Too bad there wasn’t some kind of magic around to fix him, he mused. Because he felt he was just as much a member of the walking wounded as Carly had been.
Except that he wasn’t able to divert himself by adding on to the house or turning bedrooms into dens. His answer, he knew, was to work. Because work was something he was good at. Life, apparently, was not. His marriage had been doomed even before the accident. Oh, he’d had all sorts of hopes when he’d married Patricia. Delusional hopes, he now realized.
He had absolutely no idea how to love someone, how to conduct a satisfying and satisfactory relationship. There were no examples to follow in his life, no blueprints to emulate. He hadn’t a clue.
All he knew was work. So he’d buried himself in it again, only to be told that he was shortchanging his kids.
Getting out of his car, Jack called out a greeting to Bo. The tall, muscular, brown-haired man was everything he wasn’t, Jack thought—warm, friendly, outgoing. And, from what he’d heard, Bo came from a close-knit family. Jack had no idea how that felt, what that meant. To him, “close” meant standing next to one another—certainly not sharing feelings or fears or thoughts, all of which he now found himself unable to do.
It was a sad, vicious cycle. God, but he envied Bo.
About to walk into his house, Jack was surprised when the man waved him over. Welcoming the diversion, Jack crossed the yard to the McMansion and nodded at Bo, who was doing something with the car he was working on that Jack wouldn’t have understood if his life depended on it.
“Hi, what’s up?”
Bo wiped his hands on the back of his jeans, his biceps rippling as he did so.
I’ve got to get back to the gym, Jack thought.
Coming closer, Bo asked in a low voice, “Can you keep a secret?”
Jack thought it was an odd question. They were friends, granted, but it wasn’t exactly as if they’d become close. Still, he felt a little pleased at being approached.
“I’m a lawyer,” Jack reminded him. “I’m supposed to be closemouthed.”
Bo grinned, inclining his head. “Yeah, but this doesn’t exactly come under the heading of attorney-client privilege.”
Jack saw his point. He nodded and said, rather solemnly, not knowing what to expect, “Yes, I can keep a secret.”
Bo looked around, just in case someone was listening, but for once, and probably only for a moment, Danbury Way was devoid of people, young or old. “Carly and I are getting married.”
Jack laughed. “Hate to rain on your parade, but that’s not much of a secret, Bo. Everyone around here kind of suspected that.”
Bo shook his head. “No, I mean next week.” He lowered his voice even more, although it was obvious he found it hard to contain his enthusiasm. “We’re eloping.”
“Eloping?” Jack repeated the word skeptically. “Are you sure Carly wants that?”
Bo was a down-to-earth kind of guy, but everyone knew Carly liked all the trimmings. If something could be done on a small scale or a grand one, she’d choose grand every time. According to what Patricia had once told him, twelve bridesmaids had been in attendance at Carly’s wedding to Greg. Jack fully expected there to be fourteen this time around.
But Bo seemed to have other ideas. “Definitely. Carly said she wants this to be as different from her first wedding as possible. It’s going to be just her, me and a preacher to make it legal. And a couple of witnesses off the street,” he said. “Would you mind looking after the place while we’re gone? I’ve installed a great security system, but you never know. Burglars always seem to be one step ahead.”
Jack thought it odd that Bo should ask him instead of Molly Jackson or Rebecca Peters, the people who lived in the houses on either side of Carly’s. But then, he supposed that Bo felt more comfortable asking a guy to look after things.
“I’m not around that much, but sure, I’ll keep an eye out for you when I’m here. I can get Zooey to pick up the mail and hold on to it until you two get back.” It occurred to him that he was volunteering Zooey’s services as if they were a set, and hoped that Bo didn’t get any wrong ideas.
But Bo seemed too blissfully happy to notice. “Perfect.” He nodded, pleased. “Knew I could count on you. I’d offer to bring you back a souvenir from Maui, but I don’t think Carly and I will be leaving the hotel room very much.” Bo grinned broadly as he looked at him. “There’s nothing like being in love, Jack.”
