Caught Up in You

by Andrews, Beth

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Papa!” Cassidy called. “Papapapapapa!”

  Harper winced. Her baby had a set of lungs, God bless her.

  “Okay, okay.” Harper stood and unstrapped Cass, setting her on the floor. “Let’s go see who it is before you have the neighbors calling the police to see if there’s a hostage situation over here.”

  Cassidy raced toward the living room. By the time Harper caught up to her, she was pounding on the inside of the front door. “Papa? Papa, you there? Open up.”

  “We need to do the opening, kiddo,” Harper said, undoing the dead bolt. If she didn’t keep it—and the back door—locked, Cass would not only answer the door but also, more than likely, walk out and try to drive the car somewhere.

  Her kid had no fear. That was okay. Harper had enough for both of them.

  She peeked out the side window only to leap back and plaster herself against the door, arms splayed. For the love of all that was sweet and good in the world, what was Eddie Montesano doing on her porch?

  Reaching under Harper’s arm, Cass tugged on the knob. Grunted and frowned at her mother. “Stuck.”

  The door always stuck. Not that Harper blocking it helped matters. “I know. Step back and Mommy will open it.”

  She could do this. She’d just open the door, see what Eddie wanted and then send him on his way.

  No problem.

  Except, when she pulled on the handle, the door didn’t budge. He knocked again.

  “Just a second,” she said. “I’m having technical difficulties.”

  Planting her feet, she tried again, yanking hard. The door opened, the momentum taking her back two steps.

  Regaining her balance, she looked up to find Eddie staring at her in surprise. No, not her, she realized as Cass pushed past Harper to greet their visitor, but her daughter.

  Cass had no problem with finding a handsome man on her doorstep—even if that man wasn’t her beloved papa. She blinked at Eddie then smiled hugely. “Hi. Want to play with me?”

  “Oh, I really hope she outgrows saying that to men,” Harper murmured.

  Eddie glanced at her, then crouched so he was on Cass’s level. “What’s your name?” he asked in what could only be deemed a mellowed version of his usual gruff tone.

  “Cassidy. I tree.” As if to prove it, she held up three of her pudgy fingers.

  “Cass,” Harper said, “you’re not three. You’re two.”

  “No, I tree.”

  “You’re two.”

  “Tree.”

  “Two.”

  “No,” Cass said with a fierce scowl and a tiny foot stomp. “I. Tree.” And she stormed off toward the kitchen.

  “If you’re looking for your birth certificate to alter the dates,” Harper called after her, “I hid it the last time we had this conversation.”

  Harper turned to Eddie. He’d straightened, and the porch light cast half his face in the shadows. The ends of his hair stuck out from under his hat, ruffled in the breeze.

  “Is Max in the truck?” she asked, peering toward his vehicle parked in her driveway.

  “He’s with my parents.”

  “Oh. Well, is there something—”

  “You have a daughter.”

  “Are you asking me if I have one, or telling me?” She shook her head. “Never mind. Yes, I have a daughter. And if left to her own devices for more than a few minutes, she manages to find trouble.”

  He looked at her like she’d just blasphemed.

  That was the problem. Her baby resembled a cherub with her loose blond curls, big blue eyes and round cheeks.

  Harper glanced over her shoulder, strained to hear, but all was quiet on the kitchen front. She wasn’t sure whether that was a good thing or not. “I realize it’s hard to believe that something so sweet and innocent-looking is possible of wreaking havoc but, believe me, wreak it she does.”

  “Toddlers get into mischief. It’s how they learn and play. Start gaining independence.”

  “Thank you, Dr. Spock,” she said dryly. “But Cass goes above and beyond mischief. Two months ago she snuck a marker into her crib and colored all over the walls—and herself—during nap time. She was blue for days. Oh, and then, a few weeks later, during the time it took me to have a ten-minute phone conversation, she climbed onto the kitchen counter, dumped an entire bag of flour onto the floor, then got down and proceeded to throw eggs into it before, for some reason, rolling around in it.”

  Remembering how long it’d taken to clean up that mess still gave Harper nightmares.

