“It’s worth a try. At this point, anything is.”
Jenny’s bellowing had finally dwindled into a few hiccuping sobs. And for some reason, Jimmy suddenly straightened and stared at Reed’s craggy face, at his deep auburn hair and brilliant green eyes. Then he pointed to the plaid wool shirt, its long sleeves rolled up to the elbow. “Are you a lumberjack?”
“A lumberjack?” Reed repeated, looking puzzled. He broke into a full laugh. “No, but I imagine I must look like one to you.”
Rummaging through the diaper bag, Ellen found a plastic bottle filled with what was presumably formula. Jenny eyed it skeptically, but no sooner had Ellen removed the cap than Jenny grabbed it from her hands and began sucking eagerly at the nipple.
Sighing, Ellen sank into the rocking chair and swayed back and forth with the baby tucked in her arms. “I guess that settles that.”
The silence was so blissful that she wanted to wrap it around herself. She felt the tension drain from her muscles as she relaxed in the rocking chair. From what Jimmy had dropped, she surmised that Danielle hadn’t been much help. Everything she’d learned about the other woman told Ellen that Danielle would probably find young children frustrating—and apparently she had.
Jimmy had crawled into Reed’s lap with a book and demanded the lumberjack read to him. Together the two leafed through the storybook. Several times during the peaceful interlude, Ellen’s eyes met Reed’s across the room and they exchanged a contented smile.
Jenny sucked tranquilly at the bottle, and her eyes slowly drooped shut. At peace with her world, the baby was satisfied to be held and rocked to sleep. Ellen gazed down at the angelic face and brushed fine wisps of hair from the untroubled forehead. Releasing her breath in a slow, drawn-out sigh, she glanced up to discover Reed watching her, the little boy still sitting quietly on his lap.
“Ellen?” Reed spoke in a low voice. “Did you finish your math paper?”
“Finish it?” She groaned. “Are you kidding? I haven’t even started it.”
“What’s a math paper?” Jimmy asked.
Rocking the baby, Ellen looked solemnly over at the boy. “Well, it’s something I have to write for a math class. And if I don’t write a paper, I haven’t got a hope of passing the course.” She didn’t think he’d understand any algebraic terms. For that matter, neither did she.
“What’s math?”
“Numbers,” Reed told the boy.
“And, in this case, sometimes letters—like x and y.”
“I like numbers,” Jimmy declared. “I like three and nine and seven.”
“Well, Jimmy, my boy, how would you like to write my paper for me?”
“Can I?”
Ellen grinned at him. “You bet.”
Reed got out pencil and paper and set the four-year-old to work.
Glancing up, she gave Reed a smile. “See how easy this is? You’re good with kids.” Reed smiled in answer as he carefully drew numbers for Jimmy to copy.
After several minutes of this activity, Jimmy decided it was time to put on his pajamas. Seeing him yawn, Reed brought down a pillow and blanket and tucked him into a hastily made bed on the sofa. Then he read a bedtime story until the four-year-old again yawned loudly and fell almost instantly asleep.
Ellen still hadn’t moved, fearing that the slightest jolt would rouse the baby.
“Why don’t we set her down in the baby seat?” Reed said.
“I’m afraid she’ll wake up.”
“If she does, you can rock her again.”
His suggestion made sense and besides, her arms were beginning to ache. “Okay.” He moved to her side and took the sleeping child. Ellen held her breath momentarily when Jenny stirred. But the little girl simply rolled her head against the cushion and returned to sleep.
Ellen rose to her feet and turned the lamp down to its dimmest setting, surrounding them with a warm circle of light.
“I couldn’t have done it without you,” Reed whispered, coming to stand beside her. He rested his hand at the back of her neck.
An unfamiliar warmth seeped through Ellen, and she began to talk quickly, hoping to conceal her sudden nervousness. “Sure you could have. It looked to me as if you had everything under control.”
