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A Perfect Pair
Jen Safrey


THE PERFECT MAN WAS RIGHT UNDER HER NOSE!The sexy and sprightly Josey St. John had always preferred innocent dating to "I do." But after a sudden change of heart, she realized that all she wanted was to be a mother and wife. Who better to help her than her handsome best friend and downstairs neighbor, Nate Bennington?Nate had been ready to turn down Josey's proposition when he realized all she was asking for was his help in finding Mr. Right. So why was he so hot and bothered about her search for the perfect man? After all, because of his dark past, Nate had long ago decided he wasn't father material, so he could never be the man she was looking for.Or could he?









“I want the whole thing, Nate. I want a family. I want kids—and a husband. The whole package.”


Nate leaned in, so that they were nearly nose to nose. “Since when, Josey? You love being single. How many times have you waxed philosophical about how impossible it must be to find the right man and so you weren’t going to bend over backwards to do it?”

“So what?” Her voice turned stubborn. “I can’t change my mind?”

“You can change your mind, but this is a complete about-face. It’s weird.”

“Oh, I’m so glad you think I’m weird.”

“Josey, I’m sorry,” he said, grabbing her hand. “It’s just surprising. But I think it’s wonderful. I wish you luck. I really do.”

“You do?” she asked, her voice tripping with excitement.

Nate wondered why she was getting so emotional. “You know I do. You’re my friend and I’ll do anything to make sure you’re happy.”

A huge grin spread across her face. “I’m so glad you said that, you have no idea. Now I can get to what I really wanted to ask you tonight. I need your help….”


Dear Reader,

Well, the new year is upon us—and if you’ve resolved to read some wonderful books in 2004, you’ve come to the right place. We’ll begin with Expecting! by Susan Mallery, the first in our five-book MERLYN COUNTY MIDWIVES miniseries, in which residents of a small Kentucky town find love—and scandal—amidst the backdrop of a midwifery clinic. In the opening book, a woman returning to her hometown, pregnant and alone, finds herself falling for her high school crush—now all grown up and married to his career! Or so he thinks….

Annette Broadrick concludes her SECRET SISTERS trilogy with MacGowan Meets His Match. When a woman comes to Scotland looking for a job and the key to unlock the mystery surrounding her family, she finds both—with the love of a lifetime thrown in!—in the Scottish lord who hires her. In The Black Sheep Heir, Crystal Green wraps up her KANE’S CROSSING miniseries with the story of the town outcast who finds in the big, brooding stranger hiding out in her cabin the soul mate she’d been searching for.

Karen Rose Smith offers the story of an about-to-be single mom and the handsome hometown hero who makes her wonder if she doesn’t have room for just one more male in her life, in Their Baby Bond. THE RICHEST GALS IN TEXAS, a new miniseries by Arlene James, in which three blue-collar friends inherit a million dollars—each!—opens with Beautician Gets Million-Dollar Tip! A hairstylist inherits that wad just in time to bring her salon up to code, at the insistence of the infuriatingly handsome, if annoying, local fire marshal. And in Jen Safrey’s A Perfect Pair, a woman who enlists her best (male) friend to help her find her Mr. Right suddenly realizes he’s right there in front of her face—i.e., said friend! Now all she has to do is convince him of this….

So bundle up, and happy reading. And come back next month for six new wonderful stories, all from Silhouette Special Edition.

Sincerely,

Gail Chasan

Senior Editor




A Perfect Pair

Jen Safrey





www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


To Bobbi Lerman,

a fantastic writer and friend, who coaxed this story

out of me even when it felt impossible. We did it!




JEN SAFREY


grew up in Valley Stream, New York, and graduated Boston University in 1993. She is a nearly ten-year veteran of the news copy desk at the Boston Herald. Past and present, she has been a champion baton twirler, an accomplished flutist, an equestrienne, a student of ashtanga yoga and a belly dancer. Jen would love to hear from readers at jen02106@lycos.com.










Contents


Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen




Prologue


Nate heard a woman shout in the apartment above, but he couldn’t make out the words.

The abrupt, angry sound pierced the silence in which Nate had been sitting at the kitchen table, spooning up Cheerios. He jumped slightly and a few Cheerios dripped onto his lap. He lifted the window curtain, opened the window and peered out. Squinting and tilting his face up to the early afternoon sun, he saw the open windows above him. After a few weeks of crisp, cold weather, the unusually mild November day had likely prompted his neighbor to air out her place. Nate silently waited a few moments. Nothing.

Slightly tense, he picked the Cheerios off his lap and reluctantly went back to eating. Still hearing nothing, he slurped on the spoon a little, quickly intercepting a stream of milk down his chin with a napkin. He hoped that one shout was the end of whatever was going on. As he scooped up the last Cheerio, he caught himself trying not to tap the bowl with the spoon, trying to stay quiet, his ears alert as a fox’s for another sign of discord.

He forced himself to relax his shoulders, to breathe normally. He reminded himself that one distinct drawback to living in Boston was getting to know neighbors intimately, whether he wanted to or not. And today, like most days, it really was “not.” He’d allowed himself the Sunday luxury of sleeping in as long as he could—until after noon—then he’d cracked open his briefcase and worked about an hour before he’d realized he’d forgotten to eat breakfast.

Nate put the bowl to his lips and drained the rest of his milk, feeling the sweet coldness slide down his throat, before carrying the bowl to the sink. He washed it carefully and rubbed it with a clean towel until it squeaked. He did the same with the spoon and replaced both in the overhead cabinet.

But then, there it was again.

Another wordless, indignant female scream echoed through the alley between buildings and into Nate’s kitchen. He stood motionless and tried again to talk himself out of his discomfort, this time attempting to be annoyed at the noise, the way a normal city dweller would be.

At least he’d already been awake and the racket hadn’t dragged him out of slumber, he told himself. Who was she yelling at, anyway? He didn’t even hear another voice.

He took the three steps to his sofa and fell onto it. He fumbled underneath his butt for the remote. A little channel surfing for half an hour wouldn’t put him too far behind, he thought. He needed a little downtime in his week. Besides, the TV would drown out his upstairs neighbor until she quit for the day, which, Nate hoped, was before he had to get down to serious work.

But before he could press the On button, there was a loud crash over his head, accompanied by an incredulous shriek.

Then silence.

Nate jolted upright.

There was someone with her. And it sounded like someone she’d pushed too far—someone who was going to hurt her. If he hadn’t already.

Nate tensed, waiting, his senses at attention. Then he heard another crash, like a piece of furniture hitting the wall, and another cry of outrage.

An image of the woman he’d never met flashed in his mind. Her features were unrecognizable, but there was terror in her eyes as she cowered, fearful of the next blow that was sure to come. He felt her terror now.

He had known it himself, long ago.

Nate leaped off the sofa and ran to his open window. “Hey!” he yelled, aware that his interference would be ineffective against someone like his own father, but hoping the man upstairs was a different kind of coward. “Hey! What’s going on up there?”

The woman yelled again, but what he heard couldn’t be right: “What is this freaking game?”

Game? Still at the window, Nate stared out at the parking lot, his thoughts tumbling over each other. Was someone playing some kind of sick “game” with her? Some twisted sex game, maybe? He knew one of his colleagues in the D.A.’s office had had a case like that a few months back. A man had inadvertently killed his wife while trying some kind of sadistic—

Over Nate’s head, the banging became rhythmic, like someone pounding the floor. “Come on!” the woman screamed. “Come on… Oh, God! No! No!”

Nate’s fury overwhelmed him. He dashed into his bedroom and blindly grabbed his baseball bat out of a corner. Then he ran down the short hallway, slipping a bit in his socks on the hardwood floor, and threw open his door. He raced up the stairwell, one flight, and without knocking, pushed open the door to the apartment directly above his own. He slid into the middle of the living room, bat raised, and the woman, sitting alone on the floor in front of the television, jumped to her feet and screamed.

“Are you okay?” he demanded.

The woman dropped her hands from her mouth. “Who the hell are you?” she shrieked.

Nate momentarily ignored her, scanning the room and the adjoining kitchenette, then stomping into her bedroom, then her bathroom, despite her cry of “Hey!”

Empty. Confirming she was alone, he returned to the living room, where she still stood, eyes wide, and he finally answered, “I live downstairs. I heard you yelling and—”

“And so you just rushed in here? Into my apartment?” The woman stared at him a minute. “Well, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb you. It’s just that I get very emotional about—”

“Are you okay?” Nate repeated. Frankly, she looked fine to him. Better than fine. She was gorgeous. Her blond hair was cropped short, like a boy’s, but her face was nothing but feminine—small turned-up nose, full pouty lips and enormous, milk-chocolate brown eyes.

She made some kind of sound, which sounded to Nate like part relieved sob and part laugh. “Well, a half-naked man just crashed into my living room with a baseball bat, apparently about to beat me up for making too much noise. Not a usual Sunday afternoon occurrence, but yeah, I’m pretty okay.”

Nate looked down at his ratty old jeans, only realizing now he was shirtless. “Where is he?” he asked, but his tone had softened a little bit.

She shook her head in confusion. “Wh-what? Who?”

“You were yelling. I heard you. And there was all that noise, banging around. Someone was…hurting you?”

“Oh, no.” She covered her mouth with her hands again. “Oh, no, I’m so sorry.” But her eyes were suddenly laughing. “It’s the game.”

“Yeah, I heard that, too—a game. What game?”

She pointed at the television. “Football game.”

Nate tore his eyes away from the woman’s enchanting face to the TV, where the announcer was saying, “And at the end of the first half, the score is the Denver Broncos 13, the New England Patriots 10.” Then a commercial, two guys walking through a desert, wishing for some great beer.

Nate kept his eyes on the screen. “The game? This game?”

