Authors: Debbie Macomber
His gaze lowered to the heavy skillet in her hand. “Do you plan to cook on that radiator?”
“I might if I could get it to work. In case you hadn’t noticed, there isn’t any heat in this place.”
Nolan set the baseball bat aside and moved to the far wall to look at the radiator. “What’s wrong with it?”
How like a man to ask stupid questions! If Maryanne had
known
what was wrong with it, she wouldn’t be standing there shivering, with a scarf swaddling her face like an old-time remedy for toothache.
“How in heaven’s name am I supposed to know?” she answered testily.
“What went on here last night, anyway? A wake?”
She glanced at the mound of tissues and shrugged. He was scanning the area as if it were a crime scene and he should take caution not to stumble over a dead body.
Walking across the living room, he picked up the two empty wine bottles and held them aloft for her inspection, pretending to be shocked.
“Very funny.” She put the skillet down and removed the bottles from his hands, to be deposited promptly in the garbage.
“So you had a party and I wasn’t invited.” He made it sound as though he’d missed the social event of the year.
Maryanne sighed loudly. “If you must know, Carol, Barbara and I had a pity party.”
“A what? You’re kidding, right?” He didn’t bother to hide his mocking grin.
“Never mind.” She should’ve realized he’d only poke fun at her. “Can you figure out how to get this thing working before the next ice age?”
“Here, give me a shot at it.” He gently patted the top of the radiator as he knelt in front of it. “Okay, ol’ Betsy, we’re trusting you to be good.” He began fiddling with knobs, still murmuring ridiculous endearments—like a cowboy talking to his horse.
“It doesn’t do any good to talk to an inanimate object,” she advised primly, standing behind him.
“You want to do this?”
“No,” she muttered. Having Nolan in her home,
dressed in his night clothes, did something odd to her, sent her pulse skittering erratically. She deliberately allowed her attention to wander to the scene outside her window. The still-green lawns of Volunteer Park showed in the distance and she pretended to be absorbed in their beauty.
“I thought I told you to keep that door chain in place,” he said casually as he worked. “This isn’t The Seattle.”
“Do you honestly think you need to remind me of that now?” She rubbed her hands together, hoping to generate some warmth before her fingers went numb.
“There,” he said, sounding satisfied. “All she needed was a little loving care.”
“Thanks,” Maryanne said with relief.
“No problem, only the next time something like this happens don’t try to fix it yourself.”
“Translated, that means I shouldn’t try to fix the radiator again while
you’re
trying to sleep.”
“Right.”
She smiled up at him, her eyes alive with appreciation. He really had been good to her from the day she’d moved in—before then, too. Discounting what he’d written about her in his column, of course. And even that had ended up having a positive effect.
It’d been a week since she’d seen him. A long week. A lonely week. Until now, she’d hardly been able to admit, even to herself, how much she’d missed him. Standing there as he was, Maryanne was struck by just
how attractive she found him. If only he’d taken the time to button his shirt! She reveled in his lean strength and his aura of unquestionable authority—and that chest of his was driving her to distraction.
She wasn’t the only one enthralled. Nolan was staring at her, too. The silence lingered between them, lengthening moment by moment as they gazed into each other’s eyes.
“I have to go,” he finally said, breaking eye contact by glancing past her, out the window.
“Right. I—I understand,” she stammered, stepping back. Her hands swung at her sides as she followed him to the door. “I really do appreciate this.” Already she could feel the warmth spilling into her apartment. And none too soon, either.
“Just remember to keep the door locked.”
She grinned and mockingly saluted him. “Aye, aye, sir.”
He left then. Maryanne hated to see him go, hated to see him walk away from her, and yet it seemed he was always doing exactly that.
Later that same afternoon, after she’d finished her errands, Maryanne was strolling through the park when a soft feminine voice spoke from behind her.
Maryanne turned around and waved when she discovered Gloria, the teenager she’d met here earlier. But this time Gloria wasn’t alone.
“This is my little sister, Katie, the pest,” Gloria explained. “She’s three.”
“Hello, Katie,” Maryanne said, smiling.
“Why am I a pest?” Katie asked, gazing at Gloria, but apparently not offended that her older sister referred to her that way.
“Because.” Looking annoyed, the teenager shrugged in the same vague manner Maryanne had so often seen in her younger brothers. “Katie’s three and every other word is ‘why’. Why this? Why that? It’s enough to drive a person straight to the loony bin.”
“I have brothers, so I know what you mean.”
“You do?”
“They’re several years younger than I am. So trust me, I understand what you’re talking about.”
“Did your brothers want to go every place you did? And did your mother make you take them even if it was a terrible inconvenience?”
Maryanne tried to disguise a smile. “Sometimes.”
“Eddie asked me to come and watch him play basketball this afternoon with Mr. Adams, and I had to drag Katie along because she wanted to come to the park, too. My mom pressured me into bringing her. I didn’t even get a chance to say no.” Gloria made it sound as if she were being forced to swim across Puget Sound with the three-year-old clinging to her back.
“I’m not a pest,” Katie insisted now, flipping her braid over one shoulder in a show of defiance. Look
ing up at Maryanne, the little girl carefully manipulated her fingers and proudly exclaimed, “I’m three.”
“Three?” Maryanne repeated, raising her eyebrows, feigning surprise. “Really? I would’ve thought you were four or five.”
Katie grinned delightedly. “I’m nearly four, you know.”
“Mr. Adams is already here,” Gloria said, brightening. She frowned as she glanced down at her little sister and jerked the small arm in an effort to hurry her along. “Come on, Katie, we have to go. Eddie wants me to watch him play ball.”
“Why?”
Gloria groaned. “See what I mean?”
