What Makes a Family

by Debbie Macomber

  For the longest time, he said nothing. They were halfway down a deserted pier before he spoke. “I don’t want you to find another apartment.”

  “I think it would be for the best if I did.” He’d already told her she was nothing but trouble, and if that wasn’t bad enough, he’d implied she was going to be a constant nuisance in his life. She had no intention of bothering him. As far as she was concerned, they could live on opposite sides of town. That was what he wanted and that was what he was going to get.

  “It isn’t for the best,” he argued.

  “It is. We obviously rub each other the wrong way.”

  Nolan turned and gripped her by the shoulders. “The apartment’s been cleaned. It’s ready for you to move into anytime you want. The rent is reasonable and the neighborhood’s a good one. As I recall, this whole ridiculous business between us started over an article about the lack of affordable housing. You’re not going to find anyplace else, not with what you intend to live on.”

  “But you live next door!”

  “I’m well aware of that.”

  Maryanne bristled. “I won’t live beside a man who considers me a pest. And furthermore, you still owe me dinner.”

  “I said you were trouble,” he pointed out, ignoring her claim. “I didn’t say you were a pest.”

  “You did so.”

  “I said you were going to destroy my peace—”

  “Exactly.”

  “—of mind,” he went on. He closed his eyes briefly and expelled a sharp frustrated sigh, then repeated, “You’re going to destroy my peace of mind.”

  Maryanne wasn’t sure she understood. She stared up at him, intrigued by the emotion she saw in his intense brown eyes.

  “Why the hell should it matter if you live next door to me or in The Seattle?” he exclaimed. “My serenity was shot the minute I laid eyes on you.”

  “I don’t understand,” she said, surprised when her voice came out a raspy whisper. She continued to look up at him, trying to read his expression.

  “You don’t have a clue, do you?” he whispered. His fingers found their way into her hair as he lowered his mouth with heart-stopping slowness toward hers. “Heaven keep me from redheaded innocents.”

  But heaven apparently didn’t receive the message, because even as he whispered the words Nolan’s arms were pulling her toward him. With a sigh of regret—or was it pleasure?—his mouth settled over hers. His kiss was light and undemanding, and despite her anger, despite his words, Maryanne felt herself melting.

  With a soft sigh, she flattened her hands on his chest and slid them up to link behind his neck. She leaned against him, letting his strength support her, letting his warmth comfort her.

  He pulled her even closer, wrapped his arms around her waist and half lifted her from the pier. Maryanne heard a low hungry moan; she wasn’t sure if it came from Nolan or from her.

  It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except this wonderful feeling of being cherished and loved and protected.

  Over the years, Maryanne had been kissed by her share of men. She’d found the experience pleasant, but no one had ever set her on fire the way Nolan did now.

  “See what I mean,” he whispered unsteadily. “We’re in trouble here. Big trouble.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Maryanne stood in the doorway of her new apartment, the key held tightly in her hand. She was embarking on her grand adventure, but now that she’d actually moved out of The Seattle her confidence was a bit shaky.

  Carol joined her, huffing and puffing as she staggered the last few steps down the narrow hallway. She sagged against the wall, panting to catch her breath.

  “This place doesn’t have an elevator?” she demanded, when she could speak.

  “It’s being repaired.”

  “That’s what they always say.”

  Maryanne nodded, barely hearing her friend. Her heart in her throat, she inserted the key and turned the lock. The door stuck, so she used the force of one hip to dislodge it. The apartment was just as she remembered: worn hardwood floors, the bulky faded furniture, the kitchen appliances that would soon be valuable antiques. But Maryanne saw none of that.

  This was her new life.

  She walked directly to the window and gazed out. “I’ve got a great view of Volunteer Park,” she announced to her friend. She hadn’t noticed it the day Nolan had shown her the apartment. “I had no idea the park was so close.” She turned toward Carol, who was still standing in the threshold, her expression one of shock and dismay. “What’s wrong?”

  “Good heavens,” Carol whispered. “You don’t really intend to live here, do you?”

  “It isn’t so bad,” Maryanne said with a smile, glancing around to be sure she hadn’t missed anything. “I’ve got lots of ideas on how to decorate the place.” She leaned back against the windowsill, where much of the dingy beige paint was chipped away to reveal an even dingier grey-green. “What it needs is a fresh coat of paint, something light and cheerful.”

  “It’s not even half the size of your other place.”

  “There was a lot of wasted space at my apartment.” That might be true, Maryanne thought privately, but she wouldn’t have minded bringing some of it with her.

  “What about your neighbor?” Carol asked in a grudging voice. “He’s the one who started this. The least he could do is offer a little help.”

  Straightening, Maryanne brushed the dust from her palms and looked away. “I didn’t ask him to. I don’t think he even knows when I was planning to move in.”

  Nolan was a subject Maryanne wanted to avoid. She hadn’t talked to him since the night he’d followed her to the waterfront…the night he’d kissed her. He’d stopped off at The Seattle to leave the apartment key and a rental agreement with the doorman. Max had promptly delivered both. The implication was obvious; Nolan didn’t want to see her and was, in fact, doing his best to avoid her.