Reed snorted. “I was ten minutes away from calling the crisis clinic. Thanks for coming to the rescue.” He casually withdrew his hand, and Ellen felt both relieved and disappointed.
“You’re welcome.” She was dying to know what had happened with Danielle, but she didn’t want to ask. Apparently, the other woman hadn’t stayed around for long.
“Have you eaten?”
Ellen had been so busy that she’d forgotten about dinner, but once Reed mentioned it, she realized how hungry she was. “No, and I’m starved.”
“Do you like Chinese food?”
“Love it.”
“Good. There’s enough for an army out in the kitchen. I ordered it earlier.”
Ellen didn’t need to be told that he’d made dinner plans with Danielle in mind. He’d expected to share an intimate evening with her. “Listen,” she began awkwardly, clasping her hands. “I really have to get going on this term paper. Why don’t you call Danielle and invite her back? Now that the kids are asleep, I’m sure everything will be better. I—”
“Children make Danielle nervous. She warned me about it, but I refused to listen. She’s home now and has probably taken some aspirin and gone to sleep. I can’t see letting good food go to waste. Besides, this gives me an opportunity to thank you.”
“Oh.” It was the longest speech that Reed had made. “All right,” she agreed with a slight nod.
While Reed warmed the food in the microwave, Ellen set out plates and forks and prepared a large pot of green tea, placing it in the middle of the table. The swinging door that connected the kitchen with the living room was left open in case either child woke.
“What do we need plates for?” Reed asked with a questioning arch of his brow.
“Plates are the customary eating device.”
“Not tonight.”
“Not tonight?” Something amusing glinted in Reed’s eyes as he set out several white boxes and brandished two pairs of chopsticks. “Since it’s only the two of us, we can eat right out of the boxes.”
“I’m not very adept with chopsticks.” The smell drifting from the open boxes was tangy and enticing.
“You’ll learn if you’re hungry.”
“I’m famished.”
“Good.” Deftly he took the first pair of chopsticks and showed her how to work them with her thumb and index finger.
Imitating his movements Ellen discovered that her fingers weren’t nearly as agile as his. Two or three tries at picking up small pieces of spicy diced chicken succeeded only in frustrating her.
“Here.” Reed fed her a bite from the end of his chopsticks. “Be a little more patient with yourself.”
“That’s easy for you to say while you’re eating your fill and I’m starving to death.”
“It’ll come.”
Ellen grumbled under her breath, but a few tries later she managed to deliver a portion of the hot food to her eager mouth.
“See, I told you you’d pick this up fast enough.”
“Do you always tell someone ‘I told you so’?” she asked with pretended annoyance. The mood was too congenial for any real discontent. Ellen felt that they’d shared a special time together looking after the two small children. More than special—astonishing. They hadn’t clashed once or found a single thing to squabble over.
“I enjoy teasing you. Your eyes have an irresistible way of lighting up when you’re angry.”
“If you continue to insist that I eat with these absurd pieces of wood, you’ll see my eyes brighten the entire room.”
“I’m looking forward to that,” he murmured with a laugh. “No forks. You can’t properly enjoy Chinese food unless you use chopsticks.”
“I can’t properly taste it without a fork.”
“Here, I’ll feed you.” Again he brought a spicy morsel to her mouth.
A drop of the sauce fell onto her chin and Ellen wiped it off. “You aren’t any better at this than me.” She dipped the chopsticks into the chicken mixture and attempted to transport a tidbit to Reed’s mouth. It balanced precariously on the end of her chopsticks, and Reed lowered his mouth to catch it before it could land in his lap.
“You’re improving,” he told her, his voice low and slightly husky.
Their eyes met. Unable to face the caressing look in his warm gaze, Ellen bent her head and pretended to be engrossed in her dinner. But her appetite was instantly gone—vanished.
A tense silence filled the room. The air between them was so charged that she felt breathless and weak, as though she’d lost the energy to move or speak. Ellen didn’t dare raise her eyes for fear of what she’d see in his.
