Kitabı oku: «It Takes Three»

Women would fall at his feet, yet he’d channeled his energy into his children. How cool was that?

He wanted this party for his daughter, and Thea had catered events for both women and men. This man was no different from any other client.

And that was when she recognized the lie.

She liked Scott and that made him different. Which was why she wanted to turn him down flat.

Then she looked head-on into the intensity of his gaze and her stomach did that whole stop, drop and roll thing that had nothing to do with being pregnant.

From another lifetime she remembered falling in love with her husband. The ache inside when they were apart. The sheer giddiness when she saw him. The heart-pounding excitement. The anticipation to be together. Her heart stuttered and her stomach fluttered as it occurred to her that this was very much like what she’d felt long ago.

But that was impossible. She was the caterer, he was the client. And their relationship was—had to be—strictly business.

No matter what sizzled between them.

It Takes Three
Teresa Southwick

www.millsandboon.co.uk

I dedicate this book to Valerie Florence Pascale and Emma Maria Pasqualino—two IVF miracles and the inspiration for this story. Thank you, ladies.

TERESA SOUTHWICK

lives in Southern California with her hero husband who is more than happy to share with her the male point of view. An avid fan of romance novels, she is delighted to be living out her dream of writing for Silhouette Books.

THEA BELL’S FAVORITE FAMILY RECIPE

1 egg—liberally laced with hope

1 sperm—bountiful with unfulfilled promise

Simmer with hormones and put in a warm place

Add 1 seasoned father of two

Sprinkle generously with attraction

(Keep hot, but do not permit to boil)

Combine two cups of conflict

A dollop of determination

Then fold in a liter of love

After nine months, remove promptly. Baby makes three for a happy family.

Contents

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

Epilogue

Chapter One

“Someone’s been cooking in my kitchen.”

Staring at the beautiful stranger in front of his stove, Scott Matthews figured he’d hit a low point even for him. His life was reduced to a culinary caper of Goldilocks and the Three Bears. Except the woman wasn’t a blonde. She had hair like brown silk, eyes warm as hot cocoa and was not sleeping in his bed.

“Who are you and what are you doing here?” he asked, annoyed that the sleeping-in-his-bed thought sent a shaft of heat through him.

She wielded a spatula like a conductor’s baton. “Who are you?” she demanded.

“I live here.”

“You’re Kendra’s father?”

“Scott Matthews,” he introduced himself.

“But you don’t look old enough to have an eighteen-year-old daughter,” she said, obviously surprised.

“Trust me, I am.”

It’s what happened when a guy thought with the brain south of his belt and had the first of two daughters when he was barely out of his teens.

“So you started your family when you were what? Ten?”

“Not quite.” The compliment about his youthful appearance almost made him miss the fact that she hadn’t yet told him who she was. This was his kitchen and he’d be the one asking the questions.

“Who are you?”

“Thea Bell.”

“Why are you here?”

“Kendra didn’t tell you?” Her confidence slipped and she looked uncomfortable.

What did his daughter have to do with anything? Was this woman using his child as an excuse to meet him? That wasn’t ego talking. His wife had walked out on him thirteen years ago and after his divorce, he’d become fair game—fresh meat on the dating market.

At back-to-school night, there was always a divorced mom trying to get his attention. Or kids on his girls’ sports teams had single mothers who invariably honed in on him. But they were barking up the wrong tree, because he had no interest in a relationship except the one he had with his daughters. After putting in a day’s work at his family-owned construction company and then being both father and mother to the girls, dating didn’t make the to-do list. And with Kendra just about to graduate and go on to college, he could see the light at the end of the parenting tunnel. Please, God, let it not be attached to a speeding locomotive.

He had news for Thea Bell. If her pickup approach was based on the way to a man’s heart being through his stomach, she was dealing with the wrong man. He didn’t care whether a woman could boil water or whip up a meal. He wasn’t desperate for companionship. After his train wreck of a marriage, the single life was simple.

“What was Kendra supposed to tell me?” he asked suspiciously.

