Bonnie Winn - The Mommy Makeover

Jenny scrunched her face in girlish disdain. “Icky. Why would girls want to know that?”

Why indeed? “Maybe we could try that hair thing. Braids, eh?”

“Uh, huh. French fried braids.”

Finn drew his brows together. “Braids that look like French fries?”

“Daddy! They don’t look like French fries, they are French fried.”

Finn looked at her in puzzlement. What the heck were French fried braids? He wasn’t sure which one of them was confused, but he was fairly certain one of them was. “Tell you what, Jen. I’ll figure out how to make them, okay?”

“Okay,” she replied reluctantly. Then she lifted large expressive eyes, instant reminders of his late wife, Angela. “But it’s still not the same as having a mommy.”

Of course not. As hard as he tried, Finn could never replace her mother. There was one thing he could never overcome. He wasn’t a woman.

Exhausted, Finn hoped that Jenny would fall asleep soon. He would be lucky if he managed to grab even a few hours’ sleep before his early morning assignment. And he guessed his new boss would have little tolerance if he showed up late. She might look dynamite, but unfortunately she was as equally explosive.

Jenny curled her hand trustingly in his and Finn resigned himself to staying by her side. Perhaps Ms. Amhurst would wake up on the right side of the bed in the morning. She couldn’t be as tough as she appeared.

Katelyn rechecked her watch, drummed her fingers over the wine-colored leather of her briefcase and then tapped her shoe impatiently. Five minutes after eight. Hadn’t she told that cocky driver to be there at precisely eight o’clock?

She took another drag on her cigarette as she looked out of the glass double doors of her lobby and saw Malloy’s limo pulling into the circle drive. Quickly ditching the cigarette, she pushed open the lobby doors and strode outside. Malloy leapt from the car, but she was faster, yanking open the rear door herself.

“You’re late,” she greeted him, slamming her briefcase on the seat beside her as she slid inside.

“Good morning,” Finn replied, wondering if the woman had replaced her Cheerios with ice cubes or, possibly, ground glass.

She merely glared in response.

Finn considered telling her it was nothing short of a miracle that he’d shown up at all, considering he’d had to find a baby-sitter, put out all his domestic fires, and then turn an hour drive through traffic to her condo into thirty-five minutes. And all of that had been accomplished on almost no sleep. But, he suspected she wouldn’t care. It was his job, after all, and his messy personal predicaments were none of her concern.

He pulled out of the driveway. “We’ll get there in plenty of time,” he assured her.

She grunted in reply and opened her briefcase.

Finn grasped the thermos in the seat beside him, then lifted it so that she could see. “Coffee?”

He could see she looked tempted.

“There are cups in the bar—creamer and sugar, too. Normally, the coffee’s back there, along with donuts and bagels, but I had a pretty full morning trying to line up a sitter. We can swing by Shipley’s Donuts or the bagel place—”

“Coffee’s fine,” she cut him off, taking the thermos. “In the future, don’t stock donuts or bagels. I prefer power drinks. Daniel can give you a supply. But for now, as I said, I don’t want to be late.”

“You won’t be,” he replied, determined to make it downtown in record time if he had to drive over the rooftops of the cars in his way.

“So you said. But we had a late start.”

God, she was a thorny woman. It was no wonder she was over thirty and single. He pitied the man who decided to get close to her.

Finn glanced into the rearview mirror and saw that she was deep into her work already. Then again, maybe she wouldn’t surface often enough from her briefcase to be a bother.

He might be old-fashioned, but he thought a woman should get at least equal joy from her home and family. He suspected the ice princess would be appalled at such a thought.

Still, he tried again to talk with her. “So, another big meeting this morning?”

“Ummm,” she replied, obviously not paying any attention to him.

“Will this one last as long as yesterday’s?”

“Ummm,” she repeated.

“Same old thing?” he asked patiently, already knowing her answer.

“Ummm,” she said, as though on automatic pilot.

“Just another boring day dancing naked on conference room tables, eh?”

“Ummm.”

He waited patiently for a few moments.

“What did you say?” she asked suspiciously, finally looking up from her work.

“I asked if this meeting might run long like yesterday’s.”

“Oh. I don’t know. It shouldn’t, but few creative meetings can be accurately predicted.”

“Everyone thinks their brainchild is best,” Finn surmised.

Katelyn glanced up in surprise. She hadn’t thought the man capable of such perceptiveness. “Precisely. And it’s difficult for the client to remember they’re paying us to be creative.”

“Probably because it’s hard for them to accept that their ideas aren’t any good,” Finn guessed. “Or to remember that’s why they need you. If they were creative geniuses they’d have their own ad agency, instead of hiring one.”

“Right again.” Katelyn frowned. She didn’t want to believe the man was intelligent—it went against her picture of him. Purposely she turned her attention back to her notes. This campaign was a killer. She didn’t need any distractions—like wondering if hunky limo drivers had brains.

Finn tried to stifle a yawn. Between the kids keeping him up late and then having to get up early, he was dead tired. Looking ahead into the traffic, he realized the line of cars in front of him had come to a dead stop. He hit the brakes hard and heard a distinct thud. Since he’d managed to avoid hitting the car in front of him and the car behind had stopped a safe distance away, it hadn’t come from outside. Which left his passenger.

Craning his neck around, Finn looked in the back but didn’t see her. Doubting she’d bailed out, he stared straight down—into Katelyn’s furious face. Crumpled into a heap, she was wedged on the floor between the seat and the bar.

“Where did you learn to drive? Beirut?” Katelyn asked as she pulled herself up and onto the seat.

“Didn’t you have your seat belt on?”

“Are you suggesting that your erratic driving is somehow my fault? Because my seat belt wasn’t fastened?”

“Of course not. But you should have it on.” Finn held up a hand to stave off her protests. “For your own safety. Sorry about the quick stop. I’m a little tired this morning. Guess my reflexes aren’t up to par.”

“Mr. Malloy, my firm hired you to drive. I suggest you get your reflexes back on line.” She palmed the goose egg forming on her forehead. “Or I’ll be forced to find another firm.”

Finn swallowed his automatic response and his jaw ticked with the effort to keep it still. Not trusting himself to speak, he clamped his lips tightly together as he shoved a tape into the player.

The truth was, he needed this contract desperately. This morning was a glaring example. As a single father, Finn relied on the flexibility of having his own business. He also needed a steady contract that would guarantee to cover the limo payment, insurance and costs. And most of those contracts went to the bigger firms. It was a miracle that he’d gotten the call from Ellington. He couldn’t blow the job because the ice princess was a pain. He supposed her orderly life didn’t have any messy complications. Certainly nothing as unpredictable as children.