Love And The Single Mom (Singles.... With Kids #1)

by C. J. Carmichael

  He tried to look as if this wasn’t any big deal, but Margo could tell it was. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “Yeah, well, the company was downsizing and I happened to be a recent hire since I just moved from Seattle a year ago.”

  “What brought you to San Francisco?”

  “A woman—my old girlfriend.” He shrugged. “She isn’t in the picture anymore, by the way.”

  He gave her a questioning look then, and Margo knew he was wondering about her. Suddenly nervous, she switched the subject. “Would you like something to drink? Water or juice?”

  “Water would be fine.”

  She filled two glasses, then invited him to sit at the stainless steel counter with her. “I’ve been wondering what you’ve been working on every day, with your newspapers and laptop and all those calls.”

  “I’m looking for a new job.”

  She connected the final dot. “And you’re using my bistro as your job search headquarters.” Here was her chance to voice her objections, but all of a sudden she found she didn’t have any.

  “Well, the coffee’s good and the food’s even better. Then there’s the atmosphere…”

  He was looking at her in a very intense way. As if it wasn’t just the place he liked…but her. Margo gripped the edge of the steel counter, welcoming the feel of the solid, cold metal.

  She ought to be encouraging him. A little flirting wouldn’t hurt. Instead she found herself panicking. Maybe she wasn’t ready to start dating, after all. “I don’t suppose you’ve noticed the sign I have hanging on my counter out front. The one that says, “No cell phones please.” My daughter made it.”

  “Your daughter.”

  That seemed to bring him up cold.

  “So the kids in the pictures last night are yours?”

  “Two of them are. My son Peter is seven and Ellie is ten.”

  His gaze dropped to her hands.

  She swallowed, then added, “I’m divorced. It’s been about a year. My ex and I have joint custody of our children.”

  “Oh.” He tugged on his tie again. “I’m never sure what to say to that. Sorry or congratulations.” He smiled nervously.

  “To tell you the truth, I’m not sure, either.” According to the statistics, half of all marriages ended in divorce. But she’d never imagined that hers would be one of them.

  She needed to change the subject. “So…how’s the job search going?”

  He looked glad that she’d asked. “I’ve got a headhunter working for me and I’ve been calling a bunch of people I know, too. But so far I haven’t managed to nab so much as a first interview. They tell me the job market is tight right now. At least in banking.”

  “I’m sure you’ll find something soon.”

  He sighed. “I hope so. I graduated in the top ten percent of my class. Always got great performance reviews at both of the banks where I’ve worked in the past.”

  “It hasn’t even been a week,” she reminded him gently. “Maybe this is an opportunity for you to take a little breather. Reassess your goals and your plans for the future.”

  “Well, I did go sailing on Tuesday.”

  “You took off a whole day, huh?”

  He smiled at her teasing. “I made a few calls from the marina. So the day wasn’t a total waste. But seriously, I don’t need to think about my plans. I know what I want. No doubt about that.”

  The confidence in his voice was compelling, but as Margo met his gaze, she was struck again with the incongruous notion that he was talking about her, and not the job at all.

  She swallowed. “You know—”

  They were interrupted again, this time by the ringing of the bistro’s phone. She went to answer it and was dismayed to find herself talking to a credit manager from Wells Fargo. As she conducted the brief conversation, Robert took a bite from one of the muffins. He didn’t look impressed. She turned her back to him.

  “Three weeks. Yes, I understand. Goodbye.” She stared at the phone on the wall for a few moments. In her mind she pictured the account book upstairs, the files of loan statements and growing pile of unpaid bills.

  “Bad news?”

  Pride almost made her fib. But what was the point? Robert was a banker, maybe he could give her a few pointers. “You know how I said that I was making my loan payments?”

  His expression grew serious. “Yes?”

  “Well, I have been. But not the full amount. I was hoping to renegotiate my monthly payments. But now the bank wants to see my cash flow projections for the upcoming year. And they want them in three weeks.”

  “Let me guess. You don’t have cash flow projections.”

  “Should I?” He didn’t need to answer. She could see by his expression that she should. “Oh, Lord. I can barely keep up with the bills, the tax remittances and monthly payroll.”

  “Are you doing all that yourself?”

  “Partially. I bought a computer package that was supposed to integrate everything…accounting, payroll, taxes, inventory… But I’m not using it to its potential.”

  “Restaurants survive or fail based on certain key numbers. Inventory management is one. Meal costing is another.”

  “Yes, I know. I’ve read the manual that came with the package.” Well, she’d skimmed the manual. She simply didn’t have the time to go through it in detail. “Once I’ve got my feet on the ground, I’m going to hire an accountant.”

  Robert gave her an incredulous look. He glanced up, as if inspecting the ceiling, then down to the concrete floor. Finally, he said, “I realize we haven’t known each other very long. But there’s something I have to tell you.”

  Margo guessed this wasn’t going to be good news. “Yes?”

  “You can’t wait until you have money saved in the bank. You need to hire an accountant now, or you’ll never get your feet on the ground.”

  Margo knew Robert’s suggestion was well-intended. But he just didn’t have a clue. “I don’t have the money for any extra expenses.”

