From Fake to Forever

by Jennifer Shirk

  Walking in with Hannah, she immediately stopped and admired the painted classrooms, and her heart lifted with pride. No more water stains. No more drab tan interior. The classrooms were now bright and cheery with their new lemon-yellow walls, almost as if a little bit of sunshine was captured in the tiny, confined spaces. She knew exactly whom to thank for all this. Of course, she had played a small role, and maybe Carol, too, had contributed the best she could—when she wasn’t rubbing up against Ben all weekend—but Ben was the one who truly had a way with a roller brush. And when Ben did something, he gave all 100 percent of himself. He’d even opened up and shared all 100 percent of himself with her that night, too, when he spoke about how his father’s leaving had affected him. When he did things like that and showed her the real Ben Capshaw, it became harder and harder to remember why she should keep her distance from him.

  “This place looks pretty, Mommy. Wait till my best friend Liam sees it. He’s gonna say, ‘Oh, boy!’”

  She looked down at her daughter with a smile. “I didn’t know your best friend was Liam. He’s a nice boy.”

  Her little face puckered. “Yeah, but he’s very quiet, and when he’s quiet, I don’t know what he’s saying.”

  Sandra bit down on a laugh. Ah, the troubles in a four-year-old life. “Hmm. Yes, I see. That is tricky. You can nicely let Liam know when he needs to speak louder, and you two will be fine.”

  Hannah nodded, her attention now focused on the tower of blocks Ben had left in the corner of the room, and skipped away. Sandra sank down in a chair and watched her play.

  Her daughter wasn’t the only one with man problems. Apparently, it ran in the family. But her difficulties with Ben couldn’t be solved so easily.

  Chewing on a fingernail, she questioned the events that had unfolded on Saturday. She still couldn’t believe she’d broken down and flirted with Ben. That was so unlike her. So uncontrolled. She should have known better than to let her needs rule her thinking. She had responsibilities to remember. She couldn’t afford a repeat performance of what she went through with her ex-husband. Not only did she have her own heart to protect, but her child’s as well. She and her daughter deserved someone in their life they could trust.

  Maybe all of Carol and Missy’s talk about what a great guy Ben was had finally gotten to her. He’d been so sweet, the way he got all indignant when he’d learned her ex-husband had disappointed Hannah. Her heart had brimmed with an odd combination of amusement and tenderness as she’d watched him get angry and spew off various epithets for Steve. Then, when Ben had admitted he had a father similar to Steve and how he understood how that could affect her daughter, she’d really begun to believe that maybe Ben was different from other men—from other actors. Although that still didn’t mean he wanted her. It was obvious from his reaction to her flirting that he wanted to remain friends.

  “Oh, wow,” Missy said, walking in and looking around the room with delight. “This place looks fantastic. You guys did a great job.”

  “I know.” Sandra stood up and smiled, tossing the images of her and Ben as a super couple aside like a used tissue. “It’s amazing what a little paint will do. Ben worked extra hard. I don’t know how to thank him.”

  “I’m sure if you tell Ben that, he’d be more than happy to give you a few examples,” Missy said with a wink.

  “Give you a few examples of what?” Ben asked from the open doorway.

  She and Missy looked at each other with wide eyes, and instantly Sandra felt like a four-year-old herself, caught with her hand in the cookie jar. “Uh…I wanted a few examples of the people you admire in Hollywood,” she said, willing Missy not to call her on her lie. “I’ve always meant to ask you that.”

  Ben walked into the room, suspicion lurking in those green eyes of his. “Oh, yeah? That’s funny. You’re one of the very few people on this earth who hasn’t tried to pump me for information about anything to do with moviemaking, celebrities I know, or even the role I’m working on.”

  Feeling jittery, she smiled despite herself. “Yeah, that is funny. See? I guess I’m exactly like everybody else you know.”

  “No,” he said, his face grim and unsmiling. “I can honestly say you’re not like anyone I know.”

  A loud laugh escaped her, probably to keep from passing out. Then it hit her that it might not be the good news she thought it was. Maybe he just meant he didn’t know any neurotic single mothers who ran preschools.

