The Perfect Mom

by Janice Kay Johnson

  “I have a hard time believing men haven’t said nice things to you in the past couple years. Probably a hell of a lot more gracefully than anything I’ve said to you.”

  This smile glowed, lighting her face in a way no makeup job could. “You’re the only man I know who wouldn’t have run as fast as he could in the other direction when I started sobbing that first day! You were my knight in shining armor.”

  “An unlikely-looking one.” He rubbed a hand across his jaw, feeling a day’s stubble. “I’m probably the troll.”

  “No.” Her eyes were soft. “You’re a good-hearted man, Logan Carr. I don’t deserve to have your friendship.”

  Friendship wasn’t what he was feeling. He hoped like hell it wasn’t all she wanted from him. Her kisses said it wasn’t. Her common sense, though, probably dismissed any idea of romance with a homely working man. His common sense told him the knight-in-shining-armor luster would wear off once she didn’t need someone to lean on.

  But he wasn’t willing to walk away without trying. Not given the emotions she stirred in him. With his record, he would probably never feel these things again. He might as well go for the ride.

  He took a swallow of coffee and grabbed for a casual tone. “So, tell me about the session.”

  Stroking the kitten who wallowed on her lap, she kept her gaze downcast as she said, “I was tired, bedraggled and hungry.” She half laughed. “The bedraggled part is obvious, right?”

  He hadn’t touched her yet tonight. Now he couldn’t resist. He moved a cushion closer and slid his fingers into her hair. It felt…crunchy.

  He must have looked his surprise, because she laughed. “That’s what happens when you use gel and then get your hair wet over and over. I was heading for a nice hot bath when you called. I probably should have taken a quick one anyway, so I didn’t shock you.”

  He traced her jaw. “Fishing for a compliment?”

  She gave another snort of laughter. “This is not the moment when I’d fish, I assure you.”

  “Funny,” Logan mused, “I was thinking earlier that I’d never seen you look more beautiful.”

  Her mouth actually dropped open. “What?”

  “I figure this is how you’d look in the morning, when you first wake up and smile. You’re a beautiful woman. You don’t need fancying up.”

  She had another peculiar expression on her face. “See? There you go again, saying something so sweet, I can’t even politely argue and say, ‘Oh, no, I’m not.’”

  His hand slid to her nape, which felt more delicate than seemed reasonable.

  “Would you mind terribly if I kiss you, before everyone else walks in the door?”

  “Speaking of polite,” Kathleen murmured, as she turned her head so she could kiss his arm. She got out the, “Yes, you may,” just as he lifted her chin and bent his head to capture her mouth.

  To hell with friendship, he thought almost savagely, as his tongue tangled with hers.

  Squished between the two people, poor Pirate thrashed and then shot away.

  Logan and Kathleen made out like two randy teenagers on their parents’ living room couch, just as conscious of the ticking clock and the inevitable interruption. She seemed to melt in his arms, arching when his hand captured her breast and gently kneaded.

  When he lifted his head long enough to look down at her, his heart tightened like a fist in his chest. Color flagged her cheeks and her eyes glowed a deep, drowsy blue, while her mouth was soft and rosy. “You’re so pretty,” he said roughly. “Why are you letting me kiss you?”

  Hurt that he didn’t think he’d inflicted flitted across her face. “Am I pretty? If so, it’s just the outside. If you look deeper… No!” she cried, and pressed her mouth to his. Against it she whispered, “Don’t look deeper. Please don’t. Just kiss me, Logan. Please keep kissing me.”

  What could he do but oblige, even though he knew he’d lie awake that night aching with desire as he tried to puzzle out why this beautiful, classy woman disliked herself so much.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  RESTLESS ON THURSDAY EVENING, unable to settle to a book or dreaming up a new soap, Kathleen finally realized that she missed Logan. She was tempted to call him, just to talk, but refused to let herself. This was ridiculous. She’d seen him three out of the past five days! Two weeks ago, she’d never met the man.

  She did call Emma, who said sullenly, “How am I? How do you think I am? I’m in jail!”

  Kathleen refused to lose her temper. “You knew the rules.”