  Clearly he disapproved of the way things had developed on the pier that night. She supposed he didn’t like kissing her. Then again, perhaps he did. Perhaps he liked it too much for his oft-lamented “peace of mind.”

  Maryanne knew how she felt about it. She couldn’t sleep for two nights afterward. Every time she closed her eyes, the image of Nolan holding her in his arms danced through her mind like a waltzing couple from a 1940s movie. She remembered the way he’d scowled down at her when he’d broken off the kiss and how he’d struggled to make light of the incident. And she remembered his eyes, so warm and gentle, telling her another story.

  “Hey, lady, is this the place where I’m supposed to bring the boxes?” A lanky boy of about fourteen stood in the doorway, carrying a large cardboard box.

  “Y-yes,” Maryanne said, recognizing the container as one of her own. “How’d you know to bring it up here?”

  “Mr. Adams. He promised a bunch of us guys he’d play basketball with us if we’d help unload the truck.”

  “Oh. How nice. I’m Maryanne Simpson,” she said, her heart warming at Nolan’s unexpected thoughtfulness.

  “Nice to meet you, lady. Now where do you want me to put this?”

  Maryanne pointed to the kitchen. “Just put it in the corner over there.” Before she finished, a second and third boy appeared, each hauling boxes.

  Maryanne slipped past them and ran down the stairs to the parking area behind the building. Nolan was standing in the back of Carol’s husband’s pickup, noisily distributing cardboard boxes and dire warnings. He didn’t see her until she moved closer. When he did, he fell silent, a frown on his face.

  “Hi,” she said, feeling a little shy. “I came to thank you.”

  “You shouldn’t have gone up and left the truck unattended,” he barked, still frowning. “Anyone could’ve walked off with this stuff.”

 
“We just arrived.”

  “We?”

  “Carol Riverside and me. She’s upstairs trying to regain her breath. How long will it be before the elevator’s fixed?”

  “Not soon.”

  She nodded. Well, if he’d hoped to discourage her, she wasn’t going to let him. So what if she had to walk up four flights of stairs every day! It was wonderful aerobic exercise. In the past she’d paid good money to attend a health club for the same purpose.

  Nolan returned to his task, lifting boxes and handing them to a long line of teenage boys. “I’m surprised you didn’t have a moving company manage this for you.”

  “Are you kidding?” she joked. “Only rich people use moving companies.”

  “Is this all of it, or do you need to make a second trip?”

  “This is it. Carol and I put everything else in storage earlier this morning. It’s only costing me a few dollars a month. I have to be careful about money now, you know.”

  He scowled again. “When do you start with the cleaning company?”

  “Monday morning.”

  Nolan placed his hands on his hips and glared down at her. “If you’re really intending to take that job—”

  “Of course I am!”

  “Then the first thing you’ll need to do is ask for a raise.”

  “Oh, honestly, Nolan,” she protested, walking backward. “I can’t do that!”

  “What you can’t do is live on that amount of money, no matter how well you budget,” he muttered. He leapt off the back of the truck as agilely as a cat. “Will you listen to me for once?”

  “I am listening,” she said. “It just so happens I don’t agree. Quit worrying about me, would you? I’m going to be perfectly all right, especially once I start selling articles.”

  “I’m not a knight in shining armor, understand?” he shouted after her. “If you think I’ll be racing to your rescue every time you’re in trouble, then you need to think again.”

  “You’re insulting me by even suggesting I’d accept your help.” She tried to be angry with him but found it impossible. He might insist she was entirely on her own, but all the while he was lecturing her he was doling out her boxes so she wouldn’t have to haul them up the stairs herself. Nolan might claim not to be a knight riding to her rescue, but he was behaving suspiciously like one.

  Two hours later, Maryanne was alone in her new apartment for the first time. Standing in the middle of her living room, she surveyed her kingdom. As she’d told Carol, it wasn’t so bad. Boxes filled every bit of available space, but it wouldn’t take her long to unpack and set everything in order.

  She was grateful for the help Carol, Nolan and the neighborhood teenagers had given her, but now it was up to her. And she had lots of plans—she’d paint the walls and put up her pictures and buy some plants—to make this place cheerful and attractive. To turn it into a home.

  It was dark before she’d finished unpacking, and by that time she was both exhausted and hungry. Actually famished more adequately described her condition. Her hunger and exhaustion warred with each other: she was too tired to go out and buy herself something to eat, but too hungry to go to bed without eating. Making the decision about which she should do created a dilemma of startling proportions.

  She’d just decided to make do with a bowl of cornflakes, without milk, when there was a loud knock at her door. She jerked it open to find Nolan there, wearing grey sweatpants and a sweat-soaked T-shirt. He held a basketball under one arm and clutched a large white paper sack in his free hand.

  “Never open the door without knowing who’s on the other side,” he warned, walking directly into the apartment. He dropped the basketball on the sofa and placed his sack—obviously from a fast-food restaurant—on the coffee table. “That security chain’s there for a reason. Use it.”

  Maryanne was still standing at the door, inhaling the aroma of french fries and hamburgers. “Yes, your majesty.”