  Robert considered that. “How about free soup and scones? Maybe the occasional cup of coffee, too.”

  Was he offering to help her? “But you’re a banker, not an accountant.”

  “Close enough. I’ve seen tons of cash flow statements. I ought to be able to figure out how to prepare one.”

  She was sure he could. Better and faster than she could, anyway. “But—”

  “It’s not as if I’m particularly busy right now,” he pointed out. “This’ll help fill my time until I get a real job.”

  “That’s a generous offer. But it wouldn’t be fair for me to accept.” It might not be fair. But it was tempting. She’d love to put all the accounting worries behind her and focus on the jobs she knew how to do well.

  “Are you worried about taking advantage of me?”

  His eyes sparkled with humor and she knew she wasn’t imagining the double meaning this time. “You should be so lucky, Robert Brookman.”

  He gave her a once-over. A thorough study that began with her swept-up hair and ended with the polished pink toes peeking out from her espadrilles.

  “Yeah, you’re right. I should be so lucky. In the meantime, why don’t you show me your books and let me see if I can help?”

  “Well…if you’re sure.” She led the way upstairs to the apartment she shared with the kids. It was a three-bedroom and quite roomy, but there was no space for a separate office, so she’d set the computer up in a corner of the living room.

  The raspberry-colored sofa faced the television. On the opposite wall, a dark-blue, stained wooden armoire held the computer. Next to that was an open-shelf unit filled with labeled baskets. “Here’s where I keep my records.”

  Robert pulled one of the baskets off the shelf. It was crammed full of unpaid invoices. He looked at her and raised his eyebrows.

  “I’m just a little behind on those.” She brushed past him to open the doors of the armoire and power up the computer. Above the computer was a shelf where she kep
t important reference books.

  “Here’s the manual,” she said brightly. “One good thing about not having much room…everything’s at your fingertips.”

  He put his hand on the book, which happened to bring his hand right next to her breast. She caught her breath, felt a zap of pure, physical reaction. Looking up, she saw his gaze on the scooped neck of her top.

  Speaking of things being right at someone’s fingertips…. The double entendres were killing her today.

  She thrust the book at him, then backed away. “You wanted to dive right in…well, here you go.” She headed for the stairs. “I’ll be right back with some coffee.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  ROBERT FELT LIKE banging his head on the desk the moment Margo left the room. What was he doing here? Margo might be divorced, but she had two kids. This woman was off-limits.

  Why had he offered to help her?

  He leaned back in the chair and looked around the place. Pictures of Margo’s children were everywhere, reminding him of the folly of what he was doing. After his experience with Belinda and Andrew, how could he be getting involved with another single mother?

  Robert studied the pictures on the wall. Unlike studio-variety photographs, these were candid shots, taken from unusual angles, each of them capturing something unique and special. In one, Margo’s daughter hung upside down from a monkey bar. In another, a shot had been taken from above, Margo’s son as a baby, playing with bubbles in his bath.

  Robert took a deep breath.

  He didn’t have to stay. She wasn’t paying him anything. He could find another coffee shop to hang out in until he was back working again.

  But there was something about Margo that had drawn him in and it wasn’t just the enticing aroma of her homemade soups.

  His gaze fell on a photograph of her with her children. They were sitting on a wooden porch step. She had her arms around them in a protective, motherly pose. Her head was angled to the camera and her blond curls covered one of her fabulous blue eyes. Her smile seemed so real, it made him feel warm inside just to look at it.

  He enjoyed looking at her. Talking to her. Just being around her. And she seemed to like him, too—if he discounted that one comment about cell phones.

  If only she didn’t have kids….

  He’d never even considered the danger when he’d been dating Belinda. Andrew’s father never bothered to see him, so with hindsight it was easy to understand why the boy had taken to Robert so quickly. Ignorant of the potential danger, Robert had welcomed this first instance of hero worship. In fact, he’d reveled in it.

  He’d always planned on having children, but before Andrew, his desire to do so had been theoretical in nature. Andrew had given him a real-life taste of the pleasures of fatherhood. Robert could still remember the first time Andrew had fallen asleep in his arms. The three of them had been watching a movie on the living room sofa. Andrew had turned from the television with a yawn, and the next thing Robert knew, the little boy’s head was nestled against his chest.

  His heart couldn’t have been filled with more love if that child had been his own flesh and blood.

  He brushed a hand over his face and gave himself a mental kick. The truth was, since their breakup, he missed Andrew a hell of a lot more than Belinda.

  If it was up to him, he would have continued spending time with Andrew. But Belinda wanted her son to bond with the new man in her life. And she felt that would never happen if he continued to visit Robert.

  Maybe she was right. Maybe not. But she was Andrew’s mother and this was her call to make. What was in Robert’s control was the power to avoid situations like this in the future.

  So…he should leave.

  But he couldn’t. He sensed Margo was in a real jam here. And he had the time to help her. He pulled out one of the wicker baskets and riffled through it. Seemed like an awful lot of unpaid bills. He tried a different basket. These invoices had been paid, but hadn’t been entered into the computer. He checked through the stack and saw that she was several months behind with the record keeping. Better start with the bank statements….

