by Brenda Novak
Did he mind? Cole jammed a hand through his hair as he tried to decide. If his secretary had been anyone else, someone old and gray, perhaps, he wouldn’t have thought twice about it. He would have thanked her and enjoyed the meal. But seeing the girl he’d dreamed about all through high school standing in his kitchen wearing oven mitts and serving him dinner seemed to cross the “too personal” line. Ever since the day Rick left, when she seemed to know just what he needed and had reached out to him in his office, he’d been careful to keep his distance. If he didn’t, he could end up raising another family, and he just didn’t have it in him for a repeat performance, especially after raising a child as difficult as Rick.
“I don’t mind, but neither do I expect it,” he said, rounding the island to find coleslaw, an apple-nut salad and what looked like breakfast biscuits waiting in separate bowls for him on the table.
“I know it probably seems like an odd medley,” she said, glancing at the food. “But you didn’t have any fruit aside from apples, and you had very little produce. I’ll go to the grocery store tonight. Tomorrow’s dinner will be better.”
Tomorrow’s dinner? Was she going to make a habit of this? Cole opened his mouth to explain that he had no intention of having her cook for him on a regular basis. But the food smelled so good, and she seemed so pleased with her efforts, that he decided to save the “never again” until later.
“It looks great.”
“Good.” She put a single place setting on the table and started serving up his plate.
“Am I eating alone?” he asked. Considering the amount of food, he’d expected her to join him.
She checked her watch. “Unless you’d like to invite someone over. I have just enough time to clean up the dishes. Then I’m off to pick up my kids.”
The single setting and her brisk, matter-of-fact manner quickly dispelled the intimacy of her having cooked for him. He even felt embarrassed about the way his mind had jumped to the conclusion that she was probably trying to shackle him. But instead of bringing Cole the relief he expected, the thought made him feel…slightly disappointed. Apparently the pot roast didn’t mean anything.
“Are you saying you’re willing to cook as part of your job?” he asked.
“Just until I can learn more about real estate. I’ve signed up for some home-study classes to get the mandatory school credits out of the way and to help me prepare for my state test. And I’m hoping you’ll still train me around here when you get the time. Meanwhile, I thought I could do some cleaning, maybe take over the laundry, pick up your dry cleaning, that sort of thing. I know this is a…difficult time, with Rick gone, and I want to help. You’re paying me too much to just answer the phone.”
She seemed in earnest. Cole couldn’t help but admire her work ethic. He couldn’t see how he stood to lose, either. As long as Jackie could manage what he needed her to do in the office, she could fill in around the house. Why would he want to say no to home-cooked meals, to having his shirts cleaned and pressed? It was like getting the benefits of a wife without the liabilities. She wasn’t even planning to eat with him. Certainly she had no designs on him as her children’s new daddy.
He cut a piece off the slice of roast she’d given him and took his first bite. Delicious. Every bit as good as the smell had promised.
“How is it?” she asked, above the water running in the sink.
“Excellent.” He smiled for the first time since discovering her in his kitchen. “I’ll give you some money so you can go to the grocery store and get whatever you like.”
“Any special requests?”
He sampled the salads and was surprised to find them almost as good as the roast and potatoes and gravy. If she could do this well with what he’d had in his cupboards, the situation might definitely be taking a turn for the better.
“Meat loaf,” he said decisively. “It’s been fifteen years or more since I’ve had meat loaf.”
RICK WAS EXHAUSTED. It had been three weeks since he’d quit Perrini Homes, but the last person he wanted to see, other than Cole, was Chad, standing on his front doorstep when he returned home after a long day.
“Did Cole send you?” he asked, braking in his driveway with his car window down so he could speak to his brother, who’d stepped off the porch and started toward him.
“Does it matter if he did?” Chad responded, shoving his hands in the pockets of his jeans as he walked.
