The two boys embraced their father. He squatted down and hugged them. She liked the way he touched them so easily. Some fathers had trouble showing affection. A hug went a long way toward making many problems right. After all, Craig had made her feel better, just by holding her in his arms.
She didn't want to remember that. Nor did she want to remember how good she'd felt sitting on his lap. It hadn't seemed to matter that they were practically strangers. It wasn't like her to expose her emotions like that. She wasn't sure what had happened. Better that it be the late hour of the night and not the man. She knew the danger of getting involved.
"How's everything going?" Craig asked as she approached.
"It was going fine until a couple of minutes ago. We're helping Danny so he'll make a good Pee-Wee team."
"I don't want to be with the babies," his youngest said loudly.
"You won't be," Craig said. He glanced around. "Where's Ben?"
"He went inside," Danny said. "He got mad when he couldn't catch a ball."
"That's not exactly what happened," Jill reminded him.
C.J. stepped away from his father and shuffled his feet. "He is fat."
Jill dropped to her knees and took C.J.'s hands in hers. He had his father's eyes and hair, too. Both the older boys definitely took after their dad.
She stared at the boy. "Ben knows he's overweight. I think it bothers him. What do you think?"
C.J. shrugged uncomfortably. "Why does he have to be like that? It's gross."
"Don't you think he wants to change? But it's hard. When you make fun of him, he feels bad. When he feels bad, he eats. I'm not saying this is your fault, because it isn't. But you're not helping."
C.J. drew in a deep breath. "I'm sorry."
"Maybe you should apologize to your brother instead of me."
"Jeez, do I have to?"
She smiled. "Yeah, you do."
"Bummer." He gave her a quick grin and started for the house.
Jill sank onto the grass and buried her face in her hands. "Maybe we should have kept that one-week trial," she said. "After all this, you're going to be the one wanting me to leave."
"Don't go, Jill," Danny said and flung himself at her.
She caught the young boy and pulled him onto her lap. His sturdy arms wrapped around her back and he hugged her close.
"Don't go," he repeated. "I like having you here."
She brushed his light brown hair from his eyes and smiled. "I'm glad someone likes me."
She held him tight. It had been a long time since she'd hugged a child. After the divorce, she'd been cut off from the girls. A cruel and unusual punishment, but there hadn't been anyone to take her side. Her heart filled with an achy kind of joy and she wondered if this was going to cost her later.
She released Danny. "Up with you, young man. We've got work to do."
Danny slid onto the grass, then sprang to his feet. Craig held out his hand to her. She took it reluctantly. As she'd expected, the second their fingers touched, hot, fluttery sensations raced down her arm to settle in her breasts and between her thighs. She allowed him to pull her to her feet, hoping madly that it really was indigestion and not something more deadly, like attraction.
When she was on her feet, Craig didn't release her hand. He glanced at her fingers, then returned his gaze to her face. "Thanks for what you said about Ben. I don't know what to do about him."
"Have you talked to anyone?"
"A counselor, you mean?"
She nodded.
"No, but maybe I should. I don't want him to be so unhappy, and I worry about his health. He's just a kid. This should be a fun time for him. But it isn't."
The father shared the son's pain, but this hurt couldn't be hugged away. "I wish I had the answers," she said. "I've got a few ideas. Maybe we can talk about them later."
"I'd like that."
He released her hand and bent over to pick up Danny. The boy looped his arms around his father's neck. Craig placed his hand at the small of her back and urged her toward the house. She fought against the heat spiraling through her middle. She didn't like that this house of males was getting to her.
"Are you in for the evening?" she asked, hoping he would be leaving soon so she could get her heart rate back to normal.
"I've got a late meeting, but I'll be here until nine. I thought I could help with dinner."
"I will, too," Danny said, giving her his best smile.
"Great." So much for regaining her equilibrium.
"Jill made prune bread," the boy told his father.
"Good."
"You like it?"
"Of course. Anything homemade is a treat."
"Oh. Okay. I like it, too."
Jill glanced at them. The ache in her chest intensified. Craig Haynes had everything she'd ever wanted. With every word he spoke, with every action, he and his sons invited her into their lives. Staying disconnected – not getting involved – was going to be harder than she'd thought.
* * *
Chapter 6
« ^ »
Craig shut Danny's door. C.J.'s light was already out. That left only Ben. He hesitated outside his oldest's room. Ben had been unusually quiet during dinner. Not belligerent, just thoughtful. Was he thinking about how unhappy he was? Was he wishing his father hadn't let him down?
Craig remembered all the times his father had let him down. In the end, he'd hated his old man. Would Ben grow up to feel the same way? Craig didn't want to think about that. He didn't want to know that he'd failed his son so badly. He wanted to believe it wasn't too late, but he didn't know what to do to bridge the chasm already between them.
He crossed the hallway and tapped on Ben's door. At the muffled "Come in," he entered.
He glanced around, surprised. All the boys had cleaned their rooms. When the service had come through that morning, everything had been dusted and vacuumed. It made a big difference. He should have done it months ago.
