Gwynne Forster - Fools Rush In

Justine put Tonya’s car seat in her car and drove with the baby to the post office. She hadn’t asked Duncan’s permission to take the child out of the house, so she’d get back there as quickly as possible. The sight of a dozen letters to Aunt Mariah escalated her spirits, and she could barely wait to read them. She parked in Duncan’s two-car garage seconds before he pulled into the other spot.

As she jumped out, he opened the back door and took Tonya from her car seat. “How’s Daddy’s girl?” but his gaze bore into Justine, unreadable and disquieting.

“I hope you don’t mind that I took her with me; I had to run a quick errand.”

“I don’t mind.” Did she imagine a reluctance in his voice? “Leave me a note, though, when you do that. I worry impatiently, Justine, and I don’t like to waste my time like that.” The smile that gleamed from his sleepy, reddish-brown eyes would have taken the sting out of his words and comforted her had it not sent hot darts zinging through her limbs.

But she refused him the satisfaction of knowing that, looked into his eyes as brazenly as he’d looked into hers, and assured him, “Of course, I’ll abide by your rules.”

He started walking toward the front door and stopped, when Tonya reached for her. “I can’t believe what I’m seeing. When I’m around, Tonya sticks to me like glue. She’s been with me a couple of seconds and wants to go back to you. I didn’t hire a hypnotist, did I?”

“Children Tonya’s age enjoy the comfort of a soft bosom, which you don’t have.” She wanted to eat the words even as they slipped out of her mouth, uttered in a desperate effort to divert his mind from its dangerous track.

Her normal composure nearly deserted her as his rapt stare appraised her. Unwavering. She couldn’t erase the words and didn’t dare try to explain them, so she stepped past him and reached for the front door knob. His hand whipped out to grasp her elbow.

“I take it you weren’t being provocative with that comment, but if you were, you might remember that children aren’t the only ones who enjoy a warm, soft bosom.” He released her arm, opened the door, and headed upstairs as Tonya looked over his right shoulder and sang out, “Juju. Bye, bye Juju.”

Most men declared war when they wanted to fight, but this one gave no warning. She watched his long lithe body stride up the stairs as Tonya continued to wave good-bye to her over his shoulder. Several retorts surfaced to mind, but she couldn’t afford flippancy. She would have to decide how to deal with Duncan Banks, and she wouldn’t let his cool, self-assured manner tempt her into an ill-considered reaction to that taunt. After all, it was she who had everything to lose. Legally, he was Tonya’s father, and he didn’t have to make up stories or play games in order to be with her. But he’d better watch it; she had never played roll-over for anyone, and Duncan wouldn’t be her first experience at it.

Duncan removed Tonya’s jacket and cap and put the happy baby in her crib. He knew he should have let Justine do that, but he was close to furious at his reaction to her innocent comment. Yes, innocent. She’d been embarrassed at her words, for they had surprised her as much as him. He didn’t need the reminder that he had a lovely, desirable woman sleeping across the hall from him, a woman who responded to him without his having to encourage her. He changed Tonya’s diaper, as he had done for months past, without remembering that he was now paying a nanny to do it. He gazed down at her, lying there so peaceful and trusting while she fought her drooping eyelids and lost the battle.

What could he say to Justine after his own provocative and unnecessary remark? He stepped out of Tonya’s room seconds before Justine closed her bedroom door. Whiffs of her gently seductive perfume assaulted his nostrils and quickened his blood, but her door, that cold, white barrier that separated them, stirred his common sense into action, and he shoved his hands in his pockets and loped down the stairs.

“You hungry, Mr. B?” Mattie called from the kitchen.

He wished Mattie would resist yelling at him when three rooms separated them. “A little, but I’ll wait for Justine.”

“Well, I gotta get home. Moe complains when I’m out late.”

He looked at his watch. Seven o’clock. “Call me when Justine comes down.” He headed for the basement. What he needed was a good workout. He discarded his jacket and shoes, did twenty push-ups, and threw a couple of dozen darts, each of which landed farther from the bull’s eye than the one that preceded it.

“Mr. B, come on up. I got to get my dinner on.”

He put on his shoes and jacket, washed his face and hands, ran up the stairs, and stopped short. Justine floated from the second floor, almost unrecognizable in a red silk jumpsuit, oversized gold hoops at her ears, and her makeup-free face framed with jet black hair that swung well below her shoulders.

When he could close his mouth, he asked her, “Going out tonight?”

Her raised eyebrow reminded him of the silent reprimands he used to get from his elementary school teachers. “I freshen up for dinner, even when I’m eating at home alone.”

Oh, no. He might have eaten dinner by the light of a kerosene oil lamp a few times as a small child, but she was still the nanny, for Pete’s sake, and she wasn’t pulling status on him. “And get all done up like that? Well, it doesn’t hurt my eyes one bit. Come on, let’s eat.”

Duncan reached for the cornbread, but Mattie sang out, “Dear Lord, we thank…” and he let his expelled breath tell her what he thought of her reprimand. From the corner of his eye, he could see the satisfied smile that claimed Justine’s face as she enjoyed Mattie’s audacious behavior. In his younger days, the devil would have gotten into him, and he’d have given himself the pleasure of seeing her eyelids pop open when he planted his mouth on hers. Better not entertain such thoughts. Besides, Justine would get her dose; nobody’s business was sacred to Mattie.

“Mattie, what’s the matter with this cornbread?” he asked when she’d finished her long supplication. She took a bite of bread and chewed it as though relishing rich ice cream.

“Come on, Mattie, What did you do to this stuff?”

“Nothing. Tastes good as it always did, and it’s a lot more healthy. I just left out the melted butter and eggs to give Justine a chance to drop a few pounds. I’m surprised she could get into that thing she’s wearing.”

He pretended not to hear Justine’s gasp. Now that Mattie was on her case, he wanted to see how she would deal with it. “Why do you want Justine to lose weight? As far as I can see, she’s got what she needs, and nothing’s out of place. Next thing I know you’ll have Tonya on a weight-losing diet. Could you please put some butter on the table?” He ignored her loud grumbles as she went to the kitchen. “Don’t pay any attention to her, Justine. You look good to me. Sometimes, I’m surprised Mattie doesn’t have us eating dinner in the morning and breakfast at night—”

“According to my books,” Mattie interrupted, “that’d be a lot healthier than eating all this heavy stuff and going straight to bed. Here’s your calories, Mr. B.” As though suddenly conscious of Justine’s silence, she went on, “Hope I didn’t upset you none, Justine, but you have to watch—”

“Mattie, I’ve already told you that I’m satisfied with the way I look. We’ll stay friends if you stop talking about it.”

“All right. All right, but you mark my word, men like little women.”

He recognized in himself the desire to protect Justine from embarrassment, and he knew himself well enough to know it spelled trouble. “This man likes women of substance, regardless of size, and I hope this is the last time I hear this subject in my house, Mattie.”