  “Hey, I think that’s the office phone ringing,” Missy interjected. “I’ll go grab it.”

  Sandra wanted to tell her not to bother, that she would answer it herself, but Missy had already run off like a squirrel chasing a peanut butter truck. Where was that sisterly mind reading Missy was so proud of? Didn’t she realize how bad it was for her self-respect to be left alone with Ben?

  She turned her eyes to the floor but felt him looking at her. This was insane. Ben had managed to invade her work, her home, and her dreams. Even though her emotions felt out of control, she looked up and gave him a cool smile. He was so handsome, standing there in his olive turtleneck and jeans, she wanted to walk right over to him, throw her arms around him, and melt into his body. Not quite the normal “friends only” thoughts she wanted to have now, especially with her daughter across the room. But all he had to do was give her that deep look that sent a tingle through her spine, and she was toast—complete and unbuttered whole-wheat toast.

  “Did I remember to thank you yet for all the painting you did here?” She took a daring step closer and laid a hand on his arm despite the fear her fingers would go up in flames if she touched him.

  His eyes flew to her hand, and he visibly swallowed. “Only about nine times. But why not throw in one more and make it an even ten?” He grinned and tried to laugh off her sincere gratefulness, but she heard a tremor in his voice. She hoped she wasn’t hearing things. That gave another boost to her confidence, so she didn’t remove her hand.

  “Okay,” she said with a smile. “Thank you. Again.”

  For a long moment their eyes met, and she felt something click between them. Not sure if his reaction was her imagination again, she wondered if she was brazen enough to try anything else besides touching his arm to test out her theory. That idea was squashed by Missy’s sudden return.

  “Sandra, I’ve got bad news,” she announced.

  Her hand dropped and she spun around. “Bad news?”

  “That was Mrs. Rapagna on the phone. She can’t watch Hannah tonight.”

  “You’re kidding. Why not?”

  “She broke her leg.”

  “Oh, no!” Her shoulders slumped as her mind raced to come up with other options. “That’s a pretty good excuse, then. But what am I going to do about parent-teacher night?”

  “You go,” Missy offered. “You run things and create all the lesson plans. You should be here.”

  Sandra shook her head. “No, that’s not going to work. You better go. You teach here. The parents should meet you.”

  Ben cleared his throat, and they both turned his way. Up until then, Sandra’s mind had been so wrapped up in her school she had forgotten that the man whose bones she’d wanted to jump a mere two minutes ago was even standing there.

  “I’m available to watch Hannah for you,” he said.

  She and Missy exchanged surprised looks before she uttered, “What?”

  He dug his hands into his pockets, which she was beginning to realize he did a lot when he was nervous, and cleared his throat again. “I said I’ll watch Hannah for you,” he repeated, his voice more bold.

  What was the world coming to? Ben Capshaw was offering to babysit her daughter. She tried to measure how seriously to take him, and as a result, almost pinched herself. He seemed pretty darn serious.

  Her mouth opened as she searched for the right words. “I don’t know…” she hedged. “I don’t think I can let you do it. You’ve helped me out so much already.”

  “Sandals, it’s no biggie. I want
to help. I can do it.”

  She bit her lip. “Well, do you have any references?”

  He chuckled.

  She wasn’t really joking, and as soon as he realized that, he turned defensive. “Oh, come on!” he spluttered. “You did a criminal background check on me, what more do you want?”

  What more did she want? Certification in CPR would be a nice start. Unfortunately, as much as she liked and was attracted to Ben, the jury was still out on his child-rearing skills. He was being helpful by offering to watch her daughter, but he didn’t have a clue as to what was involved. How could he? He was a single, childless movie star, and her house did not resemble in any way, shape, or form the Plaza Hotel. He’d be bored in two minutes flat.

  “Relax,” he told her. “Look, if anything happens to Hannah, I can basically kiss my career good-bye.”

  She glowered at him. “That’s not designed to make me feel better, I hope.”