  “Don’t get testy with me, either. I’ve just lost two years of my life on a basketball court. I’m too old for this, but luckily what I lack in youth I make up for in smarts.”

  “I see,” she said, closing the door. For good measure she clipped the chain in place and turned the lock.

  “A little show of appreciation would go a long way toward soothing my injuries,” he told her, sinking on to the sofa. He rested his head against the cushion, eyes drifting shut.

  “You can’t be that smart, otherwise you’d have managed to get out of playing with boys twenty years younger than you,” she said lightly. She had trouble keeping her eyes off the white sack on the scratched mahogany coffee table.

  Nolan straightened, wincing as he did so. “I thought you might be hungry.” He reached for the bag and removed a wrapped hamburger, which he tossed to her before taking a second for himself. Next he set out two cardboard cartons full of hot french fries and two cans of soda.

  Maryanne sat down beside him, her hand pressed against her stomach to keep it from growling. “You’d better be careful,” she said. “You’re beginning to look suspiciously like that knight in shining armor.”

  “Don’t kid yourself.”

  Maryanne was too hungry to waste time arguing. She devoured the hamburger and fries within minutes. Then she relaxed against the back of the sofa and sighed, content.

  “I came to set some ground rules,” Nolan explained. “I think you and I need to get a few things straight.”

  “Sure,” she agreed, although she was fairly certain she knew what he wanted to talk about. “I’ve already promised not to pester you.”

  “Good. I intend to stay out of your way, too.”

  “Perfect.” It didn’t really sound all that wonderful, but it seemed to be what he wanted, so she didn’t have much choice. “Anything else?”

  Nolan hesitated. Then he leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. “Yes, one other thing.” He turned to her with a frown. “I don’t think we should…you know, kiss again.”

  A short silence followed his words. At first Maryanne wasn’t sure she’d heard him correctly.

  “I realize talking about this may be embarrassing,” Nolan continued, sounding as detached as if he’d introduced the subject of football scores. “I want you to know I’m suggesting this for your own good.”

  “I’m pleased to hear that.” It was an effort not to mock him by rolling her eyes.

  He nodded and cleared his throat, and Maryanne could see he wasn’t nearly as indifferent as he wanted her to believe.

  “There appears to be a certain amount of physical chemistry between us,” he said, avoiding even a glance in her direction. “I feel that the sooner we settle this, the less likelihood there’ll be for misunderstandings later on. The last thing I need is for you to fall in love with me.”

  “That’s it!” she cried, throwing up her arms. The ridiculousness of his comment revived her enough to indulge in some good-natured teasing. “If I can’t have your heart and soul, then I’m leaving right now!”

  “Damn it, Annie, this is nothing to joke about.”

  “Who’s joking?” she asked. She made her voice absurdly melodramatic. “I knew the minute I walked into the radio station for the Celebrity Debate that if I couldn’t taste your lips there was nothing left to live for.”

  “If you’re going to make a joke out of this, then you can forget the whole discussion.” He vaulted to his feet and stuffed the wrappers from their burgers and fries into the empty sack. “I was hoping we could have a mature talk, one adult to another, but that’s obviously beyond you.”

  “Don’t get so bent out of shape,” she said, trying not to smile. “Sit down before you do something silly, like leave in a huff. We both know you’ll regret it.” She didn’t know anything of the sort, but it sounded good.

  He comp
lied grudgingly, but he stared past her, training his eyes on the darkened window.

  Maryanne got stiffly to her feet, every muscle and joint protesting. “It seems to me that you’re presuming a great deal with this hands-off decree,” she said with all the dignity she could muster. “What makes you think I’d even want you to kiss me again?”

  A slow cocky grin raised the corners of his mouth. “A man can tell. My biggest fear is that you’re going to start thinking things I never meant you to think. Eventually you’d end up getting hurt. I intend to make damn sure nothing romantic develops between us. Understand?”

  “You’re saying my head’s in the clouds when it comes to you?”

  “That’s right. You’re a sweet kid, stubborn and idealistic, but nonetheless naive. One kiss told me you’ve got a romantic soul, and frankly I don’t want you fluttering those pretty blue eyes at me and dreaming of babies and a white picket fence. You and I are about as different as two people can get.”

  “Different?” To Maryanne’s way of thinking, she had more in common with Nolan Adams than with any other man she’d ever dated.

  “That’s right. You come from this rich upstanding family—”

  “Stop!” she cried. “Don’t say another word about our economic differences. They’re irrelevant. If you’re looking for excuses, find something else.”

  “I don’t need excuses. It’d never work between us and I want to make sure neither of us is ever tempted to try. If you want someone to teach you about being a woman, go elsewhere.”

  His words were like a slap in the face. “Naturally a man of your vast romantic experience gets plenty of requests.” She turned away, so angry she couldn’t keep still. “As for being afraid I might fall in love with you, let me assure you right now that there’s absolutely no chance of it. In fact, I think you should be more concerned about falling for me!” Her voice was gaining strength and conviction with every word. The man had such colossal nerve. At one time she might have found herself attracted to him, but that possibility had disappeared the minute he walked in her door and opened his mouth.