Impossible, Irritable, Arrogant Man Looking For Blindly Devoted Slave To Run Errands Day And Night. Salary: Not Enough. Benefits: None. No Appreciation, No Courtesy. Letter to Reader Title Page About the Author Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Copyright

Impossible, Irritable, Arrogant Man Looking For Blindly Devoted Slave To Run Errands Day And Night. Salary: Not Enough. Benefits: None. No Appreciation, No Courtesy.

“That’s the ad you should run!” Kayla said. “And if you want to hire someone else to help you around here, I’ll gladly place it.”

“Wrong,” Jack retorted. “The ad should read ‘Good-looking, smart guy with sense of humor looking for temporary help. Emotional types need not apply.’”

“Emotional types?” Kayla repeated in disbelief. “I’m not emotional. You’re impossible! I’m irritated by your preposterous demands—”

“Irritated? Oh, I think you’re past that! Try furious and bossy.”

Too furious to say another word, she turned to leave.

Afterward, Kayla couldn’t be sure if Jack reached out to prevent her from leaving...or to open the door and boot her out. Either way, he tottered on his crutches, tumbled into her arms—and she landed in trouble!

Dear Reader,

This month: strong and sexy heroes!

First, the Tallchiefs—that intriguing, legendary family—are back, and this time it’s Birk Tallchief who meets his match in Cait London’s MAN OF THE MONTH, The Groom Candidate. Birk’s been pining for Lacey MacCandliss for years, but once he gets her, there’s nothing but trouble of the most romantic kind. Don’t miss this delightful story from one of Desire’s most beloved writers.

Next, nobody creates a strong, sexy hero quite like Sara Orwig, and in her latest, Babes in Arms, she brings us Colin Whitefeather, a tough and tender man you’ll never forget. And in Judith McWilliams’s Another Man’s Baby we meet Philip Lysander, a Greek tycoon who will do anything to save his family...even pretend to be a child’s father.

Peggy Moreland’s delightful miniseries, TROUBLE IN TEXAS, continues with Lone Star Kind of Man. The man in question is rugged rogue cowboy Cody Fipes. In Big Sky Drifter, by Doreen Owens Malek, a wild Wyoming man named Cal Winston tames a lonely woman. And in Cathie Linz’s Husband Needed, bachelor Jack Elliott surprises himself when he offers to trade his single days for married nights.

In Silhouette Desire you’ll always find the most irresistible men around! So enjoy!

Senior Editor

Please address questions and book requests to:

Silhouette Reader Service

U.S.: 3010 Walden Ave., P.O. Box 1325, Buffalo. NY 14269

Canadian: P.O. Box 609, Fort Erie, Ont. L2A 5X3

Husband Needed

Cathie Linz

www.millsandboon.co.uk

About the Author

CATHIE LINZ left her career in a university law library to become a USA Today bestselling author of over thirty contemporary romances. She is the recipient of the highly coveted Storyteller of the Year Award given by Romantic Times, and has been twice nominated for a Love and Laughter Career Achievement Award for the delightful humor in her books.

Cathie often uses comic mishaps from her own trips as inspiration for her stories, but she set this book in her own backyard—her hometown of Chicago. After traveling, Cathie is always glad to return to her family, her two cats, her computer and her cookie jar full of Oreos!

One

Someone was trying to break into his place!

Jack Elliott heard the doorknob to his apartment rattle again, ever so slightly. He’d already gotten robbed once since moving up to the north side of Chicago, he wasn’t about to have it happen twice.

Sure, the building had a doorman as a security measure, but that hadn’t prevented the last robbery—probably because Ernie the Doorman had the IQ of a snail.

The doorknob rattled once more and then turned slowly. There wasn’t time to call the police. There wasn’t time to think, just to act.

Unfortunately, his broken leg prevented Jack from acting very quickly. Despite a life often spent living at the edge, this was the first time Jack had ever broken a bone and he was not a happy camper. He’d been swearing at his crutches all morning, but now they looked like they might come in handy.

Standing up and hanging on to the bookcase beside the door with one hand, Jack raised one of the wooden crutches over his head, ready to bash whoever walked through his front door. A man had a right to protect his own property.

The door opened slowly, furtively...

Giving a war cry that would have done a warlord proud, Jack brought the crutch down...only to belatedly realize the burglar was a woman with a kid! Their ensuing screams were even noisier than his had been.

Swearing loudly and succinctly, Jack somehow managed to avoid hitting either one of them. Instead he swung his crutch to the far right, poking a hole clear through the wallboard next to the door. He’d suspected the walls in this place were paper thin, now he knew it to be a fact.

“Are you crazy?” the female intruder screeched at him even as she scooped up her little girl and protectively held her close. “You could have killed us!”

“You bring a kid along with you to break into my apartment and you have the nerve to call me crazy?” Jack yelled back at her, hanging on to the bookcase for balance. He hated being at a physical disadvantage this way, and his mobility was even further hampered by the fact that one of his crutches was now imbedded in his apartment wall.

“See what you’ve done? You’ve upset my daughter,” the woman said with an accusing glare.

“Upset? Upset?” Jack repeated in disbelief. “You better answer my questions and answer them fast or I’ll show you upset! Who are you and why the hell were you breaking in here?”

“I didn’t break in, I have a key,” the woman retorted, having soothed her daughter into silence while continuing to shield the little one with her own body.

Now that the kid had stopped her ear-splitting screams, Jack could finally think. The woman didn’t look like a thief, with her big blue eyes and curtain of honey brown hair that fell around her shoulders like waves of silk. But then looks could be deceiving.

“Where did you get a key?” he demanded.

“From your uncle, Ralph Enteman.”

Jack frowned. Now that he thought about it, his uncle had called him yesterday afternoon and said something about sending over a surprise.

“I’m assuming you are Jack Elliott?” the woman continued.

“That’s right. And you are?”

“Kayla White.”

“Am I supposed to know you?”

“Your uncle hired me.”

“Great,” Jack groaned, remembering the last person his uncle had hired for him, an “exotic dancer” he’d sent over on Jack’s last birthday. “Tell him thanks, but I’m not interested,” he said wearily. “You can just head right back where you came from.”

“Excuse me?”

“There’s the door. I want you on the other side of it.”

“I don’t think you understand...” she began, when he interrupted her.

“Look, honey, it’s nothing personal, although I can’t believe a girl like you would bring your kid with you when you’re on a job like this. But hey, that’s your business.”

“You have a problem with me bringing my daughter with me?” Kayla repeated. “And what do you mean by ‘a girl like me’? I’m a woman, Mr. Elliott, not a girl.”

“I noticed. Look, I’m just not in the mood, okay?”

Kayla frowned at him. “In the mood for what?”

“For—” remembering there was a kid present, Jack substituted, “—fun and games.”

Her look became tinged with suspicion. “Just what is it that you think I’m here for?”

“Why don’t you tell me?” he countered.

“As I said, your uncle hired my company...”

Jack interrupted her again. “You own a company that does this kind of thing?”

Actually she co-owned it with her best friend, Diane, but Kayla saw no purpose in going into details like that at this point. So instead she merely said, “That’s right.”

“So you must have a lot of...experience?”

“You could say that.”

“Do you go out a lot on jobs like this?”