  “Yeah, yeah. Do not pass go,” she jeered. “Nobody asked me what I thought of the rules.”

  “That’s because if you were given your way, you might have died by now.” Kathleen sighed. “Let’s not have the same argument again.”

  “I don’t have anything else to talk about,” Emma said disagreeably.

  I do. I’m thinking of sleeping with a wonderful man who has calluses on his hands and drives a big pickup truck. I must be crazy, but I can’t seem to help myself.

  Not the kind of thing you told your teenager under the best of circumstances. I’m dating a wonderful man, now that was something she was going to have to admit to sooner or later, unless she planned to drop him like a hot potato the day before Emma was released from Bridges.

  “Ginny went home with a friend after school today,” Kathleen said. “The girl’s mother dropped her off afterward and said the two did a lot of giggling.”

  “Really?” In her surprise, Emma sounded like herself for a minute. “I didn’t know she had a friend.”

  “Shelly just got transferred into Ginny’s class. Somehow or other, the two hit it off.”

  “That’s cool.”

  “Shelly is coming over to play on Saturday, apparently. Ginny can hardly wait to introduce her to Pirate.”

  Emma was quiet for a minute. “I miss Pirate.”

  “Last night, he started with Ginny, then visited all the rest of us for a few hours each. I woke up with him.” Actually, she’d woken up because of him; he’d wrapped his long body around her head and was purring like a buzz saw in her ear.

  “I wish I’d…” A stifled sound might have been a swallow or even a sob. “Can you bring him to visit me?”

  “Unfortunately, I don’t think he’d be allowed.”

  “I was joking!” snapped Emma, back to form. “He’d be scared anyway.”

  “Yes. He would.” Just like you are, Kathleen thought sadly. She cleared her throat. “How’s your studying going?”

  “I don’t get my math. The tutor here can’t explain anything.”

  “Oh, dear. Shall I see if your teacher can call you?”

  “It doesn’t matter,” her daughter muttered.

  “Of course it matters. I’ll leave him a message at school.”

  There was a long silence. “Well,” Kathleen said heartily, “I guess I should say good-night.”

  “Are you coming tomorrow night?”

  Guilt swamped her. Tomorrow was Friday. She was having Logan over for dinner, going to a Mariners game and then…well, then she didn’t know. But she wasn’t going to visit Emma.

  Unless she canceled with Logan. She should cancel. He’d understand. She wasn’t ready yet anyway. If Emma wanted to see her… Relief and disappointment warred within her.

  “Not that I care,” her oh-so-charming daughter declared.

  “I’m afraid I’m not,” Kathleen admitted. “I’ll see you Saturday.”

  Another moment of silence. At last, sounding reluctant, as if she’d waged her own internal war, Emma asked, “Are you doing something tomorrow night?”

  Heaven forbid she care about her mother’s activities! Kathleen might have been more curious why Emma had asked if she weren’t still conducting her own battle.

  She could say, Helen asked me to… To do what? Kathleen thought frantically. Go to a movie? Sure. That was it. Make it casual. Helen and I made some plans.

  Or…no. I’m horribly behind on making soap. I just
have to make a batch.

  No. Emma would think she was saying, You’ve taken so much of my time, now you should feel guilty because I have to scramble to catch up.

  “Mom?”

  “I’m going on a date,” she said in a rush, then almost clapped her hand to her mouth. What had she done?

  “A date?” her daughter repeated, on a rising note.

  “Is that so awful?”

  “You just never…” She skidded to a stop so fast the screech was all but audible. “You’re going out with Dad, aren’t you?”

  Stunned, Kathleen said, “Your father? What on earth would make you think that?”

  “’Cuz I’m the only reason you left him. And now I’m not around!”

  Hearing the near-hysteria, Kathleen said hastily, “No, I’m not seeing your father. I will never date your father, I promise you. After what he did to you—” She bit off the rest. The therapist wanted her to let Emma remember good times with her dad, not just the bad. But she was horrified that Emma would ever, for a single second, think her mother would get back together with him.

  Emma was quiet for a moment. “You’re not lying?”

  “No, I’m not lying!” Kathleen protested indignantly.

