Читать книгу Mother in Training - Marie Ferrarella, Marie Ferrarella - Страница 11

“See, that wasn’t so hard, now was it?” Smiling broadly, Zooey shot the question at him three minutes later as she walked with him to the front door.

He stopped in the entry, a less than patient reply on his lips. It froze there as something seemed to crackle between them. It wasn’t dry enough to be static electricity, but certainly felt like it.

And like something a little more…

Feeling like a man who was tottering on the brink, Jack pulled himself back. “I didn’t say it would be hard, I said that it was—oh, never mind.” He waved a hand in the air, dismissing the exchange he knew he’d be destined to lose. “I guess I should just be grateful that you’re not with the DA’s office.”

Her eyes crinkled as she grinned. She was going to get lines there if she wasn’t careful, he thought.

“Attaboy, Jack. Always look at the positive side of things.”

He didn’t believe in optimism. The last time he’d felt a surge of optimism, he’d asked Patricia to marry him—hoping, unrealistically, for a slice of “happily ever after.” What he’d wound up getting were arguments and seemingly irreconcilable differences—until her life, and their marriage, was abruptly terminated.

“I deal in facts,” he told Zooey tersely.

Was that pity in her eyes? And what was he doing, anyway, staring into her emerald-green eyes.

“Facts can be very cold things,” she told him. “At the end of the day, dreams are what get you through, Jack. Hopes and dreams are a reason to get up and strive tomorrow.”

Had he ever been that idealistic? He sincerely doubted it. If he had, it was far too long ago for him to remember. “Mortgage payments and college tuition are reasons to get up and strive tomorrow.”

Zooey cocked her head, her eyes looking straight into him. Into his soul. The touch of her hand on his felt oddly intimate.

“Don’t you ever have any fun, Jack?”

He tried to shrug off the feeling undulating through him, the one she seemed to be creating. “You mean I’m not having fun right now?”

The expression on her face told him she took his flippant remark seriously. “You are if you love your work.”

“I’m good at it.” There was no pride in his answer. It was just another fact.

Zooey shook her head. He could have sworn he detected a whiff of jasmine.

“Not what I said. Or asked.” Her eyes seemed to search his face. “Do you love your work, Jack?”

Love was too damn strong a word to apply to something like work, he thought. “When everything comes together, there is a surge of…something, yes.”

The answer did not satisfy her.

He was a hard man to pin down, she realized. She wondered if he knew that, or if this verbal jousting was unintentional.

“A ‘surge’ isn’t love, Jack.” Zooey’s voice softened a little and she leaned forward to smooth down his collar. “Love is looking forward to something. To thinking about it when you don’t have to because you want to. Love is anticipation. And sacrifice.”

She was standing too close, he thought. He was standing too close. But stepping back would seem almost cowardly. So he stood his ground and wondered what the hell was going on. And why. “For a single woman you seem to know a lot about love.”

“Don’t have to have a ring on your finger to know about love, Jack.” The smile on her lips seemed to somehow bring her even closer to him. “Do you know about love?”

Okay, now he knew where this was headed. She was trying to get him to spend more time at home. Which would have been fine—if somehow his work could do itself. But it couldn’t. “If you’re asking me if I love my children, yes, I love my children. I also don’t want them doing without things.”

Again she moved her head from side to side, her eyes never leaving his. Where did she get off, passing judgment? Telling him how to be a father when she’d never been a parent? The desire to put her in her place was very strong, almost as strong as the desire to take her in his arms and kiss her.

Exercising the extreme control he prided himself on, Jack did neither.

“The first thing they shouldn’t be doing without,” she told him softly, “is you.”

Okay, it was time to bail out. Now. “This conversation is circular.”

His harsh tone did not have the desired effect on her. “That’s because all roads lead to ‘Daddy.’”

Retreat was his only option. So with a shrug, Jack turned to leave.

“Wait,” Zooey cried, just as he crossed the threshold.

“Somebody else I forgot to say goodbye to?” he asked sarcastically. The woman was definitely getting under his skin and he needed to put distance between them. Before he did something that was going to cost him.