“Every day.”

After giving her a head-to-toe once-over, Jack wondered if maybe he was being a little hasty here. She might not be as busty as he liked his women, but she wasn’t half-bad. The plaid skirt she wore stopped above her knees, and the black tights clinging to her legs accentuated their shapely length. She was almost dressed like a preppie college coed, probably a popular costume in her line of work. College coeds and nurses were big—that last exotic dancer had been dressed as a nurse. The only thing out of place was the little girl Kayla was holding.

“Anyway,” Kayla continued, “your uncle told me that you needed some help temporarily, what with your broken leg. He assured me he’d already spoken to you about all this.”

“He lied,” Jack said.

“He didn’t tell you I was coming over?”

“My uncle told me that he had a surprise for me, but that’s all he said.” Jack belatedly registered that she’d mentioned something about his needing help, which got him to wondering exactly what kind of help she was talking about. The possibilities were erotic and endless. But the woman had a kid with her. This was one of the strangest setups he’d seen. “I can’t believe he gave you a key to get in.”

“He wasn’t sure if you’d be home.”

“Where else am I gonna be with a busted leg?”

“The doorman downstairs told me that you’d gone out.”

“Yeah, well, Ernie is several cards short of a full deck,” Jack retorted. “So tell me, what exactly is it that you do? I mean, you really don’t find it inhibiting to have your daughter with you on jobs like this?”

“No. Why should I?”

“Hey, far be it from me to cast the first stone, but I would have thought...I mean...it kind of breaks the mood, you know what I mean?”

“No, I don’t have a clue what you mean,” she replied. “Do you have something against kids?”

“There’s a time and a place for everything and I don’t think this is the time or the place for a kid to be watching her mother...do...whatever it is you do. Just how exotic do you get?”

“Exotic?”

“Isn’t that the politically correct term for what you do? Exotic dancing, instead of stripping?”

Kayla’s eyes widened and her mouth dropped open before she icily stated, “I am not an exotic dancer!”

“What would you call what you do?”

“Running errands. I own a company called Errands Unlimited. We do a variety of things, Mr. Elliott, but dancing and/or stripping is not one of them!”

“Hey, it was a natural mistake for me to make.” Jack held out a hand, before remembering that he needed that hand to hang on to the bookcase. He only narrowly saved himself from falling flat on his face.

But Kayla seemed unmoved by his difficulty. She was too busy spitting fire at him, her voice sizzling with anger. “A natural mistake? Really? I’d love to hear how you figure that.”

“The last surprise my uncle sent over was an exotic dancer for my birthday. So naturally I thought...”

“You thought wrong.”

The haughty look Kayla gave Jack made him feel like something that had crawled out from under a rock. It was January and the weather outside was beyond chilly, it was downright frigid—but even so, the expression in Kayla’s blue eyes lowered the already cool temperature in his apartment by about twenty degrees. She had classy features, icy eyes and a passionate voice, not to mention pretty damn good legs. She was fire, coated with ice, and she didn’t seem the least bit impressed with him; that alone made her stand out among the women he knew.

Okay, so he wasn’t exactly looking his best, but at least his gray running shorts accommodated the cast on his right leg. His sweatshirt had Northwestern University Wildcats emblazoned across the chest, bracketed by the spaghetti sauce he’d spilled on it when he’d tried carrying a plate of spaghetti from the kitchen to the living room earlier. Should he tell her that he looked better cleaned up?

As he watched her, Kayla efficiently disengaged the wooden crutch from the wall and handed it to him. “Here. I think you might need this.”

The crutch seemed to mock him, underscoring his temporary lack of independence. Irritably taking it from her, he demanded, “So why did you bring your kid with you?”

The kid—who, after her first ear-piercing screams, had been remarkably quiet up to this point—promptly burst into tears again and hid her face in the crook of her mother’s neck, making Jack feel like an even worse heel.

“All I did was ask a simple question—” he began.

“You’s mean!” the little girl shouted from the safety of her mother’s arms.

“Shhh, sweetie, it’ll be okay,” Kayla murmured in a soothing voice. “This is Mr. Elliott, and he’s not as bad as he seems.”

“Gee, thanks,” Jack muttered.

“If you’ll just give me the list, Mr. Elliott, I’ll get to work,” Kayla briskly stated.

Jack stared at her blankly. “The list?”

“The list of errands you want me to run.”

He took exception to her maternal tone of voice. “Listen, I already have a mother, I don’t need—”

“It’s my understanding that you’ve already driven your mother to distraction,” she interrupted him to say. “That’s why your uncle hired me.”

Jack glared at her. “Okay, so I don’t like people fussing over me.”

“I’ll remember that. Your uncle felt that you would prefer someone objective assisting you rather than being ‘fussed over’ as you put it.”

Actually what Jack’s uncle had said was “My nephew is impossible! If you can handle him, you can manage anything and I can assure you that I’ll throw more work your way than you’ll know what to do with.” As a member of the Chicago Board of Trade, Mr. Enteman could throw a lot of work her way with other traders who were too busy to handle the details of their daily lives. This could be the break she and Diane were waiting for, their first big account.

Meanwhile, Jack was reconsidering his position. He supposed there were worse things than being waited on hand and foot by a beautiful woman like Kayla. He’d noticed that she wasn’t wearing a wedding ring. Which meant what? That she was divorced? Available?

“We got off on the wrong foot here, no pun intended,” he said, fitting the padded handle of the crutch under his arm. “What do you say we start over again? How about telling me your daughter’s name?”

“It’s Ashley.”

“Hey, Ashley, I’m sorry I was yelling before,” Jack said in his most charming voice, the one he’d been told on more than one occasion could charm the wings off an angel.

But his charm apparently didn’t work on little girls, since Ashley refused to even look at him, just burrowing her face even further into her mother’s shoulder.

Not that Jack should complain, since the kid’s actions did manage to shift the neckline of the black angora sweater Kayla was wearing so that it displayed the intriguing hollows of her collarbone and the soft curve of a shoulder. A flickering flame of awareness teased his senses and warmed his appetite.

His gaze leisurely traveled upward, from the creamy skin of her throat over a chin that looked like it could be stubborn, to her lips.... Very nice lips. Her cheeks were flushed, with anger or attraction? When his eyes finally reached hers, he got his answer—she met his perusal head-on. She was looking at him as if he were a low-life and she a queen. Jack wasn’t sure whether to be insulted or intrigued.

Women had always found him attractive—he wasn’t conceited about it, he was simply accustomed to it. He had gray eyes and a way with women; both were mere facts. Over the years there were plenty of women who’d found him to be irresistible.

But not this one. This one was eyeing him with complete indifference and just a twinge of impatience. Jack saw no hint of attraction in Kayla’s blue eyes, not a smidgen of sympathy at his being laid up with a broken leg. Maybe it was time to bring up the fact that he was a firefighter—that usually got women’s attention.

“Did my uncle tell you that I was injured in the line of duty?” Jack asked her.

“No.”

Didn’t the woman have any curiosity? he irritably wondered. “I’m a firefighter.”

“That’s nice.”