“I really wouldn’t know,” Jack murmured.
“That’s because all you do is work.” Bo hit the back of his hand against Jack’s chest, as if to remind him that there was a heart there whose function was to do more than just pump blood. “You really need to get out more often, buddy.”
Jack knew Bo meant well. People who were in love wanted the rest of the world to join them, but the last thing he wanted was romantic advice. In his case it was as useless as offering a pair of earmuffs to a frog.
“Yeah, well…” His voice trailed off.
Bo apparently wasn’t about to let the matter drop so easily. “I’m sure Rebecca wouldn’t mind if you asked her out.”
“Rebecca?” He wasn’t a man who noticed women looking at him, but he would have had to be blind not to notice the interest in the freelance photographer’s eyes whenever their paths crossed.
“Sure.” Bo nodded toward the woman’s house. After him, Rebecca was the “new kid” on the block, having moved here from New York City, and she stuck out like a sore thumb. She moved fast, talked fast and was in general fast. “Haven’t you noticed the way that woman all but drools whenever you drive by?” Bo winked. “Try walking by instead. As a matter of fact, I know she’s home now. I saw her car pull up less than twenty minutes ago. Why don’t you stop by, ask her out for coffee sometime.”
This was going a lot faster than Jack was comfortable with. “I don’t know…”
But Bo was not about to let him back away. “That’s just the point. You can’t know, until you do something about it. You know what they say—all work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.”
Jack had never liked that cliché. Besides, he wasn’t sure if he actually wanted to go out with Rebecca. Oh, the woman was extremely attractive in a smoldering, sexy sort of way, but when he came right down to it, that wasn’t really his type.
Hell, he didn’t know what his type was. Lately he’d found himself feeling attracted to Zooey—the nanny, for heaven’s sake. It wasn’t as if his experience had taken him far and wide. Once he’d left high school behind, there’d only been Patricia. He’d always been too busy trying to make something of himself to go the partying route in college. After graduation, he’d really buckled down.
Bo picked up the two rags he’d dropped on the ground and placed them on the hood of the car. “Since you seem to have lead in your feet, why don’t I just walk you over there?”
Jack stared at him. “And I do what—knock on her door and ask her out?”
The look on Bo’s face said he expected him to do exactly that. “Sure, why not? Hey, Jack, it’s done all the time.”
He had no doubt that it was, yet that didn’t make him comfortable with the notion. “Maybe, but not by me.”
Bo looked at him seriously. “Maybe it’s time to start.”
“If I run into her, perhaps,” Jack allowed. “But if I have to go to her house, then no, it doesn’t seem casual enough. I—”
Bo was looking at something over his shoulder. And grinning. “Guess what.”
“What?” But even as he asked, Jack had a feeling he knew exactly what was coming.
Putting his hand on Jack’s shoulder, Bo turned him around.
While they’d been talking, Rebecca had come out of her house. She was standing on her porch, hands on her hips as she scanned the area. The crisp fall wind was weaving sensuously through her hair.
Bo inclined his head toward Jack, so his voice wouldn’t carry. “She just stepped out of her house. Casual enough for you?” And then he straighten
ed, looking pleased. “It’s fate, man,” he assured him. “Nothing less than fate stepping in.”
Maybe it was at that, Jack thought. After all, hadn’t he been thinking about some sort of a diversion, something to get his mind off Zooey’s being anything more than a fantastic nanny? If he started seeing someone else, then maybe that would take the edge off the way he was feeling. Maybe those damn “stirrings” that were going on in his gut would subside and disappear.
It was worth a try.
Zooey looked toward the door for possibly the tenth time in as many minutes. It was still not moving, still not opening. She sighed.
She was certain she’d heard Jack’s car pull up in the driveway a full ten minutes ago, but there was no sign of him yet. What was taking him so long? She didn’t want to seem as if she was standing around, listening for the sound of his car, but on the other hand, what if something was wrong? What if he was sitting out there, wrestling with something he wanted to say to her?