“Yes. See,” the woman explained hurriedly, “I usually watch the game down at the Bull Pen, but my date stood me up. Normally I’d just go solo, because after all, I’m not going to let an inconsiderate idiot ruin my day, but I’m short on money this week anyhow and the Pats game was on regular TV. So I’m watching it here.” She gestured lamely at the television, then bent to pick the remote control off the floor where she had been sitting. She muted the set before continuing. “I get a little, um, emotional about my team. There were a few incomplete passes that made me flip a couple of chairs over, and I was yelling no because Denver intercepted the ball and they were running up the field for a touchdown and I couldn’t believe it and I kind of started banging on the floor…. Wait, you ran up here because you thought someone was hurting me?”

Nate nodded mutely, then sank onto her ugly orange sofa. He looked back at her, taking in the red-white-and-blue football jersey and jeans she wore, then dropped the bat with a clatter on the floor by his feet. He took in the scantily furnished room, and saw that the couple of chairs in it were, in fact, lying on their side.

“Thank you,” the woman said sincerely. “I mean it. Thank you.” She studied his face. “Are you okay? You seem really upset. I’m so, so sorry.”

Nate wasn’t sure how he was feeling. He had rushed up here, thinking he was rescuing someone from the kind of abusive terror he himself had had to live with for so long. Now, seeing this woman standing over him, obviously unhurt, was almost too much of a relief. “I’m, uh, I’m just a little embarrassed, is all.”

“Don’t be,” the woman said vehemently. “I’m so grateful—just as grateful as I would have been if someone really was hurting me and you came to save me. Really,” she said. “I’m just so sorry for getting carried away in here with the windows open. I wish I could make it up to you…wait, I can. Why don’t you stay? I’ll make something to eat and I have enough soda and beer for both of us, I think.”

“You want me to stay?”

“Sure I do. I mean, I don’t know you, but you passed the friend test immediately by running in here to rescue me. Not too many of the friends I have now would do that, I’ll bet, including the creep who stood me up today.” She walked backward into her kitchenette, talking all the way to the refrigerator. “He wasn’t my type, anyhow,” she added, yanking a six-pack of diet soda from the fridge and pulling two cans off their plastic rings. Then she slammed the door shut with a nudge of one blue-jeaned hip. “Not that I’m actively searching for my type, mind you. But I digress.” She tossed him one can, and Nate reached out for it, the cold condensation suddenly shocking the nerve endings in his fingers. “I’d love to have a friend in this building. Besides, if you were a true psycho, you would have bonked me over the head and taken my two pieces of real jewelry and the six bucks in my wallet by now. Come on, stay. Watch the game.”

Nate was having trouble keeping up with her train of thought, being a little weary from the emotions that had surged through him in the last few minutes. He popped open his can and took a long swig, nearly choking when the woman exclaimed, “I’m not trying to flirt with you or get a date with you or anything like that. Don’t get me wrong, okay?” She took a small sip of her own soda. “I mean, nice chest and everything, but that’s not why I’m asking you. I value my single status. It’s just that you just seem so…nice.”

She squinted at Nate the way he imagined a psychiatrist would scrutinize a patient. He avoided psychiatrists, since he didn’t find it necessary to pay someone to remind him that his childhood had been messed up. But this woman’s searching stare was unnerving him. “You’re not a psychiatrist or psychologist or therapist of any kind, are you?” he asked.

“No, sorry, can’t help you there,” she said, then she laughed. “Watch the game. You can tell me your problems at the time-outs, if you want, and I’ll see what I can do.”

Her vivacity was infectious and it was tough not to smile back at her. “Do you think you can control yourself with another person in the room?” he asked. “I don’t want to duck flying furniture for the whole second half.”

She gave him a cocky grin. “No, of course not. Maybe with a guest here, I can try to keep a lid on it.” She extended her hand. He took it, and her skin felt cool and delicate but, at the same time, warm and immediately reassuring.

“I’m Josey.”




Chapter One


About a year and a half later

The Mother’s Day pageant was a catastrophe waiting to happen.

Twenty-seven third-graders ran amok backstage, darting around abandoned, faded backdrops, hiding behind black curtains and giggling as they tripped over their own baggy, assorted animal costumes and landed on the dusty wooden floorboards. Fifty-four little sneakered feet thundered back and forth in a frenzied pre-performance game of demented tag, no one knowing who was it, but everyone joining in, anyway, for the sheer joy of running in circles and screaming.

Josey squinted at her watch, straining in the dank backstage dimness to see the clock. Five minutes until curtain time. The best way to get a grip on this eight-year-old hysteria, she knew, was her piercing, unladylike taxi-hail whistle, the one she used when her pumped-up kids returned to the classroom from either recess or gym class, the one that made them cover their ears in mock terror and shriek, “Miss St. John! That’s so loud!” But she hated to use it here, aware of the mothers and handful of fathers currently seating themselves out front, and dreading what they would think of her archaic method of crowd control.

“Kids! Kids, settle down!” she hissed in—appropriately—a stage whisper, but no one heard or cared. Arms and legs flailing, they continued their chase around and around until finally, Josey felt forced to take her drastic measure. She put two fingers in her mouth and blew with all her might.

Small hands flew to heads. “Miss St. John! Ow!”

Josey winced, remembering the parents, but then she heard several amused titters and one outright laugh come from out front. She should have known they’d understand—and approve. Relieved, she turned to her class.

“Okay, everyone,” she said, widening her arms and allowing all the children to gather around her. She did a silent head count, did it again and was satisfied. “Just remember to do your best. If you forget your lines or a song, it’s okay. We’re just doing this to have fun, right?”

They all nodded, suddenly very serious in their fuzzy costumes and rainbow feathers and painted-on whiskers. My kids, Josey caught herself thinking, and smiled to herself.

“And,” she added with a wink, “I’ll be right in front of the stage like I showed you this morning, if you need help remembering anything. I’ll wave right at the beginning so you all can see me. Our rehearsal today was awesome, right?”

Enthusiastic nods.

“Your parents are going to be so proud. And if your parents couldn’t come today—” she focused on a few specific faces “—I’m especially proud of you for being good sports.”

Ally Berenson, the music teacher, poked her head through the curtain then. “Hi, Miss Berenson!” a chorus of voices called, and Ally waggled her fingers at them.

“Hi, gang. Are you ready to rock and roll?”

“Yes!” they all yelled happily, even though Josey was sure the expression went right over their heads. Ally was a kid favorite. With her wild mop of brassy hair tumbling around her face and her ability to make up a silly spontaneous song about any student, it was easy to understand why.

Ally flicked her gaze to Josey. “Are you ready?” she asked more quietly, grinning. “Full house out there. Somehow, when they dim the lights, I forget it’s a gymnasium with folding chairs.”

Josey smiled back. “Just soothing some opening-night—uh, make that opening-afternoon—jitters.”

“Your own or the kids’?”

“Well,” Josey admitted, “I am a little nervous.”

“Me, too,” Ally whispered. “And I have no excuse. I write songs for every class, kindergarten through sixth, for plays every year. I deserve a Tony by now. Maybe two.”

Josey turned back to her class. “Everyone get in your places!” she called. And as the third-grade zoo animals scrambled around the stage, she added in a low voice to Ally, “You’re terrific. I thought when I came up with this year’s Mother’s Day play idea you were going to kill me.”

“No, it’s great!” Ally said. “I had a lot of fun with them. The tiger song was tough, but hey, I’m a genius.”

“Anyway,” Josey pointed out, “this audience didn’t come here to see you and me.”

Ally chuckled. “True enough. Good luck! See you at the cast party. I hear Mel Gibson may show.” She laughed and ducked as Josey took a playful swat at her, then disappeared again behind the curtain.

Josey hustled a few children around, and when all seemed in order, she took a small lion named Jeremy by the hand and led him to where the curtain parted. She put Jeremy’s hand—now a golden paw—on the curtain in the right spot so he wouldn’t have to fumble, then knelt by him.

“Okay, Jeremy. All set?”

“Yeah,” the boy answered in a shaky but definitely determined voice.

“I’m going to go out front. You stay here and count to twenty-five slowly, then come on out.”

“Okay, Miss St. John. I’m not scared,” he added, more to himself than to her.

Touched, she put a playful finger on his now-brown nose. “I know. Okay, start counting!”

Josey tiptoed offstage so as not to make a clatter, then once safely in the wings, she ran down the stairs, leaping off three steps from the bottom. She smoothed her long, swirly rust-colored skirt and tucked a strand of hair behind each ear before pushing open the door and stepping out before the audience.

She opted out of an opening speech, aware that Jeremy was probably counting fast. Instead, she waved an acknowledging hand to the clapping parents and took her place in front of the stage just in time for Jeremy to hustle his way through the curtain. The crowd behind Josey murmured at the adorable costume.

“Moms and dads,” Jeremy began, and Josey was relieved to hear he’d remembered to speak very loudly. “Miss St. John’s third-graders are proud to present ‘Wild Moms.’ We take you now to the zoo. The animals are all getting ready to celebrate Mother’s Day.” He ad-libbed a growl, which elicited an auditorium full of laughter, then moved stage left as the sixth-grader Josey had hired for the day pulled open the curtain.

The play went amazingly well. Ally’s songs were perfect; the parents loved the one about the mama tiger teaching her cub how to growl. One child, Jamie Cranston, forgot her lines, and though Josey called them out in a whisper for her, it clearly distressed Jamie, one of the smartest little girls in the class, to have been the only one helped by the teacher. She watched as Jamie slunk backstage in humiliation. Josey made a mental note to talk to the little girl after the play and tell her how brave she was.

But then she saw that she wouldn’t need to.