“Ellen.”
She took a deep breath and scrambled to her feet. “I think I hear Jimmy,” she whispered.
“Maybe it was Jenny,” Reed added hurriedly.
Ellen paused in the doorway between the two rooms. They were both overwhelmingly aware that neither child had made a sound. “I guess they’re still asleep.”
“That’s good.” The scraping sound of his chair against the floor told her that Reed, too, had risen from the table. When she turned, she found him depositing the leftovers in the refrigerator. His preoccupation with the task gave her a moment to reflect on what had just happened. There were too many problems involved in pursuing this attraction; the best thing was to ignore it and hope the craziness passed. They were mature adults, not adolescents, and besides, this would complicate her life, which was something she didn’t need right now. Neither, she was sure, did he. Especially with Danielle in the picture...
“If you don’t mind, I’m going to head upstairs,” she began awkwardly, taking a step in retreat.
“Okay, then. And thanks. I appreciated the help.”
“I appreciated the dinner,” she returned.
“See you in the morning.”
“Right.” Neither seemed eager to bring the evening to an end.
“Good night, Ellen.”
“Night, Reed. Call if you need me.”
“I will.”
Turning decisively, she took the stairs and was panting by the time she’d climbed up the second narrow flight. Since the third floor had originally been built to accommodate servants, the five bedrooms were small and opened onto a large central room, which was where Ellen had placed her bed. She’d chosen the largest of the bedrooms as her study.
She sat resolutely down at her desk and leafed through several books, hoping to come across an idea she could use for her term paper. But her thoughts were dominated by the man two floors below. Clutching a study on the origins of algebra to her chest, she sighed deeply and wondered whether Danielle truly valued Reed. She must, Ellen decided, or she wouldn’t be so willing to sit at home waiting, while her fiancé traipsed around the world directing a variety of projects.
Reed had been so patient and good-natured with Jimmy and Jenny. When the little boy had climbed into his lap, Reed had read to him and held him with a tenderness that stirred her heart. And Reed was generous to a fault. Another man might have told Pat, Monte and Ellen to pack their bags. This was his home, after all, and Derek had been wrong to rent out the rooms without Reed’s knowledge. But Reed had let them stay.
Disgruntled with the trend her thoughts were taking, Ellen forced her mind back to the books in front of her. But it wasn’t long before her concentration started to drift again. Reed had Danielle, and she had... Charlie Hanson. First thing in the morning, she’d call dependable old Charlie and suggest they get together; he’d probably be as surprised as he was pleased to hear from her. Feeling relieved and a little light-headed, Ellen turned off the light and went to bed.
* * *
“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?” Reed arrived in the kitchen early the next afternoon, looking as though he’d just finished eighteen holes of golf or a vigorous game of tennis. He’d already left by the time she’d wandered down to the kitchen that morning.
“Ellen?” he repeated impatiently.
She’d taken the wall plates off the electrical outlets and pulled the receptacle out of its box, from which two thin colored wires now protruded. “I’m trying to figure out why this outlet won’t heat the iron,” she answered without looking in his direction.
“You’re what!” he bellowed.
She wiped her face to remove a layer of dust before she straightened. “Don’t yell at me.”
“Good grief, woman. You run around on the roof like a trapeze artist, cook like a dream and do electrical work on the side. Is there anything you can’t do?”
“Algebra,” she muttered.
Reed closed the instruction manual Ellen had propped against the sugar bowl in the middle of the table. He took her by the shoulders and pushed her gently aside, then reattached the electrical wires and fastened the whole thing back in place.
As he finished securing the wall plate, Ellen burst out, “What did you do that for? I’ve almost got the problem traced.”
“No doubt, but if you don’t mind, I’d rather have a real electrician look at this.”
“What can I say? It’s your house.”
“Right. Now sit down.” He nudged her into a chair. “How much longer are you going to delay writing that term paper?”