  “Learn from me,” she continued. “When you get home from the grocery store, put the food away immediately. Don’t be fooled into thinking your groceries are safe just because you put them out of reach before taking a call. Kids have ways of getting what they want. My kid especially, so...” She raised her eyebrows expectantly.

  A flush climbed his cheeks. “You want me to go.”

  “No, of course not.” I just don’t want you to come in. But she couldn’t turn him away, not when he seemed so uncomfortable and embarrassed. She stepped back, motioned him inside, then shut the door. “I really do need to check on her, though. Follow me—we can talk in the kitchen.”

  She was well aware of him behind her, his gaze on the back of her head. Talk about bringing your work home with you. Usually she had paperwork to do in her free time, tests to be graded or lesson plans that needed completing. She’d never had a student or a student’s parent in her house.

  Now she knew why. It was weird. Tense. Her home was her sanctuary, where she ceased being Mrs. Kavanagh and could just be Harper. Cassidy’s mom. Beau’s wife.

  Eddie being here was ruining that.

  She wondered what he was thinking. Worried about it. She bit her lower lip to keep from apologizing about the toys scattered all over the living room, the inch of dust on top of her TV. She had no one to impress here.

  In the kitchen they found Cass at the table, sitting on her knees on Harper’s chair happily eating Harper’s slice of pizza—despite having her own slice cut into bite-sized pieces.

  “Want some pizza?” Cass asked Eddie.

  “No thanks. You go on and eat yours, though.”

  “Can I get you something to drink?” Good manners forced Harper to ask. Then again, she didn’t know why she was concerned about manners when he was the one who’d shown up uninvited and interrupted her dinner.

  “I’m good.”

  That was too bad. She could use something to do other than smile patiently at him and wait. And wait. And wait some more. After a few minutes, she gave in to the impatience brought on by a long day, hunger pangs and her desire to spend a quiet, peaceful evening with her baby girl.

  “I’m going to finish my dinner,” she said, reaching over her daughter to pick out a slice of pizza from the box. “You let me know when you’ve decided whether or not to share whatever it is you’re mulling over.”

  She bit into her pizza. Rude? Maybe. But she was growing old here waiting for Eddie to speak his mind.

  “I didn’t know you had a kid.”

  Whether he sounded put out because of what she’d said or because she had a child, she wasn’t sure.

  “And here I thought everyone in Shady Grove knew everything about everyone else.”

  “Guess not,” he mumbled, shoving his hands into his pockets.

  “I done,” Cass proclaimed as she climbed down. She grabbed Eddie’s hand. “You play with me now.”

  “Mr. Montesano doesn’t want to play right now,” Harper said, going to wet a clean dishcloth at the sink. “Why don’t we wash your face—”

  “No,” Cass screamed and ran off as if Harper had threatened to scrub her cheeks with sandpaper.

  “What do I have to do?” Eddie asked. “To help Max improve his grades, get him to pay attention better in class?”

  She squeezed the cloth so hard, water dripped off her wrist. “You came over here, to my home, on a Friday night to di
scuss your son? How did you even know where I live?”

  “Sadie told me.”

  Her cousin always did have a big mouth.

  “Do you have any idea how...unusual...this is?” Unusual. Weird. Inappropriate. Did she mention weird? “Most parents don’t simply...show up at their child’s teacher’s house without warning.”

  “You’re not just Max’s teacher.”

  “I’m not?”

  “You and me, we’re old friends.” His tone was low and somber, his expression just this side of grim. Jeez, he could try and charm her with a grin, or at the very least try not to look so foreboding.

  “We’re not friends, old or otherwise.” And where did he get off, using her words from their meeting the other day against her like this, trying to turn them around on her now? “So far, during the brief time we’ve been reacquainted, you’ve informed me—in no uncertain terms—that we are not, and never were, friends. That you don’t need my help with Max and don’t agree with my assessment of what his needs are.”

  She wasn’t going to include his accusing her of taking away Max’s recess since he’d apologized for that. Plus he had showed up today to help in class and had done a good job of it—despite her initial prediction that he’d be a distraction to her being right.

