Saving Alyssa (Mills & Boon Heartwarming) (8 page)

“Do you have enough juice to wash it down?”

“Oh, I don't need to wash it down. They taste just like candy. I just chew them up!” As if to prove it, she did exactly that.

Billie put the package back where she'd found it, returned the stool to its place beside the fridge, then glanced outside, where Noah was still pacing, still talking, still waving his free hand in the air, no doubt making some important point.

He sure was spending a lot of time out there, and for such an overprotective guy, he'd put an awful lot of trust in someone he barely knew. She thought of the lengthy to-do list on her desk at home. Client files to update. Invoices to send. Laundry to fold. And Troy's note had said he'd see her at suppertime.

“You said your dad leaves you alone a lot while he talks on the phone?”

“Yes,” the little girl said, pouting. Julie Andrews was singing “The Lonely Goatherd”
 
when Alyssa yawned. “And it makes me very sad,” she mumbled as her eyes slowly closed.

Oh, to fall asleep that quickly and easily, Billie thought on her way back to the door. “Alyssa is sleeping,” she said. After the way he'd dismissed her—like an errant child—she didn't care that he was in midsentence. “I'm leaving. I'll email you when your website is ready.”

Half an hour later, she was chopping vegetables for the stew pot when her kitchen telephone rang.

“Alyssa tells me you gave her an allergy pill?”

“Well, yes, because—”

“Where do you get off, medicating my kid?”

“Excuse me?”

“How many did you give her?”

A demand, she noticed, not a question.

“Just one. I read the directions and—”

“But I'd already given her one! Do you know how close I came to rushing her to the E.R.? Lucky for you, she's just sleepy. But it could have been serious. A lot more serious. Next time you get it in your head to make decisions that involve my little girl, ask me first.”

Alyssa's peculiar little smile made sense now. She'd said, in plain English, that the pills tasted like candy. If a sweet treat was what she wanted, why hadn't she just asked for one?

“If you'll recall,” Billie told him, “I did ask your permission.” Voice and hands shaking, she added, “And you said yes!”

The noise he made was as close to a growl as she'd ever heard from a human.

“Is
that
what you were talking about? Good grief, Billie, I was in the middle of a business conversation. You own your own company, so you should know that overlooking details can be costly. And anyway, can't you tell when someone is totally distracted?”

“Evidently,” she said, pronouncing every syllable, “I can't.” Anything she said now would only make her look guilty: she'd thought he
had
heard her question, and of course she knew how dangerous the double dose could have been. She was sorry, truly sorry about the misunderstanding, but
Alyssa
had known he'd already given her a pill. Why had she asked for another?

“I should have known better,” Billie admitted. “I'm sorry. I really am. If you're still interested in having me build your website, you can email me. The address is in your spiral notebook.”

With that, she hung up and went back to chopping vegetables. She was still at it when Troy joined her in the kitchen.

“Shoo-ee,” he said as the knife flew, “what got
you
all riled up!”

“Who, not what,” she said, sliding bite-sized potatoes and carrots from the cutting board to the stew pot. “If that jerk was half as smart as he
thinks
he is, he'd be dangerous.”

The story spewed out, like steam from a pressure cooker, and when Billie finished, her brother said, “Wow.”

“My sentiments, exactly. There's something off about that guy,” she said, “and as soon as we're finished eating, I'm going to find out what.”

“What do you mean, off?”

“Everything about him is a big fat secret. How his wife died. When he moved here. Where he came from and what he did for a living before. I haven't seen the apartment above his shop, but there are no pictures anywhere downstairs. Not in his little girl's play area, not on his desk, none, nada, zip. And you should see the way he hovers over Alyssa.” Billie sprinkled salt and pepper into the stew and gave it a quick stir. “When he isn't completely ignoring her, that is. No wonder she sometimes behaves like a spoiled brat!”

“You can find anything with Google these days,” Troy replied. “Criminal records, divorces, land purchases. I was in security, don't forget. I know how to dig stuff up, so if you want my help...”

“Thanks.” Then she laughed. “Want to hear something funny? Bud thought you and I were living together.”

