“Lucky guesses.” She smiled and took a step back, intentionally breaking eye contact. “You wouldn’t believe how many of us keep our kitchen things in the same exact place. Why, I bet your measuring spoons are right”—she pretended to look around—“here…” She pulled out the drawer she knew they were in with a flourish. “And I’d be willing to bet even bigger bucks that you keep your trash bags in there.” This time she intentionally reached for the wrong cabinet and yanked it open to reveal a stash of sponges and cleansers. “Ah well.” She pretended disappointment. “So much for that theory.”
“It’s funny though.” He was staring right at her when he said it and she didn’t think he was referring to her trash bag search. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you’d been here before.”
He kept looking at her, considering her. Fido was whimpering now, straining against the grip Hunter had on his collar.
Amanda felt tongue-tied and uncertain; both drawn to the interest in his eyes and afraid he was going to make the connection between her and Solange.
“I haven’t seen Fido since that day at the park.” She leaned over to scratch Fido behind the ears and the dog whimpered, this time with pleasure. “How great that he remembers me.” And my crotch, she added silently.
Babbling, but moving, she stepped to the cooktop to raise the flame under the baked beans then washed her hands at the sink. After drying them on a paper towel, she moved about the kitchen, trying to put a little more distance between them, realizing, once again, that she looked much too comfortable in a kitchen she wasn’t supposed to have entered before.
“Don’t move.” He held up a finger then began to escort Fido out the door. “I’m going to put him in the dog run. I’ll be right back.”
She stood, uncertain, waiting for him to return, wishing she weren’t so completely aware of him.
When he came back into the kitchen, she looked into the assessing green eyes and knew she was in trouble. He didn’t look like a carpool mom or any friend she’d ever had. He looked like rumpled sheets and sweat-soaked bodies. But he was also a father who cared about his children, which made him even more attractive. And twice as dangerous.
“White or red?” he asked as he moved closer.
“Hmm?”
“Wine. We need some. White or red?”
Of course, just when she needed to be thinking quickly, her mind seemed to be slowing down, grinding to a halt. It said,
Alcohol. Hunter. Do not mix.
But her lips were already smiling and saying, “White, thanks.”
He pulled a bottle from the small wine refrigerator tucked up under the counter and opened it without fanfare. Then he snagged two wineglasses from an upper cupboard and poured a glass for them both.
“Thanks for coming to my rescue.” He held his glass aloft and clinked it softly against hers.
“That’s me,” she said, “suburban cavalry person and party planner.”
He smiled and they both drank. The wine was cool and smooth, with just a hint of fruitiness.
“Well, I’m glad you came. I don’t have a ton of experience as a parent. Linda handled everything. It seemed like I was always on the road and then when I finally wasn’t, she was sick.” He paused, regrouped. “I know they miss her, and I don’t know what to do about that either. And sometimes the simplest things—like inviting a couple of kids over to swim—becomes this horrible reminder to them that all they have left is me.”
“It must be hard for all of you.” She was drawn to both his pain and his honesty. “Girls that age, especially, want their mothers.” She looked down into her wine then back up. “But they can be so rough. I find myself tiptoeing around Meghan, trying not to give her an excuse to start something.” She wasn’t sure why she was opening up to him this way, but couldn’t seem to stop herself. “Even though it was Rob who left, she seems to hold me personally responsible.”
“I know what you mean. After Linda died, Samantha tortured me at every opportunity.” He took a drink then stared out the kitchen window for a long moment. “I guess they have all that emotion pent up and they can only let it out on someone who feels safe.”
She looked at him, then, this good-looking guy who by all rights should be shallow and unthinking but seemed to be so much more. “So what do you do now that you’re not playing baseball?”
“I have a training facility up in Roswell with a few other ex-players. We give individual and team lessons. And I scout for the Brewers—that takes me out of town on occasion though fortunately not near as much as playing used to. That’s one of the reasons we moved here; Linda’s parents live in town and they help out when I have to be away.”
The shrieks of the kids reached them from the pool, interrupting the moment. “Don’t you dare throw that, Wyatt!” Meghan’s voice was loud and bossy.
