A Small Fortune

by Marie Ferrarella

  But when she was asleep, all bets were definitely off.

  It felt as if Asher Fortune was beginning to all but haunt her dreams.

  Asleep, she had no defenses against the very real, growing attraction she felt for him. An attraction that only seemed to become stronger and stronger every time she was around the man.

  But at least she was awake then.

  Awake, when she was with him, she had her banter, her wit, her humor to help serve as her shield. She was fairly confident that Asher didn’t have a clue about her feelings for him, or the fact that every time she heard his voice on the other end of her cell, even before he got to the part where he asked her if she was free to come over and watch Jace, her heart would leap up, then instantly go into double-time.

  There was no point in his hanging around, Asher thought. He was just wasting precious time. Time that Marnie’s presence here was buying him.

  “Okay, I’ll be downstairs, working on the den,” Asher murmured, leaving.

  “We’ll be right here,” she called out after Asher. Turning toward Jace, she urged, “Okay, let’s see that book of yours.”

  “It’s right there.” He pointed to the bookshelf on the far wall.

  As she crossed the room with Jace, she debated whether or not to tell the boy that she was on to him. That she knew what his “master plan” was. Jace was acting like a holy terror so that his father would ask her to come over and keep him busy while he worked on whatever it was that needed doing that day. Once she arrived, Jace became an angel in her company. He behaved himself so that she wouldn’t mind coming over.

  That, to her, was some pretty advanced thinking for a four-year-old. At ten, the boy would undoubtedly be a force to be reckoned with.

  Right now Jace was, in effect, whether he knew it or not, her coconspirator in this, fixing it so that there was a reason for her to be here, to be around Asher, without it seeming to actually be her idea. Jace provided her with the excuse she needed to see his father.

  So, for now, until the situation of Jace’s acting out got to be too stressful for Asher, she decided to hold her tongue and just enjoy the company.

  Both the boy’s and his dad’s.

  * * *

  With Marnie here to keep his son occupied, Asher knew he was free to get on with the overwhelming task of turning a two-story, newly constructed structure into an actual home.

  His home.

  But he was finding it harder and harder to concentrate on that work with Marnie so close by. He couldn’t help thinking about a few minutes earlier, when he’d followed her and his son up the stairs. The view from his vantage point had been incredible.

  The lyric out of some old country song flashed through his brain as he relived that tiny snippet of a recent memory. Something about hating to see a woman go, but, oh, to watch her leave.

  He knew exactly what had been on the songwriter’s mind. Watching Marnie walk up the stairs right in front of him was both a beautiful and stimulating sight.

  Her jeans-clad hips had moved rhythmically, like wordless poetry.

  It had taken him a moment to realize that he’d drawn in a breath, but hadn’t let it out again. When he finally did, his heart had gone from double-time to racing.

  He also realized, now that he thought about it, that he was calling Marnie more and more frequently, then asking her to stay for longer periods of time.

  Initially, he really had tried to hold out, thinking that Jace would settle down, but now, at the first sign that the boy was about to act up, he was on the phone, calling Marnie to help. Feeling disappointed if he got her voice mail instead of her.

  It wasn’t so much that his patience was growing shorter or that his ability to cope was decreasing as it was that he was anticipating the pleasure of her company.

  He had that in common with his son.

  Because, inevitably, Jace would prevail upon her to stay for dinner.

  The first time the boy had asked her, he’d been within earshot and heard her begin to demur. Pretending that he didn’t want Jace to be disappointed, he’d raised his voice, seconding the boy’s invitation. She’d laughed and said she was outnumbered, so she’d accept. After that, having her stay for dinner became almost a given.

  Even so, Asher had a feeling that this would have to end soon. He knew that Marnie had to have better things to do than have dinner each night with the boy she babysat with and that boy’s dad. A woman who looked like that—damn gorgeous even without a shred of makeup—had to have an active social life.

  And yet she opted to spend her evenings here just to help him out.

  Asher wasn’t quite sure just how to repay her—money for her time didn’t seem like nearly enough compensation. Moreover, he was at a loss as to how to have the situation continue.

  Because he looked forward to her being here.

  And that was the truth of it. He looked forward not just to having Jace act like the little boy he had been before Lynn had left them, but to having Marnie be part of their small inner circle.

  Careful, Ash, he warned himself, you’re on dangerous ground here. You know what happens when you don’t lead with your head.

  Yeah, he knew, but somehow, that didn’t really seem to change anything.

  * * *

  Jace burst in on him a few hours later, beaming triumphantly and announcing, “Daddy, I got Marnie to stay for dinner again!”

  Marnie was right behind him. Although she enjoyed the ritual, she also never took anything for granted. Just in case.

  “You know the rules, Jace,” she reminded him. “I’m only staying if it’s okay with your dad.”

  Instead of waiting for his father to say something, the way he usually did, this time, Jace piped up, “Sure it’s okay. He always says okay, don’t you, Daddy?” he asked, turning to look up at his father.

  Marnie looked over the boy’s head, her eyes meeting Asher’s.