“She and I have an appointment to discuss her party.”

The woman in front of him reached into the pocket of her tailored jeans and pulled out a card. He walked over to her and took it. Leaning his back against the refrigerator, he tried to ignore the sweet scent of her perfume as he read the name of her company printed in a no-nonsense font.

“For Whom the Bell Toils?” he said.

“Thea Bell toils for thee.” One corner of her full mouth turned up as she shrugged. “I’m a caterer.”

“Catchy.” He set her card on the island in front of him and folded his arms over his chest as he studied her.

“I met Kendra at a birthday party I did for one of her friends.”

“And?”

She frowned, her expression puzzled. “Did you not tell your daughter she could have a graduation party?”

“I did.”

“Then why are you acting as if I’m a cat burglar who’s just broken into your home to steal the fine jewelry?”

“I have no fine jewelry.”

“You also didn’t answer my question,” she pointed out.

“I told her if she wanted a party she could be responsible for the details.”

“She is being responsible for them. She’s talking to a catering professional.”

“When I said details, I meant buying burgers and buns at the grocery store. Not hiring someone to take care of the burgers and buns.”

He hadn’t seen her from the back, but he suspected Thea Bell had some fine buns of her own, because what he could see of her front was pretty fine. The silky white blouse tucked into her tailored jeans accentuated her breasts and a slender waist that flared into the delicate curves of her hips. He might not date much, but he still knew she was the kind of woman who would make any man instantly aware of her.

He drew in a deep breath to control the spike of his pulse. “Didn’t you wonder about dealing with a teenager? Or where her parents were?”

“It’s not unusual. Many parents work. They’re busy and give their teenagers a lot of responsibility, especially when the teen is hosting the party. Not unlike what you said to Kendra about handling everything.”

She was sharp. Using his own words against him. “How do I know you’re a reputable caterer?”

“I have a list of references. You can check with the Better Business Bureau and the Santa Clarita Chamber of Commerce. If a complaint has been registered with either agency, I’ll eat my spatula.” She glanced at it, then back at him. “Your spatula.”

It took several moments before he realized he was staring at her mouth. Her lips were plump and pink and… And giving them enough notice to attach adjectives really whipped up his irritation.

“Where is my daughter?”

“You say that as if you think I’ve done something with her.”

“Have you?”

“Of course not,” she denied. “She went up to her room to find a picture to show me, something for the party’s theme.”

“Graduation isn’t enough?”

“She had something in mind. For the table decorations.”

“She needs decorations?”

“Technically? No.” She sighed. “But it’s a touch that adds an air of festivity to any gathering. It isn’t just about food, it’s about ambience. When guests walk in, you want them in a party mood. Decorations do that.”

“And have you discussed with my daughter how much this is going to cost? And who’s paying for it?”

“Not yet. I can’t estimate until firm decisions are made about food, decorations and the number of guests.”

“I see, so—”

Scott heard the unmistakable sound of his daughter galumphing down the stairs. A five-point-eight on the Richter scale, he estimated.

When Kendra entered the kitchen, she stopped so fast her sneakers squeaked on the tile floor. “Dad. What are you doing here?”

“I live here.”

His dark-haired, blue-eyed daughter glanced from him to Thea and then back again. As much as he wished he could chalk this up to a blond moment, her hair was the wrong shade and she had guilt written all over her.

Kendra moved closer to Thea. His daughter took after him in the height department. She was tall, nearly five feet ten, and made the other woman look even smaller by comparison. “I just meant, you’re home early. How come?”

“I’m meeting a real estate agent here to get a market evaluation of the house.”

The teen speared him with a narrow-eyed gaze. “Define ‘market evaluation,’ Dad.”

He should have channeled Kendra’s question back to how she planned to get away with hiring a caterer when she hadn’t cleared it with him. His lapse was directly due to the distraction of Thea Bell. When a man came home and found a beautiful woman in his kitchen, it tended to throw him off. Especially a man like himself, who was more comfortable with the tool belt and nail gun set. But he’d opened his mouth and now had to figure out what to do with the foot he’d inserted.