There’d definitely been something humming between them this morning. Neither one of them had acted on it, but it had been there.
Had it put him off? Made him reconsider having her live on the premises? Or was he just being a typical male, not knowing how to react?
Or was it something simpler than that? Did it have to do with the kids? Had she been too pushy this morning, all but marching him up the stairs to say goodbye to Emily and Jackie? She wondered if he expected her to apologize for that.
Zooey chewed on her lower lip, thinking. She couldn’t very well apologize to the man for wanting him to take a more active role in his kids’ lives. As their nanny, she was supposed to have their best interests at heart.
Damn it, where was he?
She had an excuse, she told herself, to go to the window and look for him. She wanted to tell him about the progress Emily had made today and about the proposed shopping trip this Saturday.
Her mouth curved in a smile. Technically, she did need his permission for that, especially since she was going to be spending his money on Emily’s new fall wardrobe.
Zooey blew out a breath and headed for the door with long, purposeful strides. She was just about to pull it open when she heard a key being inserted in the lock. The next second, the door opened and Jack walked in.
“Hi.” She offered him a sunny smile, taking his briefcase from him and placing it at the base of the coatrack, the way he always did when he first walked in. “You’re home early. Taking my advice? Or did your firm suddenly run out of clients?”
“Neither.” He shrugged out of the light topcoat he had on, hanging it up. “Court got out early.”
“Hungry?” She was already turning toward the kitchen. “I made pot roast.”
That was what was different, he realized. It was quiet. Whenever he came home early—in Jack’s world, that meant anytime before 7:00 p.m.—it took exactly five seconds before he was surrounded by short people. But there was no sound of running feet, no greetings of “Daddy!” echoing through the air.
He looked at Zooey. “Where are the kids?”
“Jackie fell asleep right after dinner, so I put him to bed.” She smiled fondly. “Emily is still at Olivia’s house.”
He tried to place the name and couldn’t. “Who’s Olivia?”
“The little girl across the street. Her mother’s Angela Schumacher. Her aunt’s Megan Schumacher, the woman Greg Banning is seeing. Carly Anderson’s ex,” she added for good measure.
Zooey certainly kept up on the neighborhood gossip a lot more than he did. And then he replayed her words in his head. “Emily’s at someone else’s house?” Since when did that happen?
“She’s playing,” Zooey declared triumphantly. She backtracked a little. “Haven’t you noticed how shy Emily is?”
His shrug was careless. “She’s a little girl.” As far as he knew, because he had no experience, all little girls were shy.
Zooey laughed. The man needed to have his stereotypes updated. “Don’t know many little girls, do you? They’re shy for a minute and a half, until they get to know you, then they’re live wires. Emily’s precocious and she makes a lot of waves at home, but when it comes to being around girls her own age, she is painfully shy.”
He didn’t follow. “So what’s she doing at someone else’s house?”
Zooey paused to fluff up a pillow that had been flattened earlier by Jackie. “Hopefully, getting over her shyness. I volunteered to take Olivia to school today. They’re in the same class,” she added, guessing that he probably wouldn’t know that. “After school, they did their homework together here, had dinner together and then went to Olivia’s to play.” It was hard to keep the note of triumph out of her voice. So far, things were going swimmingly. “And, this coming Saturday, the four of us are going out to shop.”
“Shop?” He frowned. He would rather endure a root canal. “I can’t go shopping.”
She was getting ahead of herself. “Sorry, not the four of us—” she vaguely pointed to him and then herself “—the four of us. Emily, Olivia, her aunt Megan and me,” she elaborated.
He was probably going to have to go into the office at some point Saturday. He couldn’t do that if no one was home to watch his son. “What about Jackie?”
“Arrangements are being made,” Zooey assured him complacently. She wasn’t about to tell him that she was planning on asking her mother to watch the boy, not until she was certain it was possible. She hadn’t spoken to her mother in over ten months, just before she’d taken that job at the coffee shop. They’d had a huge fight over it and Zooey had stormed out of the house.
