A Man for Mom

by Gina Ferris Wilkins

  His interruption was angry and obscene. “You’re going to be sorry you messed with me, you hear?”

  “Maybe you’d better just talk to my lawyer in the future,” Rachel said coolly. “His name is Seth Fletcher and he’s listed in the book. If you think you have a suit, fine. Take it up with the courts. But leave me alone.”

  “Don’t think it’s going to be that easy, Ms. Evans. You’ll pay for what you’ve done to me. You just wait. You’ll pay.”

  A chill slithered down her spine. Rachel stared nervously at her children, playing so innocently outside. “You aren’t threatening me, are you, Frank?”

  His laugh was ugly. And then he hung up, apparently satisfied that he’d finally worried her.

  Rachel muttered a curse and hung up the phone. She spent the next ten minutes trying to reassure herself that Frank’s veiled threats were nothing more than drunken ramblings, that he wouldn’t really risk harming her. But there’d been something different in his voice this time. The wildness and irrationality that had seemed to escalate in him during the final year of his employment with her had been more audible than usual. She’d heard that his live-in girlfriend had left him since he’d lost his job, and she knew he’d been drinking more heavily than ever. Had he finally gone over the edge? Was she really in danger from him?

  She reached for the phone, then stopped herself with a quick shake of her head. She could handle this, she assured herself. Just as she’d handled all the other problems she’d encountered during the past three years.

  Besides, who would she call? Cody would only lose his temper and go beat Frank up or something, which wouldn’t help anyone. As for Seth...

  The telephone rang again, making Rachel jump. She answered it warily. “Hello?”

  There was no response. Only the sound of someone breathing.

  She slammed the receiver home again, knowing exactly who was on the other end of the line. And then she ran to get her purse, and rummaged inside it until she found the slip of paper with Seth’s number on it. Without giving herself time to think about what she was doing, she picked up the phone again. She was relieved to hear a dial tone.

  A few moments later, Seth’s voice came through the instrument.

  “Seth? It’s Rachel.”

  Something in her voice must have made him aware that it wasn’t a social call. “What’s wrong?”

  “Holder just called. He—he sort of threatened me, Seth. He worried me. I’m not sure what I should do now. I was hoping you could advise me,” she said, trying to sound calm.

  “Tell me your address, Rachel. I’m on my way over.”

  Her fingers tightened on the receiver. She should have known this would be Seth’s reaction—maybe she had known. “I’m sure that’s not necessary,” she said. “I just—”

  “Rachel,” he interjected flatly, “give me your address or I’ll call Cody and have him come with me. Now.”

  She sighed, knowing that this was not an empty threat. Seth meant every word.

  She gave him directions to her home.

  She hung up knowing he was on his way. And wishing she didn’t feel quite so relieved about it.

  Chapter Four

  Rachel had barely opened the door when Seth took her by the shoulders and anxiously searched her face. “Are you all right?”

  Less than fifteen minutes had passed since she’d called him. During that time, she’d convinced herself she’d overreacted, that she shouldn’t have called Seth. “I’m fine,” she assured him, embarrassed that he’d taken the call so seriously. “I’m sorry I bothered you with this.”

  Seth shook his head impatiently. “When did he call? What, exactly, did he say?”

  “Nothing specific. He was drunk again, and rambling about making me sorry for what I supposedly did to him. He claimed I’m trying to ruin his life and said he would make me pay.”

  Seth’s fingers tightened spasmodically on her shoulders. A quick flash of temper heated his green eyes. “Tell me where he lives.”

  She sighed. “Now you sound just like Cody. Surely you aren’t planning to go beat the guy up? I thought attorneys believed in handling everything through the legal system.”

  Seth had the grace to look a bit sheepish. “We do, usually. I guess it’s different when there’s a personal involvement.”

  Rachel stiffened. “I called you on a professional basis, as my attorney,” she reminded him. “This isn’t personal.”

  He smiled and dropped his hands from her shoulders. “Whatever you say, Rachel.” His sardonic tone mocked her denial, but at least he didn’t look so worried and angry now. She decided that she much preferred his easy smile.

