Книга - Love and the Single Mum

Love and the Single Mum
C.J. Carmichael


Overcoming her Ex-factors took perseverance…She was an ex-wife, ex-lawyer and soon-to-be ex-owner if her restaurant didn' t turn around. To top things off, Margo Evans' s ex was getting married again. What if her two children preferred their new stepmom?But all was not lost. A new lunchtime regular, Robert Brooks, seemed likely to add some spice to her life–or he would if a single mom hadn' t recently left him standing at the altar, wrenching away the child he' d begun to love.Could Margo coax the conservative banker to swallow his fear of women with kids? And show him to a table for four?SINGLES…WITH KIDSIs it really possible to find true love when you' re single…with kids?









“Margo? Are you still there?”


“Yes.” Barely.

“Catherine and I were hoping you’d come to the reception. We feel it’s important for the children that they see this wedding has your support.”

Did he know what he was asking? Margo rubbed her forehead. Forget the children being overwhelmed. What about her?

It was dizzying how fast her life had changed. She’d gone from being a married woman and practicing lawyer to a single mother with a business of her own. She’d adjusted—but was she ready to watch her ex-husband marry another woman?

And yet, she knew Tom had a point. For their kids’ sake, she had to do this. “Give me the restaurant name and time and I’ll be there.”

Slipping the phone back into her apron, she leaned into her chair.

This was so unreal.

In the year they’d been living apart, Tom had had his affair with Janna, and now he was marrying someone named Catherine whom she had never met.

Her ex had been busy.

And in all that time, she hadn’t gone on a single date.


Dear Reader,

When hearts break, dreams die and a marriage ends, sometimes the idea of loving again feels like an impossible fantasy. Especially when kids are in the picture.

Dating is challenging enough without adding the complication of children to the mix. Single parents are busy people. Working, raising kids and running a household all on your own leaves precious little time for dating. And yet, given the contemporary divorce rate, this is the reality many of us face.

I’d like to welcome you to a new series about women (and men) who find themselves in this exact situation. In Love and the Single Mom you’ll meet Margo Evans. Once Margo was full of hopes for her future. She studied law, became a lawyer, married a smart man and had two beautiful children. She thought she was living her dream—until her marriage fell apart.

Suddenly single, Margo reassesses her goals and decides to open a bistro. With two children and a new business to worry about, she definitely doesn’t have time for dating. Or so she thinks…

I hope you enjoy this story, as well as the other books in SINGLES…WITH KIDS. If you would like to write or send e-mail, I would be delighted to hear from you through my Web site at www.cjcarmichael.com. Or send mail to the following Canadian address: #1754-246 Stewart Green, S.W., Calgary, Alberta, T3H 3C8, Canada.

Happy reading!

C.J. Carmichael




Love and the Single Mum

C.J. Carmichael





www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)




ABOUT THE AUTHOR


Hard to imagine a more glamorous life than being an accountant, isn’t it? Still, C.J. Carmichael gave up the thrills of income tax forms and double entry bookkeeping when she sold her first book in 1998. She has now written over twenty novels for Harlequin Books and strongly suggests you look elsewhere for financial planning advice.


To my good friends Ann and Dave Mallory.

Wishing you health, happiness and bonne chance.




CONTENTS


CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY




CHAPTER ONE


Thursday’s Soup of the Day:

Squashed Pear

THERE WAS THAT MAN AGAIN. As Margo Evans accepted change from a customer, her attention lingered on the guy who’d just entered her bistro. He was in his mid-thirties, dressed in a business suit. Just as he had yesterday, he claimed a table in the back near the kitchen even though several seats by the windows were available. Immediately he pulled out a newspaper and notepad from his briefcase, and before he’d even ordered anything to eat, his BlackBerry started to ring.

It was two-thirty in the afternoon. A slow time between lunch and rush hour. They had only one other customer, a woman in her forties who was reading a novel as she sipped her coffee. Still…the guy had his nerve.

Gritting her teeth, Margo pulled out the sign her daughter, Ellie, had made for her last night: No Cell Phones Please. Ellie must have used every marker in the sixteen-color pack. It was a terrific sign. Margo taped it so that it hung down from the counter facing the guy in the suit.

But he was hunched over his BlackBerry and didn’t notice.

How annoying. She didn’t mind if her patrons took the occasional call, but if he planned to stay several hours, as he had yesterday, she was going to have to make him aware of the rules.

She went around the counter and slipped next to Emma Greenfield. Em’s kids were in high school now and she worked Monday to Friday, eight hours a day. “Do we have a zucchini chocolate cake in reserve?”

“I think so.”

“Good. Nora’s stopping by for coffee later, and that’s one of her favorites.” Nora Clark was a new friend Margo had made a few months ago. One of the perks of owning a bistro was that she was always making new friends. But Nora was special. Like Margo, she was a single mom, too, and they always had lots to talk about.

“We’ve got the cake,” Em assured her. “But we’re running low on the soup.”

Margo peered into the cauldron and saw that Em was right. They were down to the dregs, and if yesterday was anything to judge by, the guy in the suit was going to order several bowls of the stuff.

“Those soups of yours are the most popular item on the menu,” Em said, as she wiped down the espresso machine. The beautiful red La Marzocco had been costly—even more than Margo’s beloved Garland stove in the back—and Em treated it with the same attention that a car lover would bestow on a vintage automobile.

“Yes, the soup always sells out, doesn’t it?” In fact, business was generally brisk and the feedback on the food was excellent. So why wasn’t she making any money?

Margo couldn’t figure it out. Lots of people had warned her about the work and the risks involved in starting a new business—particularly a restaurant, where hours were long and competition tight. Among those who had been the most cautious were the loans manager at the bank, her ex-husband Tom and her former associates at the law firm. She’d known they were right, but she hadn’t appreciated just how right they would turn out to be.

Margo pulled the stainless steel soup container from its slot and headed for the kitchen. As she passed the guy in the suit, their eyes connected briefly.

Had they met before? Several times yesterday she’d had the feeling that they had. For a moment it seemed as if he was going to say something to her, but then his BlackBerry beeped and he turned his attention back to that.

He looked like a typical businessman in his mid-thirties. The kind of customer she saw many times every day. He was conservative and clean-cut and totally boring….

Except for his eyes. His smile was kind of cute, too.

With her hip Margo pushed open the door to the narrow kitchen. Centered on the back wall was the stainless steel Garland. She stirred the pot of thick, fragrant squash and pear soup that simmered on the back burner, then refilled the cauldron and lugged it back to the serving area out front.

One of her regular customers was just walking in. Margo stopped to chat with the older gentleman for a while and she smiled when he told her that his afternoon coffee was the highlight of his day.

“I always feel happy when I’m here,” Oscar said in a whisper, as if it was something to feel ashamed of.

“So do I,” Margo whispered back.

And she was. Her bistro was everything she’d ever dreamed it would be—except profitable. Margo had expected to lose money the first few months, but with a year of operation behind her she was getting desperate to creep out of the red.

The guy in the suit appeared at the counter as soon as she had the soup in place. He caught her eye. “Smells wonderful. I’ll have a bowlful of that, plus another of those scones.”

As she took his money, the recognition thing bugged her again. “Have we—?”

But before she could complete her question, his phone rang. He was wearing small earphones, so he was able to talk to whomever was on the line and carry his food back to his table all at the same time.

“That guy is starting to get on my nerves,” Em commented quietly.

“Maybe I should take Ellie’s sign and flash it in his face.”

Em laughed. “Yeah. You do that.”

“I’m serious.” She started to lift the tape that was holding the sign to the counter, only to hear the sound of ringing yet again. It wasn’t Suit Guy’s BlackBerry this time—she was embarrassed to realize it was her own cell phone.