  “Then…” The sixteen-year-old’s voice was small, even scared. “Who are you going out with?”

  “His name is Logan Carr.” His name sounded respectable. New England, upper crust. The kind of man who had frequented the world in which Emma had grown up. “He’s a cabinetmaker,” Kathleen admitted. “You remember my plans for the kitchen? He’s building those cabinets for us.”

  Trust Emma not to say, Like I care what he does. No. She felt compelled to jump right into her mother’s deep pool of doubt and snobbery and splash right around.

  “But…you’re always saying stuff about Uncle Ryan. How he shouldn’t have to work with his hands, if he’s smart and ambitious, he should be running his business and telling other people what to do. And this guy just hammers wood together?”

  “Cabinetmakers are considerably more skillful than that!” Kathleen snapped. “They don’t ‘hammer wood together.’”

  “Neither does Uncle Ryan,” her daughter pointed out, inarguably.

  “I’m not marrying Logan! He seems nice, and I thought we’d have fun. I don’t care what he does for a living!”

  “But…”

  “Enough! I’m going on a date, whether you like it or not.” She couldn’t resist adding, “So there.”

  “Jeez, Mom. You sound…”

  Childish. That’s what she sounded. Flushing with embarrassment, she said, “I remember how much you hated me dating before. I just figure I’m entitled.”

  In a stiff little voice, her daughter said, “Sure. Have fun. I gotta go. ’Night.”

  The click came before Kathleen got, “Good night,” out of her mouth.

  “YOU REALLY LIKE THIS GUY?” Jo asked seriously.

  The two women were preparing dinner together, Kathleen tearing lettuce for a salad and Jo stirring an enormous pot of stroganoff.

  “Oh, I hardly know yet…” The doorbell rang, and Kathleen jumped.

  Jo laughed. “I think that’s Ryan. I heard his truck.”

  Logan’s probably sounded the same, Kathleen thought but didn’t say. After all, she was dating a guy with a lot in common with her brother, who she had always secretly thought should be making more of himself. The trouble was, the secret contempt wasn’t all that secret; Emma had caught her out a long time ago.

  Kathleen wished she could loudly tell the world that she’d changed her mind about her brother, but how could she? She didn’t want him to know how much she’d looked down on what he did in the first place—if he hadn’t figured it out himself. Realizing how wrong she’d been was particularly galling now that she had to ask him for help on a regular basis. And now that she was dating a man in the same line of work.

  Hearing voices in the front hall, Kathleen reached for a cucumber. If Logan was here, he’d find her. Why get nervous?

  “It’s the first time you’ve dated since I’ve known you,” Jo continued. She dug in a lower cupboard for a pan, then ran water into it to boil for noodles.

  Cucumber peels curled and dropped to the cutting board. “Emma,” Kathleen said concisely. “She was jealous. Also…” She dropped the peeler and picked up a paring knife. “You’re younger than I am. Decent, single men in their mid-thirties and forties are about as common as—” she groped for a comparison “—as snowy owls. If they’re not married, they’re jerks, or they’re self-pitying, or they’re gay. Temptation does not trip me up often, believe me.”

  Jo threw back her head and laughed. “I may be a little younger than you are, but not that much younger. I could hardly believe somebody hadn’t already snapped up Ryan.”

  “Well, somebody did. She was just idiot enough to let him go.”

  “Yes, but again.” Jo lifted the lid of her stroganoff and peered in. “Wouldn’t you think women would have lined up to ask Ryan out, the minute they knew he was divorced?”

  “They probably did.” Kathleen added chopped green onion to the salad. “He’s always been…oblivious.” She shook her head. “Even I, big sister, could see that he was a hunk. Girls swarmed him, and he hardly noticed. You should be big-time flattered that he really noticed you.”

  “Oh, I count my blessings.” Jo gave a soft, dreamy smile. Then her expression became considering and she cocked her head. “You know, I don’t hear the kids. Maybe that wasn’t Ryan.”

  Nervousness fluttered again in Kathleen’s stomach, and she realized with astonishment that she was fussing over what everyone else would think about Logan. Never mind that they’d all met him! But this was different. He was here for dinner as her date. This was like bringing a guy home for your parents to inspect.