  “Have you called the police?” he asked.

  “No. I didn’t know whether I should.”

  “As your attorney, I would advise you to call the police and file a report. They probably can’t do anything to the guy, but at least you’ll be on record with a complaint if anything else happens.”

  That sounded reasonable. Rachel nodded. “All right. I’ll call now.”

  “Who are you going to call, Mama?” Aaron asked from the doorway to the den. He was looking curiously at Seth.

  Seth smiled at the boy.

  “Hi, Aaron, remember me?”

  Aaron nodded gravely. “You’ve got the fish.”

  Seth chuckled. “Right. Where’s Paige?”

  “Playing Sonic Spinball,” Aaron replied.

  Rachel started to explain that it was a video game for a system connected to their television set, but Seth spoke before she could. “You’ve got a Sega system?” he asked Aaron, proving that he recognized the game.

  Aaron nodded.

  “Want to show it to me? Your mom needs to make a telephone call.”

  “Do you know how to play Sonic Spinball?” Aaron asked, his eyes lighting up.

  “You bet I do. I’m the champ,” Seth bragged.

  Aaron shook his head. “Uncle Cody’s the champ.”

  Seth shot Rachel a lazy grin that made her pulse do strange things. “You make the call,” he urged her quietly. “I have to go defend my video game reputation now.”

  She chewed her lower lip as she watched Seth turn and follow her son into the den. He was certainly making himself at home, she thought in bemusement.

  It was becoming more difficult all the time to think of Seth as nothing more than her attorney. And she’d only known him for a few days!

  She made the call from the telephone in the kitchen, knowing that Seth would keep the children occupied until she was finished. On an impulse, she asked for the police chief, Leon Jackson. She doubted that he would be in his office on a Saturday evening, but it was worth taking a chance since she hated to discuss this problem with a stranger. She was both surprised and relieved when Chief Jackson answered.

  “Leon? It’s Rachel Evans.”

  “Rachel, it’s good to hear from you. What can I do for you?”

  Leon had played high school football with Ray, and the two had remained close friends until Ray’s death. Few people had been more pleased than Ray when Leon had overcome lingering small-town Southern biases to become Percy’s first black police chief almost ten years ago. Leon had been one of the groomsmen in Rachel and Ray’s wedding, and Ray had been named godfather to Leon’s only son. Leon had stood close to Rachel’s side during Ray’s funeral.

  Rachel explained her reason for calling. “It’s not that I want Frank arrested or anything,” she added when she’d finished. “He certainly has enough problems without that. And I doubt that he’s really a threat to me. But my attorney recommended that I file an official report, just to be on the safe side.”

  “Your attorney was right,” Leon said grimly. “You should have told me sooner that this guy’s been harassing you.”

  “It hasn’t been a serious problem yet. Only a few phone calls and a lot of loose talk that others have reported to me.”

  “You never can tell with a drunk,” Leon informed her. “Especiall
y if he goes over the edge, which it sounds like this guy might be very close to doing. Losing his job and his girlfriend—well, it might be enough to cause him to do something stupid if we don’t step in.”

  Rachel sighed, feeling strangely guilty about Frank’s problems, even though she knew there was nothing she could have done differently. She’d warned him repeatedly about his job performance, given him as many chances as she could afford to take, and still he’d refused to even try to shape up.

  “I’ll talk to him, myself, Rachel. Pass along a friendly little warning about what’s going to happen to him if he continues to give you problems. You hear from him again, you give me a call, okay? At home, if you can’t catch me here.”

  “Thank you, Leon. I really appreciate this.”

  “Ray Evans was my best friend,” Leon said gruffly. “He would have wanted me to look after you and the kids. Just like he’d have been there for Dolores and my boy if it had been me in that car instead of him.”

  “Speaking of Dolores and DeShawn, shouldn’t you be home with them now?” Rachel asked, lightening her tone to hide the rush of emotion that coursed through her in response to Leon’s sincere words.