Em’s hair was turning gray, but her eyebrows were still coal-black. She raised them now and Margo apologized.

“It might be an emergency. I’ll just be a sec.” She withdrew to the kitchen where she pulled her phone from the pocket of her white apron. Only the kids’ school and Tom had this number and they knew better than to use it casually.

Had one of the kids taken ill? Been injured on the playground? With a feeling of dread, Margo said hello.

“Margo?”

Not hearing the school secretary on the other end was a plus. But the familiar voice of her ex-husband didn’t exactly fill her with joy. “Hi, Tom.”

“Sorry to bother you at the bistro. But I needed to talk to you when the kids wouldn’t be around.”

Margo sank into a chair. This didn’t sound like it was leading up to something good. “What’s wrong?”

The final paperwork on the divorce had been signed last week. Everything had been running so smoothly lately that she hadn’t expected to hear from Tom again in a long while.

“I’ve got some news. And I was wondering about the best way to tell Ellie and Peter.”

This sounded big. Margo always wore her hair up at work, but she found a stray wisp and coiled it around her finger. “What is it?” Had he been transferred? Was he planning to move? Oh, God, give her strength if that was the case.

“I’m getting married.”

“Wha—?” Margo’s brain stalled. How could he be getting married? The ditzy paralegal he’d had his affair with had left their law firm in disgrace shortly after Margo’s resignation. Ironically it was only Tom’s career that had survived that scandal. “I didn’t know you were still seeing Janna.”

“I’m not. My fiancée’s name is Catherine. She works part-time as a receptionist at Henry’s firm.”

Henry Kovatch was Tom’s best friend. And supposedly one of hers, too. The three of them had been inseparable in law school. “Did Henry set you up?”

“Well…yes.”

Hmm. Why hadn’t Henry set her up with someone? Then again, the only people Henry knew were lawyers and people who worked with lawyers. And she definitely didn’t want to get involved with another one of them.

“Catherine and I have been dating for about four months.”

“That’s all? And you want to get married?”

“I know it seems impulsive—”

“Seems?” Tom was the least impulsive person she’d ever known. On the other hand, he liked having a woman around to take care of him, which was one of the reasons their marriage had failed. Margo had expected to be an equal partner sort of wife. Not a mother fill-in. “This Catherine must be something else.”

“She’s wonderful. As soon as I met her I knew she was the one.”

Margo closed her eyes. Tom had once said that about her. Did he remember?

He’d told her she was the prettiest, most amazing woman in the world and that nothing would make him happier than spending the rest of his life with her.

Apparently he’d meant his life or ten years, whichever came first.

Damn, she never had been one to read the fine print. Good thing she’d left the law. Like her marriage to Tom it was one of those things she’d thought she’d wanted, only to be disillusioned with the reality.

“Well…” Spit it out, Margo. “Congratulations. Have the kids met her?”

“Sure. They get along great.”

Funny. Neither Ellie nor Peter had ever mentioned Catherine to her. Then again, neither had they mentioned anything about the new silver Audi roadster that Margo had seen in the garage the last time she’d dropped them off at Tom’s for the weekend.

“Catherine loves them, too. This is going to work out really well, Margo. I have no doubt about that.”

God help them all if he was wrong. “So when is this wedding taking place?”

“That’s the thing. See, we’d been planning a big church wedding, then last week we got the idea to do something simple and easy at city hall.”

“Okay… But when?”

“That’s what I needed to talk to you about. I know this is your weekend to have the kids, but I was hoping—”

“This weekend? You’re getting married this weekend?”

“Would you calm down, Margo. Yes, I’m getting married this weekend. And I’d like the kids to be there.”

In ten years of marriage, he’d never surprised her so much.

“If it’s okay with you, I’ll pick Ellie and Peter up after school on Friday—”

“That’s tomorrow.” Did Ellie’s pink dress shoes still fit her? Well, they’d have to. He’d left them no time to go shopping. “Do they know that you and Catherine are getting married?”

“Well, Catherine has practically been living with me the last few weeks, so I don’t think they’ll be too surprised.”

“Tom—”

“Don’t worry. I’m sure they’ll be fine with it. Like I said, they like Catherine.”

This was all so very not fine that Margo didn’t have a clue where to start. The kids were going to be overwhelmed. A new stepmother, at the drop of a hat. How could Tom sound so cavalier about something that was going to totally change all of their lives?

Including hers.

Adjusting to a separate life from the father of her children was one thing. Having another woman in her children’s lives was something else. Margo had known this would happen one day. She hadn’t expected the day to arrive so soon, though.

“Margo? Are you still there?”

“Yes.” Barely.

“Catherine and I were hoping you’d come to the reception, after city hall. We’re having a few people to that new rooftop restaurant at Embarcadero Center and we feel it’s important for the children that they see this wedding has your support.”

Good God. Did he know what he was asking? Margo rubbed her forehead. Forget the children being overwhelmed. What about her?

It was dizzying how fast her life had changed this year. She’d gone from being a married woman and practicing lawyer, to a single mother with a business of her own. She’d adjusted marvelously—at least she felt she had—but was she ready to watch her ex-husband marry another woman?

And yet, she knew Tom had a point. For their kids’ sake, she had to do this. “Give me the restaurant name and time and I’ll be there.”

Margo jotted down Tom’s instructions, then wished him the best and disconnected the call. Slipping the phone back into her apron, she leaned into her chair and just sat.

This was so unreal.

In the year they’d been living apart, Tom had had his affair with Janna and now he was marrying someone named Catherine whom she had never met.

Her ex had been busy.

And in all that time, she hadn’t gone on a single date.




CHAPTER TWO


Days Unemployed: 4

“DID YOU GET MY RÉSUMÉ? I faxed it to your office yesterday.” As Robert Brookman spoke into his BlackBerry, he kept his eyes on the pretty blonde behind the counter.

He’d heard the older woman who served the coffee, and several of the other customers, refer to her as Margo. Which meant she must be the bistro owner.

Shifting his gaze to the notebook in front of him, he focused his attention back on his call.

“Great. Well, let me know as soon as you hear something.” He said goodbye to his headhunter, then frowned. Finding a new job was going to take some time, he knew. He just wished Donald Macleod was a little more bullish about the job market in San Francisco right now.

He checked out the blonde again.

Margo. He liked the sound of the name. Just as he liked the woman it belonged to. She greeted all her customers as if she was glad to see them. And he didn’t think it was an act. She was just one of those naturally warm, sincere sort of people who enjoyed the company of others.

She was also a terrific cook.

He forced his gaze to the career section of the San Francisco Chronicle. He circled a few possibilities, then sent an e-mail to Donald. What Donald didn’t understand was that Robert hadn’t been unemployed since he’d graduated from college over ten years ago.

Though he’d lost his job through no fault of his own, and had received a nice compensation package in exchange, Robert didn’t like the feeling of being out of work. He needed to get back behind a desk as soon as possible.

Robert finished his cup of coffee and considered requesting a refill. But at that moment, Margo disappeared into the kitchen. A moment later she reemerged, without her apron, and left the restaurant with a wave and a smile to the older woman behind the counter.

He checked the time. It was quarter past three. She’d left the bistro at this time yesterday, too. He sighed, then snapped shut his briefcase and pocketed the BlackBerry.

Tomorrow he’d just have to get here earlier.

It had been eight months since his breakup with Belinda and he was ready to move on. He’d tried dating a few women he’d met through work, but none of them had inspired much interest. Margo was the first to really capture his attention…and she didn’t wear a wedding ring, so she seemed like a good candidate.

The only thing holding him back was the niggling feeling that he’d met her before. He wished he could recall where and when. Might save him some potential embarrassment when he finally worked up the nerve to ask her out.



USUALLY MARGO looked forward to seeing her children at the end of their day. Not today.

