Kitabı oku: «The Matchmakers' Daddy», sayfa 3

Chapter Three

Diana stood at the stove. As spaghetti sauce simmered over a low flame, she stared at a large pot of water, wondering if it would ever boil.

On the way home from the bus stop, she’d thought about fixing canned soup and sandwiches for dinner—something quick and easy. But she couldn’t very well serve a light meal like that to a construction worker the size of Paul Bunyon and with, she imagined, an appetite to match.

So she’d used the hamburger she’d set aside for meat loaf and added a jar of store-bought marinara she kept on hand for emergencies like this.

But she couldn’t very well let Zack wait alone in the living room, without even the girls to entertain him. So she left the pots, one simmering and the other on high, and headed back to her guest.

He sat on the worn, tweed sofa, studying a photograph of her and Peter on their wedding day.

When he heard her enter the room, he returned the silver frame to the lamp table, tossed her a half smile and nodded at the twelve-year-old picture that spoke of another time, another life. “I hope you don’t mind.”

“No, of course not.” She’d left that picture out for her daughters’ benefit, along with a couple of others down the hall.

“The girls told me your husband…their dad…passed away.”

She nodded. “About two years ago.”

“I’m sorry.”

Most people felt awkward discussing death and loss, and for some reason, Diana wanted to make it easy on Zack. And easy on herself. “Time heals. And we’ve adjusted pretty well. At least, I think the girls are doing all right.”

Compassion spread across his face, and she realized he assumed she hadn’t gotten over her loss. But that’s not what she’d meant.

She took a seat in the easy chair that had, along with the other furniture, come with the house. “I’m doing all right, too.”

And she was. Her husband had been one of the kindest, gentlest men she’d ever known, but she’d gotten over his death easier than her daughters had.

She’d loved him, of course. How could she not? But she’d never really felt his love in return. His focus had always been on the church rather than on her and the girls. And, after a while, she’d grown to resent the time he spent trying to nurture everyone else in the small, struggling congregation.

So after holding down the home front by herself for what had seemed like forever, she continued to do the same after his death. And if truth be told—

Oh, God. It sounded so terrible to admit, but there hadn’t been a lot for her to miss.

At times, she wondered if she’d bypassed a step in the grieving process. But in reality, she’d probably been so busy trying to keep the wolf from the door that she’d passed through it all without a backward glance.

“What was his name?” Zack asked.

“Peter.”

“How did he die?”

“From a heart attack. And since he was only thirty-four, he probably overlooked any symptoms he might have had.” She fingered the frayed, braided edge on the armrest of the chair. “Late one evening, the church janitor found him slumped over his desk.”

“Wow.” The word came out as a solemn whisper.

She didn’t want Zack feeling sorry for them. It happened; they’d survived. End of story.

“Peter was a good man,” she told him. “And he’s in a better place.”

“Better than being with a beautiful wife and two great kids?” He frowned. Then he softened. “Sorry. Just my cynical nature busting loose.”

Over the past few years, Diana had grown a little cynical, too, although she usually hid it well. She offered Zack a smile that was steeped more in hope than reality. “Please don’t be sorry. Life goes on.”

He nodded, yet that awkwardness she’d wanted to avoid settled over them. She assumed it was due in part to them being strangers. Or, then again, maybe she was feeling uneasy about the thoughts she was usually so good at suppressing.

Yet there seemed to be something else happening, too. Something that had a lot to do with them being male and female.

It had been a long time since a man had held her in his arms. Maybe that’s why she found this virtual stranger so darn attractive, even though she had no intention of replacing the man she’d lost.

Death, they said, had a way of memorializing a person, making them seem almost saintly, when in reality, they’d been flawed and human. But in Peter’s case, that hadn’t happened. Not for her, anyway. He’d lost his footing on the pedestal on which she’d placed him years ago.

“The girls say you’re a secretary,” Zack said, obviously wanting to change the subject as badly as she did.

“Yes, I am. A friend from college knew I was looking to relocate, and she told me there was a perfect position for me at the Park Avenue Community Church. I interviewed over the phone, and Reverend Morton went to bat for me with the board of elders. Two days later, he offered me the job. And here we are.”

“I hear he can’t get along without you.” Zack didn’t know why he mentioned what the girls had told him, why he felt compelled to turn the conversation toward the preacher. But the fact was, he wanted to hear that the good reverend was seventy years old and happily married.

“Tom, or rather Pastor Morton, is a very busy man. And he appreciates someone taking care of the little things for him. I’m sure another secretary would be just as helpful.”

Before Zack could think of a response, the two girls entered the living room. It didn’t take long to figure out they’d been eavesdropping.

“Mrs. Ashton says our mom is perfect for the job because she used to be a pastor’s wife and knows just what to do to make Reverend Morton’s life easier,” Becky interjected.