“Well, we are. For now.”

“Yeah, but he thought we were
living together.
” She drew quote marks in the air. “And that you were cheating on me.”

Troy laughed. “What! Who did he think I was cheating on you
with?
”

“Some brunette. I gave him the highlights of your situation and told him she's probably a Realtor.” Billie rummaged in the drawer beneath the oven and found the lid for the pot. “Speaking of which, how did the meeting go?”

“You're right. Cynthia is my agent. Showed me three places today. One is right around the corner, literally. Great spot. The other one is okay. Just this side of the border between Ellicott City and Catonsville.”

“Oella?”

“Yeah.”

That's where Jeff Graham lives,
Billie thought. Wouldn't it be ironic if those two ended up as neighbors!

“And the third house?”

“No way.” He snorted. “I don't have the time, the money, the energy or the skills to make that dump livable.”

“So your favorite is the one near here?”

“It's move-in ready.”

“Then why even consider the other one?”

“Didn't know how you'd feel about me living practically on top of you, for one thing.”

“You're practically living on top of me now, and I've enjoyed every minute. So what's the other thing?”

“Money. I can't make a move until the house in Philly sells.”

“I have some savings. Use it now as your down payment, and repay me when your place sells.”

“I couldn't ask you to do that.”

“You didn't ask.”

Troy stared at her for a long moment, then said, “You've got a heart of gold,” and headed down the hall.

“Where are you going? Supper's almost ready.”

“To Ike's Bikes, that's where.”

“Troy...you had better be kidding....”

“Calm down. I'm not an idiot. I'm joking. But I'm no saint, either. If I thought for one minute you cared about him—and he hurt you—I'd have no problem making him sorry.”

And Troy would, too, as evidenced by the tongue-lashing he'd given Chuck on the day of the divorce.

“Call me when supper's on the table. Meanwhile, I'll be in the living room, surfing the net for dirt on Noah Preston.”

For a reason she couldn't explain, Billie hoped his search, like Bud's, would be futile.

CHAPTER EIGHT

N
OAH
 
HAD
 
READ
 
half
 
the newspaper before Max finally joined him in the living room.

“You were gone so long,” he said drily, “I was considering charging you rent.”

“Ingrate.” She plopped onto the sofa. “I'll have you know she brushed her teeth, said her prayers, and now? She's fast asleep, so you're welcome.”

Noah put down the newspaper. “You were in there an awfully long time....”

“Uh-huh. Talking about you...and the big spat with Billie.”

“What spat? And who even uses that word anymore?”

“My sainted grandmother, whose shoes I hope to fill one day. And to answer your first question, Alyssa wasn't napping before dinner when you called Billie to give her a piece of your mind. As if you can afford to give even a sliver away.”

“But...but Alyssa was asleep!”

“Not even close. The kid is miserable. Because she likes Billie. She thinks you like her, too. And now she's afraid you two will never get married, all on account of her fib.”

“Married? Where'd she get a cockamamie idea like that?”

“Hey. Don't shoot the messenger. And who uses words like
that
one anymore?”

“Wait....on account of her fib?”

“That business about the allergy pill and how she didn't tell Billie you'd already given her one.” Max explained how Alyssa had wanted something sugary, and because the candy jar was empty, she'd hoped the medication would satisfy her sweet tooth.

Noah heaved a heavy sigh. “I took one of those things once. They taste awful. Why would she want two?”

“Because she's seven?”

He drove a hand through his hair. “So why, when I gave Billie what for, did she not defend herself?”

“If I know you, you didn't give her a chance.”

“I don't remember much about the conversation, except that she hung up on me. If she was so innocent, why would she do that?”

“Oh, I dunno. Maybe because you can be intimidating when you want to be?”

“I hope you aren't calling me a bully, because—”

“Spare me,” Max said. “I know you better than just about anybody.” She sat back, fiddled with the throw pillow she'd pulled onto her lap. “Remember a couple months ago when you asked me why I'm still single?”

He nodded. “You blamed the job. Long hours. Sometimes dangerous situations.” But even as he said it, Noah had a feeling Max was about to tell him the real reason.