“Eeeeew! Put that down, Jules.” Samantha’s complaint joined Meghan’s. “Or I’m going to tell Dad.” It was clear the younger siblings had formed some sort of fighting unit.
A smile lit the corner of his lips. “Well, I’ll say one thing about being a parent; it’s never boring. I guess we should go out and break things up.”
He took a step closer. She could feel the heat from his body and smell the chlorine and sun that had soaked into his skin. “You know,” he said, “you remind me of somebody. Every time I see you, I think that.”
“Really?” She stepped back, but her spine pressed against the kitchen counter and blocked a full-scale retreat.
He carried himself so lightly that you didn’t realize how big he was until he got close. Her head tilted backward so that she could meet his gaze when, in fact, she knew she should be avoiding it. “Maybe I just have one of those common faces. You know, people are always mistaking me for someone.”
“No.” He shook his head and stepped closer, not beyond the bounds of propriety, but close enough so that she could see the slight stubble on his jaw. “Not common at all.”
He dropped his gaze to her lips and she had the disturbing thought that they were both imagining what the other’s lips would feel like. “Pretty.” He raised his gaze back to hers. “Very pretty.” He reached toward her and she thought he was going to touch her, but he just set his wineglass on the counter beside her. “And very familiar.”
Amanda swallowed.
“I’m curious,” he said a long moment later. “What do you think of Solange?”
“Think of her?” Amanda’s thoughts flew from the possibility of a kiss to the more immediate fear of exposure. “Me?”
Her heartbeat kicked up a notch, not that being near him allowed for a resting rate in the first place. “I think she does a good job. She’s dependable and thorough.”
“Doesn’t she seem a little…flamboyant…for a cleaning woman?”
He was watching her closely and she was careful not to squirm.
“Flamboyant?” Her voice broke on the word. “No, I, um, think she’s just got a lot of
joy de verve
.” This time she intentionally mangled the French, hoping to throw him off. “You know, an indomitable spirit. I think it’s very important to her to earn a good living under her own terms. Maybe she…”
Realizing she was offering way too many insights into the possible workings of a maid’s mind, Amanda shrugged. “I don’t know her all that well, but I’ve been happy with her work.” She raised her glass and drained it in a single gulp.
“Me too,” he said. “I’m impressed with her determination to raise her boys single-handedly. It’s not easy to be a single parent under any circumstances.”
Amanda nodded numbly. This man not only noticed but had empathy for the maid. She was impressed despite herself. Impressed and worried. Because she was not only attracted to him, she actually liked him. And if he was going to be this observant, she and Solange had a problem.
“Da-ad,” Julie yelled. “Samantha called me the ‘B’ word.”
Hunter sighed and fell back a step. “Sometimes I think they need a referee more than a parent. It’s amazing how ugly they can be to each other.”
She heard Wyatt yelp and assumed the older duo was fighting back.
“When are we going to eat?” All four of them chorused from the backyard.
With an apologetic smile, he refilled her glass then took a platter of raw hamburger patties out of the refrigerator. He placed a package of hot dogs in her hands. “Come talk to me while I cook,” he said. “We’ll get the kids to set the table and organize their drinks. Maybe if we keep them busy, we can avert a full-scale war.”
chapter
21
D
on’t you think Mr. James is HOT?” Meghan asked on the ride home.
“Hot?” Amanda swallowed. Scorching was more like it. “You mean as in attractive?”
“Yeah. I mean for an old guy, he looks, like, incredible.”
Unfortunately, Meghan was right. He
was
incredible to look at. And talk to. And be with. There was that edge of awareness that hummed underneath the simplest communication. But he was easy to be with too. Interested and attentive and completely tuned in to the person he was talking to.
Amanda decided to focus on the age issue rather than the attractiveness factor; it seemed safer. “I don’t think forty-three is exactly ancient. It’s hardly middle-aged these days.” Which made her practically a spring chicken at not quite forty.
Meghan rolled her eyes. “Whatever. The point is he’s totally hot.” Her tone changed. “And he seems kind of interested in you.”
