’d never spent enough time in one home—or one school—to be present for a zoo trip.

  “Look, Abie baby!” Kneeling beside his son, he pointed to the monkey hanging from a branch in a landscaped enclosure. “See the monkey?”

  Abe’s gaze followed Jon’s finger and the toddler nodded. Turning, the boy looked for Lillie, who was standing right beside them. He pointed.

  “See?” she said. “You want me to see?”

  Abe nodded. Lillie focused on the boy. “Say, ‘look.’ Llloook. You say ‘look’ and then I will see. Use your words, Abraham.”

  The monkey had switched trees and was no longer hanging. But, God love her, Lillie had a job to do and she was doing it.

  “Llloook,” she said again. Jon was looking. At her.

  In a pink sweater that hugged her full breasts, jeans that encased long, perfectly shaped legs, pink patent leather tennis shoes and her long luscious hair held back with a clip, the woman exemplified femininity. His body responded. Her open-eyed gaze and hint of a smile while she talked to his son hit him someplace else. Someplace much deeper.

  “Llloook,” she was saying.

  “Ooook.” Abe’s voice was loud, excited, as he finally gave her what she wanted.

  “Good, son!” If his tone mimicked his son’s overstimulated emotions, he hoped their companion put the response down to fatherly encouragement.

  That was all it really was.

  That and the fact that everyone was looking at them as though they were a family. And more than just about anything else at that moment, Jon wished it was true.

  CHAPTER TEN

  THE ZOO WASN’T all that crowded that late on a Sunday afternoon, but still, there were enough people around that Jon was conscious of hanging on to his son every second they were there.

  And as much as he liked the place and wished he could explore every exhibit, every cavelike structure, he was glad when it was time to head for the gate.

  His tummy full with hot dog and ice cream, a clean-faced and freshly diapered Abraham promptly fell asleep in the car seat as Jon entered the on-ramp to the highway that would take them home.

  “We made it through without a single tantrum.” Might as well put it right out there. His son was fine. Lillie’s presence that afternoon, while nice, had not been professionally necessary.

  He was a good dad.

  “You never put him down unless you were kneeling down with him.”

  “He’s two years old. He’d have been trampled.”

  “That’s what strollers are for.”

  “He doesn’t like strollers.”

&n
bsp; “You were afraid he’d throw a tantrum if you put him in one.”

  More like, Jon knew he would have.

  “I wanted him to have fun.” He’d been having fun.

  But Lillie had been there to work.

  A mile went by. “You could have said something,” he told her. “You could have suggested we get a stroller.”

  “I wanted to observe the two of you together, doing things your way, as you normally would without my interference.”

  Had he been stupid to believe that she was there to help him and Abe? Not to separate them?

  “And I’m not saying you should have rented a stroller,” Lillie said slowly, as though she was thinking hard about something.

  “What are you saying?”

  “I’m not forming opinions yet. I’m just watching. Assessing. I’d like to be out with you a couple more times to see how things go before I give suggestions. If that’s okay with you.”

  Jon’s heart leaped. Not a comfortable feeling. “That’s fine,” he said, putting a wrap on the part of himself that still stupidly longed for baby and dad and mom makes three. Longed for a woman who’d give her time to them just because she cared and wanted to help them be better together.

  “If you’d rather not have me tagging along, we can work out something else....”

  Taking his eyes from the road for only the briefest second, Jon glanced at his companion. Her eyebrows were drawn, her mouth a straight line.

  And he felt like a fool—painting his happy-family pictures oblivious to what others wanted.

  He’d been enjoying a Sunday outing while Lillie had been busy working and probably thinking of all the other things she could—and should—be doing.

  Just like Kate had done.

  Worse, she might have been spying.

  “I’m sure you have better things to do than hang out with us,” he said, letting her off whatever hook she was on. One thing Jon Swartz knew was to let go of women who were finished spending time with him.

  She moved and he could feel her looking at him. A mile marker flew by. And then another.

  “There’s nothing more fulfilling than helping a child.”

  He shot her another glance. She was staring straight at him and he had no idea what to say. “I’m more concerned that I’m pushing myself on you and your son because I believe I can help, than because it’s the appropriate thing to do.”