Kids Is A 4-Letter Word

by Stephanie Bond

  “I’m trying to potty-train him,” John said, frowning at his youngest.

  Billy’s face screwed up. “Monster potty.”

  They both laughed, locking gazes for a few seconds. Jo’s heart thumped against her chest. When she remembered their audience, she looked away. “Well,” she said, “good luck at the pet store.”

  “Nice to meet both of you,” John said, inclining his head to Helen and Pam.

  “The pleasure was mine,” Pam said smoothly, offering him a model smile.

  Jo watched him walk away, laden with Billy and a diaper bag, fighting the urge to follow them. Pam walked up beside her and watched, too. “Yummy,” she said, her eyes reflecting blatant admiration.

  Helen pursed her lips and smirked. “I didn’t know you were so fond of children, Pamela.”

  Pam’s gaze was still glued to his retreating backside. “I didn’t say I wanted to marry the guy, just—” Her eyes snapped to Helen as if she suddenly remembered who she was talking to. “Just see him,” she finished with a smile.

  Protective feelings curled low in Jo’s stomach, but she remained silent. She had known it would only be a matter of time before Pam discovered the eligible John Sterling. The two of them might even hit it off.

  The thought bothered her immensely.

  EARLY IN THE EVENING Jo drove to her office to work on the Patterson presentation. Because hers had been the last firm granted permission to bid on the day-care account, she had less time to prepare, but her software lent her a huge advantage in the design stage. A few hours tonight, a few more tomorrow, and she’d be ready for the presentation Monday afternoon. As she turned on her computer, she chuckled at Jamie’s adamant assertion that the day care was boring. Within two hours, she’d assembled a media room and a nature room just as he’d described.

  Jo relaxed in her desk chair and stretched her arms overhead. She felt sure the Pattersons would be pleased. Mentally she ticked off the hours until she made her proposal. Three o’clock Monday afternoon. While reaching for her calendar, her hand touched the Sterling home file, and Jo opened it impulsively.

  She itched to begin the project. Although commercial jobs were her bread and butter, the residential jobs were some of her favorites because they unleashed her creativity. And the Sterling house…well, she was looking forward to making it more comfortable and homey for the children. Guilt over her lie to the Pattersons pawed at her. Making sure John’s kids had a warm, attractive environment was the least she could do.

  The peal of the delivery bell broke her reverie. Jo glanced at her watch. Nine o’clock—but some of her new vendors delivered at odd hours. She glanced down at her tattered jeans and faded pink jersey. At least it wasn’t a client. She picked up her ring of keys and headed to the front door, frowning at the shadow of a large man through the lightly frosted glass. She was always wary when she worked alone, especially at night When she reached the door, she yelled, “Do you have a delivery for Montgomery Group Interiors?”

  “Sort of—Jo, it’s me…John Sterling.”

  Her pulse leaped and she immediately thought the worst Had he discovered her little lie? Had he come by to confront her? What on earth was she going to say? Her hand shook as she tried to insert the key into the lock.

  John had convinced himself on the drive over that delivering the catalog she’d left at his house was a legitimate excuse for seeing Jo. But now, standing in the semidarkness and shouting through the woman’s office door, the idea seemed slim at best.

  “John,” she said from the other side of the door, “what are you doing here?”

  He couldn’t tell if she was annoyed or simply surprised. Say something provocative. Sterling. “I wanted to see for myself a woman who works while her boyfriend goes out with her beautiful girlfriend.”

  A few seconds passed. “Is that all?”

  So much for provocative. “No—I brought a catalog you left at my house.”

  She was silent for so long John wondered if she’d walked away from the door. Well, one thing was sure—she wasn’t nearly as anxious to see him tonight as he’d been to see her. He cleared his throat. “How about if I just leave it here on the doorstep?”

  She swung open the door and squinted into the glare of the outdoor light. “Sorry,” she said, offering him a small smile. She looked all of eighteen in her jeans and adorable ragged sneakers. She blushed, fingering the hem of her shirt. “I wasn’t expecting anyone.”

