by Sherry Lewis
“Hey,” Jesse warned, “this is me you’re talking to, remember? Nobody knows you better.” He shifted on the bar stool to lean closer. “Tell me about her.”
Gabe turned his glass in his hands for a few seconds, trying to decide what to say. “She’s a journalism instructor at the community college.”
One of Jesse’s eyebrows winged upward, but he didn’t interrupt.
“She’s intelligent—obviously. Loves her kids. I think she’d do anything for them. She’s been divorced for five years.”
Jesse let out a low whistle. “That’s a long time.”
Gabe shrugged that away. “She’s different, you know? She’s easy to talk to. I find myself telling her things I usually don’t tell women I get involved with.”
“And that’s a problem?”
Gabe shrugged again. He didn’t know any more.
“Are you attracted to her?”
Gabe laughed. “You could say that.”
“So? Maybe I’m missing something, but I don’t see the problem here.”
“Apart from the fact she’s a client—which is a problem itself—she’s the wrong kind of woman for me,” Gabe said again. “And I’m all wrong for her.”
Jesse clapped a hand to his shoulder. “Ever since Helene walked out on you, you’ve been a hit-and-run kind of guy. Leave ’em before they get too close.”
Gabe couldn’t deny that.
“I don’t think her being a client is an insurmountable obstacle. Sounds to me like the real problem is, you’ve finally met a woman you don’t want to treat that way.”
“I don’t need you to play devil’s advocate. I know how I’ve been acting the past couple of years.”
Jesse shrugged his argument away. “So, what’s the problem?”
“I, uh, I’ve been lying to her.”
“You? About what?”
“Her kids are trying to find her a husband. I overheard them making plans on New Year’s Eve, but I haven’t told her.”
Jesse laughed, but when he saw the scowl on Gabe’s face he sobered. “Come on, man, I thought it was something important.”
“It is important,” Gabe insisted. He filled Jesse in on the problem with Emilee and added, “So, now she’s worried about her daughter, convinced there’s some big problem. She’s at home right now, pacing the floors, trying to figure out what’s wrong.”
“That’ll all come out in the wash, bud. Just let the kids know you’re interested and they’ll call off their big scheme. Their mom won’t ever have to find out.”
“I’m not telling the kids,” Gabe said as his stomach tied itself in knots. “I’m not going to make them think there’s a chance for something permanent between me and their mom. You don’t do that with kids.”
“You’re still trying to convince yourself there’s no chance?”
“I know there’s no chance. We might have a few good months together, but then what? She’d want to get married. I don’t.”
Jesse polished off his beer and stood, smoothing his pant legs as he did. “All right. If you say so.”
“I do.”
“Well, I don’t know what you’re going to do about it, but I’ll tell you what I’m going to do.”
“What?”
“I’m going to start calling around and find a real nice outfit to take us fishing this summer. I have a feeling I’m going to be having myself a free trip.”
GABE LOWERED his hammer to the floor and rubbed his forehead as if that might help ease the pounding inside. His tongue stuck to his mouth as if he’d swallowed an entire bag of cotton balls and tasted worse. Far worse. Every time he let his eyes stray to the sunlight streaming in through the basement windows, pain shot through his head. His stomach rolled. And the noise—
He’d lost track of time last night after Jesse left Milago’s and the bartender had kept refilling his glass. So far this morning, nothing had made him feel better. Not the breakfast he’d forced himself to choke down. Not the endless glasses of water he’d gulped before leaving home. Not the sunglasses he’d been wearing in a desperate attempt to block out the light. The only thing that didn’t cause him pain was the scent of freshly baked bread drifting downstairs from Sharon’s kitchen.
He dug into his toolbox, wondering if by some odd chance he’d dropped a bottle of pain reliever in there. Wrenches clinked heavily against screwdrivers and sockets as he searched, sending shafts of pain from his head to his neck. Not surprisingly, he couldn’t find anything but tools, a couple of wadded receipts and a key to something.