How unfair of Tom to leave the telling of his news to her. She was very afraid that the kids were going to be badly shocked. She could imagine Ellie stalking off in anger and Peter crying uncontrollably, the way he had when his father had first moved out of the family home.

Tell Daddy not to go.

He’d fallen to the floor with his sobs and Margo had picked him up. Hugged him and soothed him. Fortunately, with counseling, her children had recovered from that rough patch. But it was still a time Margo couldn’t bear to think back on.

It was amazing to her that Tom was serious about marrying someone she had never even heard the kids mention. Though, to be fair, the kids didn’t talk much to her about what they did when they were at Tom’s house. It was as if Ellie and Peter lived in two separate worlds, with no points of intersection between them.

Did other children of divorced parents act that way? Margo wished she had someone to ask. But the only single mom she knew—Nora—was widowed, not divorced.

Margo stopped on the corner next to the playground. Several other parents and caregivers were congregated here and she smiled at the father of one of her daughter’s friends.

“Beautiful day, isn’t it?”

“Can’t beat spring time in San Francisco.” Allan White was a stay-at-home dad. His wife happened to also be a lawyer. “Did Ellie get her book report done on time? Stephanie and I were up until eleven last night.”

“Oh?” Ellie was such a responsible student that Margo rarely asked her about her homework. She was about to question Allan more about the project, when the school buzzer sounded. Soon kids were streaming out the doors, and Peter was one of the first.

A towhead like she had been at his age, he wasn’t as keen on his studies as his sister. He spotted her, grinned, then ran in her direction.

After a big hello hug, he asked if he could play while they waited for Ellie.

“Sure, honey.” Margo watched as he raced toward the monkey bars, then swung his way toward his favorite slide. Ellie didn’t show up for another ten minutes. As a fifth grade student, she felt she was too old to be walking home from school with her mother and baby brother. Privately Margo sympathized with her, but Tom was nervous about the South of Market neighborhood and so she continued to accompany the kids.

“Did you hand in your book report?” Margo asked her daughter when she finally showed up.

Ellie gave her a withering look that reminded Margo painfully of Tom. “Of course.” Ellie took a brisk pace toward home, and Margo had to hustle Peter to follow her.

“Please slow down a little, Ellie. Your brother’s legs aren’t as long as yours.”

Ellie said nothing to that, but she did reduce her speed marginally.

“So…” Margo still hadn’t come up with a great way to tell them their father’s news. Feeling awkward, she said, “I guess you guys know that your father has found someone that he really cares about.”

Peter looked at her blankly.

“She means Catherine,” Ellie explained over her shoulder.

“That’s right. Catherine. Your father says you’ve had a chance to get to know her?”

Ellie shrugged. “Sort of.”

“Well. Is she nice?”

“Sure,” Peter said.

“She’s okay.”

“I’m glad you both like her.”

Ellie stopped walking and eyed her suspiciously. “Why?”

Margo swallowed, but her mouth remained dry. “Your dad called me today and wanted me to tell you something.”

Spit it out, Margo.

“Your father and Catherine have decided to get married.” Margo swallowed again. “This weekend.”

She waited for the fallout, but nothing happened.

“Cool,” Ellie said, then resumed walking.

“Cool,” Peter echoed, his eyes on his sister, as if he needed to gauge her reaction in order to determine his own.

“So you’re okay with this?” Margo asked her daughter.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

Indeed. “Good.”

That had been so much easier than she’d expected. And yet Margo didn’t feel entirely satisfied with the children’s reactions. Could it be she didn’t want Catherine to be a nice person? That she would have been happier to have her children kick up a fuss?

Bitterness curdled on her tongue and she had the urge to lash out. To say something shallow and mean-spirited about Tom and the speed with which he’d replaced her. To disparage a woman she’d never even met.

Why…I’m jealous.

Margo was disappointed in herself, but she couldn’t deny her own feelings. The truth was, she felt a little usurped by Catherine and she would have preferred it if her kids had said something even just a little negative about her.

Ellie and Peter were hers. She’d given birth to them and raised them and loved them. Just because Tom wanted another woman in his life didn’t mean she and the kids did.

Only…maybe her kids did want Catherine in their lives. They hadn’t given any sign that they didn’t.

By the time they reached the bistro, Margo felt close to tears. She watched her kids scoot up onto stools where Em had milk and cookies waiting. They attacked the snack like starving creatures. Lately it seemed Ellie couldn’t get her hands on enough food, while her younger brother was always thirsty.

They were so cute. Peter with his missing front teeth and mischievous blue eyes. Ellie, so serious and grown-up acting, the way she’d always been, even as a baby.

Margo hated that their innocence was being marred by this divorce. Their father moving out had only been the beginning of the hurdles they would face, she now realized. Next would be the new stepmother. And possibly halfsiblings sometime down the road.

Feeling her anger toward Tom mounting, Margo made an excuse to go to the kitchen. The table at the back was now occupied by two young men in leather jackets and artfully disheveled hair. She wondered if she’d seen the last of Suit Guy and was surprised to realize she felt a bit disappointed at the idea.

In the kitchen she allowed herself to slam the copper pots around a little. Life was so unfair at times. She hated being divorced. Learning to share her time with the kids had been difficult enough. Now she had to stand on the sidelines as Tom moved on and married again.

The kitchen door swung open, and Em breezed into the room. She pulled her apron over her head, then shoved it into the dirty laundry basket. “Sandy just showed up, so I’m off.”

Margo knew “off” was a relative term. Em would be going home to prepare dinner for her husband and starving teenagers. Then she’d spend her evening either watching her son play basketball, or driving her daughter to dance lessons.

“We have some leftover muffins from the morning. Want to take them for the kids’ lunches tomorrow?” Margo bagged them as she made the offer and Em accepted the package gratefully. A moment later Sandy—a college student with shoulder-length brown hair and serious, wide-set green eyes—popped in to grab an apron.

“It’s quiet out there, thank goodness.”

Margo could guess what she meant by that. “Edward hasn’t shown up yet?”

“Second time this week.” Sandy shook her head, slipped on the apron, then hurried back to the front.

Margo was glad she had Sandy to rely upon. Two months ago, Edward had seemed like a good hire. At first impression, he’d been good-natured, motivated and pleasant. But the day after she’d given him the job, he’d come to work with rings in his lip and eyebrow, as well as a stud through his tongue. Margo had nothing against self-expression, but it had seemed slightly deceitful to her that he had hidden his piercings for the job interview.

Lately, he’d been arriving late for work and shirking cleanup duties at the end of his shift. Today, when he finally arrived and came to the back to get an apron, he avoided eye contact with her.

“Hi, Edward. How are things?”

“Fine.” He still didn’t look at her.

“You’ve been running behind quite a bit lately. Is anything wrong?”

He shook his head, eyes still averted.

Margo sighed. “Are you sure there isn’t a problem?”

“No. Everything’s good.”

Margo tilted her head to one side. If there was one thing she was sure about, it was this. Everything was not good. Not with Edward, not with the bistro and not with her life.

But how to begin tackling the problems, she had no idea.



A MESSAGE WAS WAITING for Robert on his machine when he got home from the gym. He dumped his sports bag near the closet, then hit the playback button, hoping the call would be from his headhunter. But the recorded voice was about thirty years too young for that.

“Hey, Robert, it’s Andrew. Maybe you didn’t get my other message, but I was wondering if you could come to my birthday party tomorrow? It’s at six o’clock and Mom’s making a chocolate cake. Well, she’ll probably buy it, but it’ll be chocolate for sure. Um…see you then. Bye.”

Robert stared at the machine for several seconds, before erasing the message. Feeling like the biggest jerk on the planet, he hit the shower, trying not to remember Andrew’s last birthday party.

