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Four Little Problems
Carrie Weaver


For Patrick Stevens less means more!Patrick Stevens is a great teacher. All of his "kids" say so–except Emily Patterson's oldest son, Jason. Jason is Patrick's lone failure–the one student he couldn't reach.And that's too bad, because when Patrick and Emily are thrown together on a project, Patrick realizes he'd really like to get to know Emily better. If only she didn't come complete with those four sons….









Patrick Stevens almost choked on his coffee when he read the meeting agenda


He couldn’t possibly be that unlucky, could he?



“What’s wrong?” The perennially smiling kindergarten teacher slapped him on the back, as if that would help.



“Did you see who’s running for PTO president?”



She shrugged. “Some woman named Patterson.”



“As in, mother of Jason Patterson.” That should have said it all.



“And that’s a problem because?”



She was obviously still too wet behind the ears to understand the implications.



“Jason Patterson, the kid who threw cherry bombs in the boys’ toilets. Led his own gambling and extortion ring.”



“I’m sure he wasn’t that bad.” She flipped her hair and gave him that sparkling, you’re-just-old-and-burned-out smile.



At thirty-eight, he considered himself far from old. But she might have a point about the burned-out part. Summer break seemed very far away some days, especially when he thought about Jason Patterson. His ultimate failure.


Dear Reader,



Four Little Problems is my oldest son’s book in so many ways. Not because he and I have weathered challenges, which we have. And not because I love him every bit as deeply as Emily loves Jason, which I do.



No, Four Little Problems resulted from one of those everyday conversations I suspect I don’t appreciate nearly enough. My oldest son and I were discussing single mothers and dating. He mentioned how difficult some children make the dating process when they don’t like their mother’s potential boyfriend.



When I gave it some thought, I was impressed with the courage it must take for a single parent to attempt a relationship in the midst of juvenile guerrilla warfare. I wondered how a relationship could survive, maybe even thrive, under such stressful circumstances. Then I started the inevitable “What if…” and my imagination was off and running.



Emily and Patrick’s story was born of that “What if…” Their relationship was so challenging from the get-go, even I wondered if they could pull it off.



On a side note, fate came full circle when my editor asked for title suggestions. My son proposed the title you see on the cover–Four Little Problems. I’m so proud of him and his contributions.



I hope you enjoy the story I’ve come to think of as Luke’s Book.



Yours in reading,



Carrie Weaver



P.S. I enjoy hearing from readers by e-mail at CarrieAuthor@aol.com or snail mail at P.O. Box 6045, Chandler, AZ 85246-6045.




Four Little Problems

Carrie Weaver





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


Special thanks to Mary Jane Brooke, Superintendent of the Le Roy Central School District, for being so helpful in responding to my questions.

She did her utmost to ensure that I had accurate information.

Any discrepancies are mine, made in an effort to merge reality with the fictional world I created.




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

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

EPILOGUE




PROLOGUE


“WHAT DO YOU MEAN my son needs a reality check?” Emily planted her fists on the substitute teacher’s desk and leaned forward.

Mr. Stevens’s eyes narrowed, but he held her gaze.

Something she had to admire despite his know-it-all attitude.

Topping five-eleven, Emily knew some men found her intimidating during the best of times. But today, suffering from PMS and hearing another childless moron offering advice on how to raise her kids, she felt darn near homicidal.

Or suicidal. Single parenthood sucked at times.

Mr. Stevens gestured toward a chair. “Please sit down, Mrs. Patterson.”

“Ms. Patterson.” She glared at him just long enough to let him know she wasn’t ceding defeat. Then she wedged her rear end in the kiddie chair.

“Ms. Patterson, perhaps I started our meeting on the wrong foot. I’d anticipated Mrs. Wells’s return from maternity leave by now. As a substitute, I’m at a bit of a disadvantage conducting her parent/teacher conferences.”

Emily decided not to point out that her day hadn’t been peachy, either. So, she went for a noncommittal “Mm-hm.”

It wasn’t her fault Mrs. Wells had extended her maternity leave. And it wasn’t her fault this guy was experimenting with the idea of becoming a teacher. Rumor had it, Mr. Stevens was some well-known scientist, on leave from a high-paying job.

He flipped through a file folder on his desk. “Jason is an exceedingly bright child. His test scores are well above average.”

“He’s a smart kid.”

“But he needs a firm hand if he’s to achieve his potential. Perhaps his father should meet with us, too, and we can all formulate a plan for rewards and consequences?”

“Honey, if you can find Walt, you feel free to bring him in and have that conversation. Child services hasn’t been able to locate him in seven years. But if you do, be sure to offer him a beer. That’s the kind of reward he’ll understand. And as far as consequences, he’s not big on those. That’s why he works under the table to avoid taxes and child support. I’m the one who administers rewards and consequences for four children.” Emily ran out of breath, her chest heaving with emotion.

Mr. Stevens glanced around the room, at the ceiling and everywhere but at Emily. “I’m sure it’s very difficult.”

You have no idea. “Yes, it is.”

“Maybe we could work more closely to ensure Jason makes the most of his opportunities.”

Warning bells went off in Emily’s head. Hadn’t a boss once made a similar offer in mentoring her boys? And expected a game of slap and tickle with Emily in return? “Would you please clarify what you mean by working more closely together?”

“An accountability notebook would be a good thing. I’ll write down Jason’s homework assignments and you can check them daily to make sure he stays on task. I’ll also include a section regarding his behavior in class. Consequences at home should help there.”

Emily released a breath. “Okay. We can do that. He’s a good kid, Mr. Stevens. For some reason, he’s just gotten out of hand this year.”

“He’s gotten out of hand because he’s been allowed to. If you’re interested, I have a few brochures for the district-sponsored parenting classes.” He opened his top desk drawer.

Emily’s heart sank. If she didn’t think he was right, she’d call him on his condescending attitude. As it was, she was too embarrassed to tell him that she’d already taken the courses and tried her darnedest to apply what she’d learned, but none of it seemed to work with Jason these days. Neither did any of the tactics she’d used when he was small. He’d turned into an alien creature almost overnight.

The teacher rummaged in his top desk drawer. “And I can give you a list of reading resources. Some parents find behavior modification quite helpful. Skinner, of course, was the—”

A muffled snap came from his drawer.

He jumped to his feet, cursing under his breath.

Emily tried to place the snapping sound—she’d heard it recently in another context.

Mr. Stevens brought his hand to chest level. “What the hell?”

Emily gulped at what she saw. A small mousetrap gripped the teacher’s middle finger, turning the tip an ugly purple.

Now she remembered the sound. Jason’s ill-advised purchase at the dollar store. And how she’d instructed him to get rid of the mousetrap before he broke a finger.

Jumping up, she grabbed a pair of scissors, intent on prying the spring open.

“No!” Stevens jerked away.

“Stand still.” Emily advanced, intent on saving him.

The door opened and the principal entered. “Mr. Stev— What’s going on?” she asked. Her gaze skimmed over Emily, the raised scissors, the swearing teacher, the mousetrap.

The principal crossed her arms over her chest. “Ms. Patterson, I think it’s best if you leave.”

“Let me explain.”

“Go.” Her voice brooked no argument.




CHAPTER ONE


Two years later…

PATRICK STEVENS GLANCED at the meeting agenda and almost aspirated his coffee right there in the teachers’ lounge.

God, no.

He couldn’t possibly be that unlucky, could he?

“What’s wrong?” The new, perennially smiling kindergarten teacher slapped him on the back, as if that would help.

“Did you see who’s running for PTO president?”

She shrugged. “Some woman named Patterson.”

“As in, mother of Jason Patterson.” That should have said it all.

“And that’s a problem because?”

She was obviously still too wet behind the ears to understand the implications.

“Jason Patterson, the kid who threw cherry bombs in the boys’ toilets.”

No recognition.

“Led his own gambling and extortion ring.”

“I’m sure he wasn’t that bad.” She flipped her hair and gave him that sparkling, you’re-just-old-and-burnt-out smile.

At thirty-eight, he considered himself far from old. But she might have a point about the burnt-out part. Today, a little over two months into the second semester, summer break still seemed very far away. And other days, he couldn’t imagine being anywhere else but in the classroom. It was a dichotomy that would have intrigued him if he had time to contemplate abstract thoughts. But, as it was, he barely had time to knock back a cup of coffee before his kids returned from music class.

Jason Patterson. His ultimate failure.

“The little delinquent told the playground aides the dice were for improving his math skills,” he muttered under his breath as the newbie practically skipped out of the lounge. Obviously, she hadn’t heard the mousetrap story and he wasn’t about to enlighten her.

The girls’ physical education teacher came in before the door clicked shut. Her eyes were on the prize—the coffeepot.

Patrick reread the agenda, hoping he’d been mistaken. No such luck. He suppressed a groan.

“What’s your problem, Stevens?”

“Did you see who’s running for PTO president?”

“The Patterson woman. You can kiss that field trip of yours goodbye. I doubt the woman can head up a fundraising campaign. But with poor Mrs. Bigelow deader than a doornail, I guess we have to take what we can get.”

“Yeah. A heart attack at thirty-three. Who’d have thought?”

“Mrs. Bigelow was such a nice woman, too. And her kids know how to behave. Not like that oldest Patterson boy.”

“Jason. His mother transferred him out of my class the first year I taught here.”

“Yeah. I heard something about that.” She shrugged. “It happens.”

“Not to me, it doesn’t. At least not since Jason Patterson. I’m here because I want to make a difference. Otherwise, I’d still be a chemist, making serious money.”

She planted her hands on her hips. “Spare me the greater-good lecture, Stevens. You better figure out how you’re going to work with her and fast. No PTO sponsorship, no Sea World trip. It’s as simple as that.”

“I am not letting that woman ruin sixth grade for these kids. They’ve worked hard. Car washes. Bake sales. Sold candy out the wazoo. All the PTO needs to do is come up with the money that was promised.”

She tilted her head to the side, tapping her chin with her index finger. “I hear Jason Patterson plays point for the basketball team.”

“So?”

She smiled mysteriously and grabbed an insulated cup. For a woman who’d been in such a hurry, she took her time pouring her coffee. Returning the pot to the burner, she said, “It means Emily Patterson probably has a soft spot for the sports programs. And if your SeaWorld trip doesn’t work out, maybe the PTO will spring for that new sports equipment I’ve been requesting forever.”

Then she punched him playfully on the shoulder and headed out the door, whistling cheerfully.