“It’s written,” she snapped. She wasn’t particularly pleased with it, but at least the assignment was done. Her subject matter might impress four-year-old Jimmy, but she wasn’t too confident that her professor would feel the same way.
“Do you want me to look it over?”
The offer surprised her. “No, thanks.” She stuck the screwdriver in the pocket of her gray-striped coveralls.
“Well, that wasn’t so hard, was it?”
“I just don’t think I’ve got a snowball’s chance of getting a decent grade on it. Anyway, I have to go and iron a dress. I’ve got a date.”
A dark brow lifted over inscrutable green eyes and he seemed about to say something.
“Reed.” Unexpectedly, the kitchen door swung open and a soft, feminine voice purred his name. “What’s taking you so long?”
“Danielle, I’d like you to meet Ellen.”
“Hello.” Ellen resisted the urge to kick Reed. If he was going to introduce her to his friend, the least he could have done was waited until she looked a little more presentable. Just as she’d figured, Danielle was beautiful. No, the word was gorgeous. She wore a cute pale blue tennis outfit with a short, pleated skirt. A dark blue silk scarf held back the curly cascade of long blond hair—Ellen should have known the other woman would be blonde. Naturally, Danielle possessed a trim waist, perfect legs and blue eyes to match the heavens. She’d apparently just finished playing golf or tennis with Reed, but she still looked cool and elegant.
“I feel as though I already know you,” Danielle was saying with a pleasant smile. “Reed told me how much help you were with the children.”
“It was nothing, really.” Embarrassed by her ridiculous outfit, Ellen tried to conceal as much of it as possible by grabbing the electrical repair book and clasping it to her stomach.
“Not according to Reed.” Danielle slipped her arm around his and smiled adoringly up at him. “Unfortunately, I came down with a terrible headache.”
“Danielle doesn’t have your knack with young children,” Reed said.
“If we decide to have our own, things will be different,” Danielle continued sweetl
y. “But I’m not convinced I’m the maternal type.”
Ellen sent the couple a wan smile. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to go change my clothes.”
“Of course. It was nice meeting you, Elaine.”
“Ellen,” Reed and Ellen corrected simultaneously.
“You, too.” Gallantly, Ellen stifled the childish impulse to call the other woman Diane. As she turned and hurried up the stairs leading from the kitchen, she heard Danielle whisper that she didn’t mind at all if Ellen lived in Reed’s home. Of course not, Ellen muttered to herself. How could Danielle possibly be jealous?
Winded by the time she’d marched up both flights, Ellen walked into the tiny bedroom where she stored her clothes. She threw down the electrical manual and slammed the door shut. Then she sighed with despair as she saw her reflection in the full-length mirror on the back of the door; it revealed baggy coveralls, a faded white T-shirt and smudges of dirt across her cheekbone. She struck a seductive pose with her hand on her hip and vampishly puffed up her hair. “Of course I don’t mind if sweet little Elaine lives here, darling,” she mimicked in a high-pitched falsely sweet voice.
Dropping her coveralls to the ground, Ellen gruffly kicked them aside. Hands on her hips, she glared at her reflection. Her figure was no less attractive than Danielle’s, and her face was pretty enough—even if she did say so herself. But Danielle had barely looked at Ellen and certainly hadn’t seen her as a potential rival.
As she brushed her hair away from her face, Ellen’s shoulders suddenly dropped. She was losing her mind! She liked living with the boys. Their arrangement was ideal, yet here she was, complaining bitterly because her presence hadn’t been challenged.
Carefully choosing a light pink blouse and denim skirt, Ellen told herself that Charlie, at least, would appreciate her. And for now, Ellen needed that. Her self-confidence had been shaken by Danielle’s casual acceptance of her role in Reed’s house. She didn’t like Danielle. But then, she hadn’t expected to.
* * *
“ELLEN.” HER NAME was followed by a loud pounding on the bedroom door. “Wake up! There’s a phone call for you.”
The Rain Sparrow Page 5