Nice? Nice?! That’s it? Okay, so swinging his crutch at her had not made the best of first impressions. But he could make up for that. “Look, why don’t you and your daughter sit down while I write up the list. As you can see, it takes me a while to get around.” He’d never had to use the sympathy angle before, but hey—if it worked...

It didn’t.

“You moved fast enough swinging that crutch of yours,” Kayla replied.

Ah, so she wasn’t going to make this easy on him, was she? Okay. That was fine by Jack. He hadn’t had a challenge like this in years. Well, actually, he’d never had a challenge quite like this, but he was man enough to rise to the occasion.

And the way her angora sweater clung to her curves did indeed make a certain part of his anatomy rise. She was tall, only about four or five inches shorter than his own six feet. And she wasn’t wearing heels. In fact, she was wearing practical-looking black flats.

“In those clothes, you don’t look old enough to have a daughter,” he murmured.

Kayla narrowed her eyes at him. She knew damn well he was practicing his charm on her. She also knew that he was aggravated it wasn’t working. Good. It served him right—for scaring the heck out of her, swinging his crutch at her and nearly decapitating her.

It didn’t matter that he had the most intriguing eyes she’d ever seen—a blend of blue and gray. They were like smoke. In contrast, his dark lashes and eyebrows were a commanding combination. His hair was equally dark and somewhat on the wild side, which she had a feeling matched his own personality. Somewhat on the wild side.

He had the powerful build of a man who was used to physical activity. His shoulders were exceptionally broad, straining against the sweatshirt he wore. And the running shorts displayed his muscular legs, the calf muscles well developed. All of him was well developed, for that matter.

But if he thought she was going to melt, now that he’d turned on the sex appeal—the heated looks from those smoky eyes, the devilish grin from lips a sculptor would have loved—he was sadly mistaken. She’d already been put through the grinder by a pro. Her ex-husband, Bruce, had been as good-looking as they came. She’d fallen in love with him at first sight and had scarcely been able to believe her luck when he’d finally asked her out. It had been her first month at college. By the end of the year, she’d dropped out and they’d gotten married. The next five years had flown by as she’d been busy working to put her husband through medical school—only to have him dump her when he’d finished his internship.

That had been nearly three years ago and the hurt was still there, if not the love. Kayla had used part of the divorce settlement she’d received to start up Errands Unlimited with Diane. After all, Kayla had been running Bruce’s errands throughout their marriage. Yet as a working mother, she knew how little time there was in a day, and had often wished she’d been able to afford to hire someone to do the million and one things that needed to be done in a day that had too few hours.

And now she had the chance to prove herself to Jack’s uncle, with the reward being her first big account. Yes, this job was an important one, not that Kayla intended to let Jack know that.

She intended to keep things strictly professional. She didn’t care how attractive the man was. Her ex-husband had been hunk material. On the outside. She’d discovered too late that he was just a jerk at heart.

“The list,” she reminded Jack.

“Right.”

As Kayla watched him struggle to maneuver himself over to the couch she had to steel herself against giving in to her immediate impulse to rush over and help him. It wasn’t in her nature to just stand by when someone needed assistance.

“Mommy, you’s huggin’ me too hard,” Ashley complained.

“Sorry, baby.” Kayla kissed her daughter’s forehead. “We’ll be going soon...”

A string of curses filled the air as Jack hit his big toe on the leg of the coffee table.

“Mr. Elliott, I’d appreciate it if you’d watch your language around my daughter!”

The outraged primness of Kayla’s voice made Jack want to...kiss her. She had the kind of mouth for it. Soft and full. Downright lush.

Shifting Ashley from one hip to the other, Kayla said, “If you can’t write up the list now, I’ll come back later....”

Not wanting her to leave yet, Jack said, “No, let’s do this now.” He sank onto the couch. Wondering why it was so lumpy, he tugged a pile of newspapers, several T-shirts, and an empty pizza carton out from under his thigh.

His apartment would never win any housekeeping awards on the best of days, which this was not. Shoving the pizza carton onto an already overladen coffee table, Jack said, “First off, I need food. There’s nothing in the kitchen except for a bag of lentils. I don’t know how the hell they got into my house. I hate lentils.”

“Then write up a grocery list and I’ll pick up some food for you. You’ll also have to give me the money.”

“That’s the second thing on my list. I don’t have any cash.” Jack ran an impatient hand through his hair, further ruffling the dark strands and intensifying his wild buccaneer look. “I have to go to the bank or an ATM. I mean, you’ll have to go to the bank or an ATM.”

“Why don’t you just make me out a check instead?”

“That’s number three on the list. I’m out of checks. I meant to order more from the bank, but I never got around to it....”

Kayla’s sigh threatened to set him off again. So did the way she was looking around his living room, as if expecting rats to come crawling out of the woodwork. He might be messy, but he was no slob. But before he could say so, she spoke first.

“I’ll advance you the money, but please be advised that this is a one-time occurrence. Your uncle is paying for my services, but not for the materials supplied—not for the groceries bought or the dry cleaning picked up....”

“Lady, I haven’t had anything dry cleaned since 1990,” Jack retorted, his anger rising at the sound of her long-suffering tone of voice. It made him feel like an idiot. She made him feel like an idiot. The problem was, she also intrigued him, tempted him and aroused him. A lot! More each time he looked at her.

“If you’re going to make a list, you’ll need something to write with,” she briskly said, coming closer to hand him a pen with her free hand.

As their fingers met, a spark sizzled. Given his earlier attraction to her, Jack was expecting it—but apparently Kayla wasn’t, because she shot him a startled look. He saw a glimpse of an answering awareness in her eyes. It was just a glimpse, but it was enough. For now. She wasn’t unmoved.

Jack smiled. Suddenly his immediate future was looking a lot brighter. Here he’d been feeling sorry for himself, moping around the place because of his busted leg and the projected four-week recovery period until he could return to work. But now it looked like there was a good chance that things could get real interesting in that time period. Really interesting, thanks to a woman with big blue eyes and a frosty manner.

Even given her unexpected presence, he still hated being laid up this way. It put a real crimp in his style, not to mention the fact that he had too much to do to be slowed down.

Jack didn’t realize he’d spoken that last thought aloud until Kayla said, “That’s what I’m here for. To help you.”

So why was it that Jack had the sudden feeling that Kayla would end up doing more harm than good to his bachelor life?

Two

“So, what did you think of my nephew?” Ralph Enteman asked Kayla as she drove away from Jack’s building. Ralph had called her on her cellular phone.

“He’s everything you said he was...and more,” she replied.

Recognizing the irritation in her voice, Ralph said, “You’re not going to quit, are you?”

“Of course not! In fact, I’m on my way now to get your nephew some groceries and other necessities.” In her opinion, Jack could definitely also use some common courtesy and patience with a little cooperation thrown in. Unfortunately none of those things could be picked up at any store. Talk about being obstinate...the man could give lessons to a mule!

As if reading her mind, Ralph said, “I did try to warn you that Jack could be stubborn.”

“Yes, you did. But apparently you didn’t warn him that I was coming to his apartment. Jack mistook me for someone else. He tried to smack me over the head with his crutch.”

“Oh no! I know he’s got a temper, but I never thought he’d do anything violent.”

Kayla felt compelled to clarify. “In his defense, he thought I was trying to break into his apartment.”