  “But he doesn’t have to,” she stipulated.

  Just in case all this time Asher was being tolerant of this little game and her company at dinner, she wanted him to know that he wasn’t obligated to invite her. That he had a choice.

  She loved spending evenings here with the two of them, but she didn’t want to force herself on Asher if he wanted some breathing space, or to spend some time alone with his son.

  Or possibly even go out for the evening.

  She realized that since she’d been coming over these last few weeks, Asher hadn’t gone out in the evening. Nor had he asked her to babysit Jace while he escorted some woman who had caught his attention.

  It surprised her just how much that fleeting thought pleased her.

  “But he wants you to,” Jace insisted, swinging around to look at his father again. “Don’t you, Daddy?”

  Asher smiled at his son and said what the boy was waiting to hear. “Yes, I do.”

  Was he just saying that, or did he actually mean that? Marnie couldn’t help wondering. She knew what she hoped the answer to that was, but that definitely didn’t make it so.

  All she could do was smile at Asher brightly and tell him, “As long as you know that you have a way out. I do know my way home,” she added as her smile traveled up to her eyes.

  Did the woman have any idea how tempting her mouth looked when she smiled like that? Asher couldn’t help wondering.

  Looking at her right now, he could feel his gut tightening and all sorts of emotions beginning to run through his system, playing tug-of-war with his mind, with his libido and with just about everything else in between.

  “Well, you don’t have to find your way home quite yet,” he told her.

  Your way home.

  The thought occurred to Marnie that she might already have found it.

  * * *

  Mar
nie stayed after dinner even longer than usual.

  And this time, rather than clearing away the dishes with Jace and “allowing” him to help her stack them in the dishwasher, Marnie surprised both father and son by positioning a step stool in front of the sink. And then she proposed that they wash the dishes “the old-fashioned way.”

  Eager to do anything that pleased her, Jace asked, “What’s that?”

  “We put the dishes in the sink, fill it up with hot water and dishwashing liquid so that there are lots and lots of bubbles—and then we wash all the dishes, glasses and utensils by hand,” she concluded, making it sound like a wonderful game.

  Jace looked at her, completely taken with this “new” method. “Can we do that?” he wanted to know.

  Biting back the laugh that rose in response to his question, she said, “We sure can. People did that before they had dishwashers.”

  His eyes were wide as he considered the scenario Marnie had painted. “When they were really poor, huh?” he asked.

  Marnie draped an apron around his neck and tied it around his small waist, shoring it up as best she could. She had a feeling he was going to be pretty wet by the time this was over.

  “Not poor, really,” she answered. “They did it when they wanted to spend time talking to each other.”

  Jace’s response was automatic. “Like you and me?” he asked eagerly.

  Nothing got by this boy, she thought, delighted. “Exactly like you and me.” She laughed.

  Feeling that he’d looked on long enough, Asher came up to the sink and joined them. “Need someone to help dry?”

  Humor instantly rose in her eyes as Marnie regarded Jace’s father for a moment. If what she’d heard was true, Asher and his brothers were born with two silver spoons in their mouths, not just one. She was surprised he even knew where the sink was.

  “Do you even know how to dry dishes?” she asked him.

  Asher plucked a towel from the counter where she’d placed it earlier this evening. “It’s not exactly rocket science.”

  He wasn’t answering her question directly. “So you’ve never actually done it before,” she concluded with a grin.

  “Wash something.” Asher made it sound like a challenge.

  Standing on the top of the step stool, Jace looked from Marnie to his father and then back again, his infectious smile seeming to grow larger by the moment.

  “We’re doing this together?” he wanted to know.

  “It certainly looks that way,” Marnie answered, trying hard not to show just how much this small, cozy scenario warmed her heart. “That is, if your dad can keep up.”

  “Keep up?” Asher echoed incredulously. His eyes narrowed as if he were an Olympic contender about to face his final round. “Bring it,” he ordered her gamely, a dish towel in one hand, his other hand stretched out to her, waiting to be given the first clean, wet dish.

  “Pick the first dish, Jace,” she told the boy.

  Sinking both his arms into the mountain of suds, Jace felt around and located a plate.

  “Got one!” he declared, and then pulled it out of the water. Beaming, he handed it to her.

  Without missing a beat, Marnie washed the dish quickly, front and back, then gave it to Asher, who deftly dried both sides of it and placed it on the counter next to him.

  “Done,” he declared in much the same way a calf roper at a rodeo might say, stepping away from a trussed-up calf. “Next?”

  Jace, who’d cheered on first Marnie, then his father as if this were some sort of marathon, clapped his hands together gleefully.

  “This is fun, Marnie!” he declared. “You should move in with me and Daddy.” Then added his closing argument, “’Cause daddies need mommies. And so do I.”

  Chapter Eight

  A second later, in response to the boy’s joyfully voiced suggestion and declaration, a deep blush rushed up Marnie’s cheeks. She could literally feel it and deliberately avoided making any eye contact with Asher until she could feel her cheeks cooling again.

  Even so, she was the one who recovered her tongue first.