The vultures were already circling.



EMILY’S STOMACH CHURNED as she approached the cafeteria, which had recently been renamed the multipurpose room. Straightening her spine, she pasted on a confident smile.

“You’ll do fine.” Nancy, her best friend in the world, patted her arm.

“You think? Some of the parents act like I’m something they scraped off the bottom of their shoes. That Tiffany Bigelow was the worst. Not that I want to speak ill of the dead.”

“Since when? She wasn’t nice when she was alive, so why should you pretend now?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know why I’m doing this, either.”

“Because you love children and you don’t want to see all the programs go down the tubes this year, just because of Tiffany’s hard heart.”

Emily chuckled in spite of herself. She whispered behind her hand. “I was a little surprised she even had a heart.”

“You’re not the only one. Her über-volunteer act didn’t fool me. I’ll never forgive the woman for telling Ana I adopted her from Russia because they wouldn’t give me an American baby.”

“I would have gladly scratched her eyes out for you.”

Nancy slid her arm through Emily’s. “I know. And I’m here to return the favor tonight. It’s finally my chance to be there for you.”

Emily swallowed the lump in her throat. “Thanks, friend.”

“You’re very welcome. Now, let’s go show them who the next PTO president is going to be. The woman who will change things around here for all the parents and children who don’t have a voice. The anti-Tiffanys and their kids.”

Nodding, Emily adjusted the neckline of her blouse.

Nancy tipped her head. “The gray’s lovely. But I’m glad you didn’t go with the turtleneck. It didn’t suit you.”

“You don’t think this is too, um, revealing?”

“No. You’re absolutely beautiful just the way you are. Besides, the black camisole makes it downright respectable.”

Emily tucked her hair behind her ear. Though she loved Nancy like a sister, her friend’s cheerleader looks precluded her from ever really understanding what it was like to be slightly overweight and unsure. Or from totally understanding the reasons behind Emily’s tendency to overcompensate by talking a little louder and allowing R-rated jokes to slip out at inopportune times.

No, when Nancy spoke, she was always classy and intelligent. People listened.

When Emily spoke, people rolled their eyes.

The multipurpose room door loomed.

Nancy patted Emily’s arm again. “Okay, time to go in there and show them what you’ve got. You’re smart, you’re capable and children love you. You will be the best PTO president Elmwood Elementary has ever seen.”

Emily raised her chin. Taking a deep breath, she flung open the door and strode inside.

It felt like all eyes were upon her.

The principal smiled, though it looked forced. She had to be remembering the mousetrap incident. “And here is Emily Patterson, who has so graciously stepped forward to take over the job of PTO president. Emily, please come sit here by the podium.” She gestured to a row of seats.

It was a long walk to the front of the room, or so it seemed to Emily, who wished she’d lost that last fifteen pounds. And it wouldn’t hurt if she had a few impressive initials after her name, like B.A. or Ph.D. But she was just plain Emily Patterson and that would have to do.

She headed toward the chair the principal indicated. She almost froze when she realized who sat in the next chair. Patrick Stevens.

He nodded tersely and shifted in his seat, his body language saying he didn’t want to be within a mile of her.

Fine. She didn’t particularly want to be near him, either.

Emily sat, her back ramrod-straight.

“Now,” the principal said, “voting is just a formality, since we only have one candidate for the position.” She smiled brightly at the handful of parents assembled. “All those in favor of Emily Patterson taking over as PTO president for the remainder of the school year, please raise your hand.”

Most of the hands shot up immediately. None of the busy parents wanted the job themselves, and normally, Emily would have been right there beside them. But this was too important.

“Good. It’s approved.” The principal beamed.

There was a rustle as the parents lowered their arms.

Emily was aware that Patrick Stevens, beside her, didn’t move a muscle. Because he hadn’t raised his hand to vote.

She steeled herself not to let it get to her. Two years ago, she’d apologized for the mousetrap. She’d also made Jason apologize and work cafeteria cleanup for a week as penance. But it had been obvious Stevens had had it in for Jason, so she’d eventually asked to have her son moved to a different class.

Since then, she’d managed to avoid Patrick Stevens. Until now.

“I’m sure we’ll all do our best to help Emily transition into the position.” The principal gave the science teacher a pointed look. “I’ll give her Mrs. Bigelow’s files, and Mr. Stevens will be working closely with her regarding fund-raising for the sixth-grade Sea World trip. This is bound to be the most successful year yet.”

Emily would have believed the principal, except for the nervous twitch under her right eye.



PATRICK STARED at his planning guide. It didn’t give him any answers. Only told him a quiz was long overdue.

Removing a file folder from his desk, he flipped through his notes and the information on Sea World. The kids would be completely blown away by the experience. And maybe, just maybe, he could ignite that flame of scientific enthusiasm in one or two of them. He wanted to make this happen for Ari and Kat. He needed to make this happen.

And there was only one way to do that.

He picked up the phone and dialed. “Ms. Patterson, this is Patrick Stevens. I’d like to meet with you as soon as possible to discuss the Sea World trip. And make sure all the information Mrs. Bigelow had is there.”

“Of course, I want my files to be complete…” she answered.

Patrick exhaled with relief.

But his relief was short-lived when Emily continued. “…so I can properly weigh all the requests for PTO funds.”

“But Tiffany agreed to pay at least half the Florida expenses if the students could raise the initial deposits.”

“Hm. I’m looking at her notes, and there’s no indication she agreed to that.”

Patrick gripped the phone. He could almost see the disappointment in Ari’s eyes when he told the class they wouldn’t see Shamu or the Shark Encounter as planned.

Calling on his very limited schmoozing skills, he managed to keep his voice even. “Do you think we could meet at the coffee shop on Cedar tomorrow after school, say four o’clock?” He had a better chance of convincing her in person.

“I don’t get off work till five. I can meet you briefly about five-fifteen. Then, I need to get home to my kids.”

“Great. That’ll be fine.” He didn’t have anyone he had to get home to. Other than his salamander, Newt Gingrich, tarantula, Hairy S. Truman, and boa constrictor, Arnold. But being predominantly nocturnal, they probably wouldn’t even notice he was late.




CHAPTER TWO


EMILY WAS EARLY. She folded her hands and rested them on top of the file folder. Her latte was off to the side, untouched. She couldn’t summon her usual gusto for sweets.

Her boss, Olivia, had allowed Emily to skip her second break in favor of leaving early. Voice mail could pick up the phones at the Luxury Lingerie office for the last fifteen minutes of the workday.

Glancing at the file folder, she tried to gather her thoughts. None of it made sense. Not Tiffany’s notes, not the numbers, nothing.

The bell above the door tinkled as Patrick Stevens entered and placed his order. Tall, dark-haired and serious, he was everything a single woman of forty should want. Unfortunately, Emily’s tastes strayed more toward the unreliable. What was it about her that was attracted to the worst kind of man?

She was surprised when Patrick approached, two bottles of water hanging from his fingers, while he balanced a plate with two double chocolate chunk cookies. It was a sight that might have endeared him to her, if he weren’t such a pompous ass. And if she had an appetite. For cookies, that is.

“I hope you don’t mind. I took the liberty of ordering an extra cookie and water bottle….”

“No, I don’t mind.” It was kind of sweet. But she didn’t like sweets these days, she reminded herself.

Emily gestured toward the opposite chair.

While he deposited the food and drinks, she pretended to read Tiffany’s notes. Instead, she found herself watching him from beneath her lashes. He had beautiful hands. Not feminine beautiful. Strong, masculine, survey-every-inch-of-a-woman’s-body beautiful. They hinted at slow, skillful lovemaking.

The small, white scar at the tip of his middle finger stopped her errant thoughts.

Had he acquired a sense of humor about the mousetrap incident?

She was afraid to ask.

Shaking her head, Emily forced her thoughts to the practical. This was her opportunity to show everyone she was more than a brash woman who couldn’t control her kids. “I’m glad you suggested meeting. I’ve read Tiffany’s notes backward and forward and I can’t seem to make sense of them. I thought maybe you’d have more luck.”

He handed her a water and removed the cap from his own. “Sorry, didn’t realize you’d already ordered. You can save it for later. It’s important to stay hydrated.”

Ah. This was the Patrick Stevens she remembered. She sincerely doubted he’d acquired a sense of humor about anything.

“Yes. Thank you.”

She slid the file folder across the table. “See what you think.”

He opened the folder. Flipping through the pages, he frowned. “Most of this looks like doodling.” Turning the file sideways, he said. “And this looks like it might be her grocery list.”

“That’s what I thought. Kinda weird, because Tiffany always seemed to be taking notes with her PDA. I figured she was so anal, everything would be prioritized and printed up.”

“She did seem very organized. And you’re right, there’s nothing in here about the Florida field trip. Are you sure this was all you were given?”

“Of course I’m sure.” Did he think she was so scatterbrained, she might have misplaced a whole sheaf of papers containing Tiffany Bigelow’s rounded script?

Two could play at that game. “Didn’t you keep any notes?”

“Yes, they’re in my backpack somewhere.” He shoved a piece of cookie in his mouth, wiped his hands on a napkin and rummaged through his pack.

He reminded Emily of a chipmunk. But his hazel eyes were too serious for such a mischievous creature. He might be cute, if he’d lighten up.

“Here it is.” He triumphantly produced a wire-bound pad of paper, suitable for taking notes in class.

He paged through until he found the appropriate section.

Sliding it across the table, he pointed to a row of figures.

“Those are the projected costs, minus the monies we’ve brought in through various fund-raising projects of our own.”

“Yes, I think I remember hearing about a car wash?” Emily had tried to block out any information pertaining to Patrick Stevens. Apparently, she’d failed. “And a bake sale?”

He nodded, grinning. “Yeah, the kids are pretty industrious once they get their hearts set on something.”

“Yes, they are.” Emily swallowed hard, then glanced away, unable to meet his earnest gaze. His obvious affection for his students stung. Why couldn’t he have been that way with Jason? It might have made a world of difference to the boy. Instead, her son had been rejected by yet another male authority figure. She’d sometimes wondered if Jason’s pranks had been a bid for attention, a clumsy way to connect with this reserved man.

Instead, Patrick Stevens had been cold and unyielding. And Emily’s heart had broken as she’d watched Jason build a wall around his emotions. Her once fun-loving, affectionate son had grown sarcastic and rude. Prepubescent hormones were one explanation. But Emily thought his attitude was probably more the result of one disappointment too many coming from a father figure.