He’d bought the boy a fishing pole and foolishly he’d made a bunch of promises, never dreaming that he might not be able to deliver on them. Even now he didn’t know who’d been more excited about those pie-in-the-sky plans—him or Andrew.

Robert shut off the water, dried quickly then contemplated the remaining hours of the evening. He hadn’t eaten, and after his workout, he was starving. There were some frozen entrées on hand, or he could call for take-out, but he found himself craving…soup.

The squashed pear soup at Margo’s today had been delicious. Even better than the sunshine carrot from the day before.

As he made up his mind to go, Robert knew it wasn’t just the food he was after. Sure it was good and the atmosphere at the bistro was warm and welcoming, but there was something more compelling pulling at him: the friendly woman who owned the place.

As he passed by the phone on his way out, he tried not to think of the boy who’d left him that message. He knew Andrew would be home, waiting and hoping, and his heart ached to think of that.

But what could he do? Belinda had said no contact, and she was the boy’s mom.



FIFTEEN MINUTES LATER, Robert stepped inside Margo’s Bistro. The place was small, holding ten tables, max, not counting the annex through an archway to his left. The colors of the decor were vivid, but the tones blended harmoniously—sort of like the flavors in Margo’s soups.

Robert checked behind the counter. The older brunette he’d seen on his previous two visits wasn’t on duty now. Instead, two college-aged kids were at work. The girl seemed to be hustling her buns off. The guy acted as if he was annoyed about something.

Robert scanned the rest of the room, disappointed when he didn’t spot Margo. He’d taken a chance, hoping she might have returned for the evening, but it hadn’t paid off.

Since he was here anyway, he lined up to place his order. Reflectively, he dug his hands into the pockets of his jeans. He touched a piece of cardboard and pulled out one of his old business cards.

Robert Brookman, MBA, Senior Account Manager, Wells Fargo.

Hard to believe that only last week this had been him. He’d been someone important, an employee at one of San Francisco’s oldest and most prestigious banks. He’d been on his way up, a man bound for success.

He’d had an office and colleagues, a desk and a mound of work waiting for him at the start of every day. He’d taken pleasure in tackling and conquering those files before the closing of every night….

Robert Brookman, MBA, Senior Account Manager. That was who he was. Or who he had been. A busy, important person whose every minute of every day was spoken for.

Now he had the disorienting notion that if he suddenly disappeared, if someone walked into this bistro right now with a gun and forced him out into a waiting car, no one would notice. He could be gone a week, a month, hell even longer, and not a person would raise an alarm.

Robert scrunched the card, then pushed it back into his pocket.

“May I help you?” the pretty college student asked him.

“Yes, thanks.” He ordered soup and a scone, then carried his food to the table at the back that he’d begun to think of as his. Two doors led off from the short hall at the rear of the restaurant. One was marked Employees Only. The other was the washroom. He sat with his back to both of them, then lifted a spoonful of the soup to his mouth.

It was good. Really, really good. He closed his eyes and savored the complex, complementary blend of flavors. Despite the amazing taste, though, he found he didn’t have much of an appetite.

He set down his spoon and glanced through the arched opening. And that was when he spotted her.

Margo was sitting with another woman who also appeared to be in her mid-thirties—a woman with dark, reddish hair and a nice, slender body. She was very attractive, too, but Margo was the one who held his eye.

She was even prettier than he remembered. Curvier. Sexier.

But the dimples he’d noticed when she’d served him earlier that afternoon weren’t much in evidence now. She and her friend seemed to be having a pretty intense conversation. He wondered what about.

He watched them surreptitiously for a while, and then he kicked himself. Two attractive women, about his age, sitting within a few yards of him? What was he waiting for?

Robert slid his chair back and got to his feet.




CHAPTER THREE


“PHEW. SORRY ABOUT THAT.” Margo sank into the rattan couch next to Nora after running upstairs to check on the kids. On the table in front of them was the chocolate zucchini cake and a packet of photographs she’d put there earlier.

“No problem,” Nora assured her. “Everything okay?”

“Both sound asleep.” Stairs from the bistro kitchen ran up to the door of their apartment so it was easy for Margo to run back and forth. It was like being on different levels in a multi-level home, but just to be cautious Margo also had a two-way monitor set up so they could talk to one another if needed. She placed the small receiver on the table, next to the cake. “So how was your week?”

“Busy.” Nora sighed. “Like usual.”

As well as being the mother of an active little boy, Nora had a full-time job as a physiotherapist. On top of all that, her sister was living with her but not paying her share of the household expenses.

“How are Suzanne’s wedding plans coming along?”

“I’m not sure. Suzanne’s being a little cagey lately. I hope her fiancé knows what he’s getting into. I love my sister, but—”

She didn’t need to say any more. Suzanne was a charming person, but not exactly reliable where money was concerned.

“So how about you, Margo?” Nora helped herself to a piece of the cake, then lost no time digging in to it.

“It’s been one of those days….”

“Oh?”

“I had a call from my ex. But first, take a look at these.” Margo slipped the photographs from their packet. “I had the pictures from last week’s party developed. There are some really cute ones of Danny.”

Like any proud mother, Nora reached for the pictures eagerly. She’d oohed and aahed through about half of them when she suddenly stopped. Leaning close to Margo she whispered, “Who is that guy? In the back. The one staring at you?”

Margo felt a prickling at the base of her neck. Not a creepy, icky prickling, but a sensual, exciting sort of tingle.

She knew without looking.

He’d come back.

She pretended to check out the washroom door. Yes, it was Suit Guy, only he wasn’t dressed in his suit now, but in jeans and a T-shirt and he looked hot.

Suddenly she became very aware of the ambiance in the room. In the daytime, when sunlight streamed in from the floor-to-ceiling windows and highlighted the lemon tree and the hibiscus, the bistro’s annex room had the feel of a greenhouse.

At night, however, when she drew the ginger-colored curtains and lit the candles, then the annex was transformed into an intimate, slightly exotic place—a world away from the bustle of cosmopolitan San Francisco on the other side of the walls.

In short, it became a room perfect for romance….

“Is he looking this way?” she asked Nora.

“Not anymore. Now he’s eating his soup. Do you know him?”

“He came in yesterday, then again this afternoon. But the answer is no. I don’t know him.” That shadow of a memory just would not take substantial shape. She wondered if perhaps she just wished she’d met him before.

“Would you like another piece of cake?” Margo asked. Nora was already finished her first and was sipping on her chai latte.

“Forget the cake. How long has it been since you’ve been on a date?”

“Are you trying to be cruel?” No one knew better than Nora the pathetic state of her social life. That was one of the subjects they often talked about—how hard it was to meet men when you had kids and worked full-time.

Sometimes Margo wondered if that part of her life was over for good.

“Wait.” Nora tried to appear blasé. “He’s looking this way again.”

“Probably at you.”

“No way. This one is yours, Margo. What are you going to do about it? He’s coming this way.”

“He is not.” But he was. Margo couldn’t believe it. She set down her fork, but in her nervousness, she knocked aside the photographs she and Nora had been looking at.

Several of the glossy four-by-sixes fell to the floor.

Suit Guy scooped them up as if he’d crossed the room for exactly that purpose. Before handing them over, he glanced at the photos and frowned.

“Thank you.” Margo accepted the pictures and set them on the table. “That was clumsy of me.”

The guy had boy-next-door looks, except for his eyes, which were darkly lashed and deeply blue. Right now those eyes seemed to be looking at everything in the room except her.

“No problem. I was just coming by to, uh, to tell you how much I enjoy your soups. Do you make them here?”

Soup? He’d crossed the room to ask about soup? Margo shot an “I told you this wasn’t what you thought it was” look at Nora. “Sure. We have a different special every day, and they’re all my own recipes. I’m glad you like them.”