Diana’s husband used to be a preacher?

Somehow, that didn’t surprise him. And, if anything, it only placed Diana on a higher level than most people.

When he was younger, before his time in prison, he’d never dated anyone who was considered a good girl, even though he’d sensed one or two of them had been attracted to him. It didn’t take a psychic to see the conflict in a mismatched relationship like that.

And from what he’d already seen and easily surmised, women didn’t get much nicer than Diana.

“Mrs. Ashton said Reverend Morton wants to ask Mom out on a date,” Becky said.

“Without us,” Jessie interjected. “But Mommy told Mrs. Ashton that she wasn’t interested.”

“That’s because she could do way better than him.”

“Girls, that’s enough. Mrs. Ashton is well-intentioned, but she has entirely too big of an imagination.” Diana glanced at Zack, her embarrassment reflected by rosy cheeks. “There are a few people in this world who live by a Noah’s Ark philosophy.”

A smile tugged at Zack’s lips. “What’s that?”

“The idea that this world would be a much better place if everyone made the journey two-by-two. But I don’t agree.”

He wondered why. Had she been so in love with her husband that she couldn’t imagine another man taking his place?

If so, it made sense.

Diana looked at Zack. “Do you mind supervising while Becky lights the candle on the patio table?”

“No. Not at all.” He got to his feet and allowed the girls to lead him through a small dining room and out a sliding door to a patio, where they’d set the table for four. The truth was, he was glad to have something to do. Glad to have something to focus on.

Something other than a woman who needed what she’d once had—the kind of man Zack would never be.

For some dumb reason, in spite of two little kids sitting at the table, the evening held a romantic aura Zack found hard to ignore.

Maybe it was because of the faint scent of night-blooming jasmine, the air rustling the leaves in the tree, a full moon overhead.

Of course, the attractive woman sitting at his side held an aura of her own.

The flicker of two candles lit the small patio table, as forks clicked against ceramic dinnerware.

Zack dug into a plate filled high with spaghetti, hoping he didn’t dribble sauce all down his chin and on his shirt. He’d never been self-conscious while eating before. But this meal was different, and he hoped what few manners he’d acquired during his youth hadn’t been lost after five long years behind bars.

“Thanks for including me,” he told Diana. “The girls were right. You’re a good cook.”

“You should eat her meat loaf and mashed potatoes,” Jessie said. “I always eat a hundred helpings.”

“You’ll have to come over for dinner when Mom makes chicken-fried steak,” Becky added. “It’s really good, too.”

Zack glanced at Diana, saw her flush again. Was she embarrassed by the praise?

Or by the possibility that the girls would offer Zack another dinner invitation he might accept?

“I haven’t had many home-cooked meals,” he admitted. “But this is one of the best.”

“Thank you.”

As their gazes caught, her movements stilled.

His, too.

Something hovered in the night air. Sexual awareness, he suspected—something she’d sensed, too. But she looked away, cleared her throat and scooted her chair from the table. “Ice cream anyone? It’s Rocky Road.”

The girls eagerly placed their orders. And since Zack was big on dessert and chocolate was his favorite, he shot her a grin. “Sure. I’d like some. Thanks.”

When Diana went inside, Becky rested her elbows on the table, leaned forward and whispered, “Even if Mom wanted to go on a date, it wouldn’t be with Reverend Morton. He’s not her type. And not just because he’s going to be totally bald someday.”

Where had that come from? The preacher’s name hadn’t popped into the conversation since Diana had put a stop to it earlier. Obviously, the child had been holding back her opinion until her mother slipped way.

“When he wears his Padres baseball cap he looks kind of handsome,” the younger girl said. “But he doesn’t have muscles. Not like yours.”

Zack was pleased that the preacher couldn’t hold a candle to him—physically, at least. But he figured a woman like Diana was more interested in character and reputation. In that case, Morton had him beat by light years. Not that he was in the running.

Or was he?

Was he being set up by a couple of pint-sized matchmakers?

“You know the Noah’s Ark story?” Becky asked.

Not really, but he had a general idea, so he nodded sagely, as if he was an expert.

“The story’s true, even if Mom doesn’t believe it.”

Zack didn’t think Diana was questioning the story. She’d just been making a statement about people not needing to be paired off to be happy.

“God is very big on love and marriage,” Becky explained. “That’s why he made Adam and Eve.”

“And it’s why He made Noah and…” Jessie paused, screwed up her little face and looked at her all-knowing big sister. “What was his wife’s name, Becky?”

“I don’t remember. But she was very important to the whole story.”

As the screen door slid open, the subject immediately dropped—thank goodness.

