It Takes Three

“Just leave that,” he said.

“Can’t. Part of my job. A professional doesn’t leave a mess in the kitchen.”

“Even though you don’t have a contract?”

“Even so. It’s a service-oriented, word-of-mouth business. Someone you know might need a caterer and you’ll remember the one who didn’t leave a mess.”

While she worked, Thea glanced at Scott who brooded beside her. “Kendra told me she’s never had a party. Is that true?”

He met her gaze and his own narrowed. “It doesn’t mean she’s underprivileged.”

“I can see that she’s got everything she needs. Materially,” she added.

“What are you saying?”

“Just that I got the feeling it was very important to her to have a party.”

“What was your first clue, Dr. Phil?”

She ignored his sarcasm. “The fact that she didn’t tell you I was coming. I’d have to guess she felt you would veto the catering idea.”

“She didn’t give me a chance to veto it.”

“And if she had? What would you have said?” Thea asked, watching him carefully.

He sighed. “Probably I’d have said no.”

“Look…” She rested her wrists inside the sink, letting the water drip from her hands. “Probably I should have asked if she had permission to hire me. And when it came to a signed contract and deposit check, the cat would have been out of the bag. But there’s something about Kendra.”

“Why didn’t she come to me? That’s a rhetorical question by the way.” He shook his head, then met her gaze. “And I don’t understand why she’s so upset about selling the house. It’s just a house.” His tone oozed frustration.

“Men.” Thea stared at him, not bothering to conceal her exasperation.

“What?”

His clueless express was so darn cute, she couldn’t help a small sigh. “How long have you lived here?”

He thought for a moment and said, “I guess ten or eleven years.”

“So Kendra was about seven or eight when you moved in. She hardly remembers living anywhere else. She’s facing big changes, like leaving high school and going away to college. Then she finds out you’re getting rid of her anchor. Of course she freaked. Change is hard.”

“I haven’t gotten rid of anything yet.”

“Just the thought of change is uncomfortable. It’s human nature to fight against that.”

Scott shifted his feet and brushed against the bag of trash on the floor. It tilted sideways, spilling the contents. “Damn it.”

He bent to pick up the bag, giving her an unobstructed view of his backside. She was the first to admit she was out of practice in the fine art of observing men. And truthfully, she’d never understood the fascination for that particular part of the male anatomy. But Scott Matthews’ fanny gave her a completely different perspective.

He straightened, pressed the latch on the kitchen can and dumped the smaller bag inside. Then he stooped again to gather up the stray trash on the tile. He picked up a slender plastic stick.

Frowning, he rolled it between his fingers. “Is this what I think it is?”

She saw the plus and minus symbols. “It is if you think it’s a pregnancy test.”

She should know. She’d used one not that long ago and hers had come up a plus.

Chapter Two

“Just shoot me now.” A muscle jumped in Scott’s lean cheek and tension made his already square jaw seem harder somehow. “Does this mean it’s negative?”

Thea stared at the minus sign. “Not necessarily. The results are only accurate for a short time. There’s no way to know if it’s positive or negative unless you know how long it’s been lying around.”

His expression was dark when he looked up. “I feel as if I’ve been walking down the stairs and just missed the last three steps.”

She wiped her hands on a dish towel. “Don’t jump to conclusions.”

Impossibly blue eyes narrowed on her. “What are you? Twenty-seven? Twenty-eight?”

“Thirty-four.” But what did that have to do with anything?

“Married? Divorced?”

“Neither,” she answered. “I’m a widow.”

Something flickered in his eyes, but she was grateful when he didn’t comment. The automatic “I’m sorry” was awkward and meaningless. She wasn’t even sure why she’d clarified her marital status to him. Normally she didn’t volunteer anything like that. But nothing about today was normal.

“Do you have any children?” he asked, exasperation lacing his tone.

Not yet, although she would soon. God willing. But this man was grilling her like raw hamburger. She’d innocently gotten caught up in his personal problems; that didn’t mean she had to reciprocate with her own problems. When her husband had received his cancer diagnosis, she’d learned the very hard lesson that personal information should be dispensed on a need-to-know basis. Scott was a prospective client. Maybe not, she thought, noting his intense expression. But whatever happened, he wasn’t entitled to her life story.

And she certainly wasn’t going to tell this man, this virtual stranger, that she was now pregnant through in vitro fertilization with her dead husband’s baby. She couldn’t ignore the question, but there was no need to put a finer point on it.

“No,” she finally said. “I don’t have any children.”

He slid her an I-thought-so look. “Then don’t tell me not to jump to conclusions.”

“I was simply trying to help.”

“There’s nothing you can do. This,” he said, holding up the stick, “means she’s having sex. Probably unprotected.”

“I’m not an idiot, Scott. I know this is a serious issue.”

“Really?” He put the test stick on the counter beside him, then met her gaze. “You know it intellectually? Or because you’ve watched Oprah and Dr. Phil? Or you’ve seen the teenage pregnancy statistics in Newsweek?”

“Of course, but—”

“But you don’t have children. You have no idea what it’s like to be nineteen and find out you’re going to be a father. You don’t have a clue what it’s like to be a kid yourself and find out you’re going to have a baby.”