“The agent is coming to see the place and figure out how much it’s worth on today’s market. You know her. It’s Joyce Rivers, Bernie’s wife.”

“I know Joyce,” Thea chimed in. “We met at a Santa Clarita professional women’s group. She’s great.”

“Why do you need Joyce to tell you how much the house is worth?” Kendra asked, refusing to be distracted.

His youngest child had been a handful since she’d turned twelve. Why should now be any different? Her older sister was an easygoing rule-follower who hadn’t prepared him for Kendra’s episodes of rebellion. But Kendra was going off to college soon and he wouldn’t need this big house. That’s why he’d arranged for Joyce to do the market evaluation and the best time for both of them happened to be when Kendra was in school. Speaking of which…

“Why aren’t you in school?” he demanded.

“I told you last night,” she said, sighing in exasperation as she rolled her eyes. “Today is a half-day schedule because the teachers had an end-of-quarter grading day.”

“Oh. Yeah.” He didn’t remember her saying a word about it.

“As usual, you weren’t listening.” She put her hands on her hips. “You’re going to sell the house, aren’t you?”

Scott didn’t want to have this conversation at all, let alone in front of a total stranger. “Can we talk about this later?”

“Maybe I should go,” Thea said.

“Please don’t,” Kendra pleaded. Then she turned her patented drop-dead-you-son-of-a-bitch stare on him and huffed out a hostile breath. “Evasive tactics mean I’m right. I don’t believe this. I’m not even finished with high school and you’re selling my home out from under me. What if I go to the local junior college? Do you remember me telling you about that?”

“I’m not selling anything,” he said, avoiding her question.

“Then why do you need to know how much the house is worth?”

“Maybe I want to refinance my loan,” he countered.

“Do you?”

It was times like this when he wished he could lie. But he’d made it a point to be as honest with his daughters as he knew how. “No.”

“I knew it,” Kendra said. “You can’t wait to get rid of me. That’s why you’re pushing me to go away to college.”

“You’re wrong, Ken. I’m not pushing you to do anything.”

“You didn’t want to hear about the local community college.”

“I want you to have the total college experience. Like your sister—”

“Perfect Gail.” The aside was directed to Thea.

“I’m sure that’s not what your father meant,” she said, glancing at him.

“I’m sure he did. My sister does everything right and I’m the screwup.”

“Coincidentally, Joyce did a market evaluation on my condo,” Thea said, changing the subject.

“Are you selling it?” Kendra asked, toning down her hostility for the caterer.

Scott almost felt sorry for Thea, getting caught in the crossfire. But his empathy was mitigated by the fact that the woman had chosen to conduct business with a teenager instead of her parent. He decided not to analyze why it seemed better to focus on Thea’s error in judgment rather than her noble attempt to defuse the situation. Or his daughter’s rebellious streak that had created this multi-level farce in the first place.

“Actually, I am selling,” she admitted. “I’m looking for a single-family home in a nice neighborhood.”

Kendra cranked the animosity back up when she looked at him. “My dad just happens to have one for sale. Maybe he’ll give you a good deal. He can’t wait to unload this place, along with me.”

“Ken, you’re being overly dramatic…”

The ringing doorbell interrupted him. If only he felt saved by the bell. “That must be Joyce now.”

“I’m going to Zoe’s.” Kendra grabbed her purse off of the built-in desk beside the pantry and stomped out of the room.

“Kendra, wait. You know how I feel about Zoe—” When the inside door to the garage slammed, Scott sighed. Then the doorbell rang again and he went to answer it.

Thea looked around the empty kitchen feeling about as useful as one chopstick. Could this be any more awkward? She’d had dealings with teens before, but always after first contact was made by the parent and the dynamics of the working relationship were spelled out. But there was something about Kendra. When they’d met at her friend’s party, she’d felt the girl reaching out. Thea had seen something in Kendra’s eyes that was an awful lot like sadness. Thea figured she recognized the emotion because she’d lived with it every day for the last two years.