  He looked for those, then became so engrossed in the work, that he barely heard the squeak of the stairs, or the sound of footsteps moving toward him.

  “I brought you a brownie with your coffee.”

  Margo spoke in hushed tones as if afraid to interrupt his train of thought. Though he didn’t look up, he could smell the citrusy scent of her perfume and he felt the brush of her arm against his as she set the coffee cup and plate on the desk.

  Immediately, he lost all track of what he was doing. Before he could say anything to her, though, she was gone, hurrying down the stairs back to her customers.

  He stared at the paper in his hand, and when it continued to remain meaningless, set it down. He took a bite of the brownie, then a swallow of coffee.

  Children, he reminded himself. Margo has two children. You can’t get involved with her.

  He raised his gaze to a picture of Ellie and Peter with their arms around a huge tree trunk. The tree was too thick for their hands to meet. Both kids were laughing.

  Based on all these photographs they seemed like happy, well-adjusted kids. Why wouldn’t they be, with a mother like Margo?

  Belinda had been a good mother, too, but she’d emphasized rules and order just a little too much, he’d thought. Margo definitely didn’t seem like that. He guessed she would be fun and exciting and…passionate.

  Robert groaned. Even if he took a chance on Margo and things worked out, blended families were always complicated. And if things didn’t work out, the kids were bound to end up getting hurt.

  Concentrate on the business and forget about the woman. He did his best to follow his own advice for the next few hours. In fact, he was so preoccupied that the next time Margo came up, he was surprised to discover it was six-thirty.

  “How can you work in the dark like that?” Margo switched on a lamp by the desk. She swept her hair off her forehead and sank into one of the easy chairs. She looked exhausted.

  But also sexy and appealing….

  He saved his work on the computer, then swiveled his chair to face her. “Long day?”

  “Very. And one of my employees on the evening shift showed up late again.” She worried her bottom lip. “I hope I’m not going to have to fire him.”

  “Why not? You can always hire someone else.”

  “I wish it was that easy. I’m discovering that good employees are very difficult to find.” She eyed the computer. “Well, how bad was it? I’m surprised you didn’t run out of here screaming hours ago.”

  “I’m still entering data into the computer. You know, if you did this every month, it wouldn’t be such an enormous job. Come here, and I’ll show you.”

  Margo moved closer and he wondered if this was such a good idea. He definitely thought straighter when there were a few feet between them. Quickly he took her through the steps she should be following every month. She caught on quickly.

  “I try to set aside a little time for record keeping every night,” she admitted. “But when you have kids, it’s not so easy. By the time they’re ready for bed, I am, too.”

  She sighed, then pushed herself out of her chair. “How does a glass of wine and some herbed goat cheese sound?”

  Robert swallowed as she pulled off her apron to reveal her curvy figure. He had to get out of here before he clouded his intentions with a glass of that wine.

  But before he’d risen from his chair, Margo was in the kitchen, decanting a bottle. Deftly she poured some into two glasses, then handed him one.

  They clicked glasses together, then drank. He could feel the blood pounding in his ears. He knew he had to leave, but his feet were rooted like tree stumps.

  Margo returned to the kitchen, where she prepared a plate of cheese and crackers. She came back to the sofa and he found himself sitting next to her. They chatted about the weather, baseball and movies.

  Then she glan
ced at her watch and he saw her jaw tighten.

  “What’s wrong?”

  She hesitated. “My kids are at their dad’s tonight, getting ready for a wedding ceremony tomorrow. I was just wondering how they’re handling everything.”

  He took another swallow of the wine. Get out of here, Robert, his wiser half cautioned. He ignored the warning. “Your ex is getting remarried?”

  “Yeah.”

  “That must feel weird.”

  She laughed. “Yeah.”

  Crazy guy, Robert found himself thinking, as he watched Margo tip her head back and enjoy another mouthful of the light Chablis. Why would any guy married to Margo let her go? She was pretty, sexy and a damn good cook.

  And even when she was in a funk—as she obviously was right now—she was still good-humored about it.

  He watched as Margo spread creamy cheese over thick crackers. She slipped from the sofa to the floor, stretched out her legs and leaned back her head. He stared at the golden curls that spilled oh-so-close to the hand he had resting on one of the seat cushions. After a moment, he sat on the floor next to her.

  “Her name is Catherine,” Margo said, making it sound like a confession. “The kids seem to like her, but I don’t know.”

  “You’re not so keen on her?”

  “We haven’t even met.”

  “Does that worry you?”

  “A little. What if she turns out to be awful? You hear such horror stories about stepmothers.”

  “Yeah, I know. But most stepfamilies get sorted out eventually, don’t they? My mom raised me on her own, but a lot of my friends’ parents were divorced. Most of them did just fine…despite the statistics that seem to indicate otherwise.”

  “Oh, God, I hope you’re right.” Margo topped up their wineglasses. “Even though Tom and I have been apart for a year, sometimes I still can’t believe my life ended up this way. Tom and I were supposed to be forever. And now he’s getting married to someone else.” She forced a laugh. “And he wants me to go to the reception after.”