“You go on,” Maryanne said, offering Katie her hand. The youngster obediently slipped her small hand into Maryanne’s much larger one, willingly abandoning her cranky older sister. “Katie and I will follow behind.”
Gloria looked surprised by the offer. “You mean you don’t mind? I mean, Katie’s my responsibility and it wouldn’t be fair to palm her off on you. You’re not going to kidnap her or anything, are you? I mean, I know you’re not—you’re Mr. Adams’s friend. I wouldn’t let her go with just anyone, you know. But if anything happened to her, my mother would kill me.”
“I promise to take the very best care of her.”
Gloria grinned, looking sheepish for having suggested anything else. “You’re sure you don’t mind?”
“I don’t mind in the least. I don’t think Katie does, either. Is that right, Katie?”
“Why?”
“Are you
really
sure? Okay, then…” Once she’d made a token protest Gloria raced off to join her friends.
Katie was content to skip and hop at Maryanne’s side until they reached a huge pile of leaves under a chestnut tree, not far from the basketball court. Almost before Maryanne realized it, Katie raced toward the leaves, bunching as many as she could in her small arms and carrying them back to Maryanne as though presenting her with the rarest of jewels.
“Look,” she cried happily. “Leafs.”
“Leaves,” Maryanne corrected, bending over and grabbing an armful herself. She tossed them in the air and grinned as Katie leapt up to catch as many as she could and in the process dropped the armload she was holding.
Laughing, Maryanne clasped the child by the waist and swung her around, while Katie shrieked with delight. Dizzy, Maryanne leaned against the tree in an effort to regain her equilibrium and her breath.
It was then that she saw Nolan had stopped playing and was standing in the middle of the basketball court, staring at her. The game was going on all around him, boys scattering in one direction and then another, racing to one end of the court and back again.
Nolan seemed oblivious to them and to the game—to everything but her.
A tall boy bumped into him from behind and Nolan stumbled. Maryanne gasped, fearing he might fall, but he caught himself in time. Without a pause, he rejoined the game, racing down the court at breakneck speed. He stole the ball and made a slam dunk, coming down hard on the pavement.
Gloria ran back toward Maryanne and Katie. “I thought you said you and Mr. Adams were just friends?” she teased. She was grinning in a way that suggested she wasn’t about to be fooled again. “He nearly got creamed because he couldn’t take his eyes off you.”
With Katie on her lap, Maryanne sat beside the teenage girls watching the game. Together she and the three-year-old became Nolan’s personal cheering squad, but whether or not he appreciated their efforts she didn’t know. He didn’t give a single indication that he heard them.
When the game was finished, Nolan walked breathlessly off the court. His grey sweatshirt was stained with perspiration, and his face was red and damp from the sheer physical exhaustion of keeping up with kids half his age.
For an anxious moment, Maryanne assumed he was planning to ignore her and simply walk away. But after he’d stopped at the water fountain, he came over to the bench where she and Katie were sitting.
He slumped down beside her, dishevelled and still breathing hard. “What are you doing here?” he grumbled.
“I happened to be in the park,” she answered, feeling self-conscious now and unsure. “You don’t need to worry, Nolan. I didn’t follow you.”
“I didn’t think you had.”
“You look nice in blue,” he said hoarsely, then cleared his throat as if he hadn’t meant to say that, as if he wanted to withdraw the words.
“Thanks.” The blue sweater was one of her favorites. She’d worn her long wool coat and was surprised he’d even noticed the periwinkle-blue sweater beneath.
“Hello, Katie.”
Katie beamed, stretching out both arms for Nolan to lift her up, which he did. The little girl hugged him quickly, then leapt off the bench and ran to her sister, who stood talking to her boyfriend.
“You’re good with children,” Nolan said. His voice fell slightly, as though the fact surprised him.
“I do have a knack with them. I always have.” She’d been much-sought as a baby-sitter by her parents’ friends and for a time had considered becoming a teacher. If she’d pursued that field of study she would have preferred to teach kindergarten. She found five-year-olds, with their eagerness to learn about the world, delightful. A couple of articles she’d written the week
before were geared toward children’s magazines. If only she’d hear something soon. It seemed to take so long.
“How many years of your life did you lose this time?” Maryanne asked teasingly.
“Another two or three, at least.”
He smiled at her and it was that rare special smile he granted her only in those brief moments when his guard was lowered. His resistance to the attraction he felt to her was at its weakest point, and they both knew it.
Maryanne went still, almost afraid to move or speak for fear of ruining the moment. His eyes, so warm and gentle, continued to hold hers. When she tried to breathe, the air seemed to catch in her lungs.
“Maryanne.” Her name was little more than a whisper.
“Yes?”
He raked his hand through his hair, then looked away. “Nothing. Never mind.”
“What is it?” she pressed, unwilling to let the matter drop.
The muscles along the side of his jaw clenched. “I said it was nothing,” he answered gruffly.
Maryanne gazed down at her hands, feeling an overwhelming sense of frustration and despair. The tension between them was so thick she could practically touch it, but nothing she could say or do would make any difference. If anything, her efforts would only make it worse.
“Hey, Nolan,” Eddie called out, loping toward
them. “What’s with you, man?” He laughed, tossing his basketball from one hand to the other. “You nearly lost that game ’cause you couldn’t take your eyes off your woman.”
Nolan scowled at him. “You looking for a rematch?”
“Any time you want.”
“Not today.” Shaking his head, Nolan slowly pushed the sleeves of his sweatshirt past his elbows.
“Right,” Eddie said with a knowing laugh. “I didn’t think so, with your woman here and all.”
“Maryanne isn’t my woman,” Nolan informed him curtly, his frown darkening.
“Right,” Eddie responded. “Hey, dude, this is me, Eddie. Can’t fool me! You practically went comatose when you saw her. I don’t blame you, though. She ain’t bad. So when are you two getting married?”