“The best I’ve ever tasted.”

She sensed Nora grinning at her and her face grew hot. “By the way, I’m Margo.”

“Yeah. I assumed as much. From the name of the place.”

Margo felt her face grow hotter. “Margo Evans,” she clarified.

“Robert Brookman,” he said before shaking first her hand, then Nora’s.

Realizing she hadn’t introduced her friend, Margo added quickly, “And this is my friend, Nora Clark.”

Robert asked Nora a few questions and seemed keenly interested. Margo sank back into the cushions of the sofa and prayed desperately for Sandy or Edward to call her with an emergency from the kitchen. She’d known Robert wasn’t looking at her. He liked her soups. Not her.

When Robert found out Nora was a physiotherapist, he told her about a buddy with a sore knee. Nora gave him the name of a colleague who ought to be able to help, then scribbled a number on the back of one of her business cards.

“Thanks a lot.” Robert pocketed the card. “Well, I should be going. Sorry to interrupt, but it was good to meet you, Nora. You, too, Margo.”

He left without giving either of them a backward glance.



ROBERT HIT THE SIDEWALK and kept on walking. He didn’t care where he went, he just needed to move. That had been close. Damn close. He’d gone to that table intending to ask Margo out, but one look at those pictures had changed his mind.

What if those were her kids?

He couldn’t get involved with another single mom. Hell, what if she was married? He hadn’t even thought of that. They ought to make the wearing of wedding bands a legal requirement. It sure would make the life of a single man a heck of a lot easier.

After a while, when he’d blown off the worst of the adrenaline rush, Robert slowed his pace. He noticed a boutique cycle shop ahead and went to gaze in the window.

A sweet little two-wheeler, a BMX just like Andrew wanted, was in the display window. Maybe he could buy it for his birthday. Belinda had said no contact—but he could have it delivered….

Imagining the delight Andrew would feel getting that bike, Robert was sorely tempted.

But no. He might not be breaking the letter of Belinda’s request, but he would definitely be breaking the spirit.

Reluctantly Robert turned away from the window. He checked out the street signs at the next intersection, got his bearings, then headed toward home. He walked slowly, in no rush to get there.

Oddly enough, he found himself thinking of Margo again. Damn, why hadn’t he just asked her? Are you married? Are these your kids? He’d been caught so off balance, all he’d managed to do was chat up the physiotherapist. And he wasn’t even interested in her.

Well, he’d be better off forgetting about both of them, he decided. He’d really blown things tonight.



AFTER ROBERT LEFT the bistro, Margo turned a blank face to Nora. “Was it something I said?”

Nora laughed. “Actually, I think it was something he saw.” She tapped the photographs. “He definitely got cold feet after he picked up these.”

“I don’t know how cold his feet were. He left with your phone number.”

“That was just business. I get that reaction all the time when people find out what I do for a living.”

Margo wasn’t so sure.

“Trust me,” Nora added. “He was planning to talk to you until he saw those pictures. Maybe he’s worried you’re married.”

Maybe. Margo looked at her ringless hands. Somehow she didn’t think that was it. “Oh, well. He looked kind of dull, don’t you think?”

“Not really.”

“You should have seen him in his suit.” In his dark blue pinstripe, Robert Brookman had appeared to be of the same ilk as her ex—a business-obsessed workaholic who scheduled evenings out with his wife with less frequency than his semi-annual dental checkups.

“I bet he looked really hot in his suit, too.”

Margo wouldn’t admit that Nora was right. “It’s probably just as well. My life is too hectic for romance, anyway. If he calls you, make sure you say yes.”

“I keep telling you—it’s not me he’s interested in. But even if he was…I’m not sure I’m ready to start dating yet.”

Nora’s expression grew sad and Margo knew she was thinking about Kevin.

Nora didn’t talk about him much. All Margo knew was that he’d been a cop, killed in a car accident before Danny’s birth. It was a loss from which Nora didn’t seem fully recovered. But Margo hoped that she would move on soon.

Kids were terrific. A job you loved was great, too. But there were times when Margo longed for more and she knew Nora did, too. With a sigh, she picked up her fork and took another taste of cake.

After a moment’s silence, Nora said, “Weren’t you going to tell me something about your ex?”

Good lord. How could she have forgotten? “I need more coffee before I get into that story. Hang on a minute.”

Margo hurried to the other room and slipped behind the counter. No customers were waiting in line at the moment so she had free access to the espresso machine. Sandy was clearing tables, while Edward made a show of rearranging the goodies in the display case.

A few minutes later Margo returned to the annex room with a fresh chai latte for Nora and a top-up to her mocha.

“So…?” Nora prodded.

“You’ll never believe this.” Margo settled back into the couch, then took a deep breath. “Tom’s getting married again.”

Nora looked shocked. “But didn’t you say his affair with the bimbo was over?”

“Apparently he started dating someone else, about four minutes after the first affair ended. The new bimbo is named Catherine and she works part-time in reception at a law firm. That’s all I know about her.”

Nora leaned closer as Margo relayed her conversation with Tom, practically word for word. “I’m just stunned,” she concluded. “I can’t believe my children are going to have another mother.”

“No—no, don’t say that,” Nora insisted. “You’re their mother. Not this Catherine person.”

“But what about when the kids spend time with their father?” Margo set the mocha down. Even chocolate, coffee and whipped cream couldn’t entice her tonight. “You don’t know Tom. He’s a traditional guy. He’ll expect Catherine to do all the cooking and cleaning up. She’ll be the one making Ellie’s and Peter’s lunches for school and washing their laundry and oh…”

Margo made a weird noise—she wasn’t sure if it was a sob or a choked laugh. “Listen to me, complaining about another woman doing the chores that I get so tired of sometimes. But as much as I hate the weekly grind of laundry and lunches, I hate even more the idea of Tom’s new wife doing it.”

Nora squeezed her hand. “I understand.”

“Do you?” Margo was still grappling with the enormity of this thing. “From now on my kids will be going on vacations with this woman. They’ll see new places with her, share new experiences. All without me.”

“But you’ll go on vacations with them, too.”

“That isn’t the point. The kids are little and I’m their mom. I don’t want to miss the first time they go skiing. Or visit a dude ranch. Or see Washington D.C.”

These were all trips she and Tom had at one time planned to take with their children. Now he’d be doing all that with Catherine.

“Poor Margo, I don’t know what to say. I’d go crazy in that situation,” Nora admitted.

Margo knew that she would. Although it was awful that Nora’s husband was dead, at least she didn’t have to worry about joint custody arrangements or stepparents or any of that messy stuff.

“Does Catherine have children?”

Good question. “I don’t think so.”

“Hopefully your kids won’t have stepsiblings to worry about.” Nora was working hard to find something positive to say.

“But that means Catherine will be clueless about kids.”

“True. Like in that movie Stepmom, when Julia Roberts’s character is so insensitive in the beginning.”

“Not to mention the real mother dies in that movie,” Margo pointed out.

“Okay, so that was a bad example. Sorry. I really am trying to make you feel better. Eat some more cake. I’m sure this Catherine will turn out to be a very nice woman.”

Margo took a bite of cake and wondered why neither Nora’s comforting words nor chocolate seemed to help.

“You need a distraction. Like that guy, Robert Brookman…”

“The guy who couldn’t get out of here fast enough once he saw a picture of my children?”

“Maybe I was wrong about that. As you said, he was probably worried that you might be married and just choosing not to wear a ring.”

“That’s an optimistic interpretation.”

“Tell you what,” Nora said. “If he comes by again tomorrow, you’ll know he’s interested. If he doesn’t…then start looking for someone else.”

“Someone else? I thought we’d just established the fact that neither of us have time for a man in our lives right now?”