When Kendra had called to inquire about hiring her for a graduation party, Thea had made an exception. Today she’d brought samples of food for the teen and showed her an album of pictures displaying her work. Thea had planned to get into the business details of a signed contract and a deposit check when Scott walked in.

Kendra had only said her father was a busy building contractor who couldn’t be bothered with her party. The teen hadn’t mentioned how very attractive the father in question was. His dark hair, blue eyes and good looks definitely made Thea’s female hormones sit up and take notice. However, her hormones had been on high alert for a while now. So her noticing him could simply be chemically induced.

But clearly his irritation about finding her in his kitchen had been all too real. Maybe if he knew how very important the party was to his daughter, he’d cut her a little slack on leaving him out of the loop.

As she stood there trying to decide what to do, Scott led Joyce Rivers into the kitchen. The tall brunette looked around. When she noticed Thea, she smiled. “Hello, there. I didn’t know you and Scott knew each other.”

“We just met,” Thea said.

“Just,” he agreed, his tone cool.

When he said nothing further, she figured he didn’t want Kendra’s role in their meeting made public. But the look glittering in his very blue eyes told her his daughter would get an earful when she came home.

Joyce tapped her lip. “You know, Thea, when we talked about what you were looking for in a home, I thought about this house.”

“Really?” Scott said. “Even though I hadn’t decided to sell?”

“You indicated to Bernie and me that when Kendra was finished with high school, you were going to downsize. Isn’t she graduating in a couple of months?”

Thea stared at him. “So Kendra’s right? Her teddy bears and Barbies aren’t even cold yet and you’re kicking them out?”

“She’s blowing things out of proportion,” he said.

“Clearly she thinks you’re trying to get rid of her.” Thea couldn’t resist making him squirm a little. Scott Matthews had walked in and treated her like a breaking and entering suspect. Maybe his daughter’s issues with him weren’t just the rumblings of teenage independence.

“She’s wrong. It’s not getting rid of her when she’s going to college. What do I need with this big place?” he defended.

With one eyebrow raised, Joyce looked from Thea to Scott and back again. “Am I interrupting something?”

“No.” Scott blew out a breath as he ran his fingers through his hair.

Thea folded her arms over her chest. “She was only reacting to the information that you’re going to sell her childhood home out from under her.”

“I’m not selling anything yet,” he said. “I’m simply gathering information.”

“And let’s do that,” Joyce said brightly. Obviously she was grateful for the excuse to change the subject. “Thea, since you’re here, why don’t you tag along on the tour.”

“If Scott doesn’t mind.” She looked at him and his expression said he minded very much.

“Why not?” His enthusiasm was underwhelming.

“Great.” Thea didn’t care what he thought. She’d been dying to see the floor plan. Already she’d fallen in love with the kitchen. The downstairs was charming, and she was curious about the rest of the house.

She turned off the stove, then followed Joyce who was just behind Scott as he led them upstairs. Peeking around the other woman, Thea got a glimpse of his broad back narrowing to a trim waist and one fine backside. She hadn’t noticed men in general, or any man in particular since she’d fallen in love with David. He’d been the love of her life and she’d lost him. Odd that the first man to make her female antenna quiver was a man who was annoyed with her.

“This is the master bedroom,” he said, leading them into the room at the top of the stairs. “It goes across the back half of the house. There are his and hers walk-in closets. Double sinks and a Jacuzzi tub.”

Thea fixated on the large bed because it didn’t dwarf the floor space. Not because its owner was a big man who needed a big bed. The completely innocent thought warmed her cheeks and she forced herself to focus on his words.

“Over there, two steps down, is an area for a parent’s retreat.” He looked questioningly at Thea.

Was he asking if she needed a parent’s retreat? Whether he was or not, she wasn’t in the habit of sharing personal information, let alone her house needs, with total strangers, even above-average-looking total strangers. So the silence stretched between them.