Of course, Emily shouldn’t blame the teacher. Loving his students wasn’t in his contract. Nor trying to understand them.

“Ms. Patterson?”

Emily flushed. “I’m sorry, did you say something?”

“I pointed out the figure we’ll need from the PTO funds. Tiffany didn’t seem to think it would be a problem.”

Emily’s eyes widened. “That’s a lot of money. I’ve seen the PTO budget and I can’t help but wonder why Tiffany agreed to this.”

“She mentioned having some special fund-raising project in the works for the spring that would make it possible.”

“What kind of special project?”

“That’s just it. I have no idea. She wouldn’t say. Just said it was big.”

“I’ll talk to Principal Ross. Maybe she knew about it. Something that big would need to be planned well in advance.”

“Time is critical, Ms. Patterson. The hotel and bus companies are pressing for deposits. We have enough from our own fund-raising, but I don’t want to make a nonrefundable deposit if there’s a chance the PTO won’t come through on what’s been promised. I need to know right away.”

“Mr. Stevens, obviously I can’t commit to something I know nothing about. I’ll talk to the principal, see if she knows where the rest of Tiffany’s notes might be. In the meantime, Principal Ross is putting my name on the PTO account. I can’t access the bank statements until then.”

“Can’t Ross access them?”

Emily shook her head. She was starting to get a bad feeling about this. “There was some mix-up at the bank and Principal Ross was removed as a cosigner. After the treasurer moved to Texas in November, Tiffany was the only one with access.”

Patrick cursed under his breath. He seemed to swear a lot for a dispassionate guy.



EMILY SET A STACK of paper plates in the center of the large picnic table she used for a kitchen dinette set. Nancy’s husband, Beau, was working tonight, so she and Ana were staying for dinner.

“So maybe Tiffany was playing fast and loose with the PTO funds?” Nancy’s eyes sparkled with interest as she folded paper napkins and arranged them with plastic cutlery. “I knew there was something about that woman.”

“I didn’t say that. We won’t know anything until one of us can access the account. Principal Ross said she’d go to the bank tomorrow and straighten it out.”

“But still, it’s a little strange, don’t you think? Only Tiffany’s name as signatory on the account?”

“Shh. I don’t want to start any rumors.” Emily nodded meaningfully toward the family room, where her two younger boys, Mark and Ryan, played hide-and-seek with Nancy’s daughter, Ana.

Jason had basketball practice and Jeremy was playing at a neighbor’s house.

Nancy sighed. “My bad. I guess I was hoping to dig up some dirt on the woman. She was just trying too hard to be perfect. And was downright mean, to boot.”

“I hope all of this turns out to be an honest mistake. The whole PTO thing is getting more complicated by the minute. Patrick Stevens is pressing me to release funds for the sixth-grade trip to Sea World.”

“You obviously need all the facts before you can do something like that. What’s his hurry?”

“He has good reason.” Emily put out a large bucket of the Colonel’s chicken, along with containers of coleslaw and baked beans. “Hotel and transportation deposits need to be made. But there’s nothing I can do.”

“This is more than you bargained for, huh?” Nancy’s voice was warm with concern.

“You don’t know the half of it. The PE teacher gave me some brochures for sports equipment. The art teacher mentioned how desperately we need art supplies. And the music instructor showed me how old and worn-out the band instruments are.”

“Sounds like a lot of pressure, Em.”

“It is. And there’s a part of me that thinks the money Tiffany supposedly promised for the Florida trip could be put to better uses.”

“It’s a tough call, no doubt about it. But if you find Tiffany’s notes and she already promised the money, you’ll be hard-pressed to back out now.”

“That’s just it. I’ll be damned if I do and damned if I don’t. It might be best if Tiffany’s notes aren’t found. Then I can at least do what my conscience says is right.”

Nancy squeezed her arm. “Let’s look on the bright side. Maybe her fabulous spring fund-raiser will bring in so much money, you’ll be able to please everyone.”

Emily nodded. “Maybe.”

But as a single mom on a tight budget, she knew all too well there was rarely enough money to go around and someone always ended up mad. And it was starting to look like Patrick Stevens might be the angry one if the PTO budget was tight.



PATRICK ARRIVED at school well before the first bell. It had become a tradition.

And sure enough, he saw two figures huddled in the doorway, their thin coats probably affording very little warmth. It had been a mild winter for upstate New York, but mornings were still chilly. “Hey Ari, Kat. You look like you could use some hot chocolate.”

The two kids turned, nodding.

“The usual spot?” he asked.

They nodded again, following him to a bench near the doors.

Though Patrick walked slowly, he still reached the bench before them. He turned and waited.

Ari’s gait was erratic, one foot turned inward. His twin sister, Kat, slowed her pace to match his.

Patrick swallowed hard as he remembered another boy with a less pronounced pigeon-toed gait. A boy who had once run, laughed and played, but was developmentally little more than a toddler now.

He pushed the thought away. He couldn’t take that trip down memory lane.

When they’d settled themselves on the bench, Patrick withdrew a thermos from his backpack. He would have preferred a strong cup of coffee, but this ritual was for Ari and Kat.

He poured the steaming mixture into three cups.

The children waited patiently while he handed them each a foam cup.

The expressions in their huge, dark eyes were unreadable. Someone’s stomach growled.

“I hope you guys will help me out.” He withdrew a packet from his backpack. “I have these muffins that will go stale if someone doesn’t eat them. I thought maybe you two could help.”

“Yes, Mr. Stevens, we’ll help.” Kat spoke for both of them as she often did.

“Good.” He handed them each a banana-oat muffin, wishing it was a four-course hot breakfast. Their parents were immigrants, both working sixteen-hour days to make ends meet. Sometimes, he suspected there wasn’t enough food in the house.

Patrick sipped his hot cocoa, wondering if the kids thought it strange they didn’t go inside where it was warm. But they never asked, so he was spared explaining that it wasn’t prudent for a teacher to show a special interest in a child behind closed doors. He could understand the practical reasons, but it still saddened him.

Instead, they sat, shivering, right in front of the school, where they were appropriately supervised by anyone who might drive or walk by.

“I read…the book,” Ari said. His speech was a bit slow because of cerebral palsy, but his mind was sharp. He’d been mainstreamed several years back and had done fine. Of course, he also had his own personal guardian angel in the form of Kat.

“What did you think of the book, Ari?”

“Dolphins are smart and nice,” he enunciated slowly.

“Yes, they’re good animals. There are lots of true stories of dolphins keeping humans from drowning.” Funny, how he could say the word drowning without even flinching. Progress perhaps?

Ari’s eyes were bright with excitement. “I…will…swim with the dolphins. At Sea World.”

The thought made Patrick’s stomach churn.

“Sure, we’ll see the dolphins. I think you can even pet them from a boat.”

“No.” His reply was emphatic. “Swim.”

Anything but that.

For the first time he could remember, Patrick ignored Ari. “What about you, Kat, did you read the book?”

“Yes.”

“Do you want to see the dolphins and penguins?”

She hesitated, as if afraid to believe in something that would turn out to be a fairy tale. “I’ll go if Ari goes.”

“Good. You guys worked really hard at the car wash.”

There was no way in hell he’d allow this trip to die. He’d promised all the sixth-graders, but most importantly, he’d promised Ari and Kat.

Emily Patterson would just have to do the right thing.



EMILY SIGHED when she hung up the phone, eyeing her overflowing In basket. Now she knew why it was mostly stay-at-home moms who were PTO presidents. She was in the unenviable position of having to ask to leave early two days in a row.

She found her boss in her office. “Olivia, the principal from the school called and wants to meet with me.”

Olivia gave her a pitying look. She probably assumed it was about Jason again.

Emily’s conscience twinged, but she didn’t correct her. She didn’t want her job jeopardized because of her PTO position.

Fortunately, Olivia was understanding. “Voice mail can pick up the phones. And you said you’d work through your lunch hour tomorrow?”

“Yes, I will. Thanks a bunch, Olivia.”

Her boss nodded. “Go.”

Emily grabbed her purse, forwarded the phones and left in a matter of minutes. She was breathless when she reached Principal Ross’s office, following Patrick through the door.

“Good, you’re both here,” the principal said. “Please close the door.”

Emily’s heart sank.

“Please, sit.” The woman sat behind her desk and nodded toward two chairs.

Patrick pulled out one of the chairs slightly and gestured for her to sit down.

His courtesy flustered her.

But she sat.

And so did he, in the chair next to her. They were practically knee-to-knee in the small office.

Principal Ross cleared her throat. “What I have to say is rather difficult. I expect it to stay in this room. Not to be repeated to anyone.”

“Of course,” Patrick said.

“Yes, of course,” Emily murmured, aware that she’d probably already shared too much with Nancy. But Nancy was discreet and wouldn’t repeat the information.

“I spent several hours at the bank today. The PTO account was in complete disarray. But the gist is, there’s only a few dollars left.”

Patrick stiffened. “There’s got to be some mistake.”

“I’m sorry, there’s no mistake. The branch manager checked and rechecked the figures while I was there. I’m afraid I’ll have no choice but to contact the police.”

“Do you have any idea where the money went?” Emily asked.

Marilyn Ross’s mouth turned down at the corners. For a moment, Emily was afraid she might cry.

“I guess I can go ahead and tell you. There were several sizeable cash withdrawals made over the past three months. During the time that Tiffany Bigelow was sole signatory.”

Patrick swore under his breath.

Emily silently agreed.

“So I’m in the unenviable position of heaping more grief on the Bigelow family.”

“What effect will this have on the Sea World trip and all the other requests for PTO assistance?” Emily asked.

“The account is frozen. Tiffany had been very excited about a spectacular new connection she’d made for a fund-raising activity, but she didn’t share the details. I’m afraid I was distracted by…other priorities and didn’t give it the attention I should have.”

“Tiffany always took notes.” Patrick leaned forward. “I’ve been thinking she might have files on her home computer.”

“The thought crossed my mind, too. But the police will be involved very soon and I don’t think we’ll be in a position to ask favors from Tiffany’s husband. I sincerely doubt he’ll let us anywhere near her computer.”

Patrick hesitated, glancing at his watch. “It’s late. Surely, you don’t intend to call the police tonight.”

The principal sighed. “No, to be honest I just want to go home and have a glass of wine. This has been one heck of a day.”

“Since there’s nothing more we can do today, why don’t we sleep on it and maybe there will be an obvious solution tomorrow morning?” Patrick’s face was bland, innocent.