She regretted that now.
She cocked her head, looking at Jack curiously. “You sounded adamant about not being able to go with us. Is it just the typical male phobia about malls and shopping in general, or are they chaining you to the courthouse over the weekend?”
“Neither. Actually, I do have to do some work in the early afternoon, and after that…” Jack paused, searching for the right words to phrase this, then told himself he was being ridiculous. What he did or didn’t do with his social life shouldn’t matter one way or another to Zooey. She was just making conversation. “I have a date Saturday night.”
It was one of the very few times in her life that Zooey found herself at a loss for words.
Chapter Six
It took her several very long seconds before she could locate her tongue, and several more before she could get it in gear well enough to form words. The numbness that had descended over her body felt like an encasing plastic garment bag, sucking away her air.
“A date?”
“Yes. With Rebecca Peters.” Even as he said it, he was having doubts. Had he just allowed himself to be railroaded into something? Or was this the only course he could take, under the extenuating circumstances he found himself grappling with?
Zooey continued to stare at him. When had all this happened? “From down the block?”
“Yes.” If he’d ever been more uncomfortable in his life, Jack would have been hard-pressed to remember when. “Is that a problem?”
Yes, it’s a problem, you big, dumb jerk. “No.” She forced a smile to her lips. “Why should it be a problem?” God, but her voice sounded hollow. Why aren’t you asking me out if you feel the need to go out with someone?
“No reason, you just looked like—” Jack shook his head.
He’d thought she looked upset, but maybe he was projecting his own feelings onto her. He didn’t want her to think that he felt she was attracted to him. It was the other way around that was the problem.
He cleared his throat, desperately searching for something to send the conversation in another direction. “You said something about pot roast?”
Yes, how’d you like to wear it? She’d hoped, as little as a few minutes ago, that they could enjoy a quiet meal together. Now her appetite had completely vanished.
“It’s in the kitchen. I’m going to go get Emily,” she murmured.
S
he didn’t mean to slam the front door as she left; the handle just slipped out of her hand.
Hands clenched at her sides, more from anger than the nippy October evening and the fact that she’d left the house wearing only her pullover sweater, Zooey made her way across the street.
As she went down the walk, she heard very distinct, plaintive cries: Jackie was waking up from his premature nap. She could almost visualize the distressed look on Jack’s face.
Zooey just kept walking. Good, call your girlfriend and ask her to handle that.
Despite her enthusiasm and zest, Zooey had always been a good poker player, able to maintain an expressionless mask on her face even when holding a winning hand. And that skill was coming in handy now. There was no way she was going to let Jack see that his newly invigorated social life had any effect on her at all.
So instead, she went about life for the next three days as if he hadn’t dropped a bomb on her. As if she didn’t want to do the same, literally, on number 4 Danbury Way, where Rebecca Peters had taken up residence.
Even so, it took everything Zooey had to keep her temper in check and to go about business as usual. For one thing, it wasn’t as usual. Jack was going out. He had a date. With someone else.
Damn it.
She’d hoped, fantasized, that when the time came that Jack Lever could be torn away from his court cases and his legal briefs, she’d be the one he’d do the tearing for, not some brown-haired, blue-eyed, curvy ex-fashion magazine contributor.
She’d been fooling herself, she supposed, but damn it, she’d felt certain that there was chemistry between them. Was positive when he looked at her, he felt the same way.
Get with the program, Zooey, she upbraided herself. Jack Lever’s social calendar wasn’t supposed to be the dominant thing in her life. She had responsibilities, things to do.
She blew out a breath. Right now she needed to confirm that Saturday’s shopping trip was a “go.”
Pressing her lips together, Zooey looked up at the five-story building she was parked in front of. The building that housed the corporate offices of Finnegan’s Fine Furniture.
Mother in Training Page 6