A moment later, out of the corner of her eye, she spied Jamie’s parents. They slipped into the side aisle and climbed quietly up the side stage stairs, pushing behind the heavy black curtain. No one else in the audience seemed to notice, all focused on their own children. But the black curtain didn’t fall all the way behind the Cranstons, and through the open space Josey saw them approach their miserable daughter, and then saw the father scoop Jamie up in his arms.

Josey turned her eyes back to her job, back to the play, but it was going without a hitch, and she just couldn’t help herself from peeking at the backstage family again. Jamie’s father lifted his mouth to her ear, blew away a strand of flaxen hair and whispered. Josey watched his lips form words that only his little girl could hear, words that produced a small wisp of a smile. Then the mother leaned in closer and added her own soft comments, which elicited an even larger smile. And then Jamie snuggled her face happily in her dad’s shoulder.

And Josey, suddenly distracted from her onstage class, her gaze on the backstage drama, was sure she would never forget, in her whole life, the look on the mother’s face. As the woman gazed at her husband and daughter, there was a glowing serenity about her, a sweet combination of love and satisfaction that reminded Josey of a holy madonna statue.

And although Josey couldn’t hear her voice, she instinctively knew that when the woman bent her head toward her husband, her murmured words were, “I love you.”

Then the pair slipped quietly back to their seats, and Josey returned her attention to her class, and the show went on.

When the curtain closed, all the parents jumped to their feet, clapping and whistling. Josey leaped onto the stage, pushed behind the curtain and lined up the children, holding hands, for their bow. When one little boy and girl in the middle refused to touch each other’s hand—fear of cooties, no doubt—Josey alleviated the problem by stepping between them and taking a small hand in each of hers. She nodded at the stage girl to pull the curtain open again, and as cameras flashed and camcorders whirred, Josey took the deserved bow with her hardworking, exhausted kids.

But in that moment, when she expected her heart would swell with its usual pride, it felt achy and hollow—a first for her.



When the last straggling child had gone for the day, Josey looked around the room, abandoned for the afternoon. Rays of sunshine filtered through the window blinds and lit up the desks in the front row. Everything was so familiar and yet felt strange to her. She felt strange, really. As if she’d never really seen anything before and now it was all suddenly clear.

Instead of rummaging through her desk for her take-home work—papers to grade, lessons to plan—she just went to the closet, grabbed her spring trench coat and flung it over her arm. She picked her keys absently out of her top desk drawer and left the classroom, slamming the door behind her.

The subway ride home passed in a daze. Josey hung on to the overhead bar, the car’s motion bumping her into fellow Boston commuters. She didn’t notice. She just stared at her own face, reflected in the window as the train moved through the darkness in between stations. She looked at herself, standing in the crowd, the way someone else on the subway might have looked at her, and she didn’t feel anything at all. She got off at her stop automatically, and walked the three blocks to her apartment building. It was a pleasant walk, and usually Josey thought about how nice it was to live in such a historic, if slightly overpriced, neighborhood. But today she may as well have been walking through a war zone, for all she knew.

She turned her key in the front door and without stopping at her mailbox, started up the stairs to her apartment. She didn’t bother knocking on Nate’s door to see if he was home yet, just dragged up one more flight and let herself into her own place.

The answering machine was blinking—two messages—but Josey didn’t care. She threw her coat over a chair and flopped onto the sofa, listlessly staring up at the ceiling. She didn’t care at all. She felt…empty. She kicked off her beige suede pumps.

What had happened to her? This day had been turning out so well. The play went off with barely a hitch. She was able to talk to parents without stammering… Even this morning, her kids had done so well on their spelling tests—

Her kids. Her kids.

They weren’t her kids. They were all someone else’s kids.

In the peeling ceiling plaster, Josey suddenly saw Jamie’s mother’s face again, beaming with pride and love at her family. Josey didn’t know what the woman did for a living, but she suspected family was the woman’s first priority.

Having a family had never been her priority.

She liked—no, loved—being single. She liked having different dates on different weekends, and getting to know a variety of people. Her girlfriends—Ally, for one—thought of dating as a necessary step to finding the right man and getting married. But Josey didn’t think that way. It was too much pressure. How could you go out to dinner with a man you just met and be checking him out for commitment potential? Josey knew she wouldn’t even get to dessert if her mind worked that way. She just liked talking to new people and having fun. Her dates were platonic, anyway, for the most part. She’d only had two boyfriends that she would have called serious—one in high school and one in college. Both relationships had run their course, though, and Josey, a resilient woman, had gotten over them. Plenty of fish in the sea…

Josey shifted her weight on the sofa and picked the remote control off the floor. She pointed it at the television, but dropped her arm almost immediately and began toying with the device, fingering the rubber keys.

She remembered Ally lamenting once, after a particularly horrendous date, “I know the perfect man is out there for me, and I can’t find him. You can’t find yours, either, but it doesn’t even bother you. You’re in the same boat as me, but if you have a lousy date, you just shrug it off.”

“Sure, I do,” Josey had said. “What’s the rush?” And she had believed it, then.

So why was she sitting here now, thinking maybe Ally and all those other single women were right? Thinking that maybe dating really was a means to an end, and she’d never get to that end if she just continued on the way she had been, accepting dates with nice people just to have a good time.

Did she really need more? Were there possibilities she had ignored?

Josey suddenly bolted up from the sofa and walked into the kitchen. She usually had a beer and watched TV before fixing a simple dinner, but when she opened the refrigerator, the thought of downing a beer and yelling at Oprah Winfrey’s guests seemed too…bachelorette. She slammed the fridge door and grabbed the mostly unused teakettle off the stove. She filled it with water and set it back down on the range, turning up the heat. Then she rummaged through the overhead cabinet for a clean mug. Tea. Very domestic.

Domestic?

Josey stopped in the middle of the kitchen floor. Was she really considering this? A family? Her? Born-to-have-fun, sworn-to-single-life Josephine St. John?

A husband?

The phone rang, startling Josey so much a small gasp emerged from her throat. She lunged for the phone, not wanting to hear one more offensive ring. “Hello?”

“Oh, you’re home early. I was going to leave you a message.” Nate’s rich baritone filled her ear. The reserved, slightly detached tone of his voice was typical of someone making a personal phone call from work, but then, Nate often sounded like that. Besides, Josey knew he had to be at work, because if he were at home, he’d be knocking on her door instead of calling her.

“Hey, Nate.”

“You sound exhausted. The kids wear you out? Oh no, wait, the play. How’d it go?”

“All right. I mean, fine. It went fine.” Josey, frustrated with her inability to communicate, pushed back a corner of the kitchen curtain and glanced outside. The bright late-afternoon sunshine made her squint, so she dropped the gauzy material.

“It’s Friday once again,” Nate continued. “And it’s your turn to choose. Japanese, Italian, Thai? Hamburgers?”

Oh, damn. Josey couldn’t believe she’d forgotten her weekly dinner out with Nate. But she was in no shape to go anyplace tonight. She was just going to get into her bathrobe and turn on some Billy Joel and stare into space. She was in the midst of some kind of epiphany, and she needed to stay here and sort out her mind. And maybe replan her future.

“Nate, you know what? It’s not really a good night for me.”

Nate paused, then asked, “What’s wrong?”

“Why does something have to be wrong?”

“All right, strike that.” Spoken like a true lawyer. “What’s going on?”

“Why does something have to be going—”

“Because you never cancel out on me. I tried to cancel on you twice, but I didn’t succeed because no matter how much work I have to do, you always convince me otherwise.”

“Mmm…”

“And you know what? You’re always right. So, no excuses. I’ll stop by in about two hours. I’ve got a few more things to handle here, then—”

“Nate, I’m serious. I’m sorry. I really can’t do it tonight.”

“All right. Don’t worry about it. I’m not insulted. Just tell me why you’re canceling.”

Josey began pacing in a slow circle, wrapping the phone cord around her body. “Why do you sound so worried?”

“Because I am worried. No one likes to go out and have fun more than you, Josey. You wouldn’t ditch a night out on the town unless something was up.”

“Nate,” Josey insisted, “I’m fine. Okay? I just have to—well—I have to stay here and…think for a while.”

Not normally one for spontaneous good humor, Nate laughed out loud. “That, I have to say, is a new one. Do you usually go through life not thinking?”

“Nate, please. I’ll talk to you tomorrow about it, okay? Don’t get on my—”

“I’m not, I’m not.” Nate was suddenly serious again. “I didn’t mean to laugh. Whatever this is with you, I hope you figure it out. Do you want a rain check for tomorrow evening? It’s a Saturday night. I wouldn’t want to impose on any big date plans.”

As it happened, Josey didn’t have a date. “I’ll call you tomorrow and let you know. That should be fine,” she added, distractedly.

“Hold on.” The sound was suddenly muffled, as if Nate had covered the mouthpiece with his hand, and she heard voices. Then he came back. “Josey, listen, I have to run. One crisis after another around here.”

“Yeah.”

“So I’ll speak to you tomorrow. Don’t forget to call.”

“I won’t, Nate.”

They said their goodbyes and hung up, and Josey rested her hand on the receiver for a moment, trying to get control of her thoughts again.

But despite her effort, all that went around in her head was I want a family.

Well, she thought, why fight it? My mind is made up.

She glanced up at the framed poster on the far wall, of the Patriots’ quarterback. Nate had bought it for her birthday last month, in remembrance of their first meeting. Her mouth turned up slightly at the memory of tall, dark, handsome, subdued Nate crashing into her apartment, afraid all hell was breaking loose, and intending to do something about it. Sweet, reliable, responsible Nate.

Nate, Josey realized with a start, would be perfect to help her.

When she had told Nate she’d call him tomorrow, she had said it automatically, so that he’d stop worrying about her. But, she thought now, he was the perfect person to help out.