  “Now, you’re here, interrupting my dinner because you’ve...what? Changed your mind?”

  He grabbed the back of his neck. “I didn’t mean to interrupt your evening.”

  She sighed. A man of few words. She did not get why some women found that attractive. “If you want to meet to talk about Max, we can set something up for Mon—”

  “I back,” Cass announced happily as she dragged a stroller behind her, four dolls piled in the seat. In her other arm, she carried a naked Barbie which she shoved at Eddie, who took it without even blinking. “Dress her.”

  “Cassidy,” Harper said sharply, “don’t be so bossy. It’s not nice to tell people what to do.”

  “Okay, Mommy.” She sidled up to Eddie. “I the boss,” she whispered. “Dress her.”

  Eddie’s lips twitched and Harper realized she’d never seen him smile, wondered, briefly, inappropriately, what it would be like if he did.

  Probably swoon-worthy, if she had to hazard a guess.

  “What do you say when you want something?” Eddie asked so kindly, Harper had her mouth open to answer him before realizing he didn’t mean her wanting to see him smile. He was talking to Cass.

  “I say please,” Cass told him, holding out a tiny bright blue dress.

  He took the clothes. “That’s a good girl.”

  “I Mommy’s best girl. I your best girl, too.”

  Well, it was easy to see that her daughter had become quickly infatuated with Eddie. And that wouldn’t do. Harper stepped forward, ready to shove Eddie out the door if necessary. Then possibly move to some secret location so secluded her cousin wouldn’t be able to find her and spill her whereabouts to any of her students’ parents.

  But Eddie looked at the doll in one hand, the dress in the other and did something so unexpected, so damned shocking, all Harper could do was stare in surprise, horror and, yes, maybe a little bit of appreciation.

  He sat cross-legged on her kitchen floor, held out his arms and settled her daughter onto his lap.

  Talk about swoon-worthy.

  “What’s your doll’s name?” he asked Cass as he lifted his cap, turned it around and settled it on his head backward.

  “Katrina.” Cass named pretty much every Barbie, doll and stuffed animal after her favorite teacher at daycare.

  “Pretty,” Eddie said, earning him an adoring grin. After dressing Barbie, he fluffed the doll’s hair and handed her to Cass. “But not as pretty as you.”

  Cass nodded solemnly. “I know.”

  Harper covered her eyes with her hand. At least her child didn’t have any problems with self-esteem.

  “You’d be even prettier if you let your mommy wash some of that sauce off your face,” Eddie said, tapping Cass’s red cheek.

  “You do it.” Then Cass stuck her head forward like a turtle, her chin lifted.

  “That’s okay, Cass,” Harper said. “I can do it.”

  “No!” Cassidy threw her arms around Eddie’s neck. “You!”

  Patting her baby girl’s back with one hand, Eddie reached out the other. What choice did Harper have but to give him the cloth?

  He took it, gently disentangled himself from Cass’s arms, then washed her face.

  It was so sweet, so unexpected, that Harper couldn’t take her eyes off him. His brow knit in a subtle, contemplative frown, his eyes a warm caramel color. Stubble covered his cheeks and jaw, making the angles of his face seem sharper, more pronounced.

  She slid her gaze to his scuffed work boots, over his faded jeans. The sweatshirt he wore—the same one he’d had on when they’d met in her class Tuesday—hugged his shoulders, the pushed-up sleeves revealing his muscular forearms.

  His hands, oh, his hands, were large and tan, his touch sure and tender as he wiped Cass’s face. Harper imagined what it would feel like to have those hands on her, to feel the rough pad of his thumb rubbing against the sensitive skin under her ear, his fingers splayed against the nape of her neck as he held her motionless for his kiss.

  The tips of her fingers tingled, her mouth went dry.

  Reality crashed in, brought with it shame. And guilt. Shaken by her thoughts, by the flush suffusing her body, the heat skimming along her skin, she averted her gaze. Tried to catch her breath. It was just hormones. Nothing more. She was a woman, made of flesh and blood and flaws. She had a healthy, normal sexual appetite and had enjoyed an active sex life with Beau, had enjoyed kissing, touching and being intimate with her husband.