  “I’m joking. Honest. I’ll be the best babysitter you’ve ever had—extra trustworthy. You can count on that. I even played a priest once…I think.”

  “You think?”

  “It was either a priest or a boxer. Either way, I wore a heavy robe.”

  “Your credentials are sinking by the minute.”

  He walked up to her and placed his hands on her shoulders, turning her bones to string beans. He stood so close and smelled so nice, like he’d just stepped out of the shower. She had to resist the urge to rip off his shirt and wallow in his fresh, soapy scent.

  “Look, we’ll be fine,” he pressed, snapping her out of her lust-like state. “I’m not some stranger. Hannah knows me. She also happens to know the golden rule.”

  Sandra didn’t want to ask—knew she wouldn’t like the answer—but couldn’t resist. “What exactly is the golden rule?”

  “The one who owns the gold rules.” He grinned.

  She batted him away. “I’ll stay home,” she told Missy.

  He laughed out loud. “I’m sorry. I promised you I wouldn’t joke around anymore. You’re just too easy. We’ll be fine. Really. I know how to use a phone, which means I can call for help if need be. Come on,” he coaxed, giving her a sexy, persuasive grin. “Let me help you.”

  She thought it over. Despite his joking around, Ben did give her a sense of comfort about the whole situation. After all, he had been nothing but kind, thoughtful, and eager to help her since she’d gotten to know him better. She’d never get that kind of an offer from Steve in her lifetime, that’s for sure. Hannah seemed to like him a lot. And, let’s face it, she liked him a lot, too.

  “Well, okay,” she said, giving him a small smile. “Thanks again, Ben. It’ll just be for a few hours. It’s nice to know I have someone like you I can trust and count on.”

  And to her surprise, she realized she meant every single word.

  …

  What am I doing here?

  That was the million-dollar question Ben asked himself several times over as he drove to Sandra’s house. It had to have been a fluke, him agreeing to this. His usual spasm of the mouth. He was a movie star, a celebrity. He did charity fund-raisers and presentations at film award galas, was paid thousands of dollars to act—not play dress-up with a four-year-old for free. He didn’t do babysitting.

  So why am I standing outside her door with a bag of chocolate pudding in my hands?

  Because he was a sap, that’s why. It wasn’t any fluke at all. Wanting to help Sandra was becoming a kind of Superman gut instinct. He responded to it and couldn’t control it—even if he should.

  What could he say? He liked this woman. There was a kinship between them he couldn’t quite explain, maybe because he saw through her calm and collected frostiness and he didn’t have to act when he was with her. He really liked the woman and, despite everything telling him to stay clear of her because he had the power to hurt her and her daughter if they grew too attached to him, he couldn’t go unaffected by her problems. He had to help her.

  Ben closed his eyes, swearing softly, and knocked on her door. After a long moment, the door pulled open. He sucked in his breath when he saw Sandra standing before him and fumbled with the bag he was holding. He’d dated many attractive women, had love scenes in movies with women men would step over their own mothers for, but he’d never seen a woman look as breathtakingly beautiful as Sandra did in that instant. With her blond hair hanging in soft waves around her shoulders, framing her face and cool blue eyes, she was a vision—no, a princess. Yes, she looked like a princess with her flawless ivory skin and sexy come-hither smile—and the fact that she wore a tiara on her head.

  “Is that for me?” she asked, pointing.

  He lowered the bag, shaking his head vigorously.

  She looked taken aback. “Ben, what’s the matter with you?” she asked, prying the bag from his hands. She smiled, reaching in and taking out the container of pudding snacks. “Oh, you shouldn’t have! Hannah loves this stuff.”

  He let out his breath and followed her inside. Nice going. Two seconds in the door and he could barely hide the fact that he wanted her. This was how he was supposed to keep her at arm’s length? He was going to have to come up with a better game plan than that if he wanted to stay in control. For his pride’s sake, he hoped Sandra wouldn’t linger around too much longer, or he was going to have to phone Houston with a serious problem.

  “Mommy, you can’t wear my tiara to school,” Hannah said, gazing up at her with her hands on her hips.