But Emily could almost feel electricity rolling off him. He might have sincere hazel eyes, but he was up to something.

“Yes. Let’s call it a day. I’ll update both of you within the next day or so. Remember, this goes no further than this room.”

Emily murmured agreement, aware of Patrick’s hand on her elbow as they left the office.

“Can I talk to you outside?” he asked, his mouth close to her ear.

“Of course.” Of course…she should run like hell. Because the reliable Mr. Stevens was putting out some decidedly dangerous vibes.

“Where’s your car?” he asked as they left the building.

She nodded in the direction of her minivan. “Over there.”

He was silent as they walked to her car.

Emily punched the button on her keyless entry tag. The lock opened, but she hesitated.

Patrick’s gaze was intent. “I need to ask you to do something for me.”

With some men, she would have figured he was propositioning her. The ones who hadn’t figured out that, although she enjoyed an off-color joke and liked to pretend she was worldly-wise, she kept her sex life toward the nonexistent end of the spectrum. She’d learned the consequences of loving too soon, too easily.

But she suspected Patrick had something else in mind. And that intrigued her.

“What?”

“I need access to Tiffany’s computer.”

“You heard Principal Ross. There’s no way we’ll get near that computer.”

“There’s one way. We go tonight, together, and ask Brad Bigelow. We tell him we’re very sorry to bother him, but we need Tiffany’s PTO files.”

“I’m not going to pester her family while they’re grieving.”

Patrick sighed, running a hand through his hair. “It is kind of ghoulish. But we’ll be very tactful, very respectful. And we might discover some simple answer for the missing money. We could end up saving her family more grief.”

Emily contemplated his argument. They might actually be helping Tiffany’s family. It was a stretch, though. “Why do I have to be there?”

“People trust you. You’re very open and always say what you think.”

Emily chuckled, a hoarse, desperate sound. And here she’d thought nobody listened to a word she said. “I’m trustworthy, so you want me to lie to a man who suddenly lost his wife and the mother of his children and must be out of his mind with grief.”

“Yes.” He frowned. “I guess that’s exactly what I’m asking.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t think it’s a good idea. Let the police handle it.”

“That’s exactly what I intend to do. But you heard Ross. Once the police are involved that computer will be tied up for years. It won’t harm anyone if we copy her PTO files.” He leaned closer, his gaze earnest. “Please?”

“It means that much to you, this Florida trip?”

“Absolutely.”

“Are you going to tell me why?”

He glanced away. “I’m not going to disappoint those kids.” His voice was low.

Emily was touched. And wary. This was not the Patrick Stevens she’d met two years ago. “Okay. But I’ll need to get home first to feed my kids and supervise their homework. Should we call Brad?”

“No. Let’s not give him any advance warning.”

“I can meet you at eight. We’ll need the Bigelow’s address. I think they live on Cedar….”

“I’ve got their address in here.” He patted his backpack.

Emily had to wonder why he seemed so prepared, as if he’d known he would need the information. She also had to wonder if maybe there was another reason he was so anxious to get his hands on Tiffany’s files.




CHAPTER THREE


“YOU’RE SURE I shouldn’t follow you to the Bigelows’ house?” Emily asked Patrick when they met later that evening. She’d parked under a light in the coffee house parking lot.

Patrick leaned against a Lexus SUV. “Better if we arrive together—a united front. It’ll seem more natural, like we’re working closely on the project. I’ll drive, if you don’t mind.”

“I don’t mind.” Might as well use his gas.

He walked around to the other side of the SUV and opened the passenger door for her.

More unexpected gallantry.

Bemused, Emily sank into the cushy leather passenger seat as Patrick settled himself in the driver’s seat.

“Nice,” she said.

“It’s from my other life. Before teaching, when I made a living wage.”

Glancing around the luxurious interior, Emily said, “I have the feeling you and I have very different ideas of what a living wage is.”

He laughed, backing the car out of the space. “It was nice while it lasted. The money, that is.”

“What did you do?”

“I was a chemist with Porter Chemical.”

“I imagine that was interesting.”

“No, you don’t.”

Emily was taken aback for a second. Then she chuckled. “You’re right. It sounds pretty boring to me. But I imagine it’s interesting to the serious, scientific types.”

“Is that how I strike you?” He sounded pleased.

“Yes.”

“There are worse things than being serious.”

“But there’s such a thing as being too serious.”

He glanced at her before pulling out onto Cedar. “It’s a balance I guess I haven’t achieved.”

“Why’d you decide to stay on at the school permanently?”

He shrugged. “It fit. You ever have an experience like that, where things just seemed right?”

“Yeah, both of my marriages.” The words slipped out before she could stop them.

“You’ve been married twice?”

Nodding, she said, “And each time I thought it was forever.”

A few minutes later, Patrick parked the SUV in front of a ranch-style home with an immaculate front yard. He let the motor idle.

Turning to her, his gaze was solemn. “You’re very real, Emily. You don’t play games. I admire that in a person.”

This side of him rattled her. He’d said he admired her, loudmouthed Emily, mother of Jason-who-sets-mouse-traps-in-teachers’-desks.

Thanking him seemed over the top, so she opted for a smile of gratitude.

“Let’s go.” He reached into the backseat to retrieve his backpack, which brought him entirely too close.

Emily opened the door and stepped out before he got the idea he needed to open the door for her. Or an even weirder idea, like kissing her.

And, yet, she was disappointed when she was no longer cocooned in the car with him. It was as if they’d been in an alternate reality, where they could talk like any other two people.

He cupped her elbow as they walked to the front door. “You mind doing the talking?”

“Since I’m the trustworthy one, I guess I’d better.”

He chuckled, the sound coming entirely too close for comfort in the dark. “See, you say what you’re thinking.”

“That’s not always a good thing.”

“Probably not. But at least a guy knows where he stands with you.”

Emily opened her mouth to respond, but closed it. Instead, she knocked on the Bigelows’ door.

A blond girl who looked to be about nine opened the door.

“Hi, honey, is your father home?” Emily asked.

The girl nodded and disappeared, leaving the door ajar.

At Emily’s house, one of her kids would have simply bellowed her name from the doorway. She wondered if this was how well-mannered children answered the door.

A man came to the door. Tall, blond and muscular, he looked just like Emily expected—high school home-coming court royalty, only aged fifteen years.

“May I help you?”

“I’m so sorry to bother you, Mr. Bigelow. I’m Emily Patterson and I’ve taken over as PTO president at Elmwood. And this is Patrick Stevens, PTO adviser.” It wasn’t a lie, really. He’d given her quite a bit of advice in the past couple days. “Please accept our condolences on your loss.”

“Thank you.”

When they didn’t move to leave, Mr. Bigelow frowned. “What can I do for you? I already gave Tiffany’s files to Mrs. Ross.”

“I know and I’m so sorry to intrude at a time like this. But I need to look at the PTO notes Tiffany kept on her PC. They’re probably more complete than the file I was given.”

“Now’s not a good time. My daughters and I were on our way out.”

Patrick stepped forward. “We can copy the files onto a disk. It’ll only take a moment.”

“Come to think of it, Tiffany might have it on disk already. Let me check.” He didn’t invite them in, simply shut the door with the promise of returning in a minute.

Emily looked at Patrick.

He shrugged.

They waited what seemed more like five hours, but was probably about five minutes.

“Yep, here it is.” Bigelow leaned out the door and handed Emily a floppy disk. “Marked PTO. You can have it. Hope it helps. Bye.”

“Thank you. And I’m very sorry—”

The door shut in her face before Emily could apologize again for disturbing him.

“Come on.” Patrick nodded toward the car.

When they’d walked several yards, Emily mused, “Did it seem as if he wanted to get rid of us?”

“He was in a hurry. We caught him on his way out the door.”

“Yes…but, still, he seemed a little odd.”

Patrick stopped walking. “Grief will do that to a person.” His voice was low.

Somehow, Emily got the impression he was speaking from experience. “Yes, it will.”

He started walking again.

She resisted the urge to ask him who he grieved for. “I’ll let you know if there’s anything interesting on the disk.”

He was silent for a moment, until they reached the SUV, where he again opened the passenger door for her. “How about if I let you know if there’s anything interesting on the disk?”

“Absolutely not. I didn’t pester that poor man only to get secondhand information from you.”

“I’m not letting that disk out of my sight. At least not until I make a copy. My place isn’t too far from here. We can stop, make a copy and I’ll drop you off at your car.”

Emily glanced at her watch and groaned. “It’s almost nine o’clock and Jason probably didn’t put the kids to bed on time. How about if I make a copy and drop it off at school tomorrow?”

“No way.”

“You’re the one who said I was trustworthy.” She raised her chin.

“I said you seemed trustworthy.”

“Thanks a bunch.”

He stepped closer. “Look, I’ve got a lot riding on this Sea World trip.”

His proximity flustered her. Emily would have agreed to nearly anything to get him to back off. “Fine. Why don’t you drop me off at my van, then follow me to my house. I’ll make you a copy of the disk.”

The dome light cast a weak yellow glow over her shoulder, revealing only his profile. But there was enough light for Emily to see him wince, as if he’d rather do anything than be in her home. Maybe it should have struck her as funny, but instead, it made her sad.

“Or the offer’s still open—I can drop off a copy at school first thing tomorrow morning. Those are your choices.”

Shaking his head, he went around to the driver’s side and got in. “I’ll follow you home.” His voice was resigned, as if he faced impending death.

“Patrick, I promise Jason will be on his very best behavior.”

He mumbled something under his breath that sounded an awful lot like, “That’s what I’m afraid of.”



EMILY PARKED and waited for Patrick to set the SUV alarm.

She prayed, silently, that the house would be somewhat presentable.

Patrick approached, eyeing the front of her home. “Nice. With all those planting beds, you must be quite a gardener.”

Shrugging, Emily said, “I should have tulips coming up soon if the weather holds. And I’ll add a few annuals, but nothing fancy, I’m afraid.” She fit the key in the lock, her mouth dry. She felt very, very vulnerable inviting Patrick Stevens into her home.

The sight that greeted her made her want to turn tail and run. To Patrick Stevens, it would seem like the inmates were running the asylum. And a chaotic asylum at that.

“Come in.” Her voice was weak.

Of course, it could have been because she was drowned out by the cacophony of blaring TV, a barking dog, yowling cats and screaming children.

Emily wished the ground would swallow her whole.