“Oh. Well then, his reaction makes sense. Someone did break in and rob him a few months back, although that neighborhood is much better than where he used to live. The thing is, Jack isn’t a man to just sit around and do nothing if threatened.”

“Believe me, I wasn’t at all threatening. Quite the opposite.” Kayla was tempted to add that she’d had her daughter with her, but she wasn’t sure what Ralph’s reaction would be. After all, Jack hadn’t been that pleased to see Ashley.

But Kayla had a schedule and nothing messed with it, even handsome firefighters like Jack. Today was Wednesday, and on Wednesdays Kayla kept Ashley with her until one p.m., when she dropped her off at the Windy City Day Care Center. One of the things Kayla liked about her work was the ability to take Ashley with her now and then. Most workdays Kayla did leave her daughter in child care, but there were certain days, like today, when they shared time together.

Stopping at a red light, Kayla shot a smile over to Ashley, who was strapped into the car seat and happily talking to her favorite toy—a rather battered teddy bear named Hugs. The bear was even older than three-year-old Ashley, because Kayla had bought it for her the day she’d found out she was pregnant. There had been some tough times in the intervening years, and the toy’s brown fur had now faded to a dark beige from numerous washings.

“Anyway, I’m sorry Jack upset you,” Ralph was saying.

“He didn’t upset me,” Kayla assured him. After all, it wouldn’t do for her client to think that she was easily distracted. She wanted him to appreciate her calmness and reliability. She wanted him to think of her as a woman who got the job done. “We got everything settled, no problem.”

“Good. I’m glad to hear that.”

After hanging up her cellular phone, Kayla told herself that she hadn’t lied to Ralph. As far as she was concerned, everything was settled between Jack and her. And that sizzle of attraction she’d felt when she’d handed him her pen had been a figment of her imagination. She refused to even consider any other explanation.

“Anyone home?” This time Kayla made sure to announce her return to Jack’s apartment. She’d tried ringing the buzzer, but there had been no reply. And after his former blunder, Kayla didn’t trust Ernie the Doorman anymore. The fact that Ernie had asked her if she was Jack’s “latest” hadn’t exactly endeared him to her, either.

“This is your second time here today, not that I pry into other people’s business,” Ernie had told her in a monotone so deadpan it would put a caffeine-freak to sleep. What little hair Ernie had was carefully combed back from his forehead in a futile attempt to give him the image of having more hair than he actually did. His uniform fit his hefty build so snugly that the buttons were straining, as if ready to launch themselves across the lobby.

Despite his disclaimer about prying into other people’s business, Kayla had sensed that Ernie had been more than willing to give her the lowdown on Jack, but she hadn’t stayed to chat. It was already after three, and she had other clients and other errands to run before calling it a day. But she had accepted Ernie’s help in transporting several bags of groceries up to Jack’s front door.

“Jack, it’s Kayla,” she called out as she pushed the door open a little further. She had two plastic bags of food in one hand. The list of groceries he’d given her had cost her nearly eighty dollars, and most of it was junk food. “I’ve got your groceries. Anyone here? I’m not a burglar or belly dancer...” she couldn’t resist adding with a grin. “Hello?”

She made it into the living room without Jack taking any kamikaze swings at her with his crutch. In fact, she didn’t see any sign of him. For a moment she panicked, wondering if he’d fallen and hurt himself. An image flashed into her mind of him lying in the bedroom, injured, unable to get up. Then she registered the sound of the shower running.

Her mental image switched from him lying on the bedroom floor, to him lying in the bathroom, his chest bare...perhaps even all of him bare.

“Oh, great, that’s very helpful,” she muttered under her breath. “Having steamy fantasies about your client when the poor man is injured and could be in trouble.”

So what should she do? Knock on the bathroom door and make sure he was okay? Let him know she was there? She certainly didn’t want him walking out of the bathroom nude or anything. He seemed the type to do just that. Yet she didn’t want to startle him, either. He might slip in the shower and break his other leg.

Putting her ear to the door, she heard him singing. Okay, that meant he wasn’t in trouble. In fact, his voice wasn’t half-bad. Neither was the rest of him. The rebellious thought slipped into her mind before she could stop it.

“That’s enough of that,” she muttered under her breath. “Get your mind out of the shower!”

In the end, Kayla decided to write a note telling him she was there. She taped it to the bathroom door. She’d no sooner done that than the phone started ringing. Expecting an answering machine to pick up, she waited for seven rings before the noise drove her crazy, forcing her to answer it herself. She’d never been able to just ignore a ringing phone—after all, it might be an important call.

“Mr. Elliott’s residence,” she said briskly, juggling the six-pack of soda she was trying to place into the fridge at the same time.

“Who is this?” a woman’s voice demanded. “Where is Jack?”

Wishing now that she hadn’t answered the phone, Kayla said, “He’s in the shower.”

“In the shower?” the woman repeated in disbelief. “What kind of answer is that?”

“The best one I’ve got,” Kayla retorted. “May I tell him who’s calling?”

“Misty. And have him call me back as soon as he gets out!”

“Fine. Does he have your number?”

“Honey, he knows me inside and out,” the woman purred before hanging up.

Kayla had no sooner hung up the phone than it rang again. She’d automatically picked it up before realizing what she’d done. “Hello?” she said before belatedly tacking on, “Elliott residence.”

“Oh, my, you’re not Jack!” Caller number two had a husky female voice that was made all the more sultry by a Southern accent.

“That’s right,” Kayla said cheerfully. “I’m not Jack.”

“Which girl are you?” the woman asked. “You don’t sound like the snippy attorney who was chasing him last week. And you’re not the waitress with the English accent, either.”

Kayla began wondering if that was how Jack had broken his leg, from being chased by endless lines of women.

“Mr. Elliott is unavailable at the moment,” Kayla stated. “May I take a message for him?”

“Tell him Mandy is worried about him and willing to drop everything to come on over there to take care of him. He just has to say the word and I’ll be right there.”

“I’ll tell him.”

By the time Jack came out of the bathroom, wearing nothing but a smile and a pair of running shorts, Kayla had collected a stack of nearly half a dozen messages—all from women with names that rhymed.

“You got calls from Misty and Mandy, Tammy and Sammy, Barbie and Bobbie,” she said, trying to keep a straight face.

“What are you laughing at?” he demanded defensively.

“Nothing.” Her earlier amusement disappeared as the details of his appearance belatedly sank in with her.

He’d looked good before but now...now he was raw masculinity incarnate. More of him was bare than was covered. He was a throwback to another age, a time when men survived by their physical strengths.

Although solidly built, there wasn’t an ounce of extra flesh on him. Dark hair covered his chest, trailing down from collarbone to navel, but not so thick that she couldn’t see the ridges of muscles beneath. He radiated presence and power—a knight minus his shining armor.

Which left her as what...a damsel in distress? Realizing she’d been holding her breath since he’d walked in the kitchen, she belatedly inhaled. She could smell the fresh scent of his soap. Her gaze fastened on the single droplet of water slowly meandering down toward the waistband of his running shorts, which clung to his still-damp lower torso.

The silence was deafening as Kayla heard the increased pounding of her own heartbeat. She saw the way his chest rose and fell. Was he breathing faster, too? Her eyes lifted to meet his. Only then did she realize how pale he was.