Zack wasn’t sure where the blond, starry-eyed preteen was going with all that stuff. But his suspicion about being set up was growing stronger by the minute.

“All right,” Diana said, as she carried in a tray with four bowls. “Here it is.”

He found safety in the silence that followed, as Becky and Jessie grabbed their spoons and dug into the frozen concoction of chocolate ice cream, marshmallows and nuts.

For some reason, he got the feeling that the girls thought he might make a better catch for their mom than the preacher. But that was only because they didn’t have any idea who he was or where he’d been.

It was almost laughable.

Still, Zack couldn’t help being glad the preacher wasn’t their mother’s type.

Nor could he help wondering who was.

His gaze drifted to Diana, whose red T-shirt revealed the kind of breasts many women paid to have. Hers, he suspected, were real. In fact, everything about her was so womanly, so genuine, that it was hard to keep his eyes off her. And, in spite of himself, he stole another peek.

She had her eyes closed, a spoon in her mouth, savoring the sweet, creamy taste and wearing an almost-orgasmic expression that nearly knocked the breath right out of him.

Damn. He’d always thought women got old and frumpy after having kids. But not her.

In the conservative clothes she’d worn to work, she appeared to be fit and trim. But wearing a pair of white shorts and a T-shirt, there wasn’t much guesswork involved. She had the best pair of legs he’d ever snuck a peek at.

He figured she was at least thirty and a good five years older than him.

With sea-green eyes and honey-brown hair a man would love to see splayed on his pillow, she was a beautiful woman.

When she opened her eyes and saw him looking at her, the rebel in him tossed her a crooked grin.

She returned his smile, but not before flushing a pretty shade of pink.

Something told him he wasn’t the only one who suspected a romantic setup.

Diana had never been so uneasy in her life. Or so embarrassed by her children. Of course, she could understand why the girls were impressed with the handsome construction worker. He was a giant of a man, with a bulky build that suggested he protected what was his. Yet his baby blue eyes boasted a boyish innocence.

And when he’d shot her an I-walk-on-the-wild-side grin, it was enough to steal her breath away, not to mention her good sense.

Her daughters wouldn’t understand her reluctance to get involved with a man, especially one with a devilish smile that could tempt a woman to pick a forbidden apple and take a bite. But they’d obviously decided their mother needed another man in her life, when that couldn’t be further from the truth.

“It’s my turn to do the dishes,” Becky said, as she pushed her chair from the table and picked up her empty bowl and spoon. “And Jessie wants to help me.”

“But I don’t want—”

Becky cleared her throat. “Yes you do.”

“Oh, yeah,” the younger girl said. “I do.”

“Come on.” Becky led her sister through the sliding door and into the kitchen.

A moment later, Jessie ran back to close the door.

The girls were usually pretty good about helping out in the house—when prodded. But they never took the initiative on their own. There was only one conclusion to make.

Her daughters wanted her to be alone with a man they’d dressed in imaginary armor and placed on a white steed.

But was there any such thing as a real-life hero?

Diana had her doubts. Women often imagined a man was something he wasn’t, especially if she was attracted to him. But the truth struck a hard blow.

There was so much more to a man than met the eye.

Of course, in Zack’s case, what met the eye was very nice, even with—or maybe because of—a five o’clock shadow that lent him a raw, dangerous air, especially under the spell of candlelight.

Physically, he was the complete opposite of Peter, a man she’d practically handpicked when they were in college because he was so different from the dark-haired hellion who’d nearly ruined her life. She’d also chosen him because he’d been a man she thought her blue-collared, demanding-yet-impossible-to-please father would approve of. So she’d set her sights on the gentle man who hadn’t pointed out her every flaw and shortcoming.

Other than one.

She cleared her throat. “I’m afraid my daughters are a little…”

“Eager to find their mother a boyfriend?” he supplied, with a chuckle and a sparkle in his eye.

Thank goodness he’d not only broached the subject, but made light of the obvious, making her daughter’s matchmaking so much easier to address—and to set aside.

“I’m afraid Becky has a romantic streak and has spent way too much time reading fairy tales,” she explained. “And Jessie just misses having a man around the house, even if it was only for a few minutes a day.”

“Their father didn’t spend much time with them?”

As had become her habit, she quickly jumped to Peter’s defense. “He was trying to build a church and was very busy.”

“I guess that’s a good excuse,” Zack replied. “My dad didn’t have any time for me, but his reasons weren’t anywhere near as noble.”

Diana smiled at their commonality. “My father was a long-haul trucker, so his time at home was pretty limited, too.”

There’d been a difference, though. Her father’s absence had served to support his family the best way he knew how. To provide for them.

Which was why, to this day, her father resented Peter for leaving her and the girls as poor as the proverbial church mice. And, to be honest, there were times when Diana resented Peter, too.