  He looked into her big brown eyes, unnerved by the longing she evoked in him. “You look great,” he said softly.

  She laughed awkwardly. Peering toward his car in the darkness, she asked, “Are you alone?”

  “Yeah,” he said. “My in-laws came down from Atlanta to spend the night with the kids, so I’m on my own.” He thumped the catalog. “Mrs. Harris found this under Billy’s bed, and since I knew you were working late…” His voice petered out because she crossed her arms under her breasts and his throat suddenly closed. She was not wearing a bra and she obviously felt the chill.

  “Would you like to come in for a few minutes?” she asked. “I was just about to make some coffee.”

  “Sure,” he said too quickly, dragging his gaze from her chest. “The temperature has definitely dropped.”

  “Mmm,” she murmured agreement as she shut the door. Her skin and eyes were luminous. “I knew the heat wave wouldn’t last long.”

  Sweat popped out on his upper lip as he stared at her, completely taken with her beauty. “It’s warm in here,” he said softly, feeling his temperature rise with her every movement.

  Jo laughed nervously and nodded toward the light streaming into the hallway from an open door. “I hope you like decaf.”

  John nodded agreeably, then unabashedly watched her rear end as she led the way to a brightly lit office. The room contained a desk, a computer workstation, a small couch, plus a worktable in the corner stacked high with fabric and paper samples.

  “I’m obviously taking you away from something,” he said.

  Glancing up from the coffeemaker, she said, “Actually, I’d just finished a segment for a large account I’m bidding on, and I’d picked up the folder on your house.”

  Hoping to extract more information, he kept his voice light and teasing. “I hope my project isn’t keeping you from spending time with your boyfriend. I’d hate to stand in the way of true love.”

  She caught his gaze for a few seconds, then looked down again and said, “You’re not.”

  He bit his lower lip, then threw caution to the wind. “Do you mean I’m not standing in the way, or it isn’t true love?”

  She looked up again and he saw the briefest glint of desire in her eyes. “Like I said, I don’t mix my personal and professional lives.” Jo reached for the catalog, her hand brushing his in the exchange.

  Encouraged by her expression and bolstered by her touch, he shrugged good-naturedly. “My kids would never forgive me if I didn’t give it my best shot.” Grinning, he added, “They’re crazy about you.”

  Something unreadable passed over her face, but she remained silent.

  Trying to smooth over the awkward moment, he said, “I should thank you for the pet-store idea. The kids had a blast, although now they’re begging me for a dog more than ever.”

  She seemed relieved with the change in subject and waved a hand toward the small couch, gesturing for him to sit. “Is there a reason they shouldn’t have a dog?” she asked.

  This time he laughed out loud. “In case you haven’t noticed, my household isn’t exactly orderly. A dog would take it a step beyond chaos, don’t you think?”

  “It might help the kids become more responsible—” She broke off and blushed. “Not that I’d know,” she said softly.” “About kids, I mean.”

  He sat down, grimacing at the distance between the couch and where she seated herself behind her desk. “You seem pretty maternal to me,” he said breezily. “Do you see children in your future?” He wondered if his question woul
d seem as transparent to her as it sounded to him.

  But she only laughed, her dimple appearing at last. “You sound like my mother.”

  “Uh-oh,” he said, enjoying the banter. “One of those mothers.”

  Rising at the beep of the coffeemaker, she nodded. “She can be pretty relentless.” He watched her move gracefully around the room, loving the way no movement was wasted. When she turned her back, he feasted on her behind in snug jeans, the faded pockets worn white around the edges, the fabric papery thin. He squinted, trying to make out the design on her underwear, then straightened when she turned toward him.

  “Cream or sugar?”

  Mesmerized, he shook his head dumbly.

  She handed him a steaming cup, then set her own on a small table beside the couch. Walking back to her desk, she retrieved a folder. “While you’re here,” she said, “perhaps you can answer a few questions about your house.”

  John didn’t care if the folder contained crossword puzzles as long as it got Jo Montgomery next to him. He inhaled sharply as she sat down, her leg brushing against his. Jo opened the folder, the motion wafting the wonderful pear scent from her skin to his nose. His groin tightened at her nearness, his hand twitching with the need to touch her face. Biting his tongue hard, he gave himself a mental shake. One would think he’d never been around a woman before.