Quickly gathering her wits, Kayla asked, “Uh...are you supposed to be taking a shower so soon after breaking your leg? When did you break your leg, anyway?”

“Yesterday.”

“Yesterday!” His answer evaporated her steamy fantasies as concern took their place. “And you’re singing in the shower today? Are you crazy?”

“Probably,” he muttered, grimacing at the pain shooting up his right leg.

“A three-year-old would have more sense! Here, you’d better sit down before you fall down,” she said, scooting a kitchen chair over to him.

“I’m not an invalid,” he snapped.

“No. You’re an idiot!” The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them.

She immediately clapped her hand to her lips with such a look of guilt that Jack had to smile.

“No, don’t hold back,” he teased her. “Go ahead and tell me what you really think.”

“I think you should sit down.”

“I’ll never get used to these stupid crutches by sitting down.”

“What’s your hurry? Didn’t the doctor tell you to take things easy for the first few days?”

“I’ve had emergency medical training. I know what I’m doing. What are your qualifications?” he growled irritably. Willing himself past the pain wasn’t working, and the pain medication the doctor had prescribed made him too damn groggy.

“I broke my leg once. When I was ten,” Kayla told him.

“Oh, and I suppose that makes you an expert?”

“Are you always this grouchy or does a broken leg bring out the worst in you?” she inquired in exasperation. Remembering that he hated anyone fussing over him, she deliberately focused her attention on unpacking the remaining groceries.

“Very funny.”

“Not really,” Kayla replied, opening a cabinet and finding it empty except for... She held up two plastic bags of dried beans. “Having nothing to eat in the kitchen but lentils, now that’s funny.”

“I don’t know how they even got in the kitchen,” Jack muttered. Deciding enough time had passed to make his point—that he wasn’t a weakling who obeyed orders—he carefully made his way the three steps to the kitchen chair, hoping it didn’t look like he collapsed into it. “I hate lentils,” he said, before reaching over and snagging a clean T-shirt from the laundry basket on the kitchen table.

“Maybe one of your girlfriends brought them for you,” Kayla said, trying not to notice the way his muscles rippled as he lifted his arms to tug the T-shirt over his head. The movement ruffled his still-damp dark hair, adding to his roguish appearance.

“None of my girlfriends know how to cook,” Jack replied.

“Really? You mean you weren’t attracted to them because of their culinary talents?”

He didn’t took amused.

Delighted to be provoking him for a change, Kayla continued. “You know, I’ve heard there’s safety in numbers, but I’ve never seen such a remarkable example of it before.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Come on. Misty, Mandy, Tammy, Bambi...”

“I don’t know a Bambi,” Jack inserted, enjoying the way her blue eyes lit up with humor. He’d only seen that intense shade of blue once before, in a kitten he’d befriended as a kid. Eyes so full of life.

“No Bambi, huh?” Kayla said. “Well, I’m sure it won’t take you long to remedy that. How can you keep them all apart with names so similar?”

“That’s not a problem. Randi has long red hair and the biggest pair of...eyes you ever saw.”

“Never mind.” The humor in Kayla’s eyes was replaced with a flash of something else, something he couldn’t identify. “Forget I asked.”

“No way. The least I can do is satisfy your...curiosity.”

“That’s all you’re gonna satisfy, buster,” she muttered under her breath.

“What did you say?”

“I was just talking to myself.”

“Lonely people do that a lot, I hear.”

“I’m not lonely,” she denied.

“No?”

“No. I have a daughter and I lead a very full life.”

“Even if you’re not an exotic dancer?”

His mocking voice sneaked under her defenses, making its way to her heart like a shot of whiskey. Not that she had much experience with whiskey. She was more the milk shake type herself.

“I still can’t believe you ever thought that,” she said.

“Why not?”

“Because. I mean, I’m not...I don’t have the right kind of body.... Never mind.”

Jack grinned. “For what it’s worth, I think you definitely have the right kind of body. The kind I like.”

“From the number of women who called you, it sounds as if you like all kinds of female bodies,” she tartly retorted.

“Hey, there’s always room for one more.”

“I don’t care for crowds.” Her voice got that prim tone again, the one that made him want to kiss her.

“I’m not wild about crowds, either,” he murmured.

“You couldn’t prove it by those calls.”

“Ah, but one-on-one is always best, don’t you think so?”

“I think this discussion has gotten way out of hand,” she declared in a no-nonsense tone of voice.

“And here I was, thinking things were just getting interesting.... Wait a second. What’s that?” Jack demanded as she pulled a six-pack out of the grocery bag.

“Beer.”

“It’s not the right kind of beer. That’s not what I wrote on the list.”

“They didn’t carry that imported brand. The liquor clerk told me this one would taste the same.”

“Well, he lied. It doesn’t. One is ale, this is just a pale imitation.”

“Fine—” she snatched the six-pack back from him “—I’ll pick up your imported beer tomorrow.”

“And these aren’t the right kind of beer nuts, either,” Jack grumbled, eyeing the can he’d removed from one of the plastic bags still littering the floor. “These are honey roasted. I wanted salted.”

“I had no idea I was dealing with such a gourmet.”

He raised an eyebrow at her. “I know what I like. Do you have a problem with that?”

“I’m not the one with a problem,” she muttered under her breath.

“Implying that I am?” he retorted,

“You’re the one with the broken leg.”

“What a brilliant observation.”

She’d observed plenty of other things about him, like the way his dark hair tumbled over his forehead as it dried, the intensity of his smoky eyes, the breadth of his shoulders—swimmer’s shoulders. And then there was his mouth. When he’d grinned at her a few minutes ago, it had been like watching the sun come out. Crinkly laugh lines had suddenly appeared at the corners of his lips and his eyes. The gleam of devilish humor in his gray eyes made them seem even more awesome than usual.

Belatedly realizing he’d caught her staring at him, she hurriedly said, “So exactly how did you break your leg?”

“I told you, I broke it in the line of duty. You didn’t seem too interested in hearing the details this morning.”

“That’s because you rattled me.”

“Really?”

“Who wouldn’t be rattled when a madman comes at them, waving a crutch and shouting like a banshee?”

“Why do I get the feeling that there isn’t much that rattles you?”

“I’ll take that as a compliment. And you still haven’t answered my question about how you broke your leg.”

“Would you believe I broke it falling out of bed at the firehouse?”

“That depends.”

“On what?”

“On whether or not that’s the truth.”

“It’s one version of it.”

“Truth doesn’t have versions.”

“Sure it does. Ask any cop. You get three witnesses and you’ll get three different versions of the truth.”

“So what’s your version?”

“I got clumsy.” Fighting fire left no place for being clumsy. “Fire is a jealous taskmaster,” he murmured, almost as if he were talking to himself. “She doesn’t like it when you take your attention off her, even for a second.”

“So fire is a female?”

Jack nodded.

In exasperation, she said, “Why is it that anything disastrous is female—hurricanes and now fires?”

“Hurricanes are named after guys now,” he pointed out. “But something as beautiful and powerful as fire has to be female. She’s like a living thing that eats...and hates. And in her eyes you’re nothing more than fuel. That’s all you are. Fuel.”