“Hey, you were the one complaining about your ex-husband’s new fiancée. Don’t you know that the best defense is a good offence? Instead of worrying about the new woman in Tom’s life, I say you make him worry about the new man in yours.”




CHAPTER FOUR


Friday’s Soup of the Day: Sherry Chanterelle

ROBERT STOPPED TO READ the specials in the bistro window. He’d always loved mushroom soup, he told himself as he went inside.

He couldn’t say what he was doing back here. The soup was a convenient excuse, but he knew better. He paused at the sight of Margo serving an older man. The two bantered with a degree of familiarity that made him unaccountably envious.

He wanted her to smile like that at him.

No question about it, he had it bad. Wouldn’t he feel like a fool, though, when he found out she was married with a parcel of kids? He joined the queue waiting to be served and plotted the best way to find out what he’d come here to learn.



HE WAS BACK. Margo saw him on the street as he stopped to read the specials on the chalkboard. When he stepped inside, her heart felt like it was dancing. Nora had been right after all…or had she?

Robert’s smile when he stepped up to the counter seemed guarded.

“Hi, Margo. Could I have a bowl of the soup and a scone on the side?”

She took his money while Em filled the order. She glanced up once at Robert, but he wasn’t even looking in her direction. Maybe he really was here for the soup.

Robert carried his tray to the table at the back and, like before, he set himself up with the daily paper and his BlackBerry. She tried to ignore him after that, but it wasn’t easy. As before, he stayed for a long time. Once or twice she thought she saw him looking her way, but she couldn’t be sure.

After the lunch hour rush was over, Margo decided to go back to the kitchen to experiment with a new muffin recipe. She envisioned a combination of dried cherries, dark chocolate and pecans swirled into a batter of wholesome grains and buttermilk.

The challenge of concocting something new was just what she needed to take her mind off Robert Brookman. Not to mention Tom’s upcoming wedding.

As she scooped chunks of dark chocolate into the batter, Margo glanced out the open door at Robert’s back. She wondered how much longer he would stay. And what was he working on so intently? She couldn’t complain about him taking up a table since he continued to order food. So far he’d had two bowls of soup, three scones and four cups of coffee.

He’d also covered his table with newspapers and his laptop, and had taken half a dozen different phone calls. It was almost as if he’d decided to make her bistro his new office. And, cute as he may be, she wasn’t too happy about that.

Gently, Margo stirred the chocolate, cherries and nuts through the batter. It was thicker than most muffin batters, but if she added extra liquid now, she’d end up overmixing and ruining the muffins anyway. She’d just have to hope for the best.

Margo scooped the mixture into muffin liners, then put the tray in the oven. As she set the timer for twenty minutes, she noticed that it was almost three-thirty. Tom and Catherine would be picking the children up from school soon. Hopefully everything would go smoothly, but she couldn’t help worrying about Peter and Ellie.

Yesterday they’d acted as if their dad’s remarriage was no big deal, but the reality would surely hit soon. This could be terribly confusing for them.

As she ran a sink of soapy, hot water for the dirty dishes, Margo wondered if the family was due for another round of counseling. Maybe she’d discuss the idea with Tom when he and Catherine came back from their honeymoon.

Honeymoon…

They’d probably go someplace with five stars and 600-count bedsheets—a total contrast from her and Tom’s camping expedition in Marin County. They’d been college students with not much time between semesters, and even less money. They’d hiked in the mornings and spent their afternoons sleeping on the beaches and making love whenever they wanted. She’d been so happy and so optimistic about the future. But whoever dreamed on their honeymoon that divorce lay in the future?

“Something smells good in here.”

She whirled around to find Robert Brookman in her kitchen, just an arm’s length away. He looked different in the small galley space. Even better than she remembered.

Maybe it was me he was interested in… “Can I help you?”

“I hope so. I was just—”

The loud buzz of the timer startled them both. Margo rushed to switch it off. “Sorry. I’m experimenting with a new recipe.”

She pulled the tray from the oven and her earlier fears were confirmed. The muffins were too flat. Even without checking, she could tell the consistency was going to be tough.

Robert inspected them, too. “They look smaller than the ones in your front display case.”

“I know. Something definitely went wrong.” She dumped the muffins out onto a clean cloth, wrote a few quick comments in her notebook then looked up at Robert. “Feeling brave? Want a taste?”

“I’m your man.”

The double entendre hit them at the same moment. Their glances collided, then they both looked quickly away.

“Actually,” Robert said, clearing his throat, “I realized something a few minutes ago. Ever since I saw you I’ve been trying to think why you look so familiar. About a year ago you had a line of credit approved at the Wells Fargo branch down the block from here, didn’t you?”

Margo froze. Great. This was exactly the link from the past that she did not need right now. Robert Brookman was from Wells Fargo. But now that he’d mentioned that, she remembered, too. She nodded reluctantly.

“I was on a branch tour. When I’d stopped to talk with your loan officer, I hadn’t realized he was busy with a customer.”

Busy with her. She recalled Robert apologizing for interrupting, then asking the loan manager to come talk to him when he had a few minutes. Ten seconds Robert had been in that office. Fifteen, tops. And yet, he’d remembered her.

“I checked over your file that day. I remember being surprised that a lawyer would decide to abandon her law career and open a restaurant.”

“You’re not the only one who was surprised by that decision. Most of my friends and family felt I was taking a terrible risk.”

Robert glanced out the open door to the room full of customers. “Your gamble seems to have paid off.”

She dropped her gaze for a moment. If only he knew the truth. “We’re pretty busy.”

“I’m not surprised. Your food is terrific. Especially the soup. But I’ve already told you that.”

“Thank you.” She wondered if that was what he was doing here. Checking up on her business on behalf of the bank. “I haven’t missed any of my loan payments.”

“Relax. I’m not here in an official capacity.” He tugged on his tie, and suddenly he was the one who looked uncomfortable. “Actually, I don’t work for the bank anymore. I was laid off last Friday.”

He tried to look as if this wasn’t any big deal, but Margo could tell it was. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Yeah, well, the company was downsizing and I happened to be a recent hire since I just moved from Seattle a year ago.”

“What brought you to San Francisco?”

“A woman—my old girlfriend.” He shrugged. “She isn’t in the picture anymore, by the way.”

He gave her a questioning look then, and Margo knew he was wondering about her. Suddenly nervous, she switched the subject. “Would you like something to drink? Water or juice?”

“Water would be fine.”

She filled two glasses, then invited him to sit at the stainless steel counter with her. “I’ve been wondering what you’ve been working on every day, with your newspapers and laptop and all those calls.”

“I’m looking for a new job.”

She connected the final dot. “And you’re using my bistro as your job search headquarters.” Here was her chance to voice her objections, but all of a sudden she found she didn’t have any.

“Well, the coffee’s good and the food’s even better. Then there’s the atmosphere…”

He was looking at her in a very intense way. As if it wasn’t just the place he liked…but her. Margo gripped the edge of the steel counter, welcoming the feel of the solid, cold metal.

She ought to be encouraging him. A little flirting wouldn’t hurt. Instead she found herself panicking. Maybe she wasn’t ready to start dating, after all. “I don’t suppose you’ve noticed the sign I have hanging on my counter out front. The one that says, “No cell phones please.” My daughter made it.”

“Your daughter.”

That seemed to bring him up cold.

“So the kids in the pictures last night are yours?”

“Two of them are. My son Peter is seven and Ellie is ten.”

His gaze dropped to her hands.

She swallowed, then added, “I’m divorced. It’s been about a year. My ex and I have joint custody of our children.”

“Oh.” He tugged on his tie again. “I’m never sure what to say to that. Sorry or congratulations.” He smiled nervously.

“To tell you the truth, I’m not sure, either.” According to the statistics, half of all marriages ended in divorce. But she’d never imagined that hers would be one of them.