Letting his engine idle, Rick stared at the two white holes his headlights seemed to bore into the garage as his brother came alongside his car. “It’s after midnight on a Wednesday night, and I know you have to get up early,” he said. “I was just going to save you the trouble of staying out any later if Cole’s behind your visit. Because if he sent you, I don’t have anything to say.”
Chad left his hands in his pockets but stood straighter, obviously surprised and probably offended by the statement, but Rick wasn’t about to back off. He had to draw a hard line with Cole, with all his brothers, or he’d soon find himself working at Perrini Homes again. And he didn’t want to go back.
“What’s going on?” Chad demanded. “Cole’s been good to you. He’s been good to all of us. Aren’t you being a little ungrateful?”
“Ungrateful?” Rick shook his head. It was gratitude and grudging respect that had tethered him to Cole in the first place. He’d spent the past ten years of his life helping to build Cole’s business, trying to repay his older brother for the sacrifices he’d made when they were growing up. But Rick had finally realized that what he owed Cole was a debt he could never satisfy. Nothing he did now would change what had happened when they were kids. Nothing could make up for it.
“It’s just time for something new,” he said to keep things simple, knowing that Chad would never understand how he truly felt. His younger brother was satisfied to be Cole’s contractor, would probably be happy with the position for the rest of his life. Chad wanted nothing more than to put in a good week’s work and collect his pay, all the while knowing Cole was behind him with a safety net should something go wrong. Why Rick couldn’t be more like him, or Brian or Andrew, he didn’t know. But for some reason, he had to prove, if only to himself, that he could make it without big brother’s help.
“Weren’t you making enough money?” Chad asked.
Rick glanced beyond Chad to the home he’d bought just a few months earlier. Set on a big lot in an upper-class neighborhood, it was a nice place. He hadn’t yet finished the landscaping in back or furnished all the rooms, but he’d bought it more as an investment, anyway. He planned to sell it in a few years, take his equity, and upgrade to a larger place. Maybe by then, he’d have a family and need the space.
“It wasn’t the money. I just have some things I want to do on my own.”
Chad leaned against the side of the car and kicked a small stone off the driveway. “I’m not going to get in the middle of it,” he said at last.
“I don’t think it’s possible to remain neutral and still feel like you’re being loyal to Cole. I understood and accepted that when I left. I know how you feel about him.”
“I owe Cole a lot, but I’m not going to give up one brother because of another,” he said.
Rick smiled. He’d thought he’d have to walk away from the whole family to gain his freedom, but Chad seemed to be offering him an alternative, at least where he was concerned. “Thanks, man. I appreciate it.”
“No problem.” Chad shoved away from the car. “Want to go out tomorrow night? Have a couple drinks?”
“I can’t,” Rick said. “I’ve already got plans.”
Chad squinted through the darkness, studying him, and Rick expected him to start in where Cole had left off, drilling him about how he was spending his nights. But he didn’t.
After a moment he simply nodded and said, “Okay. You’ve got my number.”
Then he left.
CHAPTER EIGHT
COLE HAD NEVER hated weekends before, but as he walked aro
und his empty house on a Saturday afternoon in mid-September, he had to admit he was beginning to dread them. Without Laura to occupy his nights and Rick to talk to whenever he felt like calling, he had little to stop him from closing himself in his office and working like he did every day, which was exactly what he’d been doing since dawn. But he was tired of work, tired of being alone. A man needed some social interaction.
He poked around his kitchen, wondering what to eat for supper, considered some of the leftovers in his fridge, then decided he’d go out, instead. The still, silent house was getting to him. He needed to be with people, needed something to distract him from his usual thoughts about escrows and loans and land.
What if he called Laura? They’d always had a good time together. They could go to dinner, catch a movie, maybe come back to the house later. Three months without female companionship was starting to feel like a long time.
But if he contacted Laura and she agreed to see him, he’d be putting the two of them right back where they’d been before—with her wanting a more permanent relationship and him unable to give her one. Now that they’d made the split, he didn’t really want to put them through that again, did he?