Anger was part of the grieving process, and she’d been angry with God at first for taking Peter when he’d had such a good heart and had his whole life before him.

But as time passed, that initial anger transferred to her deceased husband, a man who, according to her father, had been so spiritually minded, that he hadn’t been any earthly good.

It was only at night, when she lay in bed alone, that she could admit her resentment. And then the guilt set in. How could she find fault with a man like Peter?

Zack leaned forward and lowered his voice to an intimate caress. “Can I ask you a question?”

She glanced across the table, saw the seriousness of his expression and was almost afraid to tell him it was okay to ask. “Sure, go ahead.”

“What do you wish your husband would have done with your daughters?” He glanced at his hands, big hands that bore a couple of intriguing scars. Then he returned his gaze to her. “I mean, what kind of things would you have wanted your father to have done with you when you were a child?”

He’d tossed out the question like the kind of verbal bait a counselor used to get to the heart of a person’s past, a person’s problems.

Or maybe Zack figured they’d both had a less-than-perfect childhood in common.

“It wouldn’t have had to be anything big or expensive, like taking a kid to a theme park. A trip to the library would have been nice, followed by a story or two. It wouldn’t have hurt him to spend a day at the playground with a picnic lunch. Or to take a walk on the shore and collect pretty rocks.” She gave a wistful little shrug of her shoulder. “It’s a matter of spending special time with a child. Attending a school play, sitting in the front row, taking pictures and clapping proudly, even if a kid forgot all her lines. Do you know what I mean?”

Zack nodded, even though he wasn’t sure he did. He was constantly trying to think of things to do with Emily, the kind of things a daughter would enjoy with her father. But it wasn’t easy.

As a kid, he’d moved around too much, from his grandmother’s home to a three-year stint with his old man, to foster care, to an uncle who drank himself to sleep each night. So Zack had come up short in knowing what a good father was like.

Hell, during the time he’d lived with his old man, he would have been happy just to know his dad wouldn’t throw him against a wall or knock him on his ass for no reason at all.

“I guess I know the kind of things boys like—video games, playing catch in the park. But men have a harder time relating to girls. Don’t you think?”

“Maybe so. But loving a child enough to listen to her, to get an idea of what she might like or dislike, would be the first step.”

He was already trying to do that. Emily liked going to the zoo. And playing on that big, colorful climbing structure at Burger Bob’s. But he was hoping to take her someplace Caitlin and Brett hadn’t already gone. Hoping he could come up with something that would be a first for her and him, something that would create a memory that was theirs alone.

He supposed it was a little goofy to feel that way, but Emily was the only thing in his past that he was actually proud of, even though his contribution, so far anyway, had only been genetic.

But he wasn’t ready to admit to Diana that he had a daughter. A kid someone else was raising because Zack had gone to prison when he was nineteen.

Besides, Diana was probably one of the most perfect women he’d ever met. And just knowing she had an ex-con in her house might upset her.

So, as much as he’d like to be honest with her and as happy as he was to have a sweet little girl like Emily, he kept his mouth shut.

“So tell me about you,” she said. “I know you drive a bulldozer. Do you enjoy your work?”

“Yeah. A lot. I like being outdoors.” He especially liked fresh air and sunshine. Prison had left him feeling a bit claustrophobic when indoors.

She leaned forward. “What kind of things do you do in your spare time?”

“I tinker on my car. And I read a lot.” Reading had been a habit he’d picked up while in Riverview. Back then it had helped him pass the time. He supposed it still did. He couldn’t wait until his parole was up and his life was his own again.

And that was another reason he had no business being here, pretending to be something he wasn’t.

“Well,” he said, pushing his chair from the table and getting to his feet. “I’d better get home and turn in. My alarm goes off pretty early in the morning. Thanks for inviting me to dinner.”

“You’re welcome. Thanks for getting my car running. If you’ll wait a minute, I’ll get you that check for the battery.”

He nodded, although he figured he’d just tear it up when he got out to his car. He didn’t want her to repay him—not when he suspected her paycheck never stretched far enough.

She followed him into the house, single file, rather than two-by-two, which reminded him of the Noah’s Ark stuff that had been discussed earlier. The idea that people needed to go through life in pairs.

Zack suspected that, if there was some kind of divine plan, it had to do with parents and children. With family units.

After telling the girls goodbye and waiting for Diana to add her signature on a check he wouldn’t cash, he made his way to the front door.

Her scent, something soft and alluring, taunted him.

“Good night,” she said.

It had been, he supposed. “Maybe I’ll see you around sometime.”

She nodded, and he left.

But as he strode down the sidewalk and to the Camaro he’d parked at the curb, he suddenly felt more alone than he’d ever been.

And Zack had been alone for as long as he could remember.