If anyone would understand what she was going through, it would be him. He didn’t have a wife and kids—hadn’t even dated anyone seriously since Josey had known him—but he was goal-driven and ambitious, and she needed someone like that now that she was planning to restructure her own life around a new objective. A family.

Besides, Josey thought, walking down the short hall to her bathroom and shedding her work clothing on the way, good old responsible Nate ought to be able to help her figure out how to do a responsible thing like settle down. She’d just ask for his help. Tomorrow.




Chapter Two


A light tapping on Nate’s door startled him.

“Come in!” he called, leaning back in his chair in an authoritative position. The door creaked open, and David Jeffers strode in, his footsteps muted on the soft green pile rug.

“Nathan Bennington,” Jeffers said, taking the seat across from Nate without waiting for an invitation. He wouldn’t have needed one, of course. To Nate, David Jeffers was the closest thing he’d ever had to a mentor. He was the first assistant district attorney Nate had met and worked with upon arriving at the D.A.’s office two years ago, fresh out of law school. Jeffers was someone Nate strove to impress—even now, after they’d become friends.

“Sir,” Nate replied with a smile.

Jeffers picked up a glass paperweight on Nate’s desk and studied it closely for a moment before replacing it. “Listen, I wanted to talk to you about a new opportunity you might be interested in. As soon as I heard about it, I had a feeling you might want to be in on it. Kind of a new challenge.”

“Yes?” Nate’s interest was already piqued. And it was a good thing, because it took his mind off Josey and that weird little phone call earlier. For Josey to say she wanted to sit inside and “think” on a Friday night was odd, and for the last hour, Nate had been a little distracted by worry. Which was something he was rather talented at. So now he focused his full attention on what Jeffers was saying.

“A small group of attorneys in this office is getting together to work in a specialized area—domestic violence. The number of local cases is skyrocketing, and it’s all you ever see in the media anymore. The D.A.’s decided to expand the domestic violence unit—with some additional lawyers. Talented ones. Ones who can handle the type of cases that come through here.”

Domestic violence. “What kind of cases?” Nate asked, his lips suddenly dry. It was a silly question, really. He knew the answer full well. But it was all he could think to say.

“Just about anything you’d conceive of. But the boss wants to specifically—and more publicly—target spousal abuse and child abuse.”

Nate stared at Jeffers’s face for a full minute, his heart beating fast, suddenly paranoid that his colleague knew about him, knew— No, his rational mind quickly insisted. Jeffers could have no idea of the kind of gift he was offering. Close as he was to David Jeffers, Nate had never told him—or anyone—about his father, or about the demons that had haunted him ever since he and his brother had run away from home.

He had considered the possibility of getting child abuse cases eventually. He wasn’t entirely sure that it hadn’t been in the back of his mind all along when he’d applied to Harvard Law School. But this “task force” would make prosecuting abusers a main focus. He would be personally responsible for throwing abusers behind bars.

With this new position, Nate could confront his demons. And spit in their faces.

Trying to keep the eagerness out of his voice, he said slowly, “That definitely sounds like something I would like to be involved in. But why me, Jeffers? I haven’t even gotten a chance to prosecute an abuse case yet.”

“You’ve been very successful here so far, with an excellent record, and it’s important we have the city’s best prosecutors on these cases, which can become very high-profile. But you may want to think about it. I’m handing over to you a case involving assault on a child. You can work on that and see how you do.”

“I assure you I can handle the work.”

“Oh, I’m certain of that. I don’t doubt your ability in the slightest. Quite the opposite—that’s why I thought of you. But I think you should feel out what it’s like to see abuse, and deal with it day in and day out, before you actually make a commitment to become part of this team. It’s rough stuff, very ugly.”

Nate’s mouth twisted at the irony of the attorney’s words, for he remembered, long ago, dealing with pain day in and day out under his father’s roof without any choice at all. But all he said was, “Thank you very much.”

“No problem.” Jeffers stood and stretched his head and arms back, groaning a little in fatigue or weariness. “Look at this damn place, Nate. It’s neat as can be. My office looks like my file cabinet exploded. Do you get a maid to come in here or what?”

Nate forced out a smile, forced himself to look normal. “I can come in and do your office. For a fee, naturally.”

“No thanks. I always say, if everything’s all over my desk in plain sight, I won’t lose anything.” His grin easily cut a decade off his forty-five years. “Listen, you need to come by one of these weekends now that the weather is on the steady improve. Simone’s been asking about you.”

Nate’s smile felt more natural at the mention of Jeffers’s sweet but mischievous wife. “Because she misses me or because she’s got a girlfriend she wants to set me up with?”

Jeffers spread out his hands, palms up. “I didn’t say a word.”

“You didn’t have to.” Nate stood to open the door for his friend. “I will come by, but be sure to tell her it’s for the mere pleasure of her company.”

“She’ll love it.” Jeffers moved toward the door, then hesitated. “Come by my office when you get a minute and grab that case file, all right? I’m happy you’re interested.”

When Jeffers left, Nate closed the door, vowing to open it in five minutes. After some privacy and head-clearing. He sat back down in his chair, rested his elbows on the desk and raked his fingers through his hair. Then, in a swift move, he swiveled his chair around to stare at the busy streets of Boston from four floors up.

Out of nowhere, he’d been handed the opportunity of his lifetime.



“I’m going to have a baby,” Josey said.

Nate stared at her for a fraction of a second, then promptly began to choke on a piece of buttered bread. As he reached blindly for his water glass and poured the liquid down his throat, ice and all, Josey just laughed. “Oh, Nate, come on. Cut it out.”

Nate gave a few more hacking coughs, drawing a few concerned glances from other outdoor diners at the small bistro. “Excuse me,” he said, testing his throat. His voice sounded strangled and hoarse. He took another sip of water, then wiped his lips calmly with a cloth napkin. “Excuse me,” he repeated, his dignified voice restored. Then he looked across the table, straight into Josey’s dark, dark eyes. “Now,” he began, as smoothly as he could manage, “what did you just say?”

“You heard me. I’m going to have a baby.” She must have correctly deciphered the incredulity on his face at last, because she amended hastily, “Not right now. I mean, I’m not going to have one now. I’m not pregnant. Is that what you thought I meant?”

“No,” Nate lied.

Josey fixed him with a shrewd look. “Yes, you did. Lovely thing to think, Nate. I’m not even seriously dating anyone. Did you really think—?”

“I really thought nothing,” he insisted. “I had no time to think it through at all. You surprised me, the way you said it, all right? I was just surprised. I still am. Because where is this baby idea coming from, anyhow?”

“I…” Josey reached to the middle of the table and broke off a piece of the honey-wheat loaf. But she didn’t put it into her mouth. She just held it, staring off over his shoulder. She sat there in silence, squinting against what must have been a spectacular sunset behind Nate, if the lights and shadows that passed across her face were any indication. But rather than turning to admire the view, Nate watched her, shocked by her revelation and anxious to hear her reasoning.

“I can’t explain it, really,” she said after what seemed like ages. “It just dawned on me. It just came to me like a dream. That this should be my dream. Having a baby. Starting a family.”

Nate leaned back in his chair and studied her dreamy expression. “So basically, it’s the old biological clock kicking in.”

Josey made a face. “No. I mean, I guess so, but that isn’t really the best way of putting it. It’s not just the biological clock. It’s more than that. It was like a vision or something.” She put the bread into her mouth and chewed for a moment, then said, “Like a calling.”

Nate was beginning to feel a little uneasy. He was accustomed to a laughing, kidding Josey, and this new intense, rather spiritual talk was unnerving. “A calling? Out of nowhere? Just like that?”

“Yeah, I don’t know. It was the strangest thing. One minute I was in the classroom just going about my business and the next minute—” She broke off again to take a ladylike sip of her diet cola. “I guess it’s just that I want to teach my own child. Everything, not just math and reading. I can’t really put into words how I feel. Just trust me that this is very real.”

Nate didn’t really know the correct response to all this, but Josey appeared to be waiting for some kind of reaction. All he could think of to say was, “Are you going to a sperm bank?”

“Am I going…?” Josey finally focused on his face. She wrinkled her forehead, almost as if she didn’t understand the question. “No, I’m not going to a sperm bank. There’s nothing wrong with that, of course, but that’s not what I want.” She leaned forward, and her long gold medallion dangled dangerously close to her soda glass. “You haven’t heard a word I said.”

“I heard every word you said,” Nate countered, reaching over and pushing her glass a safe distance away. “I just don’t get what you’re saying. Call me stupid, but…”

“I want the whole thing, Nate. I want a family. I want kids—and a husband. The whole package. A family.”

He leaned in also, so that they were nearly nose to nose. When he spoke again, it was with a lowered voice so the neighboring diners, at tables crowded close together on the patio, couldn’t hear. “Since when, Josey? You love being single. How many times have we gone out to dinner and you waxed philosophical about how impossible it must be to find the right man and so you weren’t going to bend over backward to do it? I’ll tell you. A hundred times. At least.”

“So what?” Her voice turned stubborn, almost rebellious. “So what, Nate? I can’t change my mind?”

“You can change your mind, sure you can, but this is a complete about-face. It’s weird.”

“Oh, I’m so glad you think my dreams are weird.”

Just as Nate opened his mouth the waitress arrived with their dinners on a tray. When she placed the huge colorful salad down, Josey grabbed her fork and dug in. This great revelation of hers certainly didn’t affect her appetite any, Nate was relieved to see. The real Josey is still in there somewhere.