  “Tiara?” Sandra reached up and felt around her head, blushing when she found the plastic jeweled crown. “Why didn’t you tell me I had this thing on?” she asked, pointing those gorgeous blue eyes at him. “I totally forgot.”

  “Oh. Uh, I didn’t notice,” he lied, hoping to put an end to their conversation before he needed a cold shower. He focused his attention on Hannah. “Hey, honey. What do you have planned for us tonight?” Please don’t say Barbies. Please don’t say Barbies.

  Hannah cocked her head with her chin in her hand for a few seconds. “How about we play tea party?” she asked with bright eyes.

  He shuddered as he felt his testosterone level dip. “That sounds…great.”

  Sandra whooped with laughter. “Yeah, right. I wish I could stay and watch. Here,” she said, handing him the tiara. “You might need this.”

  “Hey, I happen to be a man secure enough in my masculinity to not only wear a tiara to a child’s tea party, but I can rock wearing it, too.”

  Sandra smirked then glanced at her watch. “Again, as much as I’d like to stay, I have to leave. All the important numbers are by the phone. Hannah’s bedtime is at seven thirty. One story, one glass of water, no excuses. Hear that?” she said, looking pointedly to her daughter.

  With a huge smile, Hannah held up the chocolate pudding and nodded.

  “See?” He made an elaborate show of polishing his knuckles on his chest. “I won’t have any problems. Pudding bribery works every time.”

  Sandra laid her hand on his shoulder and squeezed. “Thanks again, Ben. I’ll be back as soon as I can.” She gave Hannah a kiss, making her promise to be good, then with one last smile thrown in his direction, she grabbed her purse and left.

  Okay. Everything’s going to be fine, he reminded himself as the door closed with booming finality. Nobody was going to get hurt. He could do this. He was a responsible adult—most of the time.

  “Big Bens, can I have the chocolate pudding now?” Hannah asked, snapping him out of his mental lecture.

  “Oh. Sure.” He took the pudding cup from her hands and peeled back the top. Grabbing a napkin and a spoon, he dumped everything on the table. “There you go. Emeril, eat your heart out.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “Who’s Em-roll?”

  “He’s a chef.”

  “What’s a chef?”

  “It’s a person whose job is to cook and prepare meals.”

  “Oh. He cooks food like my mommy?”

  He bit down on the inside of his c
heek to keep from laughing out loud. “Sort of.”

  “Uh-oh.”

  His heart dropped. He was only two minutes into this gig and there was already an “uh-oh.”

  “What uh-oh?”

  “I need my pink spoon,” she said with a grimace, holding up the plain metal one he’d given her.

  “Pink spoon?”

  She closed her eyes and nodded.

  What difference does a spoon make? Knowing that was a debate he would more than likely lose, he gritted his teeth and opened the drawer again. There were ten different pink spoons. Figures. He decided to play it safe, scooping them all out in his fist and plopping them on the table. He watched Hannah and sucked in his breath, waiting. She looked at them all thoughtfully, then with a big smile, she picked out the one she wanted and started to eat.

  Ben sank into the chair behind him. Crisis successfully averted. That wasn’t so hard.

  See? He could act like a father. But before he could pat himself on the back further, his cell phone rang.

  “Where the hell are you?” he heard as soon as he tapped the screen.

  He sat back and crossed his ankles. “I’m doing well, thanks for asking, Denise. Why yes, I agree, the weather is unseasonably nice. In fact—”

  “I don’t have time for niceties,” his agent snapped. “Where are you?”

  “New Jersey, last time I checked.”

  He heard a sigh and then a gnashing sound he figured had to be her teeth. “I know that only because you’re not here in New York—where you’re supposed to be doing your six o’clock interview. Remember?”

  The interview. Crap. Talk about an uh-oh.

  Ben sat up. How could he forget something so important? What was the matter with him? Unfortunately he knew the answer to that as he stared across at Sandra’s daughter.

  He forced a cough, his mind racing. “I forgot to tell you I had to cancel it.”

  “Why did you have to cancel?” she asked, sounding in a panic. “Are you all right?”