Ben sat up in bed playing a hand-held video game. He didn't bother glancing up as his father entered. Craig settled on the chair by the desk and waited.
For a few minutes there was only the faint sound of a battle being fought on the tiny screen. Then there was an explosion. Ben grimaced and looked up. "Yeah, Dad?"
"I just came to say good-night."
Ben looked away, as if to say he knew there had to be more. There was.
"How was your day at school?"
"Fine."
"Classes going okay?"
"I guess."
The boy stared at his video game but didn't turn it on. Craig couldn't believe he felt this awkward. This was his kid. They should at least be friends. He grimaced. At one time they had been. But things had changed. Ben had been hit the hardest by the divorce, and later by Krystal's death. He had been old enough to really remember his mother.
He cleared his throat. "Jill seems to be working out."
"I guess."
One "fine" and two "I guesses." They sure were bonding now. "I really appreciate you taking the time to help Danny today. He wants to do well for Pee-Wee tryouts."
"They don't turn anyone away."
"I know, but if he's halfway decent, he'll get on a better team. Anyway, thanks for doing that."
Ben didn't answer. Craig wondered if the boy felt as uncomfortable as he did. But, damn it, he was the adult. He had to try.
He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees, then laced his fingers together. There was a time when he and Ben had had plenty to say to each other. Years ago they'd been buddies. C.J. and Danny had been babies, but Ben had been his friend. He hated to see that change.
"You going out for Little League?" he asked, hoping to spark some interest.
Something close to pain flashed across Ben's face. "It's dumb," he said, and turned toward the wall. He put the video game on the nightstand, then settled down on the mattress. Craig knew he'd been dismissed.
He rose to his feet and crossed to the bed. He bent
over and touched his son's arm. "I love you, Ben. If you want to talk or anything…" His voice trailed off. "I'll always make time for you, son." His throat tightened and he walked out of the room.
He paused at the top of the stairs. He was doing a poor job as a father, and he had no one to blame but himself. When had he stopped being a friend as well as a parent? When had he first been afraid that they would want more than he had to give?
He couldn't point his finger to a particular day, or hour, but he knew it involved Krystal. She'd rattled his confidence and changed the shape of his world. He'd been stripped of his pride and left bleeding. The boys were the true casualties of that particular war.
He had to stop avoiding his kids, he told himself. It wasn't making anything better. It only accentuated the problem. As soon as this assignment was over he would—
The phone rang. He thought about getting it but knew Jill would pick it up. It was probably just the station asking him to come in earlier.
As he started down the stairs, he realized he didn't have to wait for the assignment to be over before making changes. He could start now with small things. He didn't want his kids becoming strangers.
When he walked into the kitchen, Jill was just hanging up the receiver. She scribbled something on a small pad of paper.
"Was that the station?" he asked.
She glanced up. Color stained her cheeks. "Um, not exactly." She looked at the floor, then at the note and the refrigerator, before settling her gaze on the center of his chest.
"Someone named Austin just called. He said to tell you that it's been so long since he's seen you that he's forgotten what you and the boys look like. Call him and set up a date for a barbecue or suffer the consequences."
Jill's blush deepened. Craig leaned against the doorframe and folded his arms over his chest. He fought back a smile. "What else did he say?"
"Well, he said that—" She cleared her throat. "He said if I'm the reason you've been laying low, then it's about time and I'm welcome too."
He had the fleeting thought that life would be pretty damn pleasant if Jill was the reason he hadn't spent time with his family. "What did you tell him?"
"That I'm just the new nanny. I tried to convince him I was old and matronly, but he won't believe me. Who is that guy?"
"A friend of the family, but we all think of him as a Haynes. Austin's got a research company. He does work with heat-resistant polymers and other substances. Very high-tech stuff. It's used in the space shuttle and for certain manufacturing processes."
"He didn't sound like a scientist."
"He doesn't look like one either," he said, remembering how all the women in Glenwood had sighed over his friend's good looks. He figured it was the earring that got to the women. Glenwood wasn't an earring sort of town.
She motioned to the full coffeepot on the counter. "I thought you might like some before you went back to the station."
"Sure. Thanks."
He walked to the table and pulled out one of the chairs. After turning it neatly, he sat, straddling it and resting his forearms on the back. She poured coffee into a mug and brought it over black.
He smiled his thanks. "Travis and Austin became friends first. Then he was just part of the family." He frowned, trying to remember all that had happened. "He was gone for a while. He stole a car and was sent to a juvenile facility. It ended up being the best thing for him. He met a man who taught him about chemistry and manufacturing. The old guy got him a scholarship, and Austin never looked back. His company has grown. It's privately owned." He grinned. "Just the five of us."
Jill took the seat opposite. "Five of you?"
"Austin, of course, and me and my three brothers."
She shook her head. "I'm confused. You guys are all partners?"
"Yes." He took a sip of coffee.
She brushed her bangs off her forehead and frowned. "If the company is doing well, why aren't you rich?"
"I can afford a full-time nanny, can't I?"
"How much is the company worth?"
He shrugged. "Millions."