But just as that thought crossed his mind, he felt a prickling in his chest. He wasn’t being fair. He wasn’t a woman. And he wasn’t Josey. Even if he couldn’t understand ever wanting to have children, it wasn’t right to belittle what she wanted. Maybe this new desire of hers was just as confusing to her as it was to him. It seemed to come from nowhere, and she definitely was taking it seriously. He was her friend—her best friend. He owed it to her to be supportive.

He took a bite of steak, chewed it slowly and swallowed, all the while looking at her. She appeared to be concentrating hard on the task of spearing a tomato.

“Josey.”

She glanced up at him, her face a picture of embarrassment, and Nate was ashamed for possibly having been the one to cause it. He never wanted her to think she couldn’t tell him things, personal things.

“I’m sorry. Listen,” he said, grabbing her hand so she couldn’t ignore him by taking another forkful of lettuce. “It’s just surprising, that’s all. Kids, husband… I think…I think it’s wonderful. I really do. I wish you luck.”

“You do?” she asked, her voice catching before she asked again. “You really do?”

Nate wondered why she was getting so emotional. Although he would prefer her not to be angry with him, she certainly didn’t need his approval. But he granted it anyway. “You know I do. You’re my friend, and I’ll do anything I can to make sure you’re happy.”

Josey dropped her fork onto the glass table and turned her hand over to clasp his. A huge grin spread across her face, bright under the darkening sky. “I’m so glad you said that! You have no idea.”

“I meant it.”

She smiled even wider. “Good, good,” she said, bouncing a little in her seat. Nate grinned, too, at Josey’s old, enthusiastic, bubbly self.

“Okay, Nate,” she stated, letting go of his hand and settling back in her seat. “Now I can get to what I really wanted to ask you tonight. I need your help.”

“Sure, with what?”

“With my plan, of course. You are the perfect one to help me get this plan off the ground. I need you.”

Nate had been nodding, but he suddenly stopped.

I need you….

She couldn’t be saying…no. No.

She needed him? For—for starting a family, she needed his help? That meant— No, it couldn’t be.

Panic was starting to swell in his chest.

And here was Josey, staring at him with a dangerous gleam in her eye.

Okay, he admitted silently, in all the time he and Josey had been friends, there were possibly two times he had looked at Josey’s beautiful face and let his gaze roam over her sexy body and thought about what she’d be like, look like, feel like in bed. He furrowed his brow. Maybe it was more like three times. And now, right this minute, she was probably thinking that very same thing about him. Thinking about making love. Having his baby.

Nate glanced around the patio, but the other diners continued with their own meals and their own conversations, unaware that his best friend in the world was going to ask him to do the very thing he had sworn never to do as long as he lived. Become a father.

And she wanted a husband. Did that mean she was going to ask him to—?

Nate had to end this discussion right now. He couldn’t let her get around to asking the question that was obviously in her mind. Because he didn’t want to be forced to turn her down, and break her heart. “Josey,” he began, “I don’t think, um…”

“I know this is sudden,” Josey said earnestly, picking a garlic crouton out of the salad with two fingers and crunching down on it. “But I can’t do this alone. I need a neutral party to screen my dates.”

Nate stared at her. “Screen?”

“Yes. I want to find the right man and start a family, but what if I pick the wrong man just because I’m in a rush? I don’t think I’m that kind of person, but I still want someone sort of monitoring the situation so I don’t get carried away.”

“Monitor?” Nate’s relief washed over him, replacing a quick twinge of disappointment. It wasn’t him. It wasn’t him, after all. He was still her buddy, her pal. “Why me?”

“You’re perfect, Nate. You’re sweet and responsible and dependable. Plus, you’re a good judge of character. You’re friends with me, after all.” She grinned. “You’ve got all the qualifications to help me find Dream Man. So I can have Dream Family. Will you help me?”

Nate was still getting over the fact that Josey was not going to ask him to impregnate her. Not that getting there wouldn’t have been half the fun—all right, all the fun—but…well, it was moot now, he supposed. Thank God she had been so wrapped up in her own plans; he didn’t want her to guess he had thought she wanted him to marry her. “What do I have to do?”

“Well,” Josey replied thoughtfully, “my dates will be far more significant now. I’m going to be much more discerning. I mean, after all, I’m searching for a husband now. I’m not going to agree to dinner and a movie with a friend of a friend just for kicks.” She spun her ice around in her glass with the tip of her straw. “So I think, I’ll check the man out on the first date. And if he makes the cut, I’ll invite him to do something with you and me as our second excursion. That way, you can check him out and tell me afterward if he’s someone to pursue further, or a complete waste of my time.”

“I would like to take this opportunity to bring up a couple of points here,” Nate interrupted, sounding even to himself too much like an attorney. “First of all, I’m quite sure that on a second date, if the man likes you in the slightest way, he will be a little confused at my presence. I mean, another man hanging around?”

Josey opened her mouth immediately to answer, but Nate held up his hand. “Wait, let me finish. Because the thing is, you and I know quite well the platonic nature of our relationship. But will a man understand this? And will a man want to share you in any way, friendship included, with another man?”

“That’s easy,” she replied promptly, with the same satisfied expression he was sure her students wore when they answered a tough question in class. “One very important husband-to-be trait is being so comfortable with himself that knowing I’m best friends with a handsome man wouldn’t faze him in the slightest. If he feels threatened, he’s no good for me. Because after I’m married, you’ll still be my best friend. He’d have to get used to it right away. And we don’t have to hang out with you the whole night, either,” she added. “We can just have drinks with you and go out to dinner later, or meet you after dinner, or whatever. Just so we’re with you long enough for a decent conversation so you can evaluate him.”

“Handsome, huh?”

Josey wadded up her napkin and threw it at him. “It figures you’d fixate on that subtle compliment. Pay attention, will you?”

Nate retrieved the napkin off his lap and put it next to his plate. “I’m just kidding. The other thing is that I can’t tell you if a man is right for you. Don’t you think your feelings are the most important thing to go on? If you think a man is nice, and you bring him to me for approval, and I say, sure he’s nice, go for it, you’d better make certain your feelings for him are genuine before you buy a wedding gown. There are plenty of responsible, dependable men in the world, believe it or not. But you can’t fall in love with all of them.”

“Thank you, Dr. Bennington, for the lecture on love and romance.”

Nate frowned at her. “I’m serious, Josey.”

“For crying out loud, I’m not a two-year-old. Being in love is the most important thing. Because without love, everything else—all the things I want—won’t mean anything.” She signaled for the waitress and ordered decaffeinated coffee for Nate and an herbal tea for herself. Nate felt a wave of affection for this woman who knew him so well.

They stayed silent for the few minutes it took the waitress to return with two steaming mugs. As Nate lifted his for a sip, Josey said matter-of-factly, “I just want someone sensible looking out for me, so I’m not blinded by my quest.”

“I always look out for you, Jose. Whether you want me to or not.”

Josey reached over and squeezed his hand again. “I know. And guess what? I always count on that, whether I admit it or not.” Her eyes, sizzling with excitement, burned into his.

At that moment, something happened to Nate. His heart did a sudden, very deliberate, slow-motion somersault, landing somewhere near the bottom of his gut. It startled him, but he didn’t have a chance to ponder it for more than a split second because Josey prompted, “Well?”

Nate tilted his head back and drained his almost empty water glass to moisten his suddenly dry mouth. “Well what?” he finally replied.

“Can I count on you to help me? If you don’t want to, I suppose that’s all right. I can manage.”

“No,” Nate said. “No, don’t do that. Bring on the candidates. I’ll do my best.”

“Thank you, Nate.” And his heart might have flipped again if Josey hadn’t followed up her expression of gratitude by saying, “And if you tell my parents a thing when we go to the Cape for my dad’s book reading in a couple of weeks, I will smack you upside the head. I don’t want them knowing about this. My mom will never leave me alone about it. And my father—forget about it.”

“You just got finished telling me how trustworthy and dependable I am. Now you think I’m going to—”

“I don’t think. I know. You always gang up on me, you and my parents. All three of you, trying to outdo each other, telling me what’s good for me.” Her voice was still fierce, but her lips hinted at a smile.

The waitress casually dropped the check on the table next to Nate’s plate.

“You love it, admit it,” Nate said, pulling out his credit card as Josey offered him several bills. He pushed her hand back. “I’ve got it this time.”

“Thanks. I’m serious, now. Don’t tell my parents anything.” Then she really did smile widely, and leaned down to retrieve her handbag off the concrete next to her feet before leaning over Nate’s shoulder and putting her lips close to his ear.

“Anyway,” she whispered, and her sudden warm breath in his ear startled him, “keeping your mouth shut is for your own good. You know they’re both nuts about you. If I did tell them my whole plan, they’d just try to make me marry you.”




Chapter Three


Josey’s mother was talking her ear off. As usual. Josey held the phone slightly away from her head, angling the receiver toward the ceiling, but her mom’s voice carried so far she may as well have been sitting in Josey’s living room. It wasn’t that her mother was loud or nagging or annoying. She was just—exuberant. About everything.

“I swear, I put this slipcover on the sofa—this slipcover that I bought for $12.99, Josey—and the sofa looks like an entirely different piece of furniture. I’ll buy you one, too, honey. Just name the color—”

“Mom.” Josey interrupted. “You don’t have to do that for me.”

“Oh, honey, your sofa is so—so…” Josey knew her mother wanted to say “ugly” or “disgusting” but was tactfully choosing her words, not wanting to insult her daughter. “So young-looking. Like you bought it at a garage sale your first year out of college.”

“That is where I bought it.”

“My point exactly, Josey-Posy. So I’ll pick one up for you, and when you come to the reading, I can give it to you then. Is there anything else you need for your place? They had dish towels on sale, too….”