Swearing under his breath, he stood carefully and let out a sigh. Even that hurt. He couldn’t afford to lose an entire day’s work, so that left him with no choice but to swallow his pride and ask Sharon if she had something for a headache. If she took one look at his eyes, she’d probably figure out exactly what was wrong with him. So he’d keep his sunglasses on.
Classical music met him as he neared the top of the stairs. The high-pitched violins sent shock waves through his head. He clenched his teeth and forced a smile.
He found Sharon on the dining-room floor surrounded by stacks of papers. She glanced up at the sound of his footsteps, rocked up onto her knees and stretched to reach the volume control on the stereo. Blessedly, the music cut off midscreech.
“I hate to bother you, but I wonder if you have any pain reliever.” His speech sounded slurred, but only because his tongue kept sticking to the roof of his mouth. “I’ve got a headache that just won’t quit.”
Compassion flitted across her face. She stood quickly. “Of course. In the kitchen. I’ll get it.”
He trailed her into the kitchen, intrigued by the scent she wore that filled the space between them. Light. Clean. Flowery, but not too sweet. He inhaled deeply and savored the mingled scents of perfume and bread for a moment—so much nicer than wood shavings and dust. He let his breath out again slowly.
She handed him a small white bottle, crossed to the sink and filled a glass with water. So far, so good. He’d take the pills and get back to work. And he’d put Sharon, her flowers, music, perfume—and her bread out of his mind. He shook three tablets into his palm, shoved them into his mouth and reached for the glass she held toward him.
When his fingers brushed hers, that same tingle he’d felt yesterday swept up his arm. He jerked the glass away, spilling some of the water in the process. Cursing himself silently, he downed the pills and gulped the rest of the water, then glanced at the mess he’d made on the floor. “I’m sorry. Let me—”
She’d already pulled a couple of paper towels from a roll on the counter and bent to mop up the water. He used the opportunity to put the glass on the counter and get out of the kitchen. Being near her was too…dangerous.
“I hope the pills help,” she called after him.
He turned toward her again and let himself study her face. “I’m sure they will.”
Her lips curved into a gentle smile. “You know what would probably help even more?”
He shook his head carefully, wincing a little even at that small movement.
“You should put something in your stomach. Have you had lunch?”
“Not yet.”
She glanced at the bread maker. “Fresh bread will be ready in a few minutes. Would you like some?”
He’d be smart to say no. But the sound of her voice soothed him, and for this one moment, it turned out, he didn’t want to be smart. No matter what he’d said to Jesse, he didn’t want to leave her just yet. “I’d love some.”
She pulled a knife from one of the drawers and left it beside the cutting board. “Putting food in your stomach is the very best thing for a hangover.”
She knew. Of course.
Embarrassed, he averted his gaze. “I don’t usually drink on a work night.”
She grinned and leaned against the counter. “It’s a good thing. You don’t carry your hangovers very well.”
“I look that bad, huh?”
“No.” Her eyes darkened
for a second, but she turned away quickly. “You don’t look bad at all.” She pulled the bread from the machine and worked it out of the metal container. “Do you want butter, or do you want it dry?”
“Dry. Please.”
She nodded him toward the dining-room table. “Have a seat. I’ll bring it over to you.”
He shook his head and waved a hand in front of himself. “I don’t want to track dirt onto your carpet.”
She gave him a slow, amused once-over, put the bread on a small plate and set it on the counter. “All right. Let me get you a stool.” She rounded the end of the counter and carried a stool from the breakfast nook.
Gabe reached toward it, intending to lift it for her. Their fingers brushed a second time, and this time he saw awareness to match his own in the depths of her eyes.
She glanced away quickly, relinquished her hold on the stool and crossed into the kitchen. “Coffee?” Did he only imagine it, or did her voice sound strained?
He shook his head. “No, thanks. Even the thought of coffee isn’t sitting well this morning.”