No, he cared enough about Laura to let her move on.
He could always hang out with one of his brothers, he decided. Except that Chad was in Sacramento looking at some lots, Andrew and Brian were at school six hours away and he didn’t feel like making the drive, and he wasn’t about to contact Rick. He and Rick hadn’t spoken for nearly a month, ever since Rick had walked out on him, and now was not the time to try to mend that fence. Neither did he think, after what Chad had told him, that Rick wanted to hear from him. Whatever Rick was doing with his life, he wanted to do it on his own, and Cole was determined to respect that.
Which whittled his options down for the evening to the possibilities contained in his little black book. He could go through the names and numbers in his day-planner and call one or two of the women he’d dated in the past. Or he could call Jackie Wentworth. He’d been tempted to do so before and had ultimately decided not to, but he couldn’t see any harm in calling her now. He saw her almost every day, anyway. She’d been cooking and cleaning for him for nearly two weeks, and her efforts had made a significant difference. His cupboards were stocked with homemade pickle relish, strawberry jam and bottled peaches and pears. A lemon bundt cake sat under cover on his counter, and homemade white bread—his favorite item so far—stocked the bread box. But that wasn’t all. Things he’d never even thought about cleaning had been scrubbed—the blinds and light fixtures and baseboards. There wasn’t a cobweb or dust bunny in sight, and the whole place smelled like chocolate-chip cookies. Cole had never had anyone take care of him before and was beginning to think he’d made a real bargain when he hired her.
A man could get used to having someone see to such comforts, he decided. The only problem was the hours she was gone. She left him with plenty of food in the refrigerator to get him through the weekend, and the house generally survived his neglect until she returned. After all, he’d managed for years before she came. But there was still something missing when she wasn’t around. He felt it more and more strongly as time went on, and he was beginning to fear it was her physical presence.
That’s crazy. I’m just bored—or maybe I’m lonely—but either way she’s an old friend. It can’t hurt to call her.
He picked up the phone, then hung up again. She’d be surprised to hear from him on a weekend, and he’d be put on the spot and wouldn’t know how to break the ice. He had to come up with some reason, some excuse….
He could tell her he dropped a cup and the vacuum wouldn’t work so he could clean up the glass, ask to borrow hers.
No, then he’d have to break his own vacuum.
What if he called to see how she thought Margaret, their new real-estate agent, was working out? He could do that, but it would seem pretty obvious. Jaclyn had interviewed and recommended Margaret in the first place, and Margaret had already sold four houses in her first week. She was doing great, and everyone knew it. Besides, Cole could ask Jaclyn about Margaret at work. Since she was going to start working Saturday mornings in October, Margaret left at four o’clock, which meant he and Jaclyn had an hour at the office alone together every day.
What if he told Jaclyn he wanted to entertain friends tomorrow and was hoping to hire her services as caterer?
Cole rubbed his whisker-roughened chin. That was a possibility. He was just thinking about embellishing the story with a list of those who were supposedly coming when he saw something out of the corner of his eye that told him he wouldn’t need to lie.
“WHEN’S DADDY GOING to pick us up?” Mackenzie asked, standing on a chair beside Jaclyn at the counter, handing her the bowl of zucchini they’d just grated for the bread they were baking. Alex was setting the table for dinner, and Alyssa was pretending to wash the dishes piled high in the sink.
“It’s been nearly a month,” Alex complained, his tone as sulky as ever. “Now that we’re in school, we can only go to Feld on weekends, and it’s Saturday. Why doesn’t he come? Did you tell him not to?”
“No, I didn’t,” she said, refusing to let Alex’s accusatory tone goad her into an angry response.
“Then, what’s happened?”