When it didn’t, she squared her shoulders and entered the fray. She caught Mark by the arm as he raced past her. “Whoa.” Then she snagged Ryan by the neck of his superhero pajamas. “What’s going on here. Where’s Jason?”

Both boys laughed uproariously, as if she’d entered the comedy hall of fame. Their red fruit-drink mustaches made them look like slightly insane clowns.

She gripped Mark’s arm a little tighter. “I said, where is Jason?” she asked between clenched teeth.

The boys apparently scented danger through their sugar-induced high and settled down immediately.

Ryan pointed toward the family room. “Watchin’ TV.”

Emily frowned. She’d blocked the Playboy Channel, so she was pretty sure it wasn’t a porn problem. Marching around the corner, she realized maybe the porn channel would have been the lesser of two evils.

“Ja-son.” It came out high-pitched.

But Jason didn’t seem to hear. Neither did his girlfriend, Cassie.

Truth be told, Emily couldn’t tell where Jason left off and Cassie began, they were so intertwined. Fortunately, both seemed to be fully clothed. And there were two feet touching the floor. Cassie’s by the looks of them.

“Cassie.” It was whispered, almost a hiss. And perfectly pitched to get through the haze of lust hanging in the room.

Cassie shot to a sitting position, adjusting her clothes. “Um, Mrs. Patterson, hi.”

“Time for you to go, Cass.”

“Yes, ma’am.” She threw a geometry book in her backpack and scrambled for the door.

“Jason, I’ve been very clear that friends aren’t allowed over when I’m not home. I would suggest you go up to your room and we’ll discuss this later.” Certain death was promised in her tone, and Jason for once heeded the warning.

His eyes widened when he glanced past her and saw his nemesis, Patrick Stevens, standing in their living room.

Jason vaulted the coffee table and took the stairs two at a time.

“I haven’t seen him move that fast in months.” Emily released a shaky breath.

“Last time I saw him move that fast was after there was a small explosion in the boys’ restroom.” Patrick’s tone was dry. He shook his head mournfully, as if to say, “What did I expect?”

Emily wanted to sit down in the middle of the floor and cry.

But there was still one child left unaccounted for.

“Where’s Jeremy?”

“Upstairs. Reading.”

Jeremy, the good child. At least she’d been blessed with one kid who seemed to have both feet on the ground. Literally, and figuratively speaking.

“What’s Clifford barking about?” she asked.

Both boys shrugged.

“He was howlin’ earlier,” Mark offered.

Oh, no. “What did you feed him? He only howls when he’s about to—”

Emily slapped a hand over her mouth. She advanced on the black Lab, grasping him by the collar and marching him out the door.

That left only the two cats barreling through the house as if possessed.

“Catnip?” She didn’t really need to ask.

The boys nodded and giggled.

“You two say good-night to Mr. Stevens, go brush your teeth and get to bed. And I better see clean teeth, not just wet toothbrushes. I’m on to that trick.”

The boys stepped in front of Patrick, gazing upward with awe. “G’night, Mr. Stevens.”

“Good night, boys,” came his strangled reply.

Emily wouldn’t have been surprised if Patrick had run from the house screaming.

But instead, his eyes sparkled, as if he were having a hard time containing laughter.

And for some reason that made Emily mad.

“Mark, Ryan, bed. Now.”

They trotted up the stairs, the picture of obedience.

Then Emily turned her attention to Patrick, who grinned.

“You think it’s funny? You think you could do better? I might just leave right now. As the only adult, you’re honor bound to watch them until I get back.” She’d made up the rule, but it sounded good.

And evidently Patrick took her at her word, because he became very serious. The Patrick she was accustomed to.

“Yes, ma’am.”

If he saluted, she’d have to kill him.

Fortunately, he didn’t.



PATRICK WAS VERY AWARE of Emily’s presence as she peered over his shoulder at the computer screen.

“Nothing there,” she said. “Next page?”

“You’re sure you read that?”

“I can speed read.”

Evidently, he must’ve allowed his shock to show.

“What? Lots of people speed read.”

“Yes, I’m sure you’re right.”

“Or are you just surprised I know how to read the words with more than one syllable?”

Patrick winced. She was dead on.

“Why is it that men assume I must be stupid? Just because I’m, um, full-figured and tell a joke here and there.”

He eyed her cautiously over his shoulder. She made him nervous, standing so close, her breath warm on his ear. If he turned a fraction more, he’d have a tantalizing view of the lace playing hide-and-seek with her cleavage.

“Voluptuous and irreverent.”

“What?”

“That’s how I think of you.”

“Oh.”

Emily remained silent after that.

He hoped she knew he meant it as a compliment. And hoped she didn’t realize how totally distracting the combination was.

Closing his eyes, he tried to summon the image of Ari and Kat, laughing at the antics of dolphins.

It worked. Emily’s curves were no longer an issue. Patrick was a man with a mission.

The documents flew by, a journal-like testimonial to how overscheduled Tiffany Bigelow had been.

Along about page four, Patrick started to sweat. Tiffany had apparently been unwilling or unable to refuse a single request for funds. A little mental math told him she’d promised more money than the PTO was likely to raise in four years, let alone four months.

His heart sank. He no longer wanted to think about Ari and Kat at Sea World. Because, instead, all he saw was the sad acceptance in their dark eyes. And the I-knew-it-was-too-good-to-be-true slump to Kat’s shoulders. Worse would be Ari’s devastation, because he’d believed Patrick’s promises with his whole being.

Emily’s home, a place that had initially seemed chaotic yet warm, now started to close in on him. He needed to escape, to think. To figure out some way to make this work.

Clearing his throat, he asked, “A blank disk?”

Emily didn’t respond.

When he turned, he realized she’d been too shocked to speak. Her eyes were wide and unseeing, her lips trembled.

“I said, do you have a blank disk?” His voice came out harsher than he intended.

She leaned over his shoulder to open the cabinet door.

He barely noticed how close those voluptuous curves were. All he could comprehend was that he was royally screwed.

Emily handed him a floppy disk.

She was silent as he copied the disk, then accepted her copy with a murmured thank-you. She walked him to the door, saying a quiet goodbye.

And when he stopped in the doorway and turned, she didn’t try to conceal the sadness in her deep brown eyes. “I’m sorry, Patrick. It looks like there are going to be a lot of disappointed people. It’ll be a free-for-all for any funds we locate.”

“Yeah, well, you do what you have to do.” He raised his hand in a silent goodbye.




CHAPTER FOUR


EMILY TIPTOED into Ryan’s room and watched him sleep. This was what mattered. Not how much money was missing from the PTO fund and not how many teachers would probably hate her guts.

She recalled Patrick’s frown when he’d suggested she do what she needed to do. It had almost sounded like a threat, except for the tinge of sadness in his voice.

She brushed hair off Ryan’s forehead. He appeared so sweet and angelic when asleep. Faint traces of his red fruit-drink mustache were the only evidence of his night of six-year-old debauchery.

Smiling, she counted her blessings. Her children were precious and she wouldn’t trade them for anything. Not even a spotless, peaceful house.

Tiptoeing from his room, she stopped outside Jason’s door. A thin strip of light shone beneath.

Emily threw back her shoulders and prepared to do battle, when all she really wanted was a hot bath and eight hours of uninterrupted sleep.

She tapped softly and entered, allowing Jason enough time to cover up for modesty if he wasn’t dressed, but not enough time to hide serious mischief—like bomb-making or drugs. Sighing, Emily knew she would have been shocked to find Jason doing something illegal or dangerous. But then again, it was often the parents who were the last to know.

Her gaze swept the room till she located her son slouching on the bed. Fortunately, he was dressed and there were no signs of a felony in progress.

Emily suppressed an urge to grab him by his shirtfront and shake some sense into him. Instead, she perched on the edge of his bed. “We have a rule, Jase, because I think it’s important. You broke that rule tonight.”

“We were only studying.”

Emily mentally counted to ten. Not only was he lying, but by doing so, he implied she was too stupid to comprehend what she’d seen. “What? You were studying Cassie’s tonsils with your tongue?”

“Mom!”

“I thought I could trust you.” His betrayal hurt. She depended on him to take care of the smaller children.

“Really, we were studying. But we started kissing like two seconds before you got home and—”

“Even if I believed that, it means you weren’t watching your brothers during those few seconds. That’s all it takes for a child to drown or start a fire. I expect you to act responsibly when you’re in charge of your brothers.”

“Mark and Ryan are fine.”

“No thanks to you. Which brings me to my second point. A teenage girl and boy home alone together is not a good thing. I don’t care how trustworthy you are—and I like Cassie—but things get out of hand really quickly. I think it’s about time for us to have a refresher talk about pregnancy and STDs.”

His face blanched. “Please, Mom, not that. Can’t you just ground me?”

The irony made Emily want to smile. She was so incredibly uncool and embarrassing to her kids. But a smart mother used it to her advantage. “It’s late. I’ll spare you the safe sex discussion tonight. But we will discuss it. And until then, you’re grounded.”

Relief flashed in Jason’s blue eyes, so reminiscent of his father’s. Oh, how she loved this headstrong child. And how it terrified her that he might do something stupid to derail his life. “Choices, Jase. Every choice you make has the possibility of changing your life, good or bad.”

Jason’s eyes started to glaze over. She could tell he’d escaped to whatever alternate reality he inhabited when she lectured. Sighing, he said, “I’m tired, Mom.”

“Yes, so am I.” Bone tired from nonstop problems and decision-making. “We’ll talk tomorrow morning.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Jason?”

“Huh?”

“I love you.”

His frown deepened as if she’d used some horrible curse. She hoped, underneath his tough exterior, that he still enjoyed hearing his mom tell him she loved him. Because she intended to keep at it indefinitely. Some days, that was all she had to give.

When no response was forthcoming, Emily turned to leave.

“Mom?”

She stopped, her hand on the knob. “Yes?” Maybe he’d say those four little words she longed to hear.

I love you, Mom. She could almost see him as a pudgy toddler, handing her a wilted dandelion. What a sweet, sweet child he’d been. Until puberty.

Jason frowned. “What was he doing here?”

“Hm?” For a moment she’d forgotten their visitor. “Mr. Stevens stopped by to copy a disk containing PTO records.”

“He’s not coming back, is he?”

“Not that I know of. Why do you ask?”

“Um, you’re not, like, dating him or anything, are you?”

