Kids Is A 4-Letter Word (11 page)

“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 would 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.”

“D
ISCIPLINE
,” 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.”

Her stomach pivoted, and she tightened her grip on the phone. “What did he say?”

“He said yes, on one condition.”

Jo tried to ignore her pang of disappointment. “What?”

“That we go on a double date—me and him, you and Alan. Won’t that be a blast?”

J
O STOOD
motionless and listened to a sound she’d never heard before in John Sterling’s house: complete silence.

No whining, no crying, no tattling, no pushing, no hairpulling, no jumping, no running, no falling.

And no laughing.

Jo frowned and set her new lizard briefcase on the cluttered snack bar, her finely tuned day-care design presentation on a diskette locked safely inside. From another case, she retrieved her laptop computer, then scooted a hardened glob of orange modeling clay out of harm’s way, and created a small work area. While the machine booted up, she looked around the kitchen. One glance at the stove revealed that Claire had cooked breakfast again, except this time the secret weapon appeared to be scrambled eggs instead of oatmeal.

She ran her fingers through her hair and sighed, feeling nervous and restless. She hoped a morning of “drawing numbers,” as Hattie often called the tedious preliminary work, would both relax and distract her from the afternoon’s presentation. But on top of worrying about filing for bankruptcy if she didn’t pull off this charade, she now had another tiny problem: she was dangerously close to falling in love with John Sterling.

Jo leaned against the counter and smacked her palm repeatedly against her forehead, hoping if she cracked her head open, a bit of good sense might fall inside. She had every reason to avoid the man, so why couldn’t she?

A hysterical laugh escaped her lips. Alan assumed she would marry him someday, the Pattersons thought she was
married to John, and John thought she was “maternal”—the biggest joke of all.

With a sigh, Jo withdrew her rolling measuring stick and began to record dimensions of every flat surface in the kitchen: walls, floor, countertops, windows. She then entered the figures into a program on the laptop and the structure of the room emerged on the screen, plane by plane. Stepping around toys, she moved through the house and repeated the process, saving each room in a separate file which would serve as input to the sophisticated design software at her office. Nearly two hours had passed when she nervously made her way toward John’s bedroom suite, the rooms she’d saved for last.

The door creaked loudly when she swung it open. Slowly she stepped inside, allowing John’s essence to envelope her. He was in every corner of the room: stray clothing, loose papers, his earthy scent. Desire stabbed Jo, warming her midsection, shocking her with its intensity. The rumpled bed beckoned her, and she imagined John’s body stretched out on top of the covers, smiling at her, inviting her to join him. Her fantasy continued to unfold, then took a left turn as she visualized Claire, Jamie and Billy running past her and leaping onto their father’s bed. John wrestled and tickled them until they were all laughing, then they settled around him to watch TV. She imagined John suddenly remembering her, and patting a tiny spot beyond the children where she could sit.

Her desire disintegrated. John Sterling was looking for a mother for his children, and who could blame him? Jo mentally shook herself. She had no business lusting after him. The children aside—a
huge
aside—she had a loving boyfriend.

She willed herself to get back to work. The measurements were more tricky in the master bedroom because of the bay windows and trey ceiling. Jo extended the handle of the ruler as far as possible, then stood on a solitary straight-back chair to reach every nook and cranny. She nearly fell when the ring of the telephone on the nightstand broke the silence. Jo hesitated, then decided to answer in case John or Hattie was calling for her.

“Sterling residence.”

“Mrs. Sterling?” a worried female voice asked.

Jo’s tongue felt thick. “Um, this is Jo Montgomery.”

“Oh, good. This is Carolyn Hook at KidScape, and we have a little problem.”

Alarm bolted through her. “Are the children okay?”

“Uh, yes. But Jamie started a little fire—”

Jo gripped the phone.
“What?”
she screamed.

“No one was hurt.” The woman’s voice sounded soothing, with only a little panic around the edges. “Actually, there wasn’t a flame, only a little smoke, but the sprinklers went off and we need to close early to clean up.”

Jo’s heart pounded. “Does Mr. Sterling know?”

“I called his office first since it’s the number listed for emergencies, but when I reached his voice mail, I said I’d try his wife at home.”

“What?”
Jo screamed again.

“That was all right, wasn’t it?” Ms. Hook sounded confused.

Jo forced herself to remain calm. “Y-yes, that’s fine. I’ll be there to pick up the children immediately.”