“I’ll bet it isn’t. How about some more water?”
“Yes. Please.” He tried to take his eyes off her but found he couldn’t, no matter how hard he tried.
She picked up the knife and sliced more bread. “So, were you celebrating something or drowning your sorrows last night?”
“Neither.”
Her eyes locked on to his and she drew a deep breath.
Slowly, deliberately, he stood and pulled her to him. “I was trying not to think about you.”
His pulse seemed to take on a life of its own. His mind stopped thinking. Slowly, giving her plenty of time to pull away, he lowered his lips toward hers. Even knowing he shouldn’t be doing this made no difference.
She didn’t move. Didn’t blink. Before he could stop himself, his lips brushed hers and she moaned softly. She melted against him…and then the telephone rang and shattered the moment.
She pulled away quickly and flicked her gaze toward the telephone. The second ring galvanized her to action. She hurried away from him without a second glance and grabbed the receiver as if it had saved her life.
Gabe stood there, unable to move, unwilling to believe she’d walked away. Finally, when he realized she’d settled into the call, he picked up the bread and water and carried them back to the basement.
One kiss. That’s all he’d wanted. And he’d gotten it. So why this almost unbearable disappointment?
WITH HER MIND REELING, Sharon clutched the telephone and tried to make sense of Adelle’s excited words.
What had she done? How had she let her attraction to him get so far out of hand? And what would happen now? Neither of them wanted a serious relationship, and she had Emilee and Christa to think of. She couldn’t just bring a man she was casually seeing into their lives.
Not that she even thought she could be casual about Gabe. Her feelings were too strong already. Until Gabe walked into her life this had all been easy. No romantic feelings, no problem. But now…
“Are you even listening to me?” Adelle cut into her thoughts.
“I’m sorry, Adelle. I guess I’m a little distracted today.”
“A little? This is the most important news of my life, and you didn’t hear a word I said.”
“Tell me again. I promise I’ll pay attention.”
“My doctor just called half an hour ago. I’m pregnant.”
“Pregnant?” That brought Sharon back to reality quickly. Adelle and Doug had been trying for years to have a baby. “I’m so thrilled for you. How far along are you?”
“Two months. The baby’s due in August. Can you believe it? I’m going to be a mother.”
“And you’ll be a great one. How did Doug react?”
“I haven’t been able to reach him yet. But I couldn’t wait to tell you.”
“The girls and I will give you a baby shower when your due date gets closer,” Sharon promised. “And you know you’ll have three willing baby sitters whenever you need them.”
“Babysitters.” Adelle sighed, then let out a yelp. “Sharon, I don’t have any idea what to do. I’m going to need your help.”
Sharon laughed, remembering the near panic she’d felt when she’d learned about Emilee’s impending birth. “Of course I’ll help you, Adelle. You know that. We’ll go shopping and spend every penny we have buying things for the baby.”
“Promise?”
“Absolutely. Have I ever let you down before?”
“Never.” Adelle covered the mouthpiece of her telephone for a second, then came back on the line. “I’ll have to call you later. Someone’s just come into my office.”
When they’d disconnected, Sharon pulled a piece of bread toward her and ate it slowly. The taste filled her mouth, warm and fresh and comforting. Excitement and contentment warred within her, alternately filling her with a strange lethargy, then making her head reel with thoughts and plans, hopes and dreams.
She hadn’t felt like this since long before her marriage ended. She’d been sleepwalking for years, only half-alive. Suddenly, she knew she wanted more. She wanted to keep this feeling, this heightened awareness of the world around her.
So maybe the next move should be hers. Maybe it was finally time to take a risk.
GABE PAID FOR A SODA and carried it toward an empty table in the mall’s crowded food court. He’d spent his entire Saturday evening searching for the right gift for Tracy, but he hadn’t found anything. Correction—he’d found a thousand things, but he had no idea which of them might be right.