The horror in Jason’s voice made Emily laugh. The boy had a vivid imagination. “No, Jason, I’m not dating him.”



“WHAT AM I GOING TO DO, Nancy?” Emily almost forgot her problems as she took a bite of double cheeseburger. A large order of french fries beckoned, promising to make her forget her doubts. Two days had gone by since they’d retrieved the disk and Emily was no closer to figuring out a solution.

Nancy speared lettuce and marinated chicken, pausing to say, “I wish I had an easy answer, but I don’t. Looks to me like you have two choices. One, throw up your hands and declare the school year a disaster. Because of Tiffany’s duplicity, nobody would blame you.”

Emily shifted in her seat. She didn’t want to admit defeat.

“Or, two, you start organizing fund-raising campaigns like crazy. It’ll be hard, but at least you can salvage a few of the smaller programs.”

“Yes, you’re right. I may be a lot of things, but I’m not a quitter. I’ll need some help, though.”

“You can count on me.” Nancy sipped her iced tea. Blotting her lips with her napkin, she said, “I bet there’s fund-raising information on the Internet.”

“I’ll do some surfing tonight. I’d like to ask one of the previous presidents for some ideas, if I can do it without spilling the beans about Tiffany. Remember, not a word to anyone.”

“Cross my heart. You mentioned Patrick Stevens was at your house?”

“Just to copy the disk.”

“Sure. The disk.”

“It’s the truth.” Emily’s cheeks warmed. “Why is everyone reading more into this than there really is?”

“Where there’s smoke, there’s fire.” Nancy leaned forward, her eyes sparkling. “Are you blushing? In the three years we’ve been friends, I’ve never seen you blush.”

“You’re imagining things. Patrick can’t stand me. And I’m not too thrilled about him, either.” Emily felt a twinge of doubt. “But he did say I’m irreverent and voluptuous.”

Nancy grinned. “Aha! I was right. And that’s the perfect description—irreverent and voluptuous.”

“Have you forgotten the whole thing with Jason? Even if he asked me out, do you think I’d really be interested in a man who was so cold to my son?”

“No, I guess not.” She reached across the table to pat Emily’s hand. “Sorry, Em, I just want you to find someone special like Beau.”

“They broke the mold with that Texan.”

“Yes, they certainly did. But we can find you someone just as good in his own way.”

Emily raised her hand, palm outward. “No more fix-ups. I love you like a sister, but no more blind dates.”

“Too bad it didn’t work out with Luke Andrews. He’s so nice and steady, owns his own business.”

“He’s a very nice man. But boring with a capital B. I thought if I had to hear about hardware or plumbing supplies one more minute, I was gonna scream.”

“And I guess Patrick Stevens falls into the boring category, too. Those scientific types usually are. I had a chemistry professor once who talked with this nasal monotone. Put me to sleep every time.”

Emily thought about it for a minute. “Patrick is sanctimonious, bordering on pompous, but he has moments of almost being a real person.”

“Real is good. And he is attractive in an intense way.”

“Why are we even having this discussion?” Emily knew she needed to nip this in the bud or her friend would be in all-out matchmaking mode. “I’ve decided dating isn’t for me. My children are my focus.”

“Aw, Em, I hate to see you give up on having that happily-ever-after. If it can happen to me, it can happen to anyone.”

Emily suppressed a twinge of envy. “I’ve never seen a couple that fits together like you and Beau. It’s like you two were made for each other.”

“But I didn’t always think that way, remember? As I recall, a very good friend encouraged me to give him a chance.”

“Beau’s a good man. He just took a few wrong turns on his way to finding you.”

“Maybe Patrick’s taken a few wrong turns, too. Maybe he regrets the whole episode with Jason as much as you do.”

“He hasn’t said anything. He even saw Jason the other night. Although it probably looked to him as if my kids were raised by wolves.” Rolling her eyes, she described their arrival.

Nancy laughed till she had tears in her eyes. “Oh, Em, but that’s the beauty of your home. It’s never boring and there’s always lots of love and laughter.”

Emily grumbled. “Just once, I’d like people to think of me like they thought of Tiffany Bigelow. How together and smart I am.”

“You are together and smart.”

“Till I stick my foot in my mouth. Like with that edible panty distributor who always hounded me for a date. He asked what he could do to increase our order, and I suggested they develop an edible panty that didn’t taste like the fruit chewy snacks I put in my kids’ lunches. I don’t care how much men like the things, women aren’t going to feel sexy if they associate the aroma with sack lunches.”

Nancy sputtered and set down her soda. “You had a valid point.”

“Probably, but the guy never asked me to dinner again. Why couldn’t I just come up with something cute and classy?”

“You actually did the man a favor. You gave him solid feedback on how crummy his product was. Unless, of course, he’s so wrapped up in his work, so to speak, he identified his product with his, um, equipment.”

Emily rolled her eyes. “Oh, great, now I’ve probably left the man impotent for life, when all I was trying to do was help.”

Nancy leaned back in her chair and laughed. “See, Em, you make me laugh. We just need to find a man who understands your sense of humor and isn’t intimidated.”

“Like such a man exists.”

“How about Parents Flying Solo? Any new guys there?”

“No, though I have to admit, I haven’t made many meetings lately. I’ve been too busy. Besides, it’s not the same now that you and Beau aren’t there anymore. Did you hear who was elected president?”

Nancy shook her head.

Emily updated her on the latest happenings at the parenting support group. The next half hour flew by as they moved on to other topics, chatting about their children and Nancy’s real estate business.

Emily was still smiling when she returned to work.

Her smile faded when she saw two police officers in the waiting area.

Olivia immediately came out of her office as if she’d been watching for Emily’s arrival. Good thing she hadn’t taken a long lunch.

“Emily, these officers are here to see you.” Olivia frowned, her eyes warm with concern. “I’ll be in my office if you need me.”

Emily’s stomach tensed with dread.

The older officer introduced them and got straight to the point. “A report has been filed about certain irregularities in the Elmwood Elementary School PTO account. I spoke with Brad Bigelow this morning. He indicates you went by his house last night and asked for a computer file?”

“Um, yes. I’ve taken over as PTO president and I hoped the, um, disk might clarify some questions.”

“Principal Ross filed a report this morning about the missing funds. Kind of coincidental that you spoke with her yesterday and retrieved the disk last night. Interfering with an investigation is serious business, ma’am.”

“But there wasn’t an investigation yet.”

He nodded. “Technically, you’re right. But you were aware there would be. There could be a question of whether you tampered with the disk.”

“I did not tamper with it.” But her conscience twinged. Should she tell them she’d made copies of the disk? No. Tampering meant changing or destroying—copying hadn’t changed the original one bit. “I was hoping there might be information that would clear all this up and the police wouldn’t have to be involved.”

The officer held her gaze. “How closely did you work with Mrs. Bigelow?”

Emily forced herself not to blink, not to glance away. “I might have said hello to her at a PTO meeting, but for the most part, she didn’t think I was quite up to her standards.”

The officer’s eyes twinkled for a moment and he almost cracked a smile. “Yes, I understand she could be very, um, particular.”

Emily glanced at his badge. Officer G. Kirk. Jason played basketball with a Kirk. That must be his son. And she recalled hearing that his wife had had words with Tiffany over a school slogan contest or something. Nodody’s ideas had ever been as good as Tiffany’s.

“The word I had in mind started with a B, but I guess particular will work,” Emily commented dryly.

Officer Kirk coughed. “Do you have the disk with you?”

“Yes. In my purse.” She rummaged through her large bag and produced the disk. “Do you need some sort of affidavit that I haven’t changed anything on it?”

“If you’d handwrite a quick note, that would be helpful. We might need something more formal later.”

“Sure.” She pulled out a yellow note pad and quickly wrote the note. Tearing off the sheet, she handed it to him. “I’m sorry, officer, I didn’t intend to interfere with your investigation.”

“It looks like there was no harm done.” He sealed the disk and her note in separate bags. “Thank you for your time.”

“You’re welcome.”

Emily breathed a sigh of relief when the door shut behind him. Only then did she realize her knees were shaking. She’d put herself and her children at risk listening to Patrick Stevens.

It was hard to concentrate the next few hours, but somehow she managed. Finally, Olivia left for a meeting.

Picking up the phone, Emily dialed the number for Elmwood Elementary. She knew it by heart after having kids enrolled there so long. She punched in Patrick’s room number and was surprised when he picked up.

“Don’t you have classes to teach?” she demanded.

“My students are in Art. And this is?”

“Emily Patterson. The woman who went out on a limb for you. The same woman police interviewed at her place of employment because she did a favor for you.”

“You’re kidding. What did they want?”

“And you’re supposed to be a genius. The disk, Einstein.”

“Actually, I’m only highly intelligent. My IQ is a few points shy of genius level.”

“Quit playing games, Stevens. They asked me if I tampered with the disk.”

“You didn’t. I imagine you gave up the disk voluntarily. No harm, no foul.”

“Easy for you to say. I don’t know about you, but I need my job. If I’m unemployed, my kids are homeless with nothing to eat. It’s a little more severe than just missing a Lexus payment.”

“You’re right, Emily.” His voice lowered. “I shouldn’t have dragged you into this. I’m sorry.”

His apology surprised her. Neither of her ex-husbands had ever admitted being wrong. Even Larry, when she’d caught him riding a two-bit cocktail waitress at the Lazy Eight Motel.

Of course, Larry had explained how it had all been Emily’s fault because she’d gained weight after Ryan’s birth. After all, he could hardly be held accountable when his wife was a fat cow, too tired to make love with her husband.

Though Emily had promptly kicked his sorry butt out of the house, a tiny part of her wondered if he’d been right. She’d even gone so far as to suggest marriage counseling. Thank goodness he’d refused, or she might still be trying to fix a hopeless relationship.

“Emily, are you there?”

“Yes, um, the other line’s ringing,” she lied. “I’ve got to go. Just leave me out of any future schemes, okay, Einstein?”



PATRICK JUGGLED pizza boxes and a plastic sack of two-liter bottles of soda. Somehow he managed to press the doorbell at Emily’s house with his elbow.

His gut told him this was a lame idea. But his conscience told him he’d gotten Emily in a lot of trouble and pizza was the least he could do.

Waiting expectantly, he hunkered down in his jacket. Clear skies, a trace of snow on the ground, it was going to be a cold night.

Finally, the door opened a crack.

Patrick bit back a groan. It figured. “Jason, hi, is your mother home?”

“She’s in the shower.”