After banging down the phone, Jo squeezed her hands into tight fists.
Relax, breathe.
She retrieved the spare car seat and jogged to her car, then dialed John’s office from her mobile phone as she pulled out of the driveway. Susan answered on the second ring.

“Wilson Brothers, this is John Sterling’s office.”

“Susan, this is Jo Montgomery.”

“Oh, hello. Mr. Sterling’s not in.”

“When will he be back?”

“I’m not sure.”

Jo sighed in exasperation. “I need you to page him.”

“Is this an emergency?”

“Haven’t you checked his voice mail?”

“No, he checks it You see, if I’m on the phone when someone calls—”

“Never mind,” Jo cut in impatiently. “Just page him and
tell him I’m picking up the kids from the day care, but I’ve got a very important appointment this afternoon, so he needs to come home as soon as possible.”

“Haven’t we had this conversation before?” Susan asked dryly.

“Thanks, Susan,” Jo said, then hung up. Her next call was to the Pattersons’ office, where she was immediately connected to Melissa.

“Jo,” the woman said warmly. “How are you?”

Jo frowned at the phone. She’d expected her reception to be a little frosty, considering the boy Mrs. Patterson thought was her stepson had nearly set fire to one of her day-care centers. “I’m fine, Mrs. Patterson. Have you talked to Carolyn Hook?”

“Yes, she called me immediately.” The woman’s voice sounded almost singsongy. “My husband and I both apologize for the workers leaving your stepson alone for even a minute—I mean…” She laughed. “Well, you know what I mean. They’re so…rambunctious at that age. I’m sure you and your husband both understand that accidents can happen.”

Realization dawned on Jo that Mrs. Patterson feared a lawsuit. Being a business owner herself, she understood the apprehension of liability. But she felt sure John wouldn’t hold the Pattersons responsible for Jamie’s behavior.

“John and I are reasonable people,” Jo said slowly. “I’m on my way to pick up the children now. What happened exactly?”

“According to Carolyn, Jamie was showing the other children how to start a campfire from scratch.”

“Oh my.” Jo swallowed, suddenly grateful he wasn’t her child to deal with. “Mrs. Patterson, I may need to reschedule my demonstration this afternoon. I haven’t been able to reach John yet and I don’t want to leave the children alone.”

“I understand,” Mrs. Patterson said soothingly. “But can we make it later this evening? Monroe is leaving the country tomorrow for several weeks and we wanted to make a decision
soon. Yours is the only proposal we haven’t seen, so we’ll be able to make a decision rather quickly.”

With a jolt, Jo wondered what effect today’s events would have on the Pattersons’ choice—would they favor her in an attempt to lessen the possibility of a lawsuit over today’s accident? Guilt barbed through her, but the ominous letter from the bank flashed before her eyes.

“Later this evening would be better—can I call you?”

“Of course,” the woman said sweetly, and Jo once again felt a flash of remorse. “I hope your children aren’t too upset by what happened today.”

Jo hung up, her foot pressing harder on the gas pedal. She shook her head when she thought of Jamie trying to start a fire with a rapt audience of preschoolers. Her heart shivered when she thought of all the horrible things that could have happened.

A moment later, she slid into the parking lot at KidScape, squealing tires, then jumped out of the car and hit the ground at a full run. Carolyn Hook, drenched and completely unraveled, opened the door and ushered her in. The Sterling children, apparently the last ones to be collected, were huddled together in a damp playroom. “Here’s your mommy,” Carolyn announced to them.

Jo started to react to the woman’s remark, but tears sprang to her eyes when she saw Jamie’s clothes were dingy from smoke. A sooty streak zigzagged his cheek.

“Jo!” he yelled, jumping to his feet. “I knew you’d come!”

She knelt to pull him into a fierce hug, then held him at arm’s length, her arms shaking. “Jamie Sterling—” her voice was louder than she intended “—what on earth were you thinking, trying to start a fire?”

“I’m Peter,” he mumbled, his eyes welling up with tears.

“No,” she said sternly. “You are not Peter Pan. You’re Jamie Sterling and you did a very, very dangerous thing. You could have been hurt, or someone else could have been hurt—do you understand?”

He bit his lower lip and nodded, the tears spilling down his cheeks as he dived into her arms. “Don’t tell Daddy, Jo,” he pleaded. “Don’t tell Daddy.”