  Leon chuckled, following her lead. “Yeah, I should. I got held up here with paperwork, and Dolores is going to have my hide if I don’t get home soon. I’ll talk to Holder for you, Rachel. You take care of yourself, you hear?”

  Following familiar beeping, blooping sounds from the den, Rachel found Seth cross-legged on the carpet in front of the television set, a video game controller in his hands, his attention focused intently on the colorful action on the screen. Paige sat at his left side, Aaron at his right, both children gravely watching him play and occasionally offering advice.

  Paige was the first to notice that Rachel had joined them. “Hi, Mama. Did you make your phone call?”

  “Yes, I did. And everything’s fine,” she added for Seth’s benefit when he looked at her in silent question. “How’s the game going?”

  “Seth’s almost as good as Uncle Cody,” Aaron announced in some awe.

  Seth’s eyebrows rose. “I’m sure I’m better.”

  “I don’t know,” Aaron said skeptically. “Uncle Cody’s awful good.”

  “Mr. Fletcher said we can call him Seth, Mama,” Paige explained. “Is that okay with you?”

  Rachel met Seth’s gaze, saw that he was laughing at her again, and swallowed a sigh. “Yes, Paige, it’s okay with me, if that’s what he wants.”

  “Is dinner ready yet, Mama?” Aaron asked. “I’m getting hungry.”

  Rachel had completely forgotten her dinner preparations when Holder had called. She thought of the vegetables she’d been chopping half an hour earlier and hoped they hadn’t shriveled. “It will be ready soon,” she promised her son.

  Aaron nodded. “Can Seth eat with us? He’s prob’ly hungry, too.”

  The children waited for her answer in innocent inquiry, Seth with a blandly amused expression that made her long to snarl at him. Trapped by deeply ingrained manners, she could only smile weakly and say, “Of course Seth is welcome to eat with us. Unless he has other plans?”

  “Not a one,” he assured her briskly, dashing her faint hopes. “What can I do to help?”

  “I’ll take care of the food,” she assured him hurriedly. “You finish your game.” She didn’t want to think about sharing her snug little kitchen with him. He’d probably make her so self-conscious she’d chop her fingers off!

  * * *

  When Rachel returned to the den to announce dinner twenty minutes later, she found Paige and Aaron watching television, and Seth standing beside the fireplace, studying the framed portraits she’d grouped on the mantel. He seemed to be concentrating particularly on the large photo in the center. It was a family portrait, taken when Paige was three and Aaron not quite a year old. Ray had been wearing his best blue suit and only designer silk tie, and Rachel had worn her favorite red dress. She’d spent a long time getting the children ready, dressing Paige in white ruffles, coaxing her fine dark hair to curl beneath a lacy bow. Aaron had worn a navy sailor-collared suit with a red tie.

  The photographer had told them that he’d rarely seen a more attractive family. He’d probably said that to all his photo subjects, but Rachel had been very proud.

  Seth turned away from the photograph when Rachel entered, his expression unreadable.

  “Dinner’s ready,” she said.

  He smiled. “Good. I’m starving.” He walked away from the mantel without glancing back.

  Dinner was a pleasant affair. Rachel had prepared a quick and easy chicken-and-vegetable stir-fry dish served over steamed rice, a favorite meal for her children. Rachel considered herself fortunate that her children had always enjoyed fresh vegetables, especially when she heard how much trouble other mothers had getting their children to eat nutritious meals. Seth seemed to like the simple fare, as well, judging from his effusive praise and hearty appetite.

  He seemed quite content to be dining with Rachel and her children. He swapped video game tips with Aaron, sympathized with Paige about the difficulties of second grade, asked questions about Rachel’s business and seemed genuinely interested in her answers.

  Though his easy smile and ready laughter reminded Rachel of Cody, Seth’s was a gentler, quieter humor than Cody’s effusive high spirits. There were times when Seth’s green eyes grew pensive, making her think that he was more serious in some ways than he let on. She wouldn’t have been surprised to learn that he had known his own share of heartache, though he hid it well.