“None of that would matter, if I could find the right man. Instead of guys like you, who think they have all the answers, for everybody, all the time.”

He could recite the list of his failings and flaws, but she'd heard them all before...and diffused them, one by one.

“News flash, Preston. You don't have all the answers.”

“I never said I did.”

Max got up and crossed the room, placed her palms on the arms of his chair and gave it a shake. “You feel something for that woman. Don't bother to deny it, because Alyssa is a sharp kid. If she got it into her head that Billie is mother material, it's because you've been sending subliminal messages.” The agent shook the chair again before straightening. “Go ahead, tell me I'm wrong!”

“Jeez, Max. The truth is I barely know her. I'm working on her bike. She might build me a website, and—”

Max dropped onto the sofa again. “What do you mean, might?”

“Well, like I said, she hung up on me.”

The woman hid behind her hands. “I don't know whether you're more exasperating than dense or the other way around.” She came out of hiding. “Did you see samples of her work?”

“Yeah...”

“Is she any good?”

“I guess...”

“Then hire her. And don't look at me that way—it really
is
that simple. She's a professional. If she wants your business, she'll overlook your little temper tantrum. And as you get to know her better, you'll figure out if what you feel for her is something worth pursuing or not.”

“What if I considered all of that?”

“Did you?”

“No, but if I had, I might have come to the conclusion that it would be selfish, starting something with her that I can't finish.”

“Why can't you?”

Noah threw his hands in the air. “You of all people know why!”

“I've said it before, I'll say it again. Other people in your situation found ways to live normal lives. If that's what you want, you'll find a way to get it.”

Noah sighed. “Talk about exasperating.”

“Somebody has to keep you straight.” Max pointed at the phone. “Call her.”

“It's nine o'clock.”

“She's a businesswoman. Believe me, she's awake and working.”

“I'll call her in the morning.”

“Chicken.”

When Max was right, she was right. “I need to sleep on it,” he hedged, “so I won't put my foot in my mouth again.”

The agent got up and grabbed her jacket. “You'll do what you want—you always do.”

And when she was wrong, she was wrong. He hadn't done anything he wanted to do since agreeing to testify against O'Malley.

“My advice?” she said. “The longer you put it off, the harder it'll be.”

Nodding, Noah walked her to the door. “I'll think about it.”

“I've worked with a lot of guys in this program who were built to live alone.” She jabbed a forefinger into his chest. “You, my friend, are not one of them.”

“Yeah, well, that's the price to pay for living a lie.”

“Oh, give me a break. I'll bet full disclosure causes more divorces than anything else. Even if you had a normal history, you wouldn't tell Billie
every
thing. And she won't tell you all the details about her past, either. Get over yourself. You like her. Admit it. Give her a call.” Max gestured toward the living room behind him. “You're safe here, so take a chance at happiness, why don't you?”

“I'll think about it,” he said again.

“You know I'm right.”

He was fortunate to have a friend like Max, and would have told her so...if she hadn't closed the door in his face.

Noah locked up and returned to the living room. Another glance at his watch told him only five minutes had passed since he'd last checked the time. He wanted to call Billie and apologize, but not now, and not without a plan. Remote in hand, he turned on the TV and closed his eyes. With any luck, a few ideas would percolate while he listened to some inane sitcom.

The wall clock said two-fifteen when he woke with a stiff neck.

Noah got up, stretching as he walked into the kitchen, and put on a pot of coffee. He'd been down this sleepless road enough times to know that going to bed now would be pointless. He'd only toss and turn, fighting the desire to watch the flickering digits on the clock count the minutes until the alarm buzzed. When the coffee finished perking, he'd carry a mug to his desk, put in an order for bike chains, trail pedals, crank tools and tire pumps. Then he'd balance the business checkbook and reconcile his personal bank accounts, too. Because few things annoyed him more than wasting time.

Half an hour later, with the Ike's Bikes books in order, Noah blew a stream of air through his teeth as he focused on his personal account. He was the only one writing checks to pay the water, phone and internet, cable and electric bills. He used a calculator, there were no outstanding checks and he'd compared his totals to the bank's four times. The numbers ought to match, instead of being off by five cents.