The boy’s answer left Patrick nonplussed. He hadn’t thought she would have rushed in the door from work and jumped into the shower. “Oh. I, um, brought pizza.”

“Yeah, I can see.” The door widened a bit and Jason crossed his arms over his chest, leaning against the wall. “She doesn’t want your pizza.” He looked Patrick up and down, his smirk leaving no doubt it was more than food he referred to.

Patrick might have been amused if he hadn’t had a history with the kid. As it was, he reminded himself he was the level-headed adult and should respond as such. “Can you let her know I’m here?”

“Like I said, she’s in the shower.”

“You can’t call through the bathroom door?”

“Nope. She sings in the shower. Real loud. And off-key.”

The visual made Patrick smile. He decided to take the bull by the horns, so to speak. “Okay, how about if I come in and wait?”

“No way. One of Mom’s rules. No guests while she’s in the shower.”

Recalling Jason’s interrupted wrestling match with his girlfriend the other night, Patrick realized the rule was probably prudent.

“Okay. I’ll wait out here, then.”

“She takes a really long shower.” Jason nodded toward the boxes Patrick held. “And hates pizza.”

“Oh.” Maybe this hadn’t been such a good idea. He was tempted to turn and leave. But remembering how much trouble he’d caused for Emily, he knew he had to try. “I’ll just wait out here on the steps, then.”

Jason shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

The door slammed in Patrick’s face.

Patrick surveyed the front porch. It was tidy, but bare. No comfy glider where he could park his rear. So he sat on the front step, the cold seeping through his Dockers almost immediately.

Ten minutes later, he hoped maybe Jason had been exaggerating.

Fifteen minutes later, he realized the pizza was stone-cold and he’d lost all sensation in his nose. His stomach rumbled. He figured the pizza couldn’t possibly get any colder and placed the boxes on the steps. He stood, rubbing his arms to warm them.

Twenty-five minutes later, Patrick rang the bell again.

“What?” Jason’s tone was belligerent when he opened the door.

“Surely, your mother is out of the shower now?”

“Nope. Told you she took a long shower. Why don’t you just leave.”

Why indeed? Because it had become a contest of wills. He would see Emily tonight if it killed him. And, if the temperature dropped any more rapidly, that was a very real possibility.

“I c-can wait.” He clamped his mouth shut to stop his teeth from chattering.

“Yeah, sure you can.” As the door swung shut, Patrick could have sworn he heard Jason call him a loser.

His pulse pounded. He had the urge to yank the door off the hinges and give the kid a piece of his mind. But he was here on a peacekeeping mission and yelling at Jason would hardly break the ice with Emily. He merely needed to harness his anger. Shrugging, he figured anger was probably a good thing—it’d keep his blood pumping and keep him from freezing to death.

He jogged in place, slapping his arms to increase circulation, for what seemed like hours. Patrick was about to concede defeat when headlights sliced through the night and Emily’s van pulled into the driveway.

“That little SOB,” Patrick swore through clenched teeth.




CHAPTER FIVE


EMILY PULLED INTO the driveway, wishing for the zillionth time the garage was uncluttered enough to actually house the car. A glance toward the dark porch confirmed that Jason hadn’t had the forethought to turn on the light for her. Sighing, she turned off the engine. It had been one heck of a long day.

She went around to the back of the van and opened the hatch. Grabbing several grocery sacks, she headed for the door.

“Need some help?” A male voice startled her. Peering into the gloom on the porch, she thought she detected a familiar form.

“Patrick, what are you doing here?”

“P-pizza. Peace offering. I’m sorry I got you in trouble.” The poor man appeared to be shivering. And his attempt at making things right made her view him a little more kindly.

“You didn’t have to go to all this trouble.”

“Yes, I did. Let me help you.” He took the groceries from her hands.

Ah, score more points for the science teacher. Emily was rapidly getting over being miffed at him for dragging her into the disk caper. “You look half-frozen. Why in the world didn’t you go inside?”

“Um, Jason said you were in the shower. No guests allowed while you’re in the shower.”

Emily slapped her hand over her mouth and groaned. “And you’ve been out here how long?”

He didn’t meet her eyes. “A few minutes.”

She got the impression it had been a lot longer than a few minutes. “I think Jason was being a little too concerned with the rules tonight.” She should be dancing a jig because he remembered them at all. But Jason’s selective enforcement suggested his adherence had been out of spite, not obedience.

“Which rule is that?” Patrick asked.

“The one where I asked the boys to tell people I’m in the shower when they’re here and I’m not. That way, some whacked-out stranger doesn’t know they’re home alone.”

“Whacked-out stranger. Thanks a lot.”

“Not you. A hypothetical stranger.”

“Ah. So Jason was only following instructions?”

“I’m sure that’s what his defense will be.” She opened the door with her key. “Come on in, if you don’t mind being subject to World War III. Jason and I need to discuss a few things.”

“I could stay out here till you’re done.”

“No way. You already look chilled to the bone. Besides, why should I have all the fun?”

“Fun?”

“Oh, yes. Two can play at this game. Watch and learn.”

His smile was bemused. “Lead on, oh great one.”

She stepped into the entryway and called, “I’m home.”

Jason came around the corner as if he’d been waiting. His eyes narrowed as he saw her companion. “Hi, Mom.”

“Hello, hon. Would you go get the rest of the groceries?”

“Um, sure.” He sidled past her as if he scented danger. He’d probably expected yelling and accusations. Heck, he’d probably hoped for yelling and accusations. The child seemed to thrive on chaos.

But she had way more in her arsenal than that. Emily turned to Patrick and winked.

He tilted his head to the side, but didn’t comment. Instead, he said, “I’ll go grab the pizza before raccoons haul it off. Luckily, pizza nukes fine.”

Emily touched his arm. “Patrick, it really was thoughtful. And I’m sorry Jason treated you so badly.”

“No problem.”

But his tense shrug told her it was a problem. And that made Emily sad. Jason would pay for mistreating her friend, and he would pay dearly.

The thought stopped Emily short. Patrick, a friend. Who’d have thought? Nancy and a few of the girls from work had been her only real friends for years. As for boyfriends, they usually took off once they met her kids, or realized she wasn’t quite the good-time gal they assumed. Yes, there was more to the science geek than met the eye.

Emily hummed a little tune as she took the groceries to the kitchen and started putting them away, taking time to give Mark and Ryan big hugs when they clambered in from the back yard.

“Emily?” she heard coming from the entryway.

“In here, Patrick.”

Patrick and Jason apparently reached the kitchen door at the same time, plowing through, shoulder to shoulder. Neither seemed inclined to yield to the other.

“Jason, Patrick is a guest in our home. You allow him to come in first.”

Her son averted his face. “Yes, ma’am.”

She handed a stack of paper plates to Mark. “Would you please set the table, honey? Ryan, you can put out cups and utensils.”

Both boys accepted their duties with enthusiastic whoops.

Patrick smiled at their eagerness. The same smile she’d noticed when he talked of his students.

“Jason, would you please start a fire?” Emily retrieved the long stick matches from the highest cupboard. “In the fireplace,” she amended quickly, remembering Jason’s penchant for finding loopholes.

“We don’t need a fire, Mom. Remember, we don’t have that much wood.”

“We have enough. Poor Patrick is frozen half to death.”

She could feel Jason tense, preparing himself for battle. “It’s not my fault he stood out there in the cold. I just did what you said about not having people in when you’re gone.”

“Of course you did, dear.” She patted his cheek lovingly.

Jason’s eyes widened. “Um, yeah, I did. I’ll go light that fire. In the fireplace.”

“Thank you, honey.”

Mark and Ryan froze, then tiptoed around her, as if they sensed something was up. Maybe the second endearment had been laying it on too thick.

“Is Jeremy in his room?”

The boys nodded.

“Would you please go get him?”

Nodding in unison, they ran to the base of the stairs and hollered, “Jeremy.”

Emily rolled her eyes. “I could have done that.”

After she reheated pizza, everyone filled their plates and found a seat at the table. Emily made polite chitchat for a few minutes before she went for the jugular. “Oh, Jason, the school newsletter says they’re looking for chaperones for the dance Friday night.”

Jason’s eyes widened in horror. “No way, Mom.”

Patrick tilted his head to the side, as if watching a foreign film and trying to decipher the subtext. And there was subtext galore.

Jason was a smart kid, and she would bet her last dollar he knew what his punishment would be. He just wasn’t quite sure how it would be administered.

“I’ve already decided to volunteer, so no arguing. I want to make sure I get to know each and every one of your teachers.”

“But, that’s what the parent/teacher open house is for.” Jason’s voice was an octave higher than usual.

“Yes, you’re right. But I obviously haven’t spent enough time at my children’s schools. Because you apparently thought I wouldn’t want Mr. Stevens in my home. Using your very best judgment, you decided Mr. Stevens was a complete stranger after spending nearly a month in his class.”

“No, I didn’t think that.”

“Oh? Then why did you leave him standing on the front porch when you knew darn well I wouldn’t be home for half an hour?”

“I told him to go.”

Emily started to burn. Jason’s insolence was worse than she’d suspected. As if, after his prank with the mousetrap, Patrick didn’t already think she was the worst mother on the planet. “I beg your pardon? You told him to go?”

“I, um, suggested that you would be in the shower for a long time and he might want to, um, leave.”

“It sounds to me as if you were rude to Mr. Stevens.”

Patrick shifted in his seat. “I wouldn’t go so far as to say he was rude.”

She shot him a look. “Then you’re too kind, Patrick. But I intend to make sure there aren’t any misunderstandings in the future about who constitutes a stranger.” Turning to her son, she said, “I will make it a point to meet each and every teacher at the dance and introduce myself as your mother. I will also introduce myself to any of your friends I haven’t met yet and get better acquainted with the ones I do know.”

The color drained from Jason’s face. “You can’t.”

“I can and I will. Furthermore, you were rude to Mr. Stevens and owe him an apology.”

“Sorry,” Jason mumbled.

“Apology accepted.” Patrick’s voice was low.

She glanced at Mark and Ryan, who were more subdued than normal. Regretting casting a pall over the meal, Emily smiled brightly. “Now, let’s enjoy our pizza.”

But then an idea occurred to her. One she just couldn’t let pass. “Patrick, it was very sweet of you to bring dinner tonight. Do you think you might consider being my co-chaperone at the dance Friday evening?”

Patrick chewed his pizza and swallowed hard. “Dance?” His voice held a note of panic.