Jaclyn raised her voice above the whine of the mixer she’d just turned on. “I don’t know. He’s called a few times,” she said, trying to be positive. But she didn’t really know how to explain her ex-husband’s sudden neglect. He’d promised the kids he was coming to get them on two different occasions, then called and canceled at the last minute. Had he met someone? He wasn’t happy she was working for Cole. Had he decided to punish her by making sure he didn’t provide baby-sitting, in case she and Cole wanted to socialize? With Terry, anything was possible. “Maybe he’s just been busy.”
“Too busy to come get us?” Mackenzie demanded.
Jaclyn turned off the mixer. “I’m sure he’ll come soon. You can call him after supper if you like.”
“I don’t want to talk to him,” Alex grumbled amidst the clink of the silverware he was desultorily plunking down beside each plate.
“Alex is always in a bad mood,” Mackenzie complained, making a face at her brother. Fortunately he didn’t see her. “I want to talk to Daddy.”
“Me, too!” Alyssa echoed.
Jaclyn rinsed and dried her hands, then tucked a strand of Alyssa’s fine blond hair behind her daughter’s ear and kissed her soft cheek. “As soon as we finish supper, we’ll give him a call, and those who want to talk can, okay?”
The doorbell rang just as Jaclyn was taking out the enchiladas she’d made for supper. She quickly loaded the zucchini bread into the oven and headed to the front door, but Alex beat her to it.
“Is your mother home?”
Jaclyn instantly recognized the voice and wished she’d cleaned up. On Saturdays she rarely bothered to do her hair or makeup, and today wasn’t any different. She’d pulled her hair into a ponytail and spent her time playing Four Square with the kids, an outdoor game that had eventually turned into a water fight—until Mr. Alder had come out to scold them for hitting his bedroom window with the spray from the hose. Since then they’d been inside, where Jaclyn had been busy making salsa, baking zucchini bread and cooking dinner.
“Cole, I didn’t expect to see you today,” she said. He was standing in her doorway wearing a pair of shorts and a T-shirt, instead of the usual suit and tie, and he looked younger and more carefree than she’d ever seen him, at least since high school.
Jaclyn glanced down at her own shorts and tank top, hoping, by some miracle, that they were at least clean. Fortunately she didn’t notice any blobs of batter or red streaks of tomato juice, but she doubted her clothes could withstand a close inspection.
“What brings you here?”
“I was in the area and thought I’d drop by and give you this—”
He lifted one hand to reveal the jacket th
at went over her lavender dress. She’d left it at the office several days earlier and kept forgetting to bring it home. But the jacket certainly wasn’t important enough to require a special trip.
“Thanks,” she said, taking it from him and wondering if he had another reason for driving over.
“No problem.” His gaze returned to Alex, who was standing between them, staring up at him with frank curiosity. “So this is your son?”
“Yes. This is Alex. He’s ten.”
“Was it your car my mother drove home a few weeks ago?” Alex asked.
“If it was that one right there, yes.” Cole indicated the black Navigator parked at the curb.
“That is so hot,” Alex said. “When I get big, I’m going to drive one of those.”
“By then there’ll be something on the market you’ll want a lot more,” Cole said. “I guarantee it.”
Mackenzie and Alyssa had trailed Jaclyn to the door and were now crowding around her and Alex to peek at their visitor, so Jaclyn introduced them, as well. “This is Alyssa, my youngest, and Mackenzie, who’s nearly six. This is my boss,” she told the children. “His name is Mr. Perrini.”
“They can call me Cole,” he said.
An awkward moment ensued while she tried to decide whether to invite him in. She longed for adult companionship, someone to talk to and to laugh with, but Cole hardly fit the mold of a platonic friend. He was too charismatic, too handsome, and she knew too much about his past.
Still, that day in his office had shown her that he possessed a sensitive side. At night, somewhere between sleep and wakefulness, she often relived the moment she’d touched his arm and he’d looked at her with such longing.
Cole cleared his throat. “I guess I’d better be going.”
“Have you had any dinner?” she asked, the manners her parents had instilled in her as a child overtaking her better judgment. “We were just about to sit down to eat, and there’s plenty if you’d like to join us.”