He didn’t know what styles of clothes she liked, what kind of music she listened to or even what kinds of books she read. And that made him wonder what kind of father he really was.
He’d wanted to get her something special—something more than a simple card like his parents sent, something that showed her he’d put some thought into buying it. But now he wondered if he should take the easier route and stop by the card shop on his way back to the truck.
Settling into one of the uncomfortable wrought-iron chairs behind a small metal table, he let his gaze drift across the crowds of people. Groups of teenagers milled around in front of the theater. Mothers and daughters laughed together as they walked in front of him.
Sharon wouldn’t have this problem, he thought. She knew exactly what Emilee and Christa liked. She knew what teenagers in general liked, which meant she’d probably have no trouble picking out something for Tracy even though they’d never met.
He thought about calling her and asking for help, but he shoved aside the idea immediately. Another job had consumed his entire day, but had also given him a chance to think. He’d gone too far with that kiss yesterday afternoon. He didn’t want to push his luck.
Taking a long drink of soda, he tried to relax. He’d never win his bet with Jesse if he kept thinking about Sharon. The bet wasn’t the important thing—except that it would cost him dearly if he had to pay for the entire fishing trip. No, what was important was why he’d made the bet in the first place. He didn’t want to get involved with any woman for a while. He needed a clear head to sort through his problems with Tracy—not to mention dealing with his dad on a daily basis.
“Gabe?”
The sound of his name brought him around sharply, and face-to-face with Emilee and a young man who gazed at her with an expression so soft it made Gabe think of a young pup. He tried not to look amused. “What are you doing here?”
“Jason and I are on our way to a movie. What about you?”
“I’m shopping for my daughter.”
“Is it her birthday?”
“No.” He motioned for them to join him. “I just thought I’d send her something to show her I’m thinking of her.”
“Cool.” Emilee sat across from him and waited until Jason took a seat. “What did you get her?”
“Nothing yet,” Gabe admitted. “I’m having trouble finding the right thing. Any suggestions?”
“How old is she?”
“Fifteen.”
“Clothes.” She nodded firmly, as if that settled everything. “Girls that age always like new stuff to wear.”
Gabe shook his head slowly. “I haven’t seen her in almost a year. I don’t even know what she likes, what size she takes or what she needs.”
“Don’t buy her something she needs,” Emilee protested. “Buy her something just for fun.”
“That’s the trouble.” Gabe propped his chin in his hand. “I haven’t paid attention to what’s in style and what’s not.”
Emilee laughed. “So buy her something from a chain store. That way she can exchange it if you get the wrong thing. That’s what my dad does.”
She made it sound so simple.
Gabe took another sip. “I don’t suppose you have time to give me your opinion?”
Emilee glanced at Jason who shrugged indifferently. “It’s fine with me,” the boy said. “If we miss the movie, we can always go to the next showing.”
Relief and gratitude brought a smile to Gabe’s lips. “If you’ll help me, I’ll pay for your tickets.”
“Fine with me,” Jason said again.
Emilee stood and tugged on Gabe’s arm. “All right, then, let’s get to work. What is she like?”
Gabe tossed his cup into the trash and matched her pace as they left the food court. “She’s a little quieter than you and Christa. And she doesn’t go out a lot with friends—at least she didn’t when she lived with me. In fact, she and I are nearly opposites, which is probably another reason I’m having such a hard time finding a gift.” And another reason he had such a hard time talking to her.
“So, she’s like my mom.” Emilee ducked past a group of people, then stopped to wait for Jason to catch up.
Gabe’s step faltered. Was Tracy like Sharon? He didn’t know if he would have made that comparison. But now that Emilee had, he thought she might be right. Funny, he’d always believed two people so different couldn’t really be close, but Sharon and her daughters certainly proved that theory wrong.
He slowed his pace and stared at his reflection in a store window as the thought replayed again. Had he been letting that affect his relationship with Tracy? Had he put some of the strain between them? He didn’t like thinking that at all.