To his surprise, Zooey was dashing toward the living room. “No,” she called over her shoulder, “but you did forget something.” The next moment, she was back at the front door with his briefcase in her hands. She held it out to him with an amused smile on her face. “Here, you might need this.”

Jack wrapped his fingers around the handle, pulling it to him with a quick motion she hadn’t expected. The momentum had her jerking forward. And suddenly, there was absolutely no space between them. Not for a toothpick, not even for a sliver of air.

The foyer grew warmer.

Zooey could feel her heart accelerating just a touch as she looked up at him. Something threatened to melt inside her, as it always did when she stopped thinking of him as Emily and Jackie’s father, or her boss, and saw him at the most basic level—a very good-looking man who did, on those occasions when she let her guard drop, take her breath away.

It was so still, she could hear her pulse vibrating in her ears.

“Wouldn’t want you to go into the office without your briefcase,” she finally said, doing her best to sound glib. Not an easy feat when all the moisture had suddenly evaporated from her mouth.

Damn it, it had happened again, Jack thought, annoyed with himself. From out of nowhere, riding on a lightning bolt, that same strong sense of attraction to her had materialized, just as it already had several times before. Each time, it felt as if a little more of his resolve was chipped away.

He had no idea why it overwhelmed him, when other times he could go along regarding her as his children’s supernanny, a woman who somehow seemed to get everything done and not break a sweat. A woman his children seemed to adore and who could, thank God, calm them down even in their rowdiest moments.

All he knew was that every so often, every single pulse point in his body suddenly became aware of her as a woman. A very attractive woman.

He took a breath, trying not to appear as if his lungs had suddenly and mysteriously been depleted of the last ounce of oxygen.

“No, can’t have that,” he murmured, then nodded his head. “Thanks.”

She smiled that odd little smile of hers, the one that quirked up in one corner. The one he wanted to kiss off her lips.

“Don’t mention it.”

Jack merely grunted, then turned and walked quickly to the safe haven of the garage. He never looked back. Even so, he knew she was watching him.

She made him feel like a kid. The last thing he should be feeling, given the responsibilities weighing so heavily on his shoulders.

Damn it, what was wrong with him? He shouldn’t be letting himself react to her.

But he had. And not for the first time.

This was going to be a problem, Jack thought, getting into his BMW. He couldn’t act on his feelings. For the first time since Patricia had died, his children appeared to be happy. And thriving. If he gave in to the flash of desire—damn, it had been desire, he admitted with exasperation—and things went badly, what would he do? He hadn’t the first idea how to conduct a successful relationship. He had no blueprints to follow, no natural ability of his own—Patricia had been the first to point that out to him.

Once things did turn sour between himself and Zooey, he mused, recapturing his train of thought, he’d be out one perfect nanny. And right back where he’d been in January, when he’d first asked Zooey to watch the kids.

No, whatever was going on inside of him would have to remain there, swirling and twisting, and he was just going to have to deal with it.

Heaven knew, he thought, driving away from his house and Danbury Way, dealing with “it” was a lot easier than sitting and interviewing another endless parade of less than perfect nannies.

Out of the blue, the realization hit him right between the eyes.

My God, he’d almost kissed her back there.

What the hell was the matter with him? Jack upbraided himself.

Sex, that was what was the matter with him, he decided. Sex. Or, more accurately, lack thereof.

Jack swerved to avoid a car that was drifting into his lane, coming from the opposite direction. He swore roundly under his breath, feeling as if someone was pushing him onto a very thin tightrope.

Or maybe that was just the pent-up hormones doing the talking.

He hadn’t been with a woman since Patricia was killed. And hadn’t been with her in a while, either, except for that one time that resulted in Jackie.

No wonder he felt so tense, Jack realized. He was an average male who had hormones roaming through his body like midnight looters. He needed an outlet.

For a second, as he approached the end of the long cul-de-sac, he all but came to a stop. It occurred to him just what he needed. It was, God help him, a date. He needed to spend time with a woman who would take his mind off Zooey.

Glancing into his rearview mirror, he saw Rebecca Peters standing outside her house. And she, as she turned around, saw him. Or at least his car.

The wide smile was unmistakable.