Janet Evanovich: Full House

"Just as I thought," he said and lifted the lid. It was filled with chocolate-chip cookies.

"Help yourself," Billie said.

Munching his cookie, Nick glanced at the rest of the house. Her carpet, a mushroom color, had been chosen out of practicality, to accommodate children and pets running about, just as her beige walls would not show handprints as easily as white ones. She had added color in comfortable-looking overstuffed furniture of plaids and prints and bright throw pillows. Tasteful watercolors adorned the walls, as well as pictures of her children in various stages of growth.

"I like your place."

Billie headed for the coffeemaker, taking care with her foot. "It feels empty with my children gone. I can't seem to get used to being alone." She put in a fresh filter and reached for her coffee canister.

Nick helped himself to another cookie. "Off at camp?"

"Off with their father," she said, giving a disparaging frown. "He took them to Disney World."

Nick pondered it while she put the coffee on to brew. He was being nosy, but he didn't care. He noted the look on her face and wanted to learn more. "Unfriendly divorce?"

Billie slouched into a chair at the kitchen table and propped her injured foot on the one beside it. "The divorce has been great. It was the marriage that had problems." Now, why had she gone and told him that? she wondered. She almost never spoke ill of her ex, especially in front of the children. She was feeling sorry for herself, that's all.

Nick looked at her expectantly.

Billie saw the look and shrugged. She'd probably never see the man after today, so what did it matter? "An early midlife crisis," she said, waving her hand in the air as though to make light of it. As though it hadn't mattered, when, in fact, it had mattered very much. "He hit thirty and took a nosedive. I should have suspected something was amiss when he got a membership to a tanning salon."

"And after he got a tan, he got a sports car and a girlfriend?"

"Something like that." Billie sighed. In retrospect, the marriage had never been that wonderful. She'd married a man who wasn't ready for monogamy. He'd made an effort in the early years, but as time passed, he'd felt more and more confined, restless. She had blamed herself. Perhaps she could have done more. After having been divorced for four years, she found that time had dulled the trauma of rejection. Still, it hadn't completely erased the occasional pang of guilt.

She straightened her shoulders. She was not one to dwell on the past, but she had certainly learned from it. She might not have been the world's greatest wife, although she knew in her heart she'd given it her best shot, but she was a terrific mother. And she was a good teacher — the best darn teacher at Purcellville Elementary the previous year. She had an award that said so. And she had a green thumb that kept fresh vegetables on the table for two growing children.

Nick saw the slight tightening of her mouth and knew his prying had opened old wounds. He decided to change the subject. "You didn't take your pain pill."

No wonder her foot hurt like the dickens, Billie thought. It throbbed as though, well, as though a damn horse had stepped on it. "I try to avoid medication, even aspirin if I can help it. I'm overly sensitive to it."

She was trying to be tough again, Nick thought, just as she'd balked at the idea of using a crutch. "The doctor wouldn't have given it to you if he didn't think you needed it." He glanced at the sample packet they'd given her. "My dentist has prescribed this painkiller to me before. It's very mild." He found a glass and filled it with water.

Billie hesitated for a moment before popping the pill into her mouth and following it with the water.

Nick realized he might have acted too quickly. "You probably shouldn't have taken it on an empty stomach."

"Now you tell me."

The coffee had finished dripping through. He'd only planned to grab a quick cup, dissuade her against her polo career, and be on his way, but he couldn't just leave her. She needed food, and she probably wouldn't go to the trouble with her bum foot.

Face it, Kaharchek, he told himself. He was in no hurry to leave.

"How about some lunch?" he said, turning to her refrigerator. "I bet there are great leftovers in here."

Billie had to shake her head at the sight of Nick Kaharchek, renowned playboy and newspaper mogul, with his nose in her refrigerator. He was one of those people who never looked out of place. He'd seemed perfectly comfortable in the hospital, doing his best to reassure her and asking the doctor all the right questions so that Billie didn't have to try to concentrate in her state of discomfort. He was obviously a man who had no trouble taking control when the situation called for it; he was taking charge of her kitchen as though it were completely natural.

"Help yourself," Billie said, wondering at the change in him. Was this the same man who'd been so aloof on the polo field? She studied him as he moved about the room with an ease that surprised her. "You know, you're much more mellow in a kitchen than you are on a horse. Do you always experience this change of personality when confronted with a refrigerator?"

"Cookie fumes," Nick told her, hauling out a platter of lasagna. "They go straight to my head." He located plates and put sliced squares of lasagna onto them, stuck one inside the microwave and turned the timer to three minutes. "So, how many kids do you have?"

"Two. A son and daughter, ages eight and ten." Billie continued to watch him. He seemed to be moving about slowly and deliberately, as though he had all the time in the world. Was he stalling? She suddenly wondered why he was hanging around. The man wanted something. She'd cut her teeth on sixth-grade con men. What was Kaharchek after? Surely he had better things to do. She thought of Miss Sheridan Flock who, no doubt, was waiting by the phone for his call. The come-hither look she'd given him had left no doubts in Billie's mind that the woman was ready, willing, and able.

Her mind searched for answers. Was he afraid of a lawsuit? Was he trying to butter her up with lunch and that knockout smile in hopes of winning her over? It probably worked on most females, but she wasn't buying. The man was a known womanizer. A hunk with money. He could have any woman he wanted.

So why was he spending time with a divorced mother of two? He'd given no indication that he even liked her. Okay, she had to admit there was a slight physical attraction. Well, maybe the attraction was more than just slight, she told herself, remembering how her body had reacted when she'd fallen on top of him and all their body parts had touched.

She had her reasons. She still believed the old-fashioned notions that sharing a bed with a man meant love, commitment, and ultimately marriage, beliefs that sent ice water through the loins of most men nowadays. But she'd made up her mind long ago never again to settle for less.

"You miss them, don't you?"

"Huh?" Billie realized she had been lost in her own thoughts. Her shoulders slumped. "Yes. I should have signed up to teach summer school like I usually do, but I wanted to have time with my children. I should have taken into account they'd be gone a month. Not only that, most of my friends are teaching, so I don't see them much." Lord, she sounded downright pathetic.

"Is that why you decided to take polo lessons?"

She was beginning to feel light-headed. "That's one of the reasons."

"Why'd you choose that particular sport?"

"You mean why did I choose something that I'm really no good at?" She didn't give him a chance to respond. "You'll think it's silly."

"Try me anyway."

"I want to be good at something. Anything. My children's father excels at sports. Big football star in high school, hockey star in college. He skis like he was born wearing them, he has a cabinet full of tennis trophies, and now he has taken up skydiving. The kids think he's some kind of superhero."