“I haven’t seen this floor plan for a long time. It’s a nice room, Scott,” Joyce said, filling the void. “Very large and comfortable.”

Beside the master bedroom was an open loft area with a huge corner group and a big-screen TV across from it. Built-in desks were under the windows and one of them was cluttered with books and papers next to a computer. Obviously this was Kendra’s work space. Her perfect older sister didn’t live here any more.

Joyce looked around and took notes. “Teen rooms are popular, a good selling point.”

“There’s more this way,” Scott said.

They peeked into the two bedrooms—one with the double bed neatly made, the other in a state of complete chaos. Obviously Kendra’s. Thea didn’t know why, but her heart went out to the teen who seemed to feel she didn’t measure up.

Scott looked sheepish. “I had no idea her room was this bad.”

“Teenagers.” Joyce shrugged. “It goes with the territory.”

Thea met his gaze and wondered. Shouldn’t a parent have some idea about his child’s environment? They lived in the same house, for goodness’ sake.

“Brace yourself.” He opened the bathroom door and stepped back. “I’m afraid to look.”

Thea followed Joyce past him and breathed in the pleasant scent of cologne and man. Her stomach fluttered, but she chalked it up to the fact that it had been a long time since she’d experienced that particular scent. Ignoring him took some effort, but she managed to focus on the separate shower and tub area.

The vanity had two sinks and was littered with bottles of hair products and combs and brushes of various sizes and shapes. A curling iron, blow-dryer and makeup were scattered over every square inch of counter space. It seemed a million years since her biggest concern had been her hair. But she was grateful for those carefree days before she knew that life—and death—could bring her to her knees.

Sighing, she let her gaze wander. She saw flannel pajama bottoms and a coordinating top in a pile beside the overflowing wastebasket.

Scott was watching her and noticed the direction of her gaze. He hastily grabbed the handles of the trash bag, pulling it out of the container. “Sorry. I had no idea this bathroom was located in tornado alley.”

Joyce arched an eyebrow. “I’ve seen much worse, believe me. This is nothing.”

“Easy for you to say,” he said, shutting the door. “I think it qualifies for federal disaster assistance.”

Thea brought up the rear as they went downstairs. Was there a Mrs. Matthews? The interaction between him and his daughter gave her the impression there wasn’t. The niggling sense of excitement in that thought brought her up short because it was so very unexpected.

In the kitchen, he set the bag of trash beside the tall circular metal container. “So there you have it,” he said to Joyce.

She nodded. “This house will go fast on today’s market.”

“In spite of the biohazard bathroom?”

Thea laughed. Until his comments about Kendra’s disaster of a bathroom, she’d thought the man had no sense of humor. She liked it.

“Forget it, Scott,” Joyce said. “If you decide to list the place, you’ll have time to clean it up.”

“That will be Kendra’s job,” he said.

“Good luck getting her cooperation,” Thea mumbled.

Joyce glanced at the two of them. “I gather she’s resistant to moving?”

“She’ll come around,” he claimed.

“Of course she will.” Joyce looked at her watch. “I’ve got to run to another appointment.”

“So what do you think the place is worth?” he asked.

“Scott, you know as well as I do it’s a gold mine. This neighborhood is one of the most desirable in Santa Clarita. Houses sell as soon as they go on the market. There’s a waiting list. You can easily get top dollar.”

“What kind of top dollar are we talking?”

“Let me do some comparables and I’ll let you know,” she said. She looked at Thea. “I’ll call you about listing your condo.”

Thea nodded. After Joyce was gone, she was alone with Scott Matthews. For some reason he made her nervous, and not because he was annoyed with her. It had started after her assumption that he wasn’t married.

“I guess I should be going, too,” she said.

“Yeah.”

She looked at the food she’d brought from a luncheon and reheated here for Kendra. It didn’t seem right to walk away from the dirty dishes, so she moved several pots and pans to the sink and squirted soap from the container there into them.

“Just leave that,” he said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What are you saying?”

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

“What was your first clue, Dr. Phil?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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