"And you work as a cop?"
"I want to."
"But you don't have to?"
He thought about the last financial statement. "No, I don't have to." None of his brothers did. But money wasn't important. It never had been. They hadn't grown up lacking things; they'd grown up lacking love.
"You are too weird," Jill said, pushing to her feet. "You want some prune bread?"
"Sure. And why am I weird? Lots of people enjoy their work."
"I guess. Although when I was at the insurance company, if someone had offered me a large income, I think I would have quit that very day."
"You have to do something with your time. All of us work."
"Your brothers?" She sliced the rest of the loaf onto a plate and set it in front of him. Then she got a diet soda from the refrigerator and returned to her seat. "Maybe it's a faulty gene pool," she said. "You all have an unnatural desire to be employed."
"You could be right." He snagged a slice and took a bite. "I've thought about quitting, but I couldn't figure out what I'd do with myself. Besides, I like making a difference. Like on this case. If we can nail the bastards preying on the elderly, then a whole bunch of people will be saved a lot of heartache."
Her full lips curved up at the corners. "An honest-to-God hero. I thought you guys only existed in the movies."
Her praise made him uncomfortable. "I'm no hero. Just look at my kids."
"You mean Ben, don't you?"
He nodded and pushed away the plate. "I don't know where I went wrong with him. I guess I've been working too much. I don't know him anymore. We don't have anything to talk about."
"He's unhappy about his weight," Jill said.
"I know. Maybe I should hook him up with a counselor. Or one of those camps over the summer. But I hate to separate the boys. What do you think?"
"I understand your concerns. Has he been on a diet before?"
"No. We talked about it, but Mrs. Miller never thought there was a problem. She said he would outgrow it. But then she was a large woman herself. Since she left, no one has been around long enough to do anything."
"He needs to lose the weight, but if he's never been on a diet, then maybe we could try that before sending him away to a camp."
Craig liked the sound of the word "we" on her lips. It made him feel that he wasn't in this alone.
She waved her diet soda in the air. "After the divorce, I gained about fifteen pounds. It doesn't sound like much, but at five-one and three-quarters—"
He laughed. "Can't you just say five-two?"
She straightened in her chair. "Number one, we aren't all blessed by being tall, and number two, I'm not going to exaggerate. Five-one and three-quarters is a very nice height."
He was willing to admit it looked pretty fine on her. He held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. "You're right. Sorry for interrupting."
She sniffed, then continued. "On me, fifteen pounds is about two dress sizes. I had the body tone of a water balloon. Anyway, I took it off with a low-fat diet and exercise. Now I'm a walking fiend. Maybe we could try the same with Ben. I think the key is to not let him get hungry or feel deprived. I know kids need a certain amount of fat for growth and energy. Let me talk to Ben and do some research in the library. Maybe we can work out a program he can live with."
"Thanks," he said, knowing he owed her a lot more. "You didn't sign up for this when you agreed to look after my kids."
"Maybe not, but I'm having a good time. It's nice to think about someone other than myself."
He glanced at his watch. "I've got to go. Bingo gets out soon and I want to be there. Several of the accidents have occurred at this time of night and on the same street."
He rose to his feet and Jill did the same. She circled around the table and placed her hand on his forearm. The top of her head barely came to his shoulder, but her spine was pure steel, and her touch, while gentle, off
ered strength.
"You're doing a good thing," she said.
"At the expense of what? My kids?"
"They understand, and they're proud of you."
"It's not enough."
She gave him a half smile. "Maybe not, but it's a start."
Their gazes locked. The pure green of her irises reminded him of cat eyes. Her expression was just as enigmatic. He didn't know what she was thinking. With any luck, she couldn't read his mind, either. Because he wasn't busy being grateful for her advice, or planning low-fat meals for his kid. Instead he was wondering what her mouth would taste like against his and how she would feel in his arms. The memory of holding her on his lap was enough to fuel his already-active imagination. He wanted to bury himself inside her, touching her, kissing her until she was wild with passion, then drained by fulfillment.
His arousal made itself known against the fly of his uniform trousers. He ignored the throbbing.
"Thanks for talking with me tonight," he said. "And thanks for the advice." It had been a long time since he'd been able to talk with anyone.
"My pleasure." An emotion flickered in her cat eyes. He almost convinced himself she wanted him to kiss her, but he knew it was just wishful thinking.
He walked out of the room and toward the garage. He was a damn fool if he started projecting his desires onto Jill. She'd made it clear this was nothing but a temporary job for her, and he knew better than to get involved in something that wasn't a sure thing.
* * *
It was barely six when Jill knocked on Ben's door. She was a little nervous, not sure what her reception would be. Would he be mad that she was trying to help?
She opened the door and stepped into the dark room. The sun was just up and little light shone through the space between the shade and the edge of the window.
As her eyes adjusted to the darkness she could make out Ben sleeping on his side, facing the door. Lying down, tucked under the covers, he didn't seem as grown-up. There was a sweetness about him that made her heart ache with longing for a child of her own.
PART-TIME WIFE Page 7