  “That is true, Jace,” she told the four-year-old matter-of-factly. “You’re absolutely right. Daddies do need mommies, just like mommies need daddies.” Drying her hands, she cupped his little chin in her hand and tilted it slightly so that their eyes met. “But, honey, I’m not your mommy.”

  That apparently didn’t represent an obstacle to him. “Would you like to be?” he asked eagerly, then added in a much sadder voice, “Mine went away and forgot all about me.”

  Marnie thought her heart was just going to break for the boy. She placed her hands on the boy’s small, thin shoulders. “She didn’t forget about you, Jace. Nobody could ever forget about someone like you.” Wendy had told her about Asher’s ex walking out on him, and she found herself really disliking the woman. But for Jace’s sake, she painted a positive picture for him. “Your mom’s just having trouble dealing with a few problems. Once she works them out, I know she’ll try to get back in touch with you.” She ran her fingers along his hair, stroking his head as she smiled into his eyes. “And someday, if I’m lucky enough to become a mommy, I hope that my little boy will be just like you.”

  Jace’s smile was back, bigger and brighter than ever. “Really?”

  “Really,” she echoed with a nod. Wrapping her arms around the boy, she drew Jace to her and gave him a fierce hug.

  “You are really something else, Jace Fortune,” she told him. “But you’re not really available, you know.” She looked over toward Asher. “You belong to your dad.”

  Jace glanced back at his father, as if to make sure the man was still there in the kitchen. He guessed that they were a package deal, the way that man on the TV had said he was selling “two for the price of one.”

  “My dad’s available, too,” Jace told her in case she didn’t know.

  Okay, it was time to end this, Asher thought, before he was completely mortified.

  “Time for bed,” he announced, taking charge of Jace and quickly bringing an end to the exchange before his precocious son managed to get him into even more hot water.

  “But we haven’t finished the dishes yet,” Jace protested, pointing to the sink.

  “There’s not that much left,” Marnie assured him. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of them.”

  The news was obviously not what Jace wanted to hear. “But then who’s going to come upstairs with me and read me a story?” he wanted to know, looking directly at her.

  Marnie glanced at the sink, then back at Jace. It wasn’t even close. The boy won, hands down.

  “I will,” she told him, then added, “The dishes can wait. They’re not going anywhere.” She said the latter for Asher’s benefit, just in case he thought she was running out on him after she’d made such a big deal out of washing everything by hand. “I’ll do them before I leave,” she promised.

  If Asher heard her, he gave no indication. Instead, he took his son’s hand. “Okay, let’s go upstairs to your room, Jace.”

  But the boy twisted around so that he could look behind him at Marnie. “Marnie, too.”

  The boy was a born matchmaker, Asher thought, far less grudgingly than he would have initially expected himself to react to Jace’s childish attempts to get him with a woman of his own choosing—which Marnie clearly was.

  As a matter of fact, if he had to do his own choosing, Asher thought now, he would have picked someone who was pretty much like the woman his son had just grabbed by the hand and was currently urging toward the stairs.

  Asher found himself walking behind her again.

  And, just as before, he was treated to a view he found aesthetically pleasing. So much so that he actually hung back for a moment, utterly captivated and very close to being mesmerized.r />
  You would have thought, he told himself a moment later, that he was some adolescent boy who hadn’t completely gone through puberty yet. God knew he was too young to be experiencing a midlife crisis.

  Just what the hell was going on with him?

  Had Lynn walking out like that—getting involved with another man so quickly after the breakup—unmanned him to the point that he had to go through the whole maturation process again?

  Or was it just a case, pure and simple, of being so utterly attracted to this woman that he found himself at a complete loss as to how to proceed, how to begin approaching her on some sort of a different plane than her being his son’s sitter?

  Coming to the landing, he glanced at his watch. It was getting kind of late, he realized. Not in the general scheme of things, but in the number of hours she had already put in today. Ordinarily, Marnie stayed anywhere from three to six hours.

  It was going on eight hours now.

  He wasn’t thinking of the amount of money he’d have to pay her to reimburse her for her time. He could afford to pay her well over the price they had agreed to when she had first begun babysitting Jace for him in earnest. She was the one who said it was more than a fair wage and that she wouldn’t feel right taking more.

  No, what he was afraid of was that he was wearing Marnie out, that she just might one day tell him that being here so long each day, making sure that Jace didn’t get into anything serious, was draining her. Granted, the boy was on his best behavior around Marnie, but still, boys would be boys and his boy was a real live wire even on his very best days.

  “You don’t have to do this, you know,” he told Marnie as she got Jace ready for bed. “I can take it from here if you want to go home.”

  Never missing a beat as she buttoned up the boy’s pajamas, she glanced up at Asher, smiled and serenely said, “I know,” then went right on getting Jace ready for bed.

  The last button slipped into the proper hole, she sat back. “Okay, my man,” she said, addressing the words to Jace, unaware that her salutation had Asher abruptly turn to look at her, “why don’t you pick out the book you’d like me to read to you tonight?”