  The doorbell rang again, and Jo laughed. “Well, I guess it doesn’t matter. Sounds like everyone’s here now.”

  “And my salad is done.” Kathleen frowned. “I wish the table was bigger.”

  “We’ll be cozy.” Jo gave her a quick, unexpected hug and murmured in her ear, “I like him.” Then, more loudly, she said, “Logan, hi. And Tyler. Where’s your sister?”

  Salad bowl in her hands, Kathleen turned. Logan looked…well, not handsome, but almost, his hair damp from a recent shower and slicked back, his long-sleeved navy polo shirt emphasizing the power in his shoulders.

  “Hi,” she said, a little shyly.

  He gave her a smile that stole her breath. Maybe he was handsome. Sexy, for sure.

  “Aunt Kathleen!” Nine-year-old Tyler, small for his age, gave her a hug. “Dad says Emma is in the hospital. He says maybe we can go see her.”

  “On Sunday there’s open visiting, if you want to go.” She smiled crookedly at her brother when he came into the kitchen. “I know Emma would love it. Right now she’d enjoy seeing you guys a lot more than me.”

  Her nephew’s forehead furrowed. “Why?”

  “She’s mad at me for checking her into the hospital,” Kathleen explained. She looked over his head. “Where’s Melissa?”

  “She went looking for Ginny.”

  Melissa, almost a teenager, could be a brat, but like Emma she seemed to feel real affection for six-year-old Ginny, the mouse.

  Or, the hummingbird, as Ryan called her.

  Eventually they all sat down to eat at the table. Even with its one leaf in, it sat only six and here there were eight around it. Elbows bumped and Ginny promptly knocked over her mother’s water. Kathleen and Jo played waitress and then jumped up to offer seconds, because there wasn’t room in the middle for serving bowls.

  Kathleen was very conscious of Logan, so close beside her that his thigh pressed against hers. Initially he nodded and smiled and let the conversation wash by him, but gradually, she noticed, he joined in, his laugh becoming more spontaneous.

  He remained seemingly unfazed when, midmeal, Ryan began not so subtly to grill him.

  “Kathleen te
lls me you’re building her cabinets right now. That was mighty quick.”

  With the fork part way to his mouth, Logan said briefly, “Had a cancellation.”

  “Uh-huh.” Her brother’s tone wasn’t unfriendly, but it was definitely suspicious. “Do you have kids?”

  “Nope.” Appearing placid, Logan continued eating. Apparently the two men hadn’t gotten personal when they worked together, as he didn’t seem surprised by the question.

  “Divorced?”

  “Wife died.”

  Everybody momentarily froze. Glances at Helen, who had blanched. But she looked steadily at Logan and said in a soft voice, “I’m sorry. My husband died last year. I know how hard it is.”

  When Helen and Ginny moved in last August, Kathleen had wondered if she’d made a mistake agreeing to rent to Helen. She hadn’t planned on a child, for one thing. Especially not one who was a sad shadow of a normal six-year-old. Ginny had clung to her mother, even waiting in the hall outside the bathroom when Helen went in. Helen had seemed perpetually exhausted, her eyes often puffy from crying. She couldn’t make decisions and was so meek Kathleen wanted to shake her.

  But over the fall and winter she had slowly emerged from her grief. Becoming the marketing partner in Kathleen’s budding soap business was building her confidence in amazing ways.

  And Ginny… Well, shy Ginny was blossoming, too. At the moment, she whispered something to Tyler beside her and then giggled. The reference to her father’s death had apparently passed by her, thank goodness.

  Ryan must have figured the pause had been of a decent duration, because he resumed the attack. “Business good?”

  “Considering the economy.”

  Kathleen began to enjoy the mounting frustration she saw on her brother’s face. Logan’s terse but civil answers were failing to either satisfy Ryan or provide fuel for his suspicions that Logan was somehow unworthy of Ryan’s sister.

  Kathleen wasn’t all that certain who was seducing whom. After all, she’d been the one to fling herself into a strange man’s arms, hadn’t she? Of course, he’d taken the voluntary step across the door jamb.

  But she wasn’t offering any of those details to Ryan, either.