Josey marveled at the way her mother prattled on. To listen to her, any stranger would think she was a crazy old lady, with nothing else to do in her life but take on her daughter’s interior decorating. But she was a young woman, only fifty, with many priorities, including her work at a travel agency.

“Mom,” Josey interrupted again. “How’s the wide world of travel? Any hot destinations I should look into?”

“Aruba’s always hot. Hawaii.”

“I meant hot as in popular, not hot as in ninety-five degrees. Where are the available men flocking to this year?” As soon as the words were out of her mouth, Josey regretted them.

“Actively looking, are we?” her mother asked, the teasing not quite fully masking the parental interest.

“Mother,” Josey said sternly. “No. Forget I said anything. What’s Dad up to?”

“Oh, you know your father.” Her mom sighed with a resignation Josey knew was completely exaggerated. “It’s a beautiful day outside. Just gorgeous. The Cape tourists are swarming the streets and cafés. And your father is sitting in the study, piddling around on the computer.”

Josey smiled. “Piddling around” meant working on his next book, and her mother was fully aware of this fact. Josey saw her mother in her mind’s eye, rolling her aquamarine eyes and shaking her yellow-blond head at her father, hunched over his desk, amid forty books filled with equations and theorems.

“So I guess he can’t come to the phone.”

“Do you need to talk to him? I’d be happy to make him come out of that cave into the sunshine. Do you know when he’ll emerge? At dinnertime. At sunset.”

“Well, that’s only about a half hour or so from now.”

“That’s it. I’m getting him.”

“No, don’t, Mom. You used to work all day Saturday, too, don’t forget, until you hired a few agents. And that wasn’t all that long ago.”

There was a triple rap at Josey’s door, and as she called, “Yeah!” Nate walked in.

“How many times do I have to remind you to keep your door locked?” he demanded, ignoring the phone in her hand. “Any freak could just walk in here and—”

“Threaten me with a baseball bat?”

Nate grimaced. Josey chuckled, then put her mouth to the receiver again. “Sorry, Mom. Company.”

“Company by the name of Nathan?”

“Yup.”

“Put him on. I haven’t talked to him in ages.”

“We’re going out, Mom. To get some food and a movie.”

“Just for two minutes.”

“Okay, but I’m hungry. Don’t be long.” Josey shrugged and handed Nate the phone. “It’s Mom.”

Nate cradled the phone on his shoulder and focused on her ASPCA wall calendar while he talked. Or, rather, answered questions. “Margaret!… Fine. And you?…Work’s fine…. Oh, not too bad…. Derek’s great…. He started classes at Emerson…. Yeah, he wants to go into TV….”

Josey flopped onto the sofa and relaxed. He’d be on the phone forever. He liked her mother and wouldn’t want to be rude. So she’d talk and talk and he’d let her.

“She’s fine…. She is taking care of herself, working hard with her kids….”

Nate and her mother certainly had one thing in common—concern for Josey’s own welfare.

It was only her mother on the line, but he looked like he was on a business call, nodding and concentrating on the conversation. He didn’t pace around the room, stretching the cord out, the way Josey did. He just leaned against the wall next to her crammed bookcase, and he didn’t fidget. She imagined his manner must be a comfort to the victims and victims’ families he worked with daily. His empathy showed in his face—in his crinkled brow, his tight lips.

But his seriousness made his smile, when it appeared, all the more startling, Josey thought now. Startling, but very contagious—and handsome.

“Neil, how are you doing?” Nate said into the phone, and Josey sat up straight.

“You have Dad now? Mom made him stop working to talk to you?” she said in a stage whisper, and Nate shrugged at her. Unbelievable, Josey thought. They both adored this man.

Not that she blamed them, of course. Nate was…well, Nate. Worried and concerned and intelligent and even funny, when he put his mind to it. He wasn’t like any man—or any person, for that matter—that she had ever met. He willingly took on more responsibility than anyone would want to handle—his job, which probably had its rewarding moments but which Josey imagined an often depressing and sad line of work; his brother’s education and general well-being, which was ironic, since Nate was the younger of the two; and Josey herself, though she fought his protective meddling every step of the way.

Interesting that she and Nate hadn’t killed each other yet, Josey thought, tuning out his conversation with her father. They both often accused each other of being stubborn and strong-willed—she in her noisy, defiant way, he in his quiet, controlling one. But between them there was an unspoken agreement of acceptance—probably because they were so alike under the surface.

And on the surface, Josey had to admit to herself, Nate was looking pretty good. She studied him critically. His jeans and navy-blue sweatshirt looked right on him—as right as his lawyer suits. His running shoes were beat-up—possibly the one thing he owned that wasn’t in mint condition. He wore one piece of jewelry, his class ring. Josey had always thought a man who still wore his school ring was the sort who just couldn’t let go of his carefree college years, but Nate’s was a symbol of accomplishment. He never talked much about it, but she knew enough about him to gather that life had been hard for him and his brother. Their parents were dead, and the brothers had lived on their own for many years, practically broke.

His dark brown hair was still damp from a shower, since it was a two-second trip to her apartment from his. He smelled like soap and his familiar aftershave. Josey didn’t know the brand, but was sure that at any time in the future, no matter where she was, she’d be able to recognize it and connect it to this man.

Why was she getting so mushy all of a sudden? She jumped up off the couch, a sudden movement that earned her a reproachful look from Nate. She pointed to her watch. “Hey you, time’s a-wastin’. Give me the phone.”

Nate hastily formed some kind of closing remarks before Josey snatched the receiver back from him. “Dad?”

“Hi, Josey.” He sounded distracted, but Josey wasn’t insulted. It wasn’t unusual for him to have many thoughts going around in his head at once. The mistake would be to take offense and ask him what he was thinking, so that he’d bombard her with mathematical problems he was trying to solve.

“Dad, you’d better quit for the day and take Mom out to dinner.”

“Why, is she angry at me?”

Josey sighed. If her father wasn’t the classic absentminded professor, she didn’t know who was. She was positive her mother had been pestering him all day to leave his desk, but he was so wrapped up in what he was doing that he didn’t give her imploring much thought. Luckily, her mother loved him so much it would never really matter.

“Believe me. Just go, Dad.”

“I will. And you have fun, too, Josey. We’ll see you for the reading.”

“Can’t wait, Dad. I love you. Tell Mom I love her, too. I would have told her myself but she just had to talk to Nate.”

“I hope he’s keeping you out of trouble.”

“Who’s ever been able to keep me out of trouble?”

“Nobody,” her father answered with a laugh. “But I’m hoping he can keep an eye on my wildest girl.”

“I’m your only girl.”

They said their goodbyes and Josey hung up the phone with a dramatic sigh. “Ah, my parents. Sorry about that, Nate.”

“Don’t apologize. They’re great.”

“If that’s how you feel, I’m just going to give them your phone number. Then my mother can call you at all hours of the day. Maybe she’ll buy you some new dish towels.” Josey giant-stepped across the living room and grabbed her bomber jacket—worn out enough to give the impression that it had gone through a war—off the lopsided rack in the corner. “You’re to keep an eye on me. Keep me out of trouble.”

“So I’m told. By both your parents. What have you ever done in your life that would make them think you need me?”

“Absolutely nothing.” Josey pushed her arms into her jacket sleeves. “Whatever you’ve heard, it’s a big fat rumor.” She stood in the middle of the room and tried to compose her face into an innocent, good-girl expression.

Nate reached over her head and, with both hands, adjusted an imaginary halo.

“Yes, that’s perfect,” he said. “An angel in leather.”

He stared straight into her face, from very close to her face, a half smile playing on his mouth. The skin on Josey’s upper lip grew moist. Then she shook her head quickly.

“In your dreams, Bennington,” she retorted. She crossed the room, flung open the door and made a grand, sweeping gesture with her arm. “After you, sir.”



The video store was a mob scene. Customers were wandering the aisles in search of the perfect viewing experience. Couples were arguing and bargaining, trying to choose between action films and romantic comedies. Nate had pushed into the store ahead of Josey, and as he made his way to the New Releases section—saying “excuse me” over and over—he turned and rolled his eyes at Josey.

She grinned back. “The Saturday night scene,” she said. “Hey, pick something fast. We still have to get the Chinese food.”

“No problem. Give me sixty seconds,” Nate replied, reaching the section. Josey always let him choose the movie. Usually he selected exactly what she would have chosen, anyhow. And if the flick turned out to be a real stinker, she still had a blast with Nate, making fun of it the whole way through, sometimes even muting the sound so they could create their own hilarious and racy dialogue. Movie nights with Nate were never disappointing.

While he scanned the shelves, Josey scanned the clientele. It was mostly date night in here, but she figured it wouldn’t hurt to check people out. And just as she was thinking this, she spied a man in Foreign Films, reading the back of a video box.

His trench coat gaped open to reveal a smoke-gray suit. His trouser legs were slightly rumpled, as if he’d been sitting at a desk all day. He was leaning on the shelf comfortably, seeming in no rush to make up his mind. Josey craned her neck to see his left hand under the box he was reading.

No wedding ring.

“I made a decision.”

Josey whirled at the sound of Nate’s voice close to her ear. “You scared me!”

“I’m sorry, but you…” His eyes traveled to where she had been staring. “Ah, I was picking a movie, but you were busy checking out the merchandise yourself.”

Josey poked him in the arm. “I was just looking, that’s all.” The man glanced up then, catching her watching him, and she felt stupid for about two seconds while he held her gaze. Then he smiled amicably. But when he glanced behind her, his smile dissolved into a slight frown and he went back to his video.

Josey turned and saw Nate glaring in the man’s direction. She pushed him behind a big Disney display.

“What is wrong with you, Nate? You’re going to ruin things for me.” If she peeked over Minnie Mouse’s head, she could check the man out without him seeing her.