Kayla shivered. There was just something so matter-of-fact in his voice. “How can you talk about it that way? So calmly?”

“Because I fight fire. It’s what I do.”

“And doing it broke your leg?”

He shrugged. “I told you, I got clumsy. You’ve seen me on these crutches and you’ve got to agree, I’m not the most graceful guy you’ve ever seen.”

Not the most graceful, no—but certainly the most powerful. Yet for all of his strength, she experienced this sudden need to look after him. “Did you get your cast wet when you took your shower?”

“Nope. I put a garbage bag around it because the doc said to keep it dry.”

“What other orders did the doctor gave you yesterday?”

“Hey, no one gives me orders outside of the firehouse.”

Kayla sighed. Her instincts were right. This guy definitely needed a keeper. “Meaning you probably ignored whatever orders the doctor gave you, right? That was real bright. Do you enjoy being in pain?”

“Want me to tell you what I enjoy?” Jack countered, his gaze focused on her lush lips.

“I already know.”

“You do?”

She nodded and held up a bag of corn chips. “Junk food.”

“Among other things. Lots of other things.”

Kayla refused to be distracted. “Did the doctor give you a prescription?”

Jack nodded.

“Let me guess. You didn’t get it filled, did you.”

The look on his face said it all.

“What is it about men that makes them so stupid?” she demanded in annoyed exasperation. “Are they born that way or is it learned behavior? I think they’re born that way,” Kayla answered herself. “It’s some sort of defective gene, the same one that makes men refuse to ask directions or read instructions.”

“What do we need to read instructions for?”

“To get the job done faster.”

“There are plenty of times when slower is better,” he murmured, the look he gave her making it clear what those times were.

“Oh, I see. So slower is better when you’re in pain from a broken leg? Sure, that makes sense. Why take medication to make you feel better, right? I mean, that would be admitting that you’re human. That once in a blue moon you might need some help. Heaven forbid that should ever happen!”

Jack glared at her. His humor wasn’t helped by the fact that his leg was really throbbing in earnest now.

Seeing the pain etched on his face, Kayla felt remorse for yelling at Jack, even though he did deserve it. “If you’ll give me the doctor’s prescription, I’ll go get it filled for you,” she said quietly.

“Forget it. The stuff made me too groggy.”

“How do you know? You haven’t even taken it yet.”

“They gave me one at the hospital. I’ve got some over-the-counter stuff around here someplace. I’ll take a couple of those.”

“You bet you will,” she said, spying the bottle of analgesics near the kitchen sink. “What would you like to drink with it? Water or soda?”

“I’d say beer, if you’d gotten the right brand.”

“You’re not supposed to drink beer when taking these,” she told him. “Where do you keep your glasses?” she asked as she searched through the cabinets.

“I don’t have any right now. Just give me the can of soda.”

She did.

Jack took the pills, tilting back his head as he drank half the can in one go. He knew she was watching him. She’d been watching him since he’d gotten out of the shower. But there was a wariness in her gaze that didn’t sit well with him. Never one to beat around the bush, Jack said, “So who was the guy who gave you such a warped view of men?”

“I don’t have a warped view of men,” she immediately denied. “If anything, I have a clearer view than most.”

“And why is that?”

“Because I was married.”

“I guessed that much. And now you’re...?”

“Divorced.” She reached for another bag of groceries, noting that the chocolate mint ice cream had almost melted. Normally she had a system to putting away groceries, one that involved putting away the perishables first. But Jack’s appearance, half-naked and still dripping from his shower, had flustered her.

“What happened?”

“What do you mean what happened?” she repeated, worrying that he’d noticed the melting ice cream and somehow guessed he was the reason for it.

“With your marriage.”

“I’d rather not talk about it.”

“You’re not over him yet?”

“What makes you say that?”

“The look in your eyes. Kitten blue eyes. Ah, now they’re going all frosty. And when you laugh, they kind of shimmer.”

“I’ll bet you say that to all your girlfriends,” she declared before realizing what company that put her in. “Not that I’m one of your girlfriends,” she hurriedly clarified.

“Not yet,” Jack murmured.

“Not ever.” Pulling her scattered thoughts together, Kayla reached into her purse. “The bank put a rush on getting your new checks in. Until then, here are some temporary checks. The cash you wanted with your ATM card is in this envelope. And here’s the receipt for the groceries—the total was seventy-three sixteen. You can make me out a check for that.” She handed him the temporary checks, receipt and a pen.

“How do I make it out?” he asked.

“To Errands Unlimited. And don’t forget to call your friends back. You know, Misty and the gang....”

“They can wait. First I’m calling Vito’s Pizza for dinner.”

“Are you going to be okay here tonight?”

“Why?” Jack countered. “Are you offering to stay with me?”

“No. Misty and the gang were more than willing to come over and hold your hand.”

He shot her a devilish smile, one that was slow and sultry. “They just have a thing for a man in a uniform.”

“You’re not in a uniform now,” she noted with a telling look at his bare legs.

“So you noticed.”

“It’s hard not to,” she muttered. “Aren’t you cold?”

“No. Are you?”

Since she was fanning herself with the grocery receipt, she could hardly say yes. Instead she said, “I’m not the one wearing shorts.”

“More’s the pity,” Jack replied, his gaze traveling down her legs.

It was all Kayla could do not to tug on the hem of her skirt. The look he’d just given her made her feel as if she were wearing black fishnet stockings instead of perfectly respectable tights. “I’m leaving,” she firmly declared. “You’re clearly too stubborn to have anything happen to you, so I’m sure you’ll be fine on your own.” Not that she thought he’d be on his own very long.

“Hey, come back tomorrow and we’ll do this again,” Jack called out after her.

The sound of the door slamming was his only reply.

“So, buddy, tell me again why I had to spend my morning off patching this hole in your wall? Or maybe we should start with how you put a hole in the wall in the first place,” Boomer Laudermilk told Jack the next morning. Boomer was a ten-year veteran of the Chicago Fire Department, the same as Jack, and was one of Jack’s closest friends.

“It was a simple misunderstanding,” Jack replied.

“Yeah, right. Like the time the captain caught you short-sheeting his bed.”

“Something like that.”

“Which still doesn’t tell me much.”

“I smashed the tip of my crutch through the wallboard.”

Boomer’s bushy, blond eyebrow lifted almost to his hairline. “In a bad mood, were you?”

“I thought she was breaking in—”

Boomer interrupted him. “She? You didn’t tell me there was a woman involved. Man, I shoulda guessed. There’s always a woman involved where you’re concerned. So what happened this time? You fall for a female cat burglar?”

“I haven’t fallen for anyone! Certainly not a bossy errand girl named Kayla, even if she does have the best legs I’ve ever seen and incredibly big baby blue eyes that show her every emotion.”

“Uh-oh, buddy, this doesn’t sound good.”

“She’s got a kid,” Jack declared, as if that said it all.

“Is that a problem?”

Jack shrugged.

“Don’t your parents run a day care center?” Boomer asked.

Jack nodded.

“Then I’d think you’d be used to kids.”

“You’d think wrong. My folks are good with kids. Not me.”

“So what are you going to do about this Kayla woman you’re not falling for?” Boomer asked.

“Damned if I know.”