She needed to change the subject. “So…how’s the job search going?”

He looked glad that she’d asked. “I’ve got a headhunter working for me and I’ve been calling a bunch of people I know, too. But so far I haven’t managed to nab so much as a first interview. They tell me the job market is tight right now. At least in banking.”

“I’m sure you’ll find something soon.”

He sighed. “I hope so. I graduated in the top ten percent of my class. Always got great performance reviews at both of the banks where I’ve worked in the past.”

“It hasn’t even been a week,” she reminded him gently. “Maybe this is an opportunity for you to take a little breather. Reassess your goals and your plans for the future.”

“Well, I did go sailing on Tuesday.”

“You took off a whole day, huh?”

He smiled at her teasing. “I made a few calls from the marina. So the day wasn’t a total waste. But seriously, I don’t need to think about my plans. I know what I want. No doubt about that.”

The confidence in his voice was compelling, but as Margo met his gaze, she was struck again with the incongruous notion that he was talking about her, and not the job at all.

She swallowed. “You know—”

They were interrupted again, this time by the ringing of the bistro’s phone. She went to answer it and was dismayed to find herself talking to a credit manager from Wells Fargo. As she conducted the brief conversation, Robert took a bite from one of the muffins. He didn’t look impressed. She turned her back to him.

“Three weeks. Yes, I understand. Goodbye.” She stared at the phone on the wall for a few moments. In her mind she pictured the account book upstairs, the files of loan statements and growing pile of unpaid bills.

“Bad news?”

Pride almost made her fib. But what was the point? Robert was a banker, maybe he could give her a few pointers. “You know how I said that I was making my loan payments?”

His expression grew serious. “Yes?”

“Well, I have been. But not the full amount. I was hoping to renegotiate my monthly payments. But now the bank wants to see my cash flow projections for the upcoming year. And they want them in three weeks.”

“Let me guess. You don’t have cash flow projections.”

“Should I?” He didn’t need to answer. She could see by his expression that she should. “Oh, Lord. I can barely keep up with the bills, the tax remittances and monthly payroll.”

“Are you doing all that yourself?”

“Partially. I bought a computer package that was supposed to integrate everything…accounting, payroll, taxes, inventory… But I’m not using it to its potential.”

“Restaurants survive or fail based on certain key numbers. Inventory management is one. Meal costing is another.”

“Yes, I know. I’ve read the manual that came with the package.” Well, she’d skimmed the manual. She simply didn’t have the time to go through it in detail. “Once I’ve got my feet on the ground, I’m going to hire an accountant.”

Robert gave her an incredulous look. He glanced up, as if inspecting the ceiling, then down to the concrete floor. Finally, he said, “I realize we haven’t known each other very long. But there’s something I have to tell you.”

Margo guessed this wasn’t going to be good news. “Yes?”

“You can’t wait until you have money saved in the bank. You need to hire an accountant now, or you’ll never get your feet on the ground.”

Margo knew Robert’s suggestion was well-intended. But he just didn’t have a clue. “I don’t have the money for any extra expenses.”

Robert considered that. “How about free soup and scones? Maybe the occasional cup of coffee, too.”

Was he offering to help her? “But you’re a banker, not an accountant.”

“Close enough. I’ve seen tons of cash flow statements. I ought to be able to figure out how to prepare one.”

She was sure he could. Better and faster than she could, anyway. “But—”

“It’s not as if I’m particularly busy right now,” he pointed out. “This’ll help fill my time until I get a real job.”

“That’s a generous offer. But it wouldn’t be fair for me to accept.” It might not be fair. But it was tempting. She’d love to put all the accounting worries behind her and focus on the jobs she knew how to do well.

“Are you worried about taking advantage of me?”

His eyes sparkled with humor and she knew she wasn’t imagining the double meaning this time. “You should be so lucky, Robert Brookman.”

He gave her a once-over. A thorough study that began with her swept-up hair and ended with the polished pink toes peeking out from her espadrilles.

“Yeah, you’re right. I should be so lucky. In the meantime, why don’t you show me your books and let me see if I can help?”

“Well…if you’re sure.” She led the way upstairs to the apartment she shared with the kids. It was a three-bedroom and quite roomy, but there was no space for a separate office, so she’d set the computer up in a corner of the living room.

The raspberry-colored sofa faced the television. On the opposite wall, a dark-blue, stained wooden armoire held the computer. Next to that was an open-shelf unit filled with labeled baskets. “Here’s where I keep my records.”

Robert pulled one of the baskets off the shelf. It was crammed full of unpaid invoices. He looked at her and raised his eyebrows.

“I’m just a little behind on those.” She brushed past him to open the doors of the armoire and power up the computer. Above the computer was a shelf where she kept important reference books.

“Here’s the manual,” she said brightly. “One good thing about not having much room…everything’s at your fingertips.”

He put his hand on the book, which happened to bring his hand right next to her breast. She caught her breath, felt a zap of pure, physical reaction. Looking up, she saw his gaze on the scooped neck of her top.

Speaking of things being right at someone’s fingertips…. The double entendres were killing her today.

She thrust the book at him, then backed away. “You wanted to dive right in…well, here you go.” She headed for the stairs. “I’ll be right back with some coffee.”




CHAPTER FIVE


ROBERT FELT LIKE banging his head on the desk the moment Margo left the room. What was he doing here? Margo might be divorced, but she had two kids. This woman was off-limits.

Why had he offered to help her?

He leaned back in the chair and looked around the place. Pictures of Margo’s children were everywhere, reminding him of the folly of what he was doing. After his experience with Belinda and Andrew, how could he be getting involved with another single mother?

Robert studied the pictures on the wall. Unlike studio-variety photographs, these were candid shots, taken from unusual angles, each of them capturing something unique and special. In one, Margo’s daughter hung upside down from a monkey bar. In another, a shot had been taken from above, Margo’s son as a baby, playing with bubbles in his bath.

Robert took a deep breath.

He didn’t have to stay. She wasn’t paying him anything. He could find another coffee shop to hang out in until he was back working again.

But there was something about Margo that had drawn him in and it wasn’t just the enticing aroma of her homemade soups.

His gaze fell on a photograph of her with her children. They were sitting on a wooden porch step. She had her arms around them in a protective, motherly pose. Her head was angled to the camera and her blond curls covered one of her fabulous blue eyes. Her smile seemed so real, it made him feel warm inside just to look at it.

He enjoyed looking at her. Talking to her. Just being around her. And she seemed to like him, too—if he discounted that one comment about cell phones.

If only she didn’t have kids….

He’d never even considered the danger when he’d been dating Belinda. Andrew’s father never bothered to see him, so with hindsight it was easy to understand why the boy had taken to Robert so quickly. Ignorant of the potential danger, Robert had welcomed this first instance of hero worship. In fact, he’d reveled in it.

He’d always planned on having children, but before Andrew, his desire to do so had been theoretical in nature. Andrew had given him a real-life taste of the pleasures of fatherhood. Robert could still remember the first time Andrew had fallen asleep in his arms. The three of them had been watching a movie on the living room sofa. Andrew had turned from the television with a yawn, and the next thing Robert knew, the little boy’s head was nestled against his chest.

His heart couldn’t have been filled with more love if that child had been his own flesh and blood.

He brushed a hand over his face and gave himself a mental kick. The truth was, since their breakup, he missed Andrew a hell of a lot more than Belinda.

If it was up to him, he would have continued spending time with Andrew. But Belinda wanted her son to bond with the new man in her life. And she felt that would never happen if he continued to visit Robert.

Maybe she was right. Maybe not. But she was Andrew’s mother and this was her call to make. What was in Robert’s control was the power to avoid situations like this in the future.

So…he should leave.

