The Mummy Proposal

“What do you mean?” Brooke asked.

“Initially, I thought I would just put Landry in one of the guest rooms, and have you and Cole bunk in the caretaker’s cottage. Now I’m thinking it might be better to have you all stay in the main house this evening.”

“Or we could simply go home and come back tomorrow,” she offered hopefully.

Nate’s glance narrowed. “I don’t think Landry would like that.”

She sighed. “Probably not.”

Nate stepped closer.

She noticed the evening beard darkening his jaw. It lent a rugged masculinity to his already handsome features. Irritated to find herself attracted to him—again—she stepped back. She had a job to do here. One that did not involve lusting after the boss …

Oblivious to the desirous nature of her thoughts, Nate looked into Brooke’s eyes. “Landry’s bonding with you.”

She felt drawn to him, too. Landry needed a mom in his life again. So much so that he had immediately latched onto her.

But that was no solution, Brooke realized sadly.

She fought getting any more emotionally involved in a situation that was not hers to fix. She was trying to bring balance to her life, not more conflict. “He needs to bond with you, Nate.”

“And he will … over time,” Nate concurred calmly.

A little irked to see him treating this like just another life challenge, when it was so much more than that, Brooke murmured, “Never met a target you couldn’t charm?”

His persuasive smile faded, and with an understanding that seemed to go soul-deep, he murmured, “I never wanted to be in a situation where I had no family.”

But here he was, Brooke thought, unmarried and childless—until today, anyway.

“And I’m certain Landry doesn’t want to be in that situation, either.” Nate paused, before finishing resolutely, “When he realizes we can help each other, he’ll come around.”

Brooke hoped so. Otherwise, all four of them were in for a bumpy ride.

“PSSSST, MOM! Are you still awake?”

Her heart jumping at the urgency of the whisper, Brooke sat up in bed. “Cole?”

The guest room door eased open. Seconds later, Cole and Landry tiptoed in. Both were barefoot, clad in cotton pajama pants and T-shirts. Cole’s were stylish and vibrant: Landry’s were faded and on the verge of being too small.

Promising herself she would get Nate to take care of the clothes issue for Landry as soon as possible, Brooke turned on the bedside lamp. “Why aren’t you two asleep?”

Cole perched on the foot of her bed, then signaled for Landry to do the same. The boy came around to the other side.

It seemed being in the same boat had forged a bond between the two, Brooke noted. Realizing a first tentative step toward Landry’s future had been made, she smiled. Maybe Nate was smarter about all this than she had realized ….

“Because the place is too big and too quiet.” Hands clenched nervously, Landry sat down, too.

“It feels like we’re in a hotel—only we’re the only ones here,” Cole acknowledged with a comically exaggerated shiver. “Which is kind of spooky if you think about it too much.”

Ten thousand square feet of space was overwhelming, Brooke agreed. Especially the way the residence was decorated now, with a postmodern edge and minimal furnishings. The only television was in the master bedroom, where Nate was sleeping, so she couldn’t even offer that as a distraction.

“You boys have a big day tomorrow.” Both would be at summer camp all day. “I’ve got a lot on my schedule, too.”

“Can we hang out here for a while?” Cole asked.

Landry’s stomach grumbled loudly.

Suddenly, the mom in her kicked in, and Brooke knew what was really keeping them awake. “You guys wait here,” she told them. “I’ll be right back.”

NATE HAD JUST CLIMBED into bed when he heard the soft sound of footsteps in the hallway.

He sat up, listening. It wasn’t his imagination. That last creak had been the back stairs! He clamped down on an oath. Certain Landry was running away again, Nate flung back the covers and padded soundlessly down the hall, in the direction of the escape route.

But it wasn’t Landry he found standing in the bright light of the kitchen—it was Brooke.

Clad in a snug-fitting tank top and yoga pants, her brown hair tousled, she was standing at one of the two big stainless steel refrigerators, staring thoughtfully at the contents.

“I know,” Nate said. “I’ve got a little bit of everything in there.”

She shot him a look over her shoulder, as at ease in his home as he wanted her to be. “And here I didn’t imagine you could cook,” she drawled.

“I don’t. But I found out most of the women I’ve dated do, so it makes everyone happy if the fridge is well-stocked.”

Brooke’s smile faded. “Right,” she murmured.

The word had a wealth of undercurrents. “Meaning?” Nate prodded.

Her lips curved upward even as the light faded from her eyes. She said in a low, cordial tone, “You have a reputation for making the women in your life very happy, while they are in your orbit.”

Nate certainly tried. What point was there in spending time with someone unless it was a pleasurable experience? That didn’t mean, however, that he pretended something was going to work long term when it clearly wouldn’t.

“I don’t fall in love easily.” Although not for lack of trying. He wanted to be married and have a family.

She studied him as if trying to decide whether or not he was the womanizer some made him out to be, then brought out a bowl of fresh fruit, a loaf of artisan bread and a block of sharp cheddar. “Have you ever been in love?”

Nate handed over the serving board and bread slicer. “Once, with Landry’s mother.”

Brooke set to work preparing a snack, with the skill of a mom who spent a lot of time in the kitchen. “What happened to break you up? Or shouldn’t I ask?”

Normally, Nate followed the gentleman’s rule and did not talk about his previous relationships with women. For some reason, this was different. He wanted Brooke to understand. “I was working really long hours, getting my company off the ground,” he admitted, moving restlessly about the sleek, utilitarian kitchen. “Seraphina was pretty involved in planning our wedding, and she had an old friend living in her building. Miles Lawrence was trying to make it as a stand-up comedian, and she went to as many of his appearances as she could. I didn’t worry about the amount of time they spent together. As it turns out, I should have,” Nate reflected ruefully. “She broke off our engagement to run away with him.”

“And had a child,” Brooke interjected, perceptive as ever.

Reluctantly, Nate met her eyes. “Some eight months later.”

Her hand froze in midmotion. She stared at him, already doing the math. “Is it possible that Landry is yours?”

Nate had been wondering the same thing. All he could go on was what he knew for sure. “The birth certificate lists Miles Lawrence as Landry’s father.”