Kayla was running late when she got to Jack’s apartment Thursday afternoon. It didn’t help that she’d had to stop three places before finding Jack’s stupid imported ale and the right brand of salted beer nuts. On her way out yesterday, she’d given Ernie the Doorman the rejects. Ernie had responded by smiling at her, or at least she’d assumed the slight movement at the corner of his mouth was a smile—he wasn’t exactly the demonstrative type.

Now Jack was another matter entirely. He certainly let you know how he was feeling. She’d called a cleaning service to stop by this morning, only to have them call her back and say that Jack had thrown a fit and refused to let them in. It had taken Kayla fifteen minutes to calm down the cleaning service owner, a necessity since Kayla often worked with them. No, she was not feeling kindly toward Jack at the moment.

And those feelings took another nosedive when she saw the note taped to his front door. It had her name on it, as well as the name of the pizza place around the corner. Apparently Jack didn’t believe in using blank paper for writing when he could make do with odds and ends.

Along with her name, he’d written half a dozen errands for her to run—including buying a five-dollar lotto ticket, picking up the latest video releases, buying a package of men’s white jockey shorts in size thirty-four as well as a bottle of pricy perfume.

It sounded as if the man had something special planned.

So why did that bother her? Why should she care what he did with Misty or Mandy or any other woman? She didn’t care. It just irked her that he’d written the note as if she were a peon and he the great lord ordering her about. Not to mention her aggravation at the way he’d treated the cleaning service people this morning, after she’d gone to all that trouble to get him squeezed in. If Jack thought she was cleaning up after him, he was sadly mistaken.

She rang the bell and pounded on the door. When that got no response, she was about to get out her key when Jack finally answered the door. Seeing how pale he was, she asked, “What happened to you?”

“What do you mean what happened to me?” he growled. “I broke my damned stupid leg, that’s what happened. And then I was kept up most of the night with women calling me, trying out their phone-nurse routines, asking me what I’d do if I couldn’t work as a firefighter anymore. What the hell kind of question is that to ask a man?”

Since he was weaving on the crutches like a drunken sailor on shore leave, Kayla said, “Maybe you should sit down—”

“I’m fine,” he growled.

“You don’t have to snap my head off,” she said, inexplicably hurt by his curtness. “I was just trying to help you...”

“I don’t need any help.” His words were gritty with anger and frustration. This was only his third day in the cast and already he was going nuts.

“Right. I can tell you’re doing just peachy on your own,” Kayla mockingly noted, waving her hand at the living room strewn with clothes, newspapers, dirty dishes and empty bottles and cans. “Why did you send away the cleaning people?”

“Because I don’t want strangers around. Besides, I told you I hate people fussing over me,” he growled.

“Yes, well, I hate people fainting on me,” she retorted, “and that’s what you’re going to do if you don’t take it easy.”

“I’ve never passed out in my life.”

“There’s always a first time, big boy.”

“Listen, little girl,” Jack shot back, “don’t order me around!”

“Hey, don’t yell at me because your girlfriends kept you up all night” was her immediate comeback.

An x-rated reply was on the tip of his tongue, but he bit it back because the truth was that Kayla had been the one who had kept him up all night—in every sense of the word. Jack hadn’t been able to get her off his mind and that was driving him out of his mind.

“That wasn’t yelling. THIS IS YELLING,” he shouted, working up a good head of steam. “If this is the way you treat your other clients, I’m surprised you’re not out of business. You couldn’t even buy a simple bottle of beer and some beer nuts without screwing up!”

Kayla didn’t care if this job might lead to good things for her company, nobody was going to talk to her that way! “If you don’t stop yelling at me, I’m going to break your other leg!”

“This isn’t going to work,” Jack declared. “I’m going to hire someone else.”

“You didn’t hire me, your Uncle Ralph did.”

Jack waved her words away as if they were of no importance. “I’ll get someone else.”

“Good luck. You’re so impossible no one would work for you! Your uncle warned me about you.”

“Yeah, well, he didn’t warn me about you. He should have known better. He knows I don’t like bossy women.”

“You want to hire someone else? Fine. I’ll even help you find them,” Kayla stated, her anger fiery hot at his accusation that she was bossy. Retrieving her ever-handy notebook from her oversize purse, she said, “I’ll write up the help-wanted ad for you. Let’s see... how about ‘impossible, irritable, arrogant man looking for blindly devoted slave to run errands for him at any time of the day or night. Salary—not enough. Benefits—none. No appreciation, no courtesy.’”

“Wrong. The ad should read ‘Good-looking, smart, good-natured guy with great sense of humor looking for temporary help. Emotional types need not apply.’”

“Emotional types?” she repeated in disbelief. “I’m not emotional! You’re just impossible! You’d try the patience of a saint.”

“You’re claiming to be a saint?”

“Of course not. If I were, I wouldn’t be irritated by your preposterous demands and outlandish expectations....”

“Irritated? Oh, I think you went past irritated some time ago,” Jack retorted. “Try furious and bossy.”

“Stop calling me bossy!”

“Or what?” he taunted her.

Too furious to say another word, she turned to leave.

Afterward Kayla couldn’t be sure if Jack reached out a hand to prevent her from leaving...or to open the door to boot her out.

Either way, he tottered on his crutches and ended up flattening her against the closed door—tumbling her into his arms.

Three

Kayla instinctively put her arms around Jack’s waist to steady him. His breath was warm and minty against her cheek as he braced his arms against the door, his hands on either side of her head. His lower torso was intimately pressed against hers so that she could feel every bone and sinew of his muscular frame.

She saw the hunger flare in his incredible smoky eyes even as she felt the throbbing of his arousal through his running shorts. Her coat was open, and her denim skirt wasn’t thick enough to provide any protection against the heated intensity of his powerful body.

Not that she wanted protection. She wanted him to kiss her. He did, slowly but fiercely consuming her as if he had all the time in the world to enjoy every millimeter of her mouth and couldn’t wait a second longer to do so.

This was no first kiss. There was no tentativeness, no awkwardness. Instead there was an uncontrollable passion, flaring with wild abandon. What her lips asked for, his tongue took. His mouth was slanted ravenously across hers as each velvety stroke of his tongue fueled the fire deep within her.

Kayla hung on for dear life. But she was no passive partner. She melted against him, wrapping her arms more tightly around his waist, wrapping her tongue around his in an erotic tousle that was as elemental as fire itself.

The blood was pounding through her body. In his arms she was a different person, forgetting everything but him. She shivered with excitement as she felt his fingertips gliding up her thigh, lifting the hem of her skirt. Fiery licks of pleasure danced over her skin wherever he touched her.

Things got so intense that her knees shook, her head swam and there was a buzzing in her ears. A loud buzzing....

It wasn’t until Jack lifted his lips from hers that reality returned. She snatched her hands away from him as if burned.

“What was that?” Kayla whispered, holding her trembling fingers to her lips.

“The door buzzer.”

“No. I meant...that...between us—” she waved her hand toward him. “Where did that come from?”

“Okay, I admit, you turned me on...”

She blushed. “I wasn’t talking about anatomy. I meant, we hardly know each other. You’re a client.” She raised her hands to her burning cheeks as she muttered, “I don’t do things like this.”

The intercom buzzer sounded again, more stridently this time.

