Temporary Nanny

She strode inside and crossed her arms. “This apartment looks exactly like what it is. A furnished place to hide out and feel sorry for yourself. You need a home. You need my home.”

“Like hell I do. It’s about as restful as Grand Central Station. There are kids and pets and old people all over the place.”

“Those old people are my in-laws and they’re very sweet. My kids can be a pain in the rear, but they’ll grow on you.”

He couldn’t allow her to see how tempting he really found her offer. Wife, mother, businesswoman, caretaker—the last thing she needed was her injured brother taking up space with the rest of her strays.

Touching her arm, he said, “I appreciate the invitation. Really. But I need to do this on my own.”

“So why not get an apartment close to me? Or close to Dad in Florida?”

“Dad’s started a new life with Evelyn. He spent enough time raising us, he deserves this second chance. Anyway, Phoenix was home before I started the expat life. Maybe I can figure some stuff out here. Besides, you know, the old McIntyre stubbornness.”

Becca blew out a breath that ruffled her bangs. Her eyes sparkled with amusement. “I have a passing acquaintance with it. Fortunately, the family curse seems to have passed me by completely.”

“Yeah, you keep telling yourself that. I bet Gabe has a whole ’nother story.”

“Don’t you dare compare notes with my husband. He’s hard enough to handle as it is. It’s going to make me very uneasy with you clear across the country. Won’t you at least let me stay a few days to get you settled?”

“Absolutely not.”

Becca sighed. “Then allow Tess to come visit for a while?”

“No way. The last person I need in the middle of my catastrophe is my ex-wife. I have no intention of wrecking her second marriage.”

Tilting her head, she asked, “You’re not the tiniest bit jealous?”

“No.” The truth was, Royce was a bit relieved that Tess had remarried. Knowing she had finally moved on and found happiness put his guilt on a bearable level.

“I don’t think I could be as easygoing if Gabe ever remarried.”

“Then don’t get divorced in the first place.” He glanced at his watch. “Speaking of which, I bet your husband is eager for you to get home to start your anniversary festivities. Don’t you have a plane to catch?”

Becca touched his cheek with her fingertips. “Royce, I quit being fooled by the tough guy act a long time ago. I know you’re hurting, physically and emotionally. I hate leaving you like this, but I guess I understand wanting to do it by yourself. If you need anything, call. Anytime, day or night.”

Royce cleared his throat. “You bet. Now get back to your own life.”

Becca kissed him on the cheek. “Goodbye, Royce.”

Then she turned and walked out the door.

Royce dropped to the couch, fighting emotion.

The silence echoed louder than the explosion.

Jake tried to appear innocent. He looked his mom straight in the eye, though it took all his courage. He didn’t want Sally to get in trouble. And he didn’t want his mom to worry.

“You be good for Sally today, okay?” She handed him his favorite Diamondbacks baseball cap.

“I’ll be very good.” There. It wasn’t really a lie. He’d just left out the Sally part. She’d called the night before while his mom was in the shower. He’d listened to the voice mail, then deleted it.

“Be sure to ask her to help with your math homework because I might be late.”

Jake nodded. A nod wasn’t a lie, either.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to drive you to school?”

“No. You can drop me off at the bus stop, though.”

“You bet.” She had that same sad expression when his dad didn’t show up to take Jake for the weekend. Like she blamed herself for all the sucky stuff that happened.

He flung his arms around her neck and hugged her hard. Before she could hang on to him and get all mushy, he pushed away and ran to get his backpack. “Let’s go.”

“Sure, honey. Let’s go.”

ROYCE CRANKED OPEN an eye and glanced at the clock. The numerals told him it was four o’clock, even if he hadn’t already suspected the fact. And the infernal tapping had been going on for at least fifteen minutes.

He should get a broomstick and bang on the ceiling so his upstairs neighbor would get a clue. But he doubted it would work. The noise had started promptly at three forty-five yesterday, too.

Cocking his head, Royce decided it wasn’t tap dancing. It sounded almost like Morse code.

Damn. If he didn’t know better, he’d think his pain medication was making him hallucinate again. But he’d quit taking the meds months ago.

Royce listened intently while he removed a bowl from the kitchen cupboard. Then a spoon from the drawer. He poured cereal and milk.

Voila! Dinner.

And who said the one-handed guy couldn’t be self-sufficient? Certainly not his physical therapist, Gus, who led him to believe he’d be as good as new with a space- age prosthesis and a crapload of physical and occupational therapy.

The series of taps intruded on his thoughts.

One-handed man.

“One-handed man,” he murmured, looking heavenward. Was it possible?

“Bring…what? Treats?”

Now he was really losing it. He was imagining an upstairs neighbor tapping out a take-out order in Morse code. And addressing it to the man with one hand.

Last time he’d checked, Royce had been the only one-handed man in the apartment building. Possibly even for miles.

What other explanation could account for the mystery message? There was that cute redhead he’d seen on the elevator. More likely, it was the kid she’d had with her. The boy who looked enough like her to be her son.

More taps.

Definitely bring treats.

Royce booted up his laptop and did an Internet search to refresh his memory of Morse code. When the taps started again, he noted their order, then translated.