  This was nature’s way of telling her she was healing. That she could, someday, enjoy those things again. Want them again. But the thought of wanting them with another man had always left her cold.

  Until now.

  But it was fine. Understandable, even. She was experiencing a physical reaction to a good-looking man, one being nice to her daughter. A reaction to almost a year’s worth of lonely nights. Of sleeping alone, waking alone. Of having no one to hold her.

  Eddie set the cloth on the table. “All done.”

  “I prettier now?” Cass asked, staring at him with the complete confidence that he’d say yes.

  He smiled, a sweet, shy and totally sexy grin that had Harper’s pulse pounding.

  Crap. It was even better than she’d imagined.

  “You’re beautiful,” he assured Cass in his solemn way. “Like a princess.”

  Princess.

  Harper’s head spun and she grabbed the counter for balance. To ground

  herself and her thoughts. That was what Beau had called Cassidy. Daddy’s little princess.

  Now, Cass was in another man’s arms, gazing at him with a reverence and trust that should have been reserved for Beau.

  It broke Harper’s heart, the realization that Cassidy would never know her father, would never remember how much he’d loved her. But Harper remembered. Her memories of him, of how he’d looked at Cass with utter devotion, an all-consuming love, of what it had been like to be his wife, to be loved by him, were crystal clear.

  She’d keep them that way, hold them close when the loneliness struck. When she felt weak or needy, as if she couldn’t go on by herself. As if she needed another man to take his place.

  Looking at Eddie and Cass, she made a promise to herself, and to Beau.

  She’d never forget him, what they shared. Never.

  6

  STILL UNSETTLED, HARPER cleared her throat, couldn’t do much about how thin her voice sounded when she spoke. “Cassidy, what do you say to Mr. Montesano for dressing your doll and washing your face?”

  Hugging the doll to her chest, Cass stood. “Thank you, Mr. Ontsabdo.”

  “Good first effort,” he told her. “But, if it’s all right with your mom, you can call me Eddi
e.”

  “It’s all right, Deddie,” Cass assured him breezily.

  Yes, it was just fine. Be on a first-name basis with him. What could possibly be wrong with that?

  “Why don’t you take your dolls into the living room?” Harper asked her. “It’s almost bath time.”

  “Katrina wants to take a bath, too.”

  Water and shampoo weren’t all that good for Barbie’s hair but unmanageable tresses were a small price to pay for a stress-free bath time.

  “The more the merrier, I always say. Bring her along.”

  Looked like Katrina wasn’t staying in that dress long. Some days Harper felt like she lived in the midst of a Barbie nudist colony.

  Cass tucked the doll under her arm then pushed the stroller into the doorjamb—twice—before clearing it and making her merry way into the living room.

  Eddie got to his feet, his movements surprisingly graceful for a man she’d seen get stuck in one school desk and bump into another. “I should go. Sorry I interrupted your evening.”

  Darn right he should go. She wanted him gone, out of her home, leaving her in peace.

  Watching his broad back as he walked out of the room, she tried not to feel bad. But he had come all the way across town to speak to her about Max. Okay, so all the way across town didn’t exactly mean he’d traveled a hundred miles across frozen tundra—or any tundra, really—but still...

  He needed her.

  “I’m not sure what you’re looking for here,” she admitted when she found him wrenching open the front door. “I want to help Max, of course, but I’ve already explained to you what I feel the best course of action is to take. Have you changed your mind?”

  He shut the door. Opened it again. Shut it again then turned to her. “No.”

  She hadn’t thought so. He’d asked what he could do to help his son, hadn’t given any indication he’d realized Harper’s assessment was correct. “Then I don’t know what else I can do.”

  “Today in class, when you were teaching that sentence stuff, why did you tell Max you were going to be calling on him next?”

  Of all the things she’d thought he would say, that one hadn’t made the top twenty. “I wanted him aware of what was going to happen and that I expected him to pay attention.”