Terry Essig - What The Nursery Needs...

Jason took a quick look around the kitchen, then leaned slightly back to glance down the hallway that bisected the front of the house. He hadn’t missed anybody. “Then you’re not—?”

Catherine shook her head in a determinedly cheerful manner. “Nope, I’m not married. Free as a breeze.” There was a brief flash of panic crossing her new neighbor’s face, and Catherine knew he was envisioning being hunted. She almost laughed out loud. The man would die if he knew how close he was to being right, provided Monica got her way.

A quick look behind Jason brought Monica into focus. Her sister’s eyes were crossed in an obvious sign of disapproval. Monica must have thought she was being too flippant. Too bad. Catherine would be nice to the man, friendly, but only because he had a daughter she was pretty sure she’d enjoy being around. The child seemed to be such a stereotypical preadolescent it was downright funny, at least from Catherine’s point of view. But she was not going to bother struggling to understand the male mind again. No way. Forget it.

“You’re blowing it,” Monica whispered as she passed by on her way to the table. “Subtlety is the key here. We’re only planting seeds, remember?”

“Put a sock in it, Mon,” Catherine advised her sister cheerfully. “I don’t care if I blow it or not. I’m implementing plan B whether you approve or not.”

Monica, however, was not to be deterred. She switched to a high-beam smile as Jason approached the table, several cups of soda held firmly between his two large hands.

“Here we go, everybody,” Jason said heartily. “Pop all around.” But underneath the external good cheer, he just wanted to eat and get out of there. He’d been hunted too many times both before and after his divorce not to be nervous about having a single woman move in next door. He was not interested. No sirree, not him. There was no such thing as happily ever after. He’d learned that the hard way. He might take the chance if he was on his own and he’d be the only one paying the price for failure, but Maura had had enough upheaval in her young life. He was off the playing field until Maura was safely grown.

He looked at Catherine Nicholson as she sipped her drink and almost groaned out loud. It would be tough going if they had to spend any time together. No mistaking it, this was one extremely attractive woman. Even all hot and bothered looking from her rough day, Catherine exuded sex appeal. Now that his heart had dropped back down into his chest after his daughter’s disappearing act, he could see that. A good woman to steer clear of, as a matter of fact. At least until his head could convince the lower part of his body to swallow the company line he was trying to feed it.

He despaired over the injustices of life. Why couldn’t she be safely married? Or if she had to be single, why couldn’t she be ugly? But no, there was absolutely nothing harsh or unattractive about her. Hair the color of ripe chestnuts curled under gently along her jawline and it angled up toward the back of her head, forming a saucy high wedge. Her eyes were a soft, medium brown framed by thick spiky lashes, and her skin was creamy and without blemish. There was not even a single freckle with enough nerve to marr the smooth arch of her high cheekbones. And her body was nicely padded in all the places a man appreciated a bit of padding. He didn’t know if he could handle having that body right next door, unattached, available for pursuing. He ground his teeth in frustration.

You, Jason silently informed himself, had just better be on your guard. You cannot even begin to entertain the type of prurient thoughts you are already considering. Not while Maura is at such an impressionable age. Just stop it.

Jason consciously averted his eyes from Catherine’s cameo profile and sat. Catherine handed him the Mongolian beef container, so he was forced to turn his head briefly in her direction, but as soon as he had a firm grip on the carton, he returned his eyes to look directly in front of him. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

After checking around that everyone else had a plateful, Jason spooned a large amount of rice onto his plate, then topped it with an equally large amount of the beef. He tore the top off a little plastic envelope of soy and squeezed that liberally over the mound and picked up his fork. Jason had it loaded and halfway to his mouth when something Maura said earlier clicked and he dropped the fork with a clatter.

“The crib,” he said before he could think how it would sound. “You have a baby?”

Jason cringed. He didn’t mean to sound judgmental, but he was already attracted to her. And he could tell Maura had taken an interest in her, as well. He was not unaware of the lack of feminine guidance in his daughter’s life, he just didn’t know what to do about it. He had no sisters, and his former wife had “gotten on with her life,” an event that seemed to exclude her own daughter. It just might be good for Maura to spend some time with Amy and her aunt. They seemed close. But not if the woman had no morals.

“Are you divorced?” he asked hopefully. That would explain a baby.

“Divorced?” Catherine asked. “No, I’m not divorced. I’ve never been married. And I don have a baby. Where’d you get that idea?”

“But you moved in a crib,” Maura said, obviously confused. “I saw it. I was going to ask you if I could baby-sit for you. I took the Red Cross baby-sitting course and everything.”

“The crib,” Monica repeated, sounding a bit panicky to Catherine’s ears. “That’s easy to explain.”

Catherine’s eyes widened at that. It was? This she had to hear.

“It’s an heirloom,” Monica announced baldly, and Catherine blinked at the blatant lie. “Handed down through my, um, mother’s side for several generations.

Don looked up from his rapidly shrinking mountain of cashew chicken. “It is?” he asked in surprise. “I thought it was another one from the shop.”

“Well you thought wrong,” his wife told him.

“How come we didn’t use it?” her spouse continued.

“Because it’s an heirloom handed down to the youngest daughter of the family, that’s why,” Monica informed him in a rather severe voice.

“Oh,” Don said. nodding wisely. “Your family always was a little weird. Sounds like something strange they’d come up with.” His interest returned to his plate of food, and Catherine breathed a sigh of relief. This was the reason she rarely lied. Somehow the lie always snowballed, and you ended up a nervous wreck while you tried to keep things plausible and remain undiscovered in your deceit. In the process, your digestive juices turned on your stomach wall and before you knew it, presto, instant ulcer. Before she could check Jason’s face to see if he’d swallowed Monica’s ridiculous explanation, Amy interrupted.

“Aunt Cath?”

“Yes. Amy?”

“You know how we were going shopping and out to lunch on Saturday so you could get your kid fix?”

Jason’s head snapped up. He stared first at Amy, then at Catherine.

Across the table Catherine could see Monica’s eyes were closed and she was shaking her head. “Uh, yeah. What about it?” Not only did she now owe Monica another favor—since Amy had just made it clear they had already made plans together for Saturday, and it wasn’t to pay Monica back for helping today—but even a quick sideways glance in Jason’s direction told her he was back on red alert. Well. too bad. That was his problem. He’d figure out she wasn’t interested sooner or later. Meanwhile it was sort of entertaining, in a perverse sort of way, to watch him squirm.

“Well, maybe Maura could come with us. That way,” she continued brightly, “I’d have a friend and you could get a double kid fix all for one trip to the mall. Wouldn’t that be cool?”