  A delectable, smart, great-smelling, mommy-material woman.

  “—so I’ll let you decide,” she finished, smiling at him expectantly.

  He had no idea what she’d been saying. The various sketches she held gave him no clues. “You’re the expert,” he said with a shaky laugh. “I’ll defer to your judgment.”

  “But it’s your bedroom,” she said, glancing up.

  He caught her gaze and dared her to look away. She didn’t. “I’ll love anything you do in my bedroom,” he said, his voice husky.

  The pupils of her eyes dilated, and he moved toward her ever so slowly, determined this time to capture her lips. Jo remained motionless, but he saw her lips part, as if she was readying herself for him. Carefully, he angled his head and closed the distance between them until their noses touched and her breath whispered against his mouth. He searched her dark eyes a split second before his lips caressed hers. Her lips softened beneath his, but she didn’t respond until he offered the tip of his tongue. Then a moan erupted from her throat, and she melted into him. Nearly weak with desire, John groaned and reached to gather her against him.

  Suddenly a bolt of white-hot pain exploded in his groin, a sensation so horrific, he tore his mouth from hers and howled, jumping to his feet. His empty coffee cup rolled from his lap and bounced on the carpet. With no thought other than getting the wet heat away from his privates, John unzipped his fly and pulled the heavy fabric away from his skin. A dark stain covered the crotch of his chinos.

  “Oh, my,” Jo gasped, her hand over her mouth.

  Feeling like an idiot, John angled himself away from her as much as possible to hold the thin cotton of his boxers out and fan his scorched skin. He didn’t even want to look down. The pain had subsided to a screaming throb.

  “John,” she said, stirring behind him. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah.” He cringed. “But it’s a good thing I already have a family.”

  “Is there anything I can do to…help?”

  He turned back to see her biting her lip, clearly torn by the implied intimacy of the situation.

  John gave her a lopsided grin. “Can you help me find a hole to crawl into?”

  She smiled.

  He laughed.

  She chuckled.

  John’s shoulders shook with mirth and mingled pain. Jo crossed her arms and pressed her lips together, her amusement bubbling to gay laughter. After several minutes, John wiped his eyes, and said, “Well, this would be hard to explain to someone walking in, wouldn’t it?”

  She nodded, her dimple highlighted, her eyes shining.

  Still cloaked in embarrassment, he fastened his pants and zipped them, then turned back to face her. “This isn’t what I had in mind when I came over here.”

  Jo pursed her lips, her expression growing serious. “Good.” She studied the toe of her sneaker for a few seconds.

  “Jo,” he said nervously. “About what happened—”

  “It can’t happen again,” she said firmly, lifting her gaze to his. “Alan and I have an understanding, and kissing clients isn’t part of it.”

  He took a deep breath and swallowed his disappointment, chewing on the inside of his cheek as he nodded and turned to leave. At the door, he paused. “Next time, you should try to negotiate in that ‘kissing clients’ clause.”

  “DISCIPLINE,” Helen Montgomery said, wagging her head in dismay. “Discipline is what kids need today. Have another piece of meat loaf, Josephine.” Without waiting for Jo’s reply, her mother plopped a second generous slice onto her plate. “Take those kids yesterday—what was the man’s name? Sterling? His children are completely out of control.” “Mom,” Jo murmured. “The man lost his wife—” “Sad, I know,” her mother agreed, spooning more whipped potatoes beside the unwanted meat on Jo’s plate. “But he’s not doing his kids a favor by not making them mind.”

  Jo’s father glanced her way. “She’s even harder to follow when she starts talking in double negatives.”

  “Hush, Madden,” Helen warned with a fork.

  “I’ve met them,” Hattie said, holding a green bean up to the light as if to inspect it for lint. “They seemed like pretty good kids to me.”