Jamie clung to her, and Jo’s heart nearly exploded at the feel of his little body against hers. The sound of more crying reached her ears and she looked over her shoulder to see Claire and Billy holding on to each other. She waved them to her and they ran to join her group hug. “Jo-mommy,” Billy whimpered over and over. With three wet, sticky bodies clinging to hers, Jo said a resigned goodbye to the cream-colored crepe pantsuit she wore. And she now fully understood why she’d never wanted to have children—because the responsibility and commitment were more than she could bear. What if these were her children? And what if something had happened to one of them? Worse, what if something happened to one of them while they were in her care?

When she could no longer endure the feeling crowding her chest, Jo cleared her throat and pulled back from the children, looking at each one of them in turn, then smiling sadly at Jamie. “Your daddy has to know about this,” she said softly. “But we’ll tell him together, okay?”

“Okay,” he said, sniffling.

“Okay,” Jo said as she straightened. “Let’s go home.” The words slipped out, sending shock waves through her already sensitized nerves. Her legs felt quite shaky as she swung Billy into her arms.

“Jo-mommy,” he declared.

“Not Jo-mommy,” she said, glancing around for Carolyn Hook. “Just plain Jo.”

“Just Plain Jo,” he whispered loudly in her ear, then added, “Poopy diaper.”

Jamie claimed Jo’s free hand, then Claire chained on to his, and the four of them traipsed outside together.

“J
O
M
ONTGOMERY
to the rescue,” John whispered as he read Susan’s message on his text pager, already moving toward his car. At the last minute, he turned and yelled an explanation to
the inspector he was abandoning at the site of the new strip mall, then sprang into his car and peeled away.

He tapped the steering wheel impatiently as he dialed KidScape on his car phone.

Carolyn Hook answered. “Oh, yes, Mr. Sterling, the children are fine. Your wife just left.”

“My wife?” he asked, puzzled.

“Yes, I was able to reach Jo at your home and she came right over to get the kids.”

John started to correct the woman, then it occurred to him that even though the day-care director had incorrectly assumed Jo was his wife—a thought that pleased him immensely—she might be nervous if she knew she’d turned over the children to a nonrelative. He thanked her, then hung up and continued toward his house.

Concern for his children assuaged, John’s thoughts turned to the woman who had so quickly become an important person to him and to his children. Jo had wanted him to kiss her the other night at her office—he would have bet his house on it. And she had responded to him enthusiastically before the humiliating coffee incident had given her time to reconsider. He frowned. If he could just get this boyfriend of hers out of the picture, he might stand a better chance of winning her over. Which, he acknowledged with only a slight jab of guilt, was the reason he’d accepted Pamela Kaminski’s dinner invitation on the conditional double date. He was looking forward to meeting the man of Jo’s dreams on Friday night.

When he pulled into his driveway beside Jo’s familiar car, he decided he could get used to this routine—coming home to her and his children, to a peaceful, orderly, happy home.

He stepped into the foyer, closing the door behind him quietly. Claire and Jamie stood in the den, staring at each other belligerently, arms crossed. “I’m not cleaning up your messy building blocks,” Claire declared, raising her chin.

“Then I’m not picking up your books,” Jamie retorted, dropping the armload he’d collected.

“Hey!” Claire shouted, giving him a shove. “Those are my books!”

He shoved her back. “Then pick them up yourself!”

John started to speak, when Jo appeared from the direction of the bathroom. Her light-colored pantsuit looked a little worse for wear. She carried a diapered Billy almost horizontally under one arm and held a whistle between her teeth which she blew heartily to get the attention of the older two. “Time-out,” she said. “Claire, you pick up the books, and Jamie, you pick up the building blocks. No more arguing and no more pushing, understand?”

Claire’s lower lip protruded, but she nodded. Jamie gave Jo an adoring glance, then jumped to finish the task she’d given him. John laughed out loud, giving away his presence.

“Daddy!” the children chorused, and ran to meet him.

He hugged each of them in turn, then looked at Jamie with a grave face. “What’s this I hear about almost setting a fire, young man?”

Jamie bit his bottom lip. “It worked just like it was s’posed to,” he said, a shadow of pride in his voice. “But Jo told me I could have hurt somebody. I’m sorry,” he finished bravely.

Frowning sternly, John said, “Don’t ever try that again, and don’t ever play with matches, okay?”