But he couldn’t. He sensed Margo was in a real jam here. And he had the time to help her. He pulled out one of the wicker baskets and riffled through it. Seemed like an awful lot of unpaid bills. He tried a different basket. These invoices had been paid, but hadn’t been entered into the computer. He checked through the stack and saw that she was several months behind with the record keeping. Better start with the bank statements….

He looked for those, then became so engrossed in the work, that he barely heard the squeak of the stairs, or the sound of footsteps moving toward him.

“I brought you a brownie with your coffee.”

Margo spoke in hushed tones as if afraid to interrupt his train of thought. Though he didn’t look up, he could smell the citrusy scent of her perfume and he felt the brush of her arm against his as she set the coffee cup and plate on the desk.

Immediately, he lost all track of what he was doing. Before he could say anything to her, though, she was gone, hurrying down the stairs back to her customers.

He stared at the paper in his hand, and when it continued to remain meaningless, set it down. He took a bite of the brownie, then a swallow of coffee.

Children, he reminded himself. Margo has two children. You can’t get involved with her.

He raised his gaze to a picture of Ellie and Peter with their arms around a huge tree trunk. The tree was too thick for their hands to meet. Both kids were laughing.

Based on all these photographs they seemed like happy, well-adjusted kids. Why wouldn’t they be, with a mother like Margo?

Belinda had been a good mother, too, but she’d emphasized rules and order just a little too much, he’d thought. Margo definitely didn’t seem like that. He guessed she would be fun and exciting and…passionate.

Robert groaned. Even if he took a chance on Margo and things worked out, blended families were always complicated. And if things didn’t work out, the kids were bound to end up getting hurt.

Concentrate on the business and forget about the woman. He did his best to follow his own advice for the next few hours. In fact, he was so preoccupied that the next time Margo came up, he was surprised to discover it was six-thirty.

“How can you work in the dark like that?” Margo switched on a lamp by the desk. She swept her hair off her forehead and sank into one of the easy chairs. She looked exhausted.

But also sexy and appealing….

He saved his work on the computer, then swiveled his chair to face her. “Long day?”

“Very. And one of my employees on the evening shift showed up late again.” She worried her bottom lip. “I hope I’m not going to have to fire him.”

“Why not? You can always hire someone else.”

“I wish it was that easy. I’m discovering that good employees are very difficult to find.” She eyed the computer. “Well, how bad was it? I’m surprised you didn’t run out of here screaming hours ago.”

“I’m still entering data into the computer. You know, if you did this every month, it wouldn’t be such an enormous job. Come here, and I’ll show you.”

Margo moved closer and he wondered if this was such a good idea. He definitely thought straighter when there were a few feet between them. Quickly he took her through the steps she should be following every month. She caught on quickly.

“I try to set aside a little time for record keeping every night,” she admitted. “But when you have kids, it’s not so easy. By the time they’re ready for bed, I am, too.”

She sighed, then pushed herself out of her chair. “How does a glass of wine and some herbed goat cheese sound?”

Robert swallowed as she pulled off her apron to reveal her curvy figure. He had to get out of here before he clouded his intentions with a glass of that wine.

But before he’d risen from his chair, Margo was in the kitchen, decanting a bottle. Deftly she poured some into two glasses, then handed him one.

They clicked glasses together, then drank. He could feel the blood pounding in his ears. He knew he had to leave, but his feet were rooted like tree stumps.

Margo returned to the kitchen, where she prepared a plate of cheese and crackers. She came back to the sofa and he found himself sitting next to her. They chatted about the weather, baseball and movies.

Then she glanced at her watch and he saw her jaw tighten.

“What’s wrong?”

She hesitated. “My kids are at their dad’s tonight, getting ready for a wedding ceremony tomorrow. I was just wondering how they’re handling everything.”

He took another swallow of the wine. Get out of here, Robert, his wiser half cautioned. He ignored the warning. “Your ex is getting remarried?”

“Yeah.”

“That must feel weird.”

She laughed. “Yeah.”

Crazy guy, Robert found himself thinking, as he watched Margo tip her head back and enjoy another mouthful of the light Chablis. Why would any guy married to Margo let her go? She was pretty, sexy and a damn good cook.

And even when she was in a funk—as she obviously was right now—she was still good-humored about it.

He watched as Margo spread creamy cheese over thick crackers. She slipped from the sofa to the floor, stretched out her legs and leaned back her head. He stared at the golden curls that spilled oh-so-close to the hand he had resting on one of the seat cushions. After a moment, he sat on the floor next to her.

“Her name is Catherine,” Margo said, making it sound like a confession. “The kids seem to like her, but I don’t know.”

“You’re not so keen on her?”

“We haven’t even met.”

“Does that worry you?”

“A little. What if she turns out to be awful? You hear such horror stories about stepmothers.”

“Yeah, I know. But most stepfamilies get sorted out eventually, don’t they? My mom raised me on her own, but a lot of my friends’ parents were divorced. Most of them did just fine…despite the statistics that seem to indicate otherwise.”

“Oh, God, I hope you’re right.” Margo topped up their wineglasses. “Even though Tom and I have been apart for a year, sometimes I still can’t believe my life ended up this way. Tom and I were supposed to be forever. And now he’s getting married to someone else.” She forced a laugh. “And he wants me to go to the reception after.”

“Really?” Robert tried to imagine attending Belinda’s wedding to the new guy who’d replaced him. “That doesn’t sound like fun.”

“Especially since I don’t have a—”

She didn’t finish. But her eyes met his and he knew what she had been planning to say. She didn’t have a date to take to her ex-husband’s wedding reception.

Well, that was too bad for her, but it had nothing to do with him.

Except, he felt badly on her behalf and he didn’t know why. Just as he couldn’t really explain why he’d offered to do her cash flow statements for her.

He tried not to notice her cleavage as she reached for a cheese-smeared cracker. Her hair was a mess, and she seemed to realize it at just that moment, because she released the clip at the back of her head and blond curls tumbled to her shoulders.

Oh, God. He really shouldn’t do this.

“If you want, I could go to the reception with you.”




CHAPTER SIX


TOM AND CATHERINE’S wedding reception was being held at a swank hotel restaurant in the financial district. Since she had no time or money to buy something new, Margo wore the same red dress that she’d bought for her high school reunion last spring. Robert picked her up at the bistro and when he walked in dressed in a perfectly elegant black suit and gray tie, she definitely felt the earth move. But it wasn’t the sort of tremor that any Richter scale could measure.

She took a deep breath as she gathered her cashmere scarf and handbag. She knew Robert had offered to escort her out of kindness—the same reason he’d agreed to help her with the accounting. But her insides still felt as if she was out on a date.

“This is so nice of you,” she said, letting him take her arm as he walked her to his car.

“I’m the lucky one,” he assured her politely.

Well, maybe there was more than good manners behind his answer. From the widening of his eyes and the swift intake of his breath, Margo guessed he liked the way she looked in her dress.

As they drove along Market Street toward the bay, she allowed herself to speculate. What if this were a date? A real first date? If so, it would be one of the weirdest on record, since they were attending her ex-husband’s wedding reception. And her kids would be there.

“So.” Robert pulled his tie out from his throat. “What should I expect?”

“I’m not really sure.” She didn’t know how many guests had been invited or what the program was. Would there be speeches? A wedding cake? She gulped. “I didn’t bring a gift. I didn’t even think of it.”

Robert gave her a rueful smile. “That’s probably okay. You could always send something later.”

“Yeah.” She supposed she should. But she didn’t feel like buying Tom and Catherine a gift. She didn’t feel like going to this wedding, either. If it wasn’t for the kids, she certainly wouldn’t. She did wish Tom well, but she didn’t want to witness this new start of his. There was a limit to how generous a woman could feel toward a man who had cheated on her and abandoned her. At some point, he should have had to suffer for that.





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