“What things? You don’t have any ‘things’ with that guy. You don’t even know who the hell he is. Or do you?”

“No, I don’t. Why are you being so negative? Don’t you remember my plan? Well, I may have my first candidate.”

“That guy?” Nate scowled. “You look at him for twenty seconds and you’ve decided he’s perfect?”

“He has potential, that’s all I’m saying.”

“What potential, for crying out loud?”

Josey felt herself getting defensive. She would be uncomfortable going up to a total stranger and starting a conversation—and trying to make a date—in a video store. Most of her dates were men she already knew via friends or relatives, or had met previously at gatherings of some kind. But there was this urgency in her she couldn’t explain…and here it was, one week after telling Nate her plan, and she had no date. No life-changing possibilities. She had to take some kind of step here.

“He’s in the foreign films section,” she stated, her gaze darting from Nate’s wry face to the man and back again. “Which is frequented by the more intelligent, educated person, I’d say.”

“The only thing it means,” Nate replied dryly, “is that he can read subtitles. That would require, maybe, a third-grade education at the most.”

Josey was determined to make Nate agree with her. “Look at him. He’s dressed like a—like a lawyer.”

“Or a used-car salesman. Or a porn mag publisher. Or a mobster.”

“Why are you making this difficult for me?”

“Because of the way you’re going about this, Josey. You’re checking him out mechanically. Scientifically. You haven’t even said he’s cute or handsome.”

Josey peered back at the man. He put the video box back, behind the long white band of elastic that stretched from one end of the shelf to the other, holding the videos in place. He moved one long finger along the row of titles, selected another, pulled it out from behind the elastic and examined it. His blond hair was cropped short, almost in a military style. His face was all-American boy-next-door, but otherwise nondescript. She wasn’t about to admit that to Nate, however. After all, the man wasn’t ugly. “He’s perfectly nice looking,” she finally said.

“Perfectly nice looking. That’s strong. Why don’t you just go up to him and ask him to marry you right now? Obviously, from what we’ve seen, he’s the man for you. Maybe you can catch a justice of the peace at this hour. I’ll go along, be a witness—”

“Oh, will you stop it? When did you become so sarcastic?” Exasperated, Josey continued, “Go pay for that. Go stand somewhere else. I don’t want him to think I’m with you.”

Nate’s mouth dropped open. “Are you kidding me? I—”

“Nate!” Josey’s words sounded to her own ears a lot like whining. “You promised you’d help me.”

“I didn’t promise this.”

“Okay, this is an extenuating circumstance. I didn’t come here looking for a date. Please just don’t mess this up.”

They stared at each other with an obstinate clash of wills. Nate never let her win. He shouldn’t let her win now, he thought. He couldn’t understand why he was so against this—walking away so Josey could make a date with a decent-looking, probably perfectly nice guy. But something in the back of his mind nagged him, pushing and pulling at him, telling him it was a bad idea and he should stop her. Dammit, he thought, she can do whatever she wants.

“Fine, Josey.” Nate started to back off, but Josey grabbed his hand and shoved him in the other direction, where he wouldn’t have to pass Foreign Films.

“Nate…”

“You’re paying for the Chinese food,” he said, pointing a finger at her, close to her nose, “and don’t give me any ‘teacher’s salary’ crap.”

Josey’s smile lit up her face so brightly, he half expected all the customers to reach into their pockets and purses and pull out their sunglasses. “Thank you, Nate.” She ran both hands through her golden hair, then blew him a kiss. Nate stubbornly turned toward the cash register before the airborne affection could touch him.

The line was about six miles long, but for the entire time Nate stood there, he refused to glance toward Foreign Films. He wasn’t sure how Josey was doing, but he couldn’t imagine it was too badly. He figured that whoever the man was, he’d have the good sense to be flattered. Nate knew that if he was out alone on a weekend, browsing through movies, and Josey walked up to him, he’d be amazed at his luck.

Again he resisted the urge to glance over to see how she was faring. She’d tell him when they got outside. She kept no secrets from him.

“Next?” the girl at the register snapped, and Nate realized she’d probably had to say it more than once. He dropped the video box on the counter, but just as he went to pay the girl, an enormous clattering sound at the back of the store caused everyone to turn around, including Nate.

There stood Josey, red-faced, sheepish. At her feet was a huge pile of videos, and more were landing on the floor from the now nearly empty shelf beside her hip. As each one dropped, Josey flinched. The elastic that had held the videos in place had somehow caught on her purse strap and snapped, releasing all the boxes. It was still dangling there, next to her elbow.

Nate clapped a hand to his forehead and shook his head slowly. Josey caught his gaze, her own eyes desperate. Then she knelt on the floor and began frantically scooping up boxes.

Nate left his rental on the counter and started to her rescue, but the trench-coated man was suddenly kneeling beside her. Nate stopped in his tracks as the man whispered something in Josey’s ear, and she threw her head back and laughed. Then the two of them began picking up the videos and stacking them.

Nate grabbed the video and his change, turned on his heel and stalked out of the store, ignoring the indignant “Hey!” of the person behind him when he neglected to hold the door open. He leaned against the brick wall and inhaled the fishy smell of the spring breeze, carried from Boston Harbor.

Josey and her new friend seemed to be bonding quite nicely. He’d just wait for her here.




Chapter Four


Nate didn’t see Josey once the next day, but spent the whole day annoyed at her, anyway.

And he had no idea why.

On the way to the Chinese take-out place, Josey had told him about the man in the video store—Mike or Mark or something. As they ripped open cartons of lo mein at her apartment, she’d informed him the guy lived only a few blocks away from them, on Columbus Avenue. And as Nate popped the movie in the VCR and fast-forwarded the previews, she mentioned that Mike or Mark had given her his phone number and they might go out next week.

And with each new casual revelation, Nate had vigorously nodded his head with an enthusiasm that wasn’t genuine.

When he went home, he’d brushed his teeth, hard. Then he’d stripped, dropping clothes all over the spotless bathroom floor. In two strides he was in his bedroom, where he flopped into bed and turned out the light. He’d squinched his eyes shut and forced himself to fall asleep, without any thinking.

But he’d gotten up with the Sunday dawn, a pink-and-gold vision he’d passed up in favor of sleep for many years. He tried to ignore it this time, too, but it rushed through the window underneath the blinds he had forgotten to pull down, and heated his face. He’d sworn under his breath and swung his legs over the side of the bed.

A lousy beginning to a lousy day.

He attempted to concentrate on television, on work, on practicing his golf swing in the living room. On anything but Josey’s voice in his head, sounding pleased about her first prospect.

First victim was probably more like it. That man had no idea what had hit him. A commitment-crazed, biologically ticking lunatic, that’s what, Nate told himself every hour.

And forty times during each hour he asked himself what his problem was. Each time, he didn’t answer, but rather swung the club with a bit more intensity than he ordinarily would have so close to his stereo equipment.

He didn’t feel like talking to anyone, so when the phone rang twice he didn’t pick it up, and both times the caller hung up before the answering machine clicked on. By the time evening came he’d successfully spent the entire day moping. He still had no grasp on what had caused his day-long aggravation, but by now it was out of his system.

Or so he thought.

Monday was just as bad. He arrived at the office an hour earlier than anyone else, but got nothing accomplished.

Okay, he told himself, it doesn’t take a genius to figure out that I’m upset about Josey and her new video store pal. But why? Who cares who she meets and talks to? Who cares who she has a laugh with? She’s free to do whatever she pleases.

Maybe that was his problem. She was free to do whatever she pleased, and he—because of reasons he could never control—wasn’t free. And he would never be free to start the same search she had.

He didn’t want to be thinking like this. He didn’t want to remember anything, and he didn’t want to be preoccupied with it next time he saw her for fear he’d blurt out things he’d hidden from her, from everyone.

He was somewhat relieved when Derek called and suggested meeting at the Common for lunch. If anyone in this world was grounded in reality, it was his older brother.

And Nate wouldn’t have to fear breaking down and telling his story—because Derek knew the story. He had been there.

Nate had been waiting on the bench for only about three minutes when his brother jogged up, carrying a few battered books in one hand and stuffing a hot dog into his mouth with the other.

As he approached, Nate marveled at how his thirty-three-year-old brother could look so much like a twenty-something college student. He wore an Emerson College T-shirt and battered jeans, and the long laces on his basketball sneakers flopped up and down with each step. His hair was the same shade of brown as Nate’s, but Derek wore his a bit longer on top and was always pushing it back with his hand.

“Hi,” Derek said around bites. “I’m sorry. I was sitting in my ethics class for an hour and a half, fantasizing about a hot dog.” He gulped down the last bit. “Don’t worry, I’m still hungry for real lunch.”

“Real lunch” meant their favorite greasy-spoon coffee shop up the street where Nate always got his salad, but he suddenly wasn’t in the mood for sitting indoors. He was agitated, itchy to walk.

“No, let’s get a few more hot dogs and just wander around. It’s nice out.”

“I thought you hated hot dogs,” Derek commented as they headed across the grass toward the vendor in the middle of the Common. The old man lifted up the metal lid on his cart, sending a stream of steam into the air.

Nate pulled out his wallet and picked out several singles. “No, I just normally refuse to eat them because I know what’s in them. But I don’t hate them.”

“Oh, that makes sense,” Derek said, tucking his books under his arm so he could balance two more hot dogs and a soda can as he headed to the nearest bench. Nate followed with his own lunch.

“Nobody’s making any sense these days. Why should I?” Nate asked belligerently, taking a huge bite of his hot dog. It was good.

