Single Mum Seeking...: A Daddy for Her Sons / Marriage for Her Baby / Single Mom Seeks...

Her blood ran cold. She was still moving, but no one could accuse her of dancing at this point. The music didn’t mean a thing.

Connor. Oh, no.

First, it appalled her to think that anyone she knew might see her here like this. But close on that thought came the shock question—was Brad with him?

No. She glanced around quickly and didn’t see any sign of her ex-husband at all. Thank heaven for small blessings. Connor must have come to town and was staying here at the hotel—alone. But still, it was Connor, Brad’s best friend, the one person most likely to report to him. She could hardly stand it.

He was mouthing something to her. She squinted, trying to make it out. What was he trying to say?

She couldn’t tell, but he was coming out onto the dance floor. Why? She looked around, feeling wild, wanting to run. What was he going to do?

“May I cut in?” he asked Karl.

He was polite, but unsmiling, and Karl didn’t seem to be in a friendly mood.

“What? No. Go get your own girl,” Karl told him, frowning fiercely. And just to prove his point, he grabbed Jill and pulled her close.

She looked over his shoulder at Connor. He offered a safe harbor of sorts, but there was danger there, too. She didn’t want to talk to Connor. She didn’t want to have anyone close to Brad anywhere near. The pain of Brad’s desertion still ached inside her like an open wound and she didn’t want anyone from his side of the rift to see her like this—much less talk to her.

So she glared at Connor. Let him know she didn’t need him or his rescue. She was doing fine. She was here enjoying herself. Sort of.

She got back to dancing, swaying her hips, making her sequins sparkle, and trying hard to smile at Karl. Let Connor see that she was having the time of her life. Let him take that bit of news back to Brad, if that was what he was after.

“Mambo!” she cried out, echoing Karl. Why the heck not?

Connor gave her a look of disbelief as he stepped back to the sidelines, but he didn’t leave. The next dance was a simple two-step, but that meant Karl’s arms around her again, and she couldn’t disguise the shudder that gave her.

And there was Connor, taking in every nuance. She glowered at him. He was very handsome in his crisp white shirt with the dark slacks that looked tailor-made. But that was beside the point. Didn’t he have a table to go to? What gave him the right to stand there and watch her? Biting her lip, she tried to keep him out of her line of vision and blot him out of her head.

But then he was back, right at Karl’s elbow again, stopping them in their tracks.

“Excuse me,” he said, looking very serious. “Listen, do you have a silver BMW in the parking lot?”

Karl blinked. His eyes narrowed suspiciously, but he couldn’t resist the question. “Why, yes I do. What about it?”

Connor’s brows came together in a look of sorrow. “I’m afraid your car’s on fire.”

Karl dropped Jill like a hot potato and whirled to face Connor. “What?” he cried, anguish contorting his face.

Connor was all sympathy. “I think they’ve called the fire department, but you might want to get out there and...”

No more words were necessary. He was already gone.

Connor took Jill by the arm, looking annoyed when she balked and tried to pull away.

“Come on,” he said impatiently. “I know a back way out.”

Jill shook her head, not sure what he thought he was doing here. “But...I can’t just leave.”

Connor looked down at her and suddenly grinned, startling her. She’d forgotten how endearing he could be and she stared up at him. It was like finding a beloved forgotten toy in the attic. Affection for him trembled on the edge of her mood, but she batted it back.

“Why not?” he said. “Do you want to spend the next two hours with the guy?”

She tried to appear stern. She wanted to deny what he was implying. How could she go? What would she say to her friends? What would she tell Mary Ellen?

But in the end, his familiar grin did her in. “I’d rather eat dirt,” she admitted, crumbling before him.

“There you go.” He led her gently across the dance floor, only hesitating while she scooped up her sparkly little purse. They headed for the exit and he winked at a waiter who was holding the door for them, obviously primed to help with the escape. He paused only long enough to hand the man some folded money and then they were out the door.

“But what about his car?” Jill asked, worrying a bit. She knew the sense of guilt would linger long after the evening was gone. “He loves that car.”

“Don’t give it a second thought,” he advised, steering her toward his own souped-up, twenty-year-old Camaro, a car she remembered from the past, and pulling open the passenger door.

“His car isn’t really on fire, is it?” she asked as she plunked down into the leather seat.

“No.” He sank into the driver’s seat and grinned at her again. “Look, I’ll do a lot for an old friend, but setting a guy’s car on fire...no, that’s a step too far.”

She watched him start the engine and turn toward the back exit.

“But you will lie to him about it,” she noted.

“Oh, yeah.”

She sighed and settled back into the seat. All in all, at least she didn’t have a naked foot exploring her leg at the moment. That alone was worth its weight in gold.

“Rickey’s on the Bay?” he asked in the shorthand they both remembered from earlier years.

“Of course,” she responded without thinking. That was where everyone always went when the night was still young enough to make the last ferry to the island. She turned and looked at the lights of Seattle in the distance. If only you could go back in time as easily as you could go back to the places where you hung out in your youth.

“I can’t believe I’m letting you do this,” she said with a sigh.

“I can’t believe you needed me to do it.”

She laughed. “Touché,” she muttered. So much for the great date that was supposed to bring her out of her shell and into the social whirl.

She pulled her cell phone out of her purse and checked it.

“What are you doing?” Connor asked with just a hint of suspicion in his tone.

She glanced up at him and smiled impishly. “Waiting for Karl to call. I’ve got to explain this to him somehow.”

He shuddered. “Is Karl the mambo king?” he asked.

She gave him a baleful look.

“Don’t worry. I gave the waiter a little money to tell old Karl what the score was.”

She raised an eyebrow. “And just what is the score, pray tell?”