In a Heartbeat

“No,” Erica interrupted.

“You haven’t even heard me out yet.”

“I heard you last week, and the week before that. You’ve got to stop trying to fix me up with men. I’m not interested.”

There was a long pause from Sherry. “Erica, Hannah’s last operation was almost a year ago. She’s doing terrific, getting healthier every day. It’s time for you to stop worrying so much about her and start thinking of your own happiness. It won’t hurt to leave her with a baby-sitter for the evening.”

“I’m happy,” Erica interjected. She rubbed her forehead, where a headache danced light fingers of pain across her brow.

Sherry sighed impatiently. “You can’t be happy. You’re alone.”

Again Erica laughed. “Contrary to popular belief, some women can be happy without a man in their life. Besides, I’m not alone. I have Hannah.”

Again there was a long pause and Erica sighed, knowing the pause didn’t indicate Sherry was giving up, only that she was regrouping. “Don’t you ever miss it?” she finally asked.

Erica frowned, again rubbing her forehead. “Miss what?”

“Sex.” Sherry sighed impatiently. “I know it’s been a long time, Erica, but surely you remember sex.”

Erica’s headache intensified. “Sherry, I refuse to have this discussion.”

“Ah, the ice maiden has appeared, hiding behind that cold exterior that keeps people at bay.”

Erica said nothing, silently admitting that Sherry knew her only too well.

“Erica, I worry about you. You work at home, you don’t go out. You don’t allow anyone in your life. You keep yourself so isolated from others.”

Sherry sighed. “Okay, I’ll stop now. I know this lecture is having about as much of an effect on you as a raindrop in the ocean. Are we on in the morning?”

“Sure,” Erica agreed. It was customary for the two friends to share coffee early every Sunday morning. “I’ll see you then.”

After hanging up, Erica shut off the coffeemaker, thinking of the woman who had been her best friend since they had been freshmen in high school.

However, as close as the two women had been over the years, their life-styles were far too different for Sherry to ever understand Erica.

Sherry Burnett had been raised in a loving, supportive family, and five years ago had married a wonderful man who adored her. She and her husband, David, had decided not to have children. David was a high-powered lawyer, and Sherry enjoyed an exciting job as an investigative reporter for an alternative newspaper in town.

Sherry was smart and savvy, but she didn’t understand loving a child. She couldn’t understand the commitment of a mother to a child in need.

After shutting off the kitchen light, Erica checked on Hannah—who slept peacefully with Peaches curled up next to her—then went into her small bedroom.

As she undressed and got ready for bed, her thoughts raced. Unlike so many of Erica’s friends, who’d drifted away, not knowing what to say, unable to deal with Erica’s grief and Chuck’s anger over Hannah’s heart condition, Sherry had remained the one constant source of support Erica so desperately needed.

She pulled her nightgown over her head and turned out her light. In the faint illumination filtering through the curtains from the street lamp out front, she crawled into bed.

Sherry’s question came back to haunt her.

“Don’t you ever miss it?”

Well, she could honestly say she never gave much thought to sex. She didn’t have the time or the energy to think about it.

However, if she were perfectly honest with herself, she’d admit that she did miss somebody holding her through the night. She missed the lingering scent of cologne on the pillow next to hers, the warmth of shared body heat on a cold, wintry night. But she could always buy a bottle of men’s cologne and an electric blanket would take care of her cold feet.

Erica had learned her lesson well. First from her father, who had walked out on them when Erica had been twelve, then from Chuck.

Men were great when the good times rolled. But, when trouble reared its ugly head, when the road of life got bumpy, men cut their losses and ran. Erica now knew that she only had herself to depend on.

No, she didn’t need a man, or anyone else in her life. Not in any way, shape or form. She just needed Hannah, and Hannah needed her. They were a unit, a family. She wasn’t willing to ever open her heart again to any male.

She’d done everything she could for the past six years to heal and protect Hannah. She wasn’t about to bring a man into their lives. She wasn’t about to allow a man to ever again steal a piece of their hearts, then ride off into the sunset without them.

Chapter 2

“Mr. Brown, you promised me you’d have somebody come over and look at this sink a month ago.” Erica held the phone in one hand and frantically removed the full pan of water from beneath the leaking pipe, quickly exchanging it for an empty pan.

What she wanted to do was reach through the phone wire and throttle Mr. Stanley Brown, her cheapskate landlord.

Unfortunately, even if she could reach across the line, she’d only manage to grasp thin air, since she wasn’t talking to an actual person. Instead, she was babbling, as usual, into his answering machine. “Please call me as soon as you can,” she finished, trying desperately to hang on to her composure.

She slammed down the phone, picked up the wrench and crawled beneath the sink. Shoving the pot aside, she connected the wrench to the elbow joint and tried to tighten the ring. It wouldn’t budge.

She strained again, feeling her face growing red with her effort. “Whew,” she said, and gave up. She simply didn’t have the strength required to get it to turn.

“Hello? Anybody home?”

The deep male voice at her back door startled her. She jumped, banging her head on one of the pipes. “Who’s there?” she yelled irritably, rubbing her forehead as she tried to wiggle out from beneath the cabinet.

The door opened and Caleb McMann stepped inside. In his hand he held a donut box that emitted the most delicious aromas Erica had ever smelled.

“Looks like you could use some help,” he said, stating the obvious. He set the box on the table and held out a hand to help her up.

She hesitated a moment. Her first inclination was to send him packing. She didn’t like his friendly smile and she’d always believed it was best to be wary of men bearing donuts.

But the rational part of her recognized she could use his help. The job required more strength than she possessed, and Caleb’s forearms and bulging biceps, displayed to perfection by his white T-shirt, looked more than adequate.

She placed her hand in his and allowed him to pull her to a standing position. “I…it’s leaking and I don’t have the strength to tighten it enough.”

“Mind if I give it a try?” He held out his hand for the wrench she still held.

She shrugged. Why not? “Be my guest.” She handed it to him and watched as he got down on the floor on his back and worked his torso into the cabinet.

It seemed impossible that his broad shoulders would fit, but he somehow managed to wedge himself beneath the pipes.

As he worked, it was also impossible for Erica not to notice the half of his body that remained in view. His abdomen was sinfully flat, his hips beneath his tight-fitting jeans were lean and his legs seemed to stretch forever. Erica’s grandmother would have called him a tall drink of water…a very nicely built drink of water, Erica thought.

She suddenly became conscious that she’d pulled on her ugliest T-shirt that morning and that the jeans she wore, which had once fit her so well, now hung on her like a layer of skin she was attempting to shed. She couldn’t even remember if she’d brushed her hair yet this morning. Irritation followed on the heels of these thoughts.

She didn’t care what she looked like. She wasn’t trying to impress anyone…especially a neighbor who apparently intended to be more neighborly than she wanted.