“As a matter of fact, you are acting weird. You haven’t even asked me how class was or if you’re getting your money’s worth of tuition, the way I used to always ask you. And you haven’t reminded me that Thursday is three days away, so not to piss away my money until you come by to give me a check. And you haven’t mocked me on my choice of food. You haven’t gotten on my case about anything for five whole minutes. It’s a record for you. And to top it off, you, the original creature of habit, didn’t want to go to our usual restaurant.” Derek paused, seemingly lost in thought. Then he looked closely at Nate. “Okay, mister. Who are you and what have you done with Nathan Bennington?”

Nate couldn’t even laugh. “I’m fine. There’s nothing wrong with me. It’s the rest of the world that’s gone crazy.”

“Define ‘the rest of the world.’ Who, for example, is going crazy?”

“Josey, for a start.”

“She’s always crazy, isn’t she? That’s what we all like about her. What’s she been up to? Last time she—”

“I’ll tell you how she is,” Nate interrupted. “She’s gone off the deep end. She’s like a damn cat in heat. Sorry that sounds crude.”

Derek threw back his head and laughed. “I encourage crude. Cat in heat? Why?” He lowered his voice. “Are you saying she made some kind of move on you? Because if she did, I say it’s about ti—”

“Me? Not me. This has nothing to do with me. We’re friends.” Nate’s agitation level moved up still another notch. “She’s on this mission.”

“Mission?” Derek took a long swig of soda.

“Yeah, she’s on a mission to find the man of her dreams.”

“So what? She’s single. She’s a babe, in case you haven’t noticed. She’s got every right to find the man of her dreams.”

Nate hastily filled Derek in on the details of Josey’s perfect-man, perfect-family plan, feeling more and more aggravated with each additional word. When he got to his date-screening assignment, he was even more peeved by Derek’s loud burst of laughter.

“Nate, she’s got you figured out, that’s for sure. It’s kind of funny, actually.”

“No, it’s not funny. It’s really not funny when I’m standing at the other end of the video store, pretending not to know her while some slob she’s hitting on is drooling all over her in the foreign films section.”

His brother studied his face. “Don’t you think you’re getting a little too worked up about this? It’s probably some kind of phase. She’ll slow down. She’s a smart lady. She knows she can’t find a husband in a month, especially when she’s actively searching one out. Just go along with her for a while until she tires of this.”

“I am going along with her insane little crusade. It’s enough to make you sick. You’re right. She is a very intelligent woman. So when I see her looking at men like they’re meat in a butcher shop, it’s—it’s embarrassing. And disgusting.”

“I think you’re making a big thing out of nothing.”

Nate turned to watch a police horse clop by, its head bobbing with pride. “Maybe I am. It was driving me nuts all day yesterday. But why should I be so upset? It’s her life, after all.”

“That’s right.” Derek crumpled up the two pieces of wax paper that came with his hot dogs. “In fact,” he said slowly, “maybe instead of criticizing Josey’s idea, you should take a cue from her.”

Nate’s head snapped around to catch a glimpse of Derek’s boyish, troublemaker’s grin. “And what’s that supposed to mean, oh older-and-always-wiser brother of mine?”

“Simple. Maybe you should start looking for someone to make you happy.”

“Who says I’m not happy?”

Derek shrugged. “Well, I just think—”

“Besides,” Nate interrupted, “I’m busy.” He stood, an abrupt movement that shook the bench. He waited a second for Derek to get up, too, then turned and started down the longer path to the station, where he could catch the T back to his downtown office. Derek fell into step beside him, the rubber soles of his sneakers silencing his footfalls, while Nate’s loafer heels announced his.

“Yeah, you’re busy, all right,” Derek said in a mocking tone. “Busy taking care of everybody. Protecting the world from bad guys, not to mention trying to protect me from malnutrition and burnout. You’re trying like hell to take care of Josey, too, and you’re annoyed she doesn’t listen to your wisdom. You’re so busy taking care of everyone else on this planet you have no time for you. Or for a girlfriend. Is that it?”

“I’d say that’s pretty close, yeah. Girlfriends are a lot of work.”

“You love work.”

“No, Derek. What I mean is, every thirty-year-old woman out there is looking for a commitment. Now Josey is part of that group, too. I don’t want to get involved in that mess. I don’t want all that.”

“Is that true?”

“Yes, it is true. I don’t want a family. I don’t want children. I refuse to have children. And what’s more, you of all people ought to understand the reason for that.”

Derek moved off the path then, to where some fraternity-type guys were playing baseball on a fenced-in Little League field. Nate followed, and leaned on the fence next to his brother. He kept his eyes on the game but directed his comments to Nate. “Can’t you let it go? It’s over, Nate. It’s been over for years. Dad can’t hurt us now.”

“You’re wrong. Dad’s not here, but we’re still his blood. And deep down, we’re like him, dammit. We think we’re not, but we are. It’s inborn.”

“No, Nate. We’re different from him. We chose to leave. I went through it all, too. He was wrong, he was a horrible person. But he was him. I’m me, and I can choose to be a good person. So can you. Don’t deny yourself a life because you think you’re like him. You can have a wife, a family—”

“I’m through talking about this, Derek. Maybe you should study psychology and other forms of brain scrambling instead of news reporting.”

Derek faced him then, and his voice became a little sharper, a little harder. “You’re not like him,” he repeated. “And look what you’re doing to yourself. You’re letting this get in the way of you and Josey.”

Nate found it difficult to stare into the only pair of eyes that had seen what he had. He sighed and moved to the path again. They walked in silence for a few minutes before he said, “You’re right. Maybe that’s it. To be honest, I thought of that earlier today. I’m jealous of Josey chasing this dream of hers. It’s a normal dream, a normal goal everyone has, and I’m jealous because it’s something I can’t have.”

“That’s not really what I mean.”

They arrived at the Green Line T stop, and Nate fished in his pocket for change. “What do you mean?”

“I meant, you and Josey…” Derek shook his head. “Never mind. Just try not to give her a hard time. Like you said, it’s only natural for her to want to start a family. She doesn’t need crap from you.”

“The kind of crap I give you?”

“I’m your brother. I have to take it.”

Nate yanked open the subway entrance door. “I’ll drop by your place Thursday.”

“I know.” Derek walked away, but Nate heard him mutter. “Creature of habit.”



Josey was sitting at her desk, her head bent over math papers, when she heard footsteps in the hallway approaching her room, which was at the very end. All the female teachers’ heels had that authoritative sound, but these steps were slower and harder. A man’s dress shoes, Josey guessed, not taking her eyes off the current paper. She stopped pondering the topic when she realized she had marked seven out of ten answers as wrong. She glanced at the name on top. Jason, she thought, what is the matter with you? You came for extra help last week….

The “Hi” from the doorway startled her. She turned with a gasp and saw Nate standing there. She let all her breath out in an audible whoosh and bent to the floor, groping around with her fingers for the red pen she’d dropped.

“Nate!” she gasped. “Way to scare a person. Sneaking up on me.”

“Sorry, teach,” Nate said in a sheepish student’s voice.

“That’s just not enough,” Josey replied haughtily. “Go stand in the corner.”

He pretended to head to a corner, then stopped. “Do you really make kids stand in the corner?”

“I’m usually a little bit more creative than that,” Josey said, retrieving her pen from where it had landed near her foot.

“What do you do?”

“Oh, if I catch you passing a note, I tack it up to the bulletin board behind me here, so everyone in the class can read it at their leisure.”

“Harsh.”

“If I catch you chewing gum, I make you stick it on your nose.”

“Gross.”

“And if I catch you cheating, I make you write an essay about how brilliant the student is that you were trying to cheat off of.”

“Wow. You would have been my most hated teacher. I did all those things. Except the cheating, of course.”

“I’ll bet.”

“But come to think of it, all my teachers were old hags.”

“Nate!”

“They were. I probably would have had a big crush on you, though.”

An unexpected flush of embarrassment swept over Josey. “Nate, all your teachers were probably my age. They just seemed like old hags to you at age eight.”

“Untrue. I caught my second-grade teacher cleaning her dentures once.”

“You did not!”

“I swear it.” He pushed a student’s chair out from a tiny desk and tentatively sat down in it. Apparently deciding the short metal legs would hold him, he relaxed.

“You’re finished with work awfully early today, aren’t you?” Josey asked.

“I was feeling pretty lousy, so I went in early and knocked off early.”

“Oh. Were you not feeling well yesterday, either? I called you a couple of times but I thought you were out.”

“No,” Nate answered, stretching one long leg out in front of him and inspecting his pants leg. For lint, probably, Josey thought. “I just didn’t feel like talking to anyone.”

That was unlike him, but before she could start in about it, a small scuffling noise drew her attention to the door, where a little girl with a blond ponytail stood, hesitant to enter, glancing uncomfortably at Nate. She brushed a pink sneaker back and forth on the floor.

“Sara! What are you doing here so late?”

“I was playing on the swings with Joan and Courtney, and I remembered I forgot my spelling book.”

“Well, then, you’re lucky I’m still here. Run and get it.”

Sara didn’t make a move. She just stared at Nate.

“That’s a friend of mine. Mr. Bennington.” Josey waited for Nate to introduce himself or say something to put her student at ease, but for some strange reason—he looked as nervous as the child did. They just watched each other in a wary game of size-up.

It was Sara who broke the silence. “That’s my desk,” she said, her words turning forceful. “You’re sitting in my seat.”

Nate jumped up with a guilty look on his face, muttering, “I’m sorry.” He put his hands behind his back. His masculine frame towered over all the desks and chairs, making it seem like he had just stumbled into a dollhouse. Sara walked past him to her desk, knelt down and pushed her arm into it, fumbling. She slid her spelling book out of the mess, bending the soft cover back as she did so. She smoothed it out with a flat palm and then, as an afterthought, pulled out a thick round pen. She held it toward Nate. “Look at my pen.”




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