  “Uh-hmm,” Helen responded, clearly voiding her sister’s opinion. “I know what I’m talking about—just three more kids who’ll grow up with no respect for authority, no sense of right and wrong—”

  “Mother,” Jo broke in, supremely annoyed. “I think John Sterling is a moral person, able to teach his children the difference between right and wrong.”

  “Did you salt the potatoes more than usual?” her father asked her mother.

  Helen dipped her fork in for a taste. “No,” she said, frowning. “Does it taste like it?”

  “No,” Madden said, winking at Jo. “I was just trying to get you to stop talking, Helen.”

  Her mother frowned. “All I’m saying is the man obviously spoils his children—”

  “Mother,” Jo interrupted again, stabbing her meat loaf, “can’t you understand why he would?”

  “Well, Josephine,” Helen huffed, “I certainly hope that when you and Alan have children—” she frowned at Hattie’s snort “—you teach them discipline.”

  “Helen,” Jo’s father said sternly, “I’ve heard Jo and Alan both say at this table more than once that they don’t intend to have children.”

  “Oh, posh.” Jo’s mother waved off the notion. “Josephine will change her mind once they’re married and her biological clock starts ticking.” She crinkled her nose at Jo and sang, “Tick, tock.”

  “Aren’t you putting the cart before the camel?” Hattie asked. “Jo doesn’t even have a ring yet.”

  “Well,” Helen chided, “if she’d invite him over to Sunday dinner more often, he might be more eager to join the family.”

  “Oh, he’d be dragging her to the altar,” Jo’s father agreed earnestly, causing Jo to giggle.

  “Although,” Helen said, completely ignoring her husband and fixing Jo with a pointed look, “no doubt today he’s still recuperating from a night on the town with Pamela Kaminski.”

  Jo sighed, her guilt mushrooming over the kiss she shared with John. “Mother, I told you, it was a business function—”

  “Josephine, Alan is never going to propose if you continue to give him freedom.”

  “That’s right, Jo,” her father said, smacking the tabletop. “Dangle that ball and chain in front of his nose and watch him fall to his knees.”

  “That’s enough, Madden,” her mother snapped. “Eat, Josephine—you’re much too skinny.”

  “Helen,” Hattie said. “What makes
you think Jo’s going to say yes to Alan, anyway?”

  Jo glanced at her aunt, wondering how much she had given away with her body language on the drive over to her parents’.

  Helen laughed. “Of course she’s going to say yes, aren’t you, dear?”

  All eyes landed on Jo. She squirmed nervously, then said, “Let’s wait until he asks before everyone gets in an uproar, shall we?” Then she lowered her gaze to her plate and pretended to eat with relish, feeling her aunt’s knowing stare upon her.

  When they left her parents’ house, Jo expected more probing from her aunt, but Hattie simply sat with her eyes closed and her palms turned upward on her knees until Jo had parked the car and turned off the engine.

  She twisted and looked at her aunt expectantly in the dark.

  “I sense that you’re going to have to make a decision soon, Jo,” Hattie said, breaking the silence.

  Jo frowned. “About what?”

  “About your men,” Hattie whispered gravely, her eyes still closed. “You can’t burn your bridges at both ends, you know.”

  “Hattie—” Jo began, then stopped. “Good night,” she said simply, then hopped out of the car.

  She released a frustrated sigh as she flipped on a light in her living room. Reaching for the remote, she sank onto the floor and sat cross-legged, her back against the couch. For a few hours, she wanted to forget about John Sterling and Alan Parish and the Pattersons and how much trouble she’d be in if someone uncovered her pack of lies.

  But the thought that throbbed like a hangnail was that perhaps one of her biggest lies was denying her attraction to John Sterling.

  Lifting a hand to her lips, she closed her eyes and relived the sensation of the few seconds before and during their abbreviated kiss. Her phone rang, startling her badly. She pushed the mute button on the TV remote—Alan would be calling to tell her about the banquet.

  “Hello,” she said, trying to sound cheerful.

  “Hey,” Pam said, her voice bubbling with excitement. “Guess what I just did?”

  Jo frowned, instantly wary. “I can’t imagine.”

  “I called John Sterling and asked him out.”