“Why, yes. That way Jason will have the chance to get to know you.” And understand her choice of friends was not subject to his manipulation. Particularly her male friends.

“I think we’re pretty well-acquainted, now, don’t you, Jason?” Patrick asked.

“Yeah. We sure are, Mr. Stevens.” Jason nodded so rapidly Emily was afraid he’d give himself whiplash.

Patrick’s response was much less enthusiastic than she had hoped, but she didn’t intend to let that stop her. “And Patrick, I understand Linda Price will be there. She’s president of the high school PTO and was close friends with Tiffany Bigelow.”

“Oh, I didn’t know.”

“I’m looking forward to the opportunity of chatting with her regarding Tiffany’s record-keeping procedures.” Emily willed him to understand her double-speak. “She might know where we could find additional, um, materials.”

“Materials. Yes, well that does sound, um, promising.”

“And even if she doesn’t have any information, I understand she is an absolute pro at fund-raising. Something you might consider in light of recent developments. I know I’ve been giving it a lot of thought.”

Patrick nodded. “Absolutely. In that case, I accept your invitation. What time’s the dance start?”

“Eight o’clock. I’ll pick you up at seven-fifteen. That way I’ll have time to drop off the little kids at my friend Nancy’s house, then swing by and pick up Cassie.”

Jason groaned. “We were gonna double-date with Vince and his girlfriend.”

“Now, see, didn’t this turn out nice?” Emily smiled brightly. “You can double-date with your dear old mom and Mr. Stevens. What could be better than that?”

What indeed?



PATRICK DISCONNECTED from the Internet. Emily would be there shortly and he hadn’t found any solutions in his investment portfolio. He’d considered funding the trip himself, anonymously, of course. It would be worth every penny to watch Ari and Kat experience a whole new world.

But a quick glance at his portfolio had quashed that idea. He had a substantial sum set aside, but it would take more than a substantial sum to care for Roger once his mom and dad were gone. They made do with a couple of part-time home health aides and were great caring for his brother. Unfortunately, it was a full-time job for both of his parents, instead of the easy retirement they deserved. He worried sometimes they were working themselves to an early grave, but both claimed to enjoy having Roger living in their home.

Patrick ran a hand through his hair. Giving up on the Florida trip wasn’t an option, either, at least in his mind. Maybe they’d luck out and Tiffany’s friend would tell them where Tiffany had secreted the PTO money.

The doorbell rang. Glancing at his watch, he nodded. Emily was right on time.

When he opened the door, he wasn’t surprised to see Jason hanging back, expression sullen, holding the hand of a pretty teen. The infamous Cassie. But it was Emily who nearly took his breath away. She wore a suede skirt, boots and had her soft brown hair pulled back from her face. All suitable chaperone attire. But she also wore an itty-bitty, low-cut T-shirt that accentuated every lovely inch of her chest. What looked like a hand-crocheted vest went over the top to give the impression of modesty. But all it did was encourage him to visualize what she looked like sans T-shirt, with only the crocheted vest playing peekaboo with her breasts.

He cleared his throat. “Come in. I have to feed Newt before I go.”

“Newt?”

“My salamander. Let me dump a few crickets in his tank.”

“Live crickets?”

“Yes.”

Emily made a face. She wandered around his living room, studying his awards, stopping at the lone family photo. “Your mom and dad?”

His stomach clenched. “Yes.”

“You’re an only child?” It was an assumption many people made. Maybe because Patrick was serious and introverted. It hadn’t always been that way though.

“No. My brother isn’t in the picture.” In so many ways.

“Are you the oldest?”

“Yes.” Chronologically and mentally. Because there was no way Roger would ever be able to approach Patrick’s near-genius. But Patrick thought he would give his very life if Roger had the opportunity to show him up. Sibling rivalry had no place in the dynamics of their relationship. At least not in the past twenty-five years.

“Are you two close?”

“Yes. Roger’s my best buddy.” At least that’s what he told his brother every time he visited. It never failed to elicit a smile, sometimes marred by a spasm, other times accompanied by a trickle of saliva. But Roger’s smile touched a place in Patrick’s heart no other could reach. Not that many had tried. Most people were content to accept Patrick’s reserve at face value.

But Emily wasn’t most people. She studied his face. “I bet he looked up to you as a child.”

Patrick smiled, remembering the kid brother he couldn’t seem to shake. “Yes, he followed me everywhere.”

He turned at Cassie’s sharply indrawn breath. “Is that real?” the girl asked, pointing to Arnold.

“Yes. That’s Ahhnold.” He approximated an Austrian accent. “And this guy over here is Hairy S. Truman.”

“All Republicans,” Emily observed dryly. “A political statement?”

“No, just my warped sense of humor. It started with Hairy, for obvious reasons. Newt, as a play on words, because newts are a part of the salamander family.”

“That’s really tight, Mr. Stevens,” Jason said.

Cassie withdrew her hand from Jason’s and stepped back. “I think it’s gross. What does the snake eat?”

Patrick’s first instinct was to tell her the whole gory truth and gross her out. Live rats. Arnold squeezes them to death before swallowing them whole.

But tricks never led to anything good. He decided to provide Jason with a mature role model. “Rodents.”

Patrick was proud of his self-restraint when Emily repressed a shudder.

Fortunately, Cassie didn’t seem to realize the term rodents wasn’t the name brand of a processed pet food that came from a sealed bag. She said, “Whatever.”

“I’m ready.” He made sure all the enclosures were secure, leaving on the heat lamps. “Let’s go.”

Patrick was tempted to call shotgun as they approached the van, so like a family expedition. But he realized Jason wanted nothing more than to sit in the backseat with his girlfriend, sneaking a kiss when he thought Emily wasn’t looking in the rearview mirror.

The kids had made it pretty clear they didn’t appreciate being chaperoned. Yes, in bringing Patrick to the dance, Emily had elevated age-appropriate punishment to an art form. He knew from experience peer pressure and the threat of embarrassment worked wonders with the teen set. Patrick had no doubt he would be immediately invited in to the Patterson household if he visited again, day or night, whether Emily were at home or three states away. She’d certainly made her point.

Emily pressed the lock release on her key tag. “Are you sure you’re okay with me driving?”

“Positive.”

The drive to the high school went quickly. Jason and Cassie exited the van before Emily shut off the engine.

She rolled down her window. “See you inside,” Emily called out to them in an overly loud voice, enunciating clearly.

They pretended not to hear her.

Patrick went around to the driver’s side, but he was too late to hold the door for her. For some reason, that rankled. Though Emily could obviously take care of herself, he felt compelled to do things for her. He had a pretty good idea pampering was toward the bottom of her list.

“You’re an evil woman, Emily Patterson.” He couldn’t quite keep the admiration from his voice.

She grinned, lowering her voice to a Mae West growl. “When I’m good, I’m very good. But when I’m bad, I’m even better.”

His imagination was off and running with visions of her wearing the crocheted vest and very little else. His groin responded. “I’m sure you are.”

And Emily, brave, irreverent Emily, blushed.

Down, boy. He reminded himself she was someone’s mother, for God’s sake. Four little someones’ mother. The thought was an effective mood killer. “I mean, I’m sure you are very good at your job. Where did you say you work?” Lame save, but better than nothing.

Emily glanced away. “Luxury Lingerie. And I guess I’m a pretty darn good administrative assistant.”

They waited for a car to go by before crossing the parking lot. Patrick cupped Emily’s elbow in a friendly, don’t-want-you-to-get-run-over gesture. “How long have you been there?”

“Twelve years. Since right after Walt left. Walt was my first husband.”

Her long-term job surprised him. For some reason, his initial impression had been that she was flighty. But then again, they hadn’t met under the best circumstances. “You worked after the younger boys were born?”

“I didn’t have much choice. Larry couldn’t keep a job—Larry was my second husband. And when he left, he cleaned out what little I had in the bank.”

Patrick shook his head. “I don’t get it.”

“Get what?”

“I don’t get women letting men take advantage of them like that.”

Emily stopped in the middle of the sidewalk. She put her hands on her hips. “I made a mistake.”

“I could have told you that. I mean, why would such a beautiful, courageous, intelligent woman allow any man to treat her that way?”

She folded her arms over her chest. Her voice was soft when she said, “You’re not going to get laid tonight, Patrick, so save the BS.” Then she turned and stalked toward the gym.

He stood for a moment, wondering what he’d said wrong. Compliments were a good thing, weren’t they? Apparently Emily didn’t think so.

He couldn’t help but admire the steel in her spine. Then he noticed the luscious curve of her hips. Was he, on some subconscious level, trying to get laid?

Shaking his head, he lengthened his stride to catch up. He grasped her elbow. “Emily.”

She stopped. Her eyes sparkled under the outdoor lighting, whether from tears or anger, he wasn’t sure. “What?”

Patrick tried to articulate what he didn’t really understand himself. “It wasn’t BS. I won’t lie, I find you very attractive. But I have no desire to start a relationship with you. It just wouldn’t work. I simply describe you the way I see you.”

“That’s a hell of a way to mess with my mind. Insult me one second, then the next say one of the sweetest things a man has ever said to me. You swear you’re on the up-and-up, but tell me you’re not interested in a relationship. What exactly are you doing here, Patrick?”

He swallowed hard. “Research?”

“Research this.” She made a rude gesture and stalked through the double doors.

Patrick’s mouth dropped open.

And then he laughed. He’d never met a woman so unpredictable and refreshingly honest. Now, if he could just figure out exactly how he’d ticked her off so badly.




CHAPTER SIX


EMILY STEPPED THROUGH the doors and felt as if she’d stepped into a time warp. There was something about a school gym that transcended space and time. It was as if she’d entered her own high school gym in the mid-eighties. The only thing missing was the big hair.

The odor of stale athletic socks and sweaty bodies lingered in the air, despite the elaborate decorations. Festoons of crepe paper and balloons, confetti on the refreshment table, disco balls reflecting the light. And on the dais, a DJ and sound system.

“Hey, wait up.” Patrick appeared at her elbow.

Inviting him had been a mistake. How could she have known he’d turn all goofy on her? First, his compliments had made her mad. How could he think she’d fall for that crap? But then she’d understood he’d been absolutely sincere.

Her chest grew tight. His sincerity had caused her to, for a very short time, figure she might stand a ghost of a chance with a man who saw her not as a brassy, burnt-out mom, but as the kind of woman she desperately wanted to be.




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