Noah realized he had no one but himself to blame for his rising frustration. If he had confidence in anyone other than himself, he would have hired an accountant to take care of the bookwork.

But if he didn't trust the bank, why would he trust a CPA? Mistrust had permeated every area of his life. It's what made him think Billie might have deliberately double-dosed Alyssa. But Max didn't do things halfway, and according to her investigation, Billie had no connection to O'Malley. Noah didn't feel bad about jumping to conclusions, about jumping all over
her.
It's what people did when fear dogged their heels. If he had the chance to do things over again, he wouldn't change a thing. Because what if he'd been on target?

The bike shop provided well for him and Alyssa, so he didn't really need to increase business with a website. But he'd let himself get sucked in by that lost, lonely look in Billie's eyes, a look he saw every time he glanced in the mirror. Now that the wheels were in motion, it provided a perfect excuse to call her, start a dialogue and hopefully mend the fences he'd destroyed.

He got up to refill his mug.

“Daddy?”

He lurched. “Good grief, Alyssa, you scared me half to death.”

She stood in the middle of the kitchen, hugging herself, one bare foot atop the other, pigtails and Barbie nightie askew.

Crouching, he took her in his arms. “You're cold,” he said, kissing her cheek. “What are you doing up at this hour?”

“I heard something. And then I smelled coffee.” She bracketed his face with small, chilly hands. “What are
you
doing up?”

Standing, he hoisted her onto one hip. “Couldn't sleep, thinking about all the work I forgot to do yesterday.” He carried her to her room. “What's your excuse?”

“I couldn't sleep, either.”

Noah gently deposited her on the bed. “Still stuffy-nosed, huh?”

“No.” She sat cross-legged and tucked her hands under her behind. “I feel bad that I got Billie in trouble.”

“Yeah,” he said, sitting on the edge of the mattress, “about that...”

Curly wisps had escaped her ponytails, and he tucked them behind her ears. He'd planned to keep her home from school tomorrow, so it wasn't critical that she get right back to sleep.

“We talked about how dangerous it is to take medicine when you don't need it. That's why I keep it way up high, out of your reach, remember?”

She nodded.

“And you remembered that I had already given you an allergy pill, right?”

“Um-hmm.”

“Then why did you trick Billie into giving you another one?”

She flopped back on her pillow and crooked an arm over her face. “To see if she was patient.”

He waited, hoping Alyssa would explain on her own.

“I really like her, and I think she'd be a good mom. So it was like a test, to see if she'd get mad over nothing, like my teacher, or if she'd be nice, like Mommy was.”

Noah's heartbeat doubled. He knew how much Alyssa wanted to be like the other kids in her class. How could he not,
 
when she ended every bedtime prayer with a special request for a mother?

“So was Billie patient and nice?”

“Yes.” Alyssa got onto her knees, then sat back on her heels. “I don't think she knows it yet, but she would make a great mom.”

His daughter, the armchair shrink.

“How do you know?”

Alyssa climbed into his lap. “I just do.” She linked her arms around his neck. “I like her, and I think you like her, too.”

He remembered that Max had said he must have sent subliminal messages, cues that his ever-alert daughter picked up. In truth, he
did
like Billie. Enough to trust her with his well-guarded secret?
Get a grip,
he thought as Alyssa yawned.

“Okay,” he said, helping her under the covers, “time for you to get to sleep, missy.”

“Are you going to sleep, too?”

The castle-shaped purple clock on her bedside table said ten to four. His own alarm automatically went off every day at six. “I'm gonna try.”

She rolled onto her side, yawning again as she hugged her pillow and favorite stuffed bunny. “Bet I'll be asleep before you are.”

He turned off the nightstand lamp. “We'll just see about that.”

“If I win, will you make pancakes for breakfast?”

Noah kissed the tip of her nose. “Sure. And if I win, what will you make me?”

Alyssa thought about that for a moment. “I'll make you call Billie,” she said around yet another yawn, “so I can tell her I'm sorry!”