facility you have.”
She turned around, stepped down, and…
He was headed up at the same time she was headed down. Their eyes met, and there it was, the chemistry of the century. Even with her hair frizzing up and her face washed of makeup, she felt conscious of her breasts, her pelvis. Her skin, the beat in her throat.
The preschool owner was still talking, as if he had no clue Armageddon was taking place on his school steps. Mike smiled, slow and easy, but he was still taking a lazy sip of how she looked, and she was drinking in his damp hair and sassy eyes and long, lanky frame just as zealously.
Naturally, she got a grip. “You’re checking out the preschool?”
“Yeah. Been making the rounds all morning.”
She gave him a thumbs-up, to show him her vote on the facility, but Dan immediately engaged him in conversation, so she had every excuse to continue on her way.
There, she thought. Both of them had managed that beautifully. Easy. Comfortable with each other-but neither risking a step closer to harm’s way.
Maybe Amanda wasn’t strong, but she was getting stronger. Maybe she hadn’t learned self-confidence yet, but she was getting there, too. She was coping. She was making a life. She was being the best mom she knew how to be.
She just had to refrain from jumping down any well pits.
Okay, Mike kept telling himself. So he’d run into her checking out preschools. That wasn’t so odd. Certainly not prophetic. They both had four-year olds. They’d both just moved. They both had a lot of parenting things to do.
Besides…preschools weren’t sexy. Parenting wasn’t sexy, either.
It was in his head. That she belonged with him. That he belonged with her.
He had to get it out of his head. He was too damned old-and smart-to let his hormones do his thinking.
Stopped at a red light, he glanced again at the address. In another minute, he’d be at Dr. June Weavers, who was one of the five pediatricians he’d researched. He could still take Teddy into Chicago-it’s not as if they lived hundreds of miles away from his original pediatrician. But it made no sense, to trek a sick kid on freeways and through rush hours. Finding a closer doctor was the more logical option.
It finally stopped raining after lunch, but the sky was still drizzling. The trees looked waxed-wet and shiny, but humidity hung in the air like a blanket. He parked, noting the expensive landscaping at the doctors’ complex, took the stairs up two at a time.
And paused.
Amanda had just pushed through the door and was bolting down the steps. She’d have barreled straight into him if he hadn’t put out a hand.
The simple touch made her head shoot up. She sucked in a breath before she found a wry smile. “Pretty unbelievable, huh? Two places in a row?”
And then, “Don’t waste your time. This one’s a no vote.”
“Really?”
She listed her concerns. “Four crying kids in the waiting room. The receptionist was frazzled and out of patience. Dust in the corners. Just…no.”
“The doctor had hefty credentials.”
“I thought so, too. And maybe she’s brilliant. But it’s just not a well-run place.”
“You have more on your pediatrician list?”
She nodded. “Oh, yeah. Dr. Alan Rivers is the next on mine-”
“He was at the top of my choices, but I was doing a circle, hitting the geographically closest ones first.”
“Well…”
“Well…”
Since they both had cars, it seemed a foolish idea to leave one, but they both liked the idea of checking out “Dr. Alan” together. Two sets of eyes were always better than one. The office was just five blocks from the first doctor-but a major difference in worlds.
Mike stalled in the waiting room. The setting was a kid’s dream. A big-screen TV carried a whole selection of programs, from reading shows to movies like
Amanda tracked down Dr. Alan for both of them. The doctor emerged from the exam rooms as soon as he was free. The guy was almost as little as his patients, big glasses, floppy hair, a bright blue stethoscope. Amanda remarked on the bins near the doorway-a child could pick out a pair of slippers, if he or she wanted to wear them in the office. And another bin held small, washable stuffed animals. A sign read Pick a Friend to Take in the Room with You.
The doctor gave them a full ten minutes. Neither needed more. On the way out, Amanda said, “For me, this is a cut-and-dried. He’s my guy.”
“Because the place was so kid-friendly?”
“Yeah. That mattered. And it was spotless. And no one was in uniform.”
“And nobody looked scared.”
She smiled at him. “Yeah. That was the biggie. I don’t doubt kids cry when they’re getting a vaccine, but I liked it, that none of the kids looked afraid, even though they were at the doctor’s.”
His truck was parked next to her car, where both of them hesitated again. “So we’ve got two things marked off the parenting list for the day?” he asked.
“Yup. And I’m exhausted.”
He laughed. “You think there’s a chance we can refrain from running into each other for a few hours?”
She stopped smiling, cocked her head. Something passed between them-something that muted the sounds of traffic and voices, that intensified the rustle of wet leaves and hint of lilac in the air. Something that made her eyes look mesmerizingly honest. That made him want to look and never stop looking.
“I’m not sure we’re going to manage it,” she said suddenly, softly.
“Manage what?”
“Staying out of trouble.”
She turned around, ducked in her car. He stood there even after she’d backed out of the parking lot and zoomed down the street.
He was about eighty-eight percent sure that she’d just given him a dare. She hadn’t
It wasn’t a good idea to dare a guy who was at the end of his hormonal tether. He’d been good as gold. But like his four-year-old said-his
Amanda arrived at Warren White’s house at ten to seven. As she’d expected, the White decorating scheme was beige. As in, beige, period. No bright color had seen a surface in the White house. The setup for the Home Owners’ Association meeting was a gathering in Warren’s great room…which opened onto a deck, where teenagers were supposed to watch over the little kids who came with their parents. Amanda wasn’t about to trust strangers with Molly, but she could see there were a ton of kids there, all having fun.
Still, she sat next to the door, with an eye on the yard outside. The older kids started a game of Mother, May I…and Molly, being the competitive tiny overachiever that she was, instantly joined in.
Amanda relaxed-a little-and scoped the room, trying to pick up names, friendly faces, who had which kids of what ages. She’d worn a scoop-neck top with white slacks, sandals, just a scrunchie pulling her hair back…while she knew the dress code for a city job with her hands tied behind her back, she wasn’t so sure of the rules in the suburbs. Most seemed to take her in as “one of them” from the start-a relief.
At least until Mike walked in.
Warren took center stage in front of his fireplace precisely at 7:00 p.m. He even had a little gavel. Cute, she