“You better get that,” she said, leaning down to get Jack’s fallen crutches for him. As she did so, her forehead almost brushed against his thighs.

Muttering under his breath, he took the crutches and made his way the few feet to the intercom. “What?” Jack growled into the speaker.

“This is Ernie, your doorman. I just thought you might be interested in knowing that a traffic officer is stopped farther down the street and is issuing parking tickets.”

“Why the hell would I care?”

“Because your visitor double-parked her minivan in front of the building.”

“Did you double-park out front?” Jack asked Kayla.

“Yes! I was only going to stay a minute, drop off your beer and beer nuts. I’ve got to go!”

“Wait! You’ll come back, right?” Seeing her hesitation, Jack said, “You’re not really going to quit, are you? You didn’t seem like the type to give up easily.”

“I don’t aim on giving up...anything,” Kayla quietly informed him before closing the door in his face.

By the time Kayla went to pick up her daughter at the day care center that evening, she felt as if she’d been run over by a truck. She hadn’t been fast enough to avoid getting a parking ticket at Jack’s, and her day had continued to go downhill from there. The Shellburgers’ dry cleaning had gotten lost and it had taken her an hour at the cleaners to retrieve it. A simple exchange at the shoe store for Sally Galanter had also turned into a fiasco.

And then there was The Kiss—the one Kayla was determined to wipe from her mind. No amount of determination could completely erase the steamy memories, however.

Still, it helped when Kayla walked into the day care center and switched into “Mommy” mode.

But she’d no sooner stepped into the building when her beeper went off. Checking it, she recognized Diane’s number. Unfortunately Kayla’s cellular phone battery had just gone out on her not an hour before, forcing her to ask the day care owner, Corky O’Malley, if she could use her phone.

“Sure,” Corky cheerfully replied. Her short dark hair was generously peppered with white, creating a salt-and-pepper look that reminded Kayla of her own mother. There the similarity ended, however. Corky was much more loving and giving than Kayla’s mother had ever been. “Come on back and use the phone in my office. It’s quieter there.”

“Thanks.” Kayla quickly called Diane and reported in, assuring her that she had indeed found the missing dry cleaning.

“Rough day?” Corky asked sympathetically once Kayla had hung up.

“You could say that. There’s one client in particular who is the most demanding man I’ve ever met. You wouldn’t believe...”

Kayla’s voice faded away as she stared in amazement at the framed photo on Corky’s desk. She’d never used Corky’s phone before, but she had certainly seen the man in that photo before. He’d been kissing her senseless not three hours ago.

“What wouldn’t I believe?” Corky prompted her.

“Who is that in the picture, if you don’t mind my asking?”

“I don’t mind at all,” Corky replied. “That’s my son, Jack.”

“Jack Elliott?”

“Why, yes. Do you know him?”

“But your name is O’Malley,” Kayla stuttered before gathering her wits. “I’m sorry, that was rude of me. It’s really none of my business.”

“We adopted Jack when he was thirteen. He claimed that Jack O’Malley sounded like the name of a bar, so he kept Elliott. Actually, I think the truth was that Jack felt it would be disloyal to his natural parents to discard their name since they’d only died a few years before. Not that he’d ever say that. Ah, but he’s a stubborn one, is our Jack.”

“You can say that again,” Kayla muttered.

“So you do know him. Oh, my!” Corky grinned. “Could Jack be that impossible client you were referring to?”

Kayla thought about denying it before guiltily nodding. “I’m afraid so.”

“Don’t feel bad about it, dear. I’ve said worse about him myself. I tried to help him right after he broke his leg, but he was like a bear. I’m his mother and I couldn’t cope with him when I went over there. He said I fussed too much. Are you the surprise my brother Ralph said he was getting for Jack?”

“Yes, I am. I gather Ralph has gotten surprises for Jack before,” she said before blushing, wondering if his mom knew about the exotic dancer Ralph had sent over.

Apparently Corky did, because she grinned before saying, “Ralph thinks very highly of Jack. So do L Don’t get me wrong, I love him dearly. He’s courageous, loyal, caring. He likes helping others and is always the first to face any challenge. In fact, the word impossible is not in Jack’s vocabulary. But he does have a few faults.”

“He seems very popular with women.”

Corky nodded. “He always has been, ever since he was in junior high school. They flock around him like bees to honey. He’s played the field for so long that I wonder if he’ll ever settle down. Not that he wouldn’t make a good husband. He would. I just want him to be happy.”

“This is just so weird, your being his mom and running Ashley’s day care center.”

“It’s a small world, hmm?”

“So have you learned any way of dealing with Jack’s stubbornness?”

“I’m afraid not. The good news is that he comes to his senses sooner or later. There’s just no hurrying him along. How bad was he?”

“On a scale of one to ten, he was about an eight.”

“And his apartment?” Corky asked. “Did it still look like a bomb had gone off in it?” Seeing her hesitation, Corky added, “You don’t have to lie, believe me, nothing can be as bad as his room used to be when he was a teenager. Funny how he always knew where everything was, though. He’s really not a total slob, and I raised him to be quite a good cook. You should try his Irish stew sometime.”

“I don’t know about that...” Kayla muttered.

“So what did he do to upset you today?”

Kayla couldn’t exactly tell her that Jack had kissed her as if she were the only woman in the world for him and that she’d kissed him back with the same heated intensity. So she focused on his other misdemeanors instead. “I hired a cleaning service to stop by his place but he refused to let them in. And I got a parking ticket for double-parking in front of his building to drop off this stupid imported beer he likes.”

“Ah, blame the beer on my husband, Sean. He got Jack going on that Irish brand of ale.”

“Mommy, Mommy!” Ashley yelled from outside the office. “I’s here. Look!” She waved a large piece of paper, half-crumpled in her excitement. “I got stars!”

“So you did, sweetie.” Kayla leaned down to give her daughter a big hug before smoothing out Ashley’s artwork. “Let me see.”

“It’s a monster. Like that mean man who walks with trees. I bet he kilt those trees. Put a spell on them. Made them fly through the wall.”

“Those aren’t trees, they’re called crutches and the man was using them because he broke his leg.”

“How come he broke his leg?”

“It was an accident.”

“Like the time I spilt my milk all over?”

“Something like that.”

“I don’ like him,” Ashley declared. “Hugs don’ like him, neither.” She lifted her ever-present teddy bear as if to prove her point.

“Is my son Jack the monster Ashley has been talking about for the past two days?” Corky asked.

“There was a slight misunderstanding when we first arrived,” Kayla replied. “He thought I was trying to break in.... Anyway, it all worked out in the end.”

“Jack never has been very good with little ones,” Corky admitted regretfully. “He never stops by the day care center when the kids are here. I’m not sure why he avoids children, perhaps they remind him of a time when he was young and vulnerable.”

“I’s hungry now, Mommy,” Ashley announced. “Hugs is hungry, too. Hugs wants choclotts for dinner.”

“Hugs has to eat what we eat and we don’t eat chocolate for dinner,” Kayla stated. “We’re having spaghetti.”

“I want mine naked,” Ashley said.

“She doesn’t like spaghetti sauce,” Kayla explained for Corky’s benefit.

“An’ I don’ like the monster man, neither!” Ashley declared.

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.