A small part of her wanted to ask her daughter why she thought that, wanted hard examples of the same thing she sensed, wanted to write his initials on her notebook and squeal with the other girls over him.
Her own excitement made her discount the change in Meghan’s tone, because despite her fear of being exposed as Solange, the evening had been fun. Hunter had made a game of flipping the burgers and preparing the meal and had dragged the children into it, even getting them to clean up without complaint so that the two of them could sit and watch the sun go down while they finished the wine.
He’d even made stripping down to her bathing suit and joining everyone in the pool afterward easy. His gaze had skimmed over her as she walked down the steps into the shallow end. His glint of interest had been apparent and gratifying, but he’d made no comment. He’d just asked some question about the girls’ upcoming ballet recital that had pulled her mind elsewhere and set her at ease. He was good at that. And undoubtedly good at other things too.
“Oh, honey, I think he’s interested in everyone,” Amanda said. “In a nice way. But I don’t think it’s anything more than that.”
“Well that’s good.” Meghan leveled a look at Amanda. “I wouldn’t want you embarrassing yourself or anything.”
Amanda heard the warning this time and knew her daughter wasn’t ready for her mother to be interested in anyone—especially a good friend’s father. All the more reason to resist the obvious temptation.
“Yeah, he’s cool,” Wyatt added from the backseat. “When we were watching the game, he told me neat stories about everybody. He said his heart used to pound real hard every time they called him up from the bullpen, just like mine does, even after he’d been in the majors for years. He offered to take a look at my pitching, Mom. How cool is that?”
Meghan tossed her hair. “I think the party’s going to be awesome. But you and Mr. James have to stay in the background. Samantha says sometimes guys go all weird when he’s around. Maybe you can keep him occupied or something.”
Amanda coughed. “I’ll, uh, do my best,” she said, determined NOT to think about all the ways a man like Hunter James might like to be occupied.
She kept the accompanying shiver of anticipation to herself.
Together Amanda and Brooke, make that Solange and her cousin Simone, cleaned houses. Wishing she could offer more, Amanda had made Brooke promise to take 15 percent of each week’s earnings and while the work didn’t get easier, with Brooke sharing the load two houses a day was manageable. By the end of the first week, they’d fallen into a comfortable routine. If Amanda had ever doubted Brooke’s family history, her competence confirmed it. It was like going onstage with one of the Barrymores—you were a little bit intimidated but you knew you were in good hands.
“I’ve never seen anyone change sheets as quickly as you can,” she said to Brooke as she pulled the vacuummobile into the empty bay of Candace’s garage. “How did you get so fast?”
Amanda removed the cleaning rags to take home for the wash but left the rest of the supplies in the trunk. Brooke pulled off her mole and stuck it in her pocket as soon as the garage door went down behind them. “I used to help my mother at the McGinty’s on Saturday mornings,” she said. “They had about a hundred children and I had to get all of the sheets changed and the new ones washed and dried and folded before I was allowed to leave. That’s when I came up with my system.”
They walked through the garage door into Candace’s guest wing and began their transformations.
“I’ll teach you how if you let Simone lose the hairy mole. Maybe she could have surgery,” Brooke suggested. “God, I’d love to waltz into Dr. LaPrada’s office with this honker on my face just to see his reaction.”
“Sorry, no can do. You’re already getting closer looks than I’d like. It’s that damned body of yours. I should have put you in padding.”
“Try it and Simone will be on the next plane back to France.”
“Fair enough, but the mole stays. Have I mentioned lately how much I appreciate your help?”
“Yes. A couple of thousand times.”
“Well, I mean it.”
“I know.”
She looked at Brooke who was fast on the way to becoming her glamorous self. “Do you hate doing this?”
Brooke shook her hair out, her smile reflective. “In a strange way it’s helping me understand my mother a little better. And while it’s not exactly the East End Day Spa, I’m getting a more thorough workout than I was at the club. And it does keep me from sitting around worrying about whether Hap’s losing interest in me.”
“In you? No way,” Amanda said.
“I don’t know. I mean look what happened with Hap and Sarah. He made it thirteen years with her. We’ve only been married a year and he’s already treating me differently.”