  By the time dinner ended, Rachel had convinced herself again that his interest in her was merely amicable. He simply hadn’t met a lot of people in Percy yet, and he was enjoying the opportunity to share a home-cooked meal, simple as it was, with a friendly family. As for his overreaction to Holder’s phone call—well, she was his client. His friend’s widowed sister. He probably felt that he was being chivalrous or something in helping her with her problems.

  That possibility left a dry taste in her mouth that killed her appetite before she’d cleaned her plate.

  He didn’t linger after dinner. He thanked Rachel for the meal, and she thanked him for coming in response to her call. After that rather stiffly polite exchange, Seth bade good-night to the children and headed for the front door. Telling herself she was only being hospitable, Rachel left the children in the den and walked Seth to the door.

  “You’ll call me if Holder bothers you again?” he persisted, one hand on the doorknob.

  She nodded. “I’ll call. I’ve got several other minor legal matters to discuss with you soon...a couple of contracts I’d like you to read before I sign them, two customers who may have to be sued for delinquent accounts. I’ll call your secretary to arrange an appointment.”

  It seemed easier to treat Seth as an attorney rather than anything more intimate. She knew how to act with an attorney; she’d almost forgotten how to behave with an attractive man who’d shown signs of a personal interest in her. Though, of course, she’d probably misread those signs completely, she assured herself.

  That suspicious amusement was back in his eyes when he gave her a bland smile. “I’ll tell my secretary to expect your call.”

  She swallowed and glanced downward, uncomfortable with the way he was looking at her. Why did she so often imagine that he was laughing at her? She couldn’t think of anything she’d done in particular to amuse him.

  She jumped a bit when he unexpectedly cupped her chin in his hand and raised her face to his. With his free hand he touched her hair, which she was wearing loose and straight to just below her shoulders. “I like your hair down,” he murmured. “I’ve only seen it pinned up before today.”

  “I...uh...”

  “And I like seeing you in casual clothing,” he added, glancing down at her soft pink sweater and gray wool slacks. “Much more approachable than those suits you wear to work.”

  She frowned. “Seth, I—”

&n
bsp; He kissed her before she realized his intention; just a quick, firm brush of lips. He didn’t linger long enough to allow her to resist—or to respond. Yet every nerve ending in her body was suddenly quivering in reaction. She told herself it was only surprise, and annoyance. “Do you make it a practice to kiss your clients?” she asked, wishing her voice sounded cooler and less breathless.

  “No,” he answered, and this time he didn’t even try to hide his grin. “But then I’ve never gotten personally involved with a client before.”

  “Seth, you aren’t—we aren’t—”

  He placed a finger over her lips, effectively silencing her sputtering. “Oh, but I am. And I certainly hope we are. But I won’t rush you, Rachel. Or at least I’ll try not to,” he amended. “Good night. Sleep well.”

  He left her convinced that she probably wouldn’t sleep a wink. And that he knew it, darn him.

  * * *

  She did sleep, of course. And she dreamed. Strange, disturbing dreams that made her wake in the middle of the night, restless, edgy, her skin damp and oversensitized. She didn’t remember details, didn’t even try, but she knew her dreams had centered around a man with laughing green eyes and a lazy, sexy smile.

  She was glad it was dark in the room. Relieved she couldn’t see her own flushed reflection in the mirror across the room. Or the photograph that sat on her nightstand.

  When she finally fell back into a fitful sleep, there were tears on her pillow and on her cheeks. And a deep, aching emptiness in her heart.

  * * *

  Celia arrived early the next afternoon, Rachel’s beaded jacket over one arm and a covered dish in her other hand. “I’ve made broccoli-and-rice casserole for dinner,” she said with a self-mocking smile. Broccoli-and-rice casserole was the only dish Celia cooked. She provided it for every family potluck meal. Fortunately, Rachel thought fondly, she made it very well.

  She took the jacket Celia held out. “You could have kept this,” she reminded her sister.

  Celia shook her dark head. “I’d rather have you store it, and I’ll just borrow it when I need it.”

  Rachel chuckled. “How thoughtful of you. Take your casserole into the kitchen and help yourself to something to drink, if you like. I’ll be there as soon as I hang this up.”