Craig shut Danny’s door. C.J.’s light was already out. That left only Ben. He hesitated outside his oldest’s room. Ben had been unusually quiet during dinner. Not belligerent, just thoughtful. Was he thinking about how unhappy he was? Was he wishing his father hadn’t let him down?
Craig remembered all the times his father had let him down. In the end, he’d hated his old man. Would Ben grow up to feel the same way? Craig didn’t want to think about that. He didn’t want to know that he’d failed his son so badly. He wanted to believe it wasn’t too late, but he didn’t know what to do to bridge the chasm already between them.
He crossed the hallway and tapped on Ben’s door. At the muffled “Come in,” he entered.
He glanced around, surprised. All the boys had cleaned their rooms. When the service had come through that morning, everything had been dusted and vacuumed. It made a big difference. He should have done it months ago.
Ben sat up in bed playing a hand-held video game. He didn’t bother glancing up as his father entered. Craig settled on the chair by the desk and waited.
For a few minutes there was only the faint sound of a battle being fought on the tiny screen. Then there was an explosion. Ben grimaced and looked up. “Yeah, Dad?”
“I just came to say good-night.”
Ben looked away, as if to say he knew there had to be more. There was.
“How was your day at school?”
“Fine.”
“Classes going okay?”
“I guess.”
The boy stared at his video game but didn’t turn it on. Craig couldn’t believe he felt this awkward. This was his kid. They should at least be friends. He grimaced. At one time they had been. But things had changed. Ben had been hit the hardest by the divorce, and later by Krystal’s death. He had been old enough to really remember his mother.
He cleared his throat. “Jill seems to be working out.”
“I guess.”
One “fine” and two “I guesses.” They sure were bonding now. “I really appreciate you taking the time to help Danny today. He wants to do well for Pee-Wee tryouts.”
“They don’t turn anyone away.”
“I know, but if he’s halfway decent, he’ll get on a better team. Anyway, thanks for doing that.”
Ben didn’t answer. Craig wondered if the boy felt as uncomfortable as he did. But, damn it, he was the adult. He had to try.
He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees, then laced his fingers together. There was a time when he and Ben had had plenty to say to each other. Years ago they’d been buddies. C.J. and Danny had been babies, but Ben had been his friend. He hated to see that change.
“You going out for Little League?” he asked, hoping to spark some interest.
Something close to pain flashed across Ben’s face. “It’s dumb,” he said, and turned toward the wall. He put the video game on the nightstand, then settled down on the mattress. Craig knew he’d been dismissed.
He rose to his feet and crossed to the bed. He bent over and touched his son’s arm. “I love you, Ben. If you want to talk or anything…” His voice trailed off. “I’ll always make time for you, son.” His throat tightened and he walked out of the room.
He paused at the top of the stairs. He was doing a poor job as a father, and he had no one to blame but himself. When had he stopped being a friend as well as a parent? When had he first been afraid that they would want more than he had to give?
He couldn’t point his finger to a particular day, or hour, but he knew it involved Krystal. She’d rattled his confidence and changed the shape of his world. He’d been stripped of his pride and left bleeding. The boys were the true casualties of that particular war.
He had to stop avoiding his kids, he told himself. It wasn’t making anything better. It only accentuated the problem. As soon as this assignment was over he would—
The phone rang. He thought about getting it but knew Jill would pick it up. It was probably just the station asking him to come in earlier.
As he started down the stairs, he realized he didn’t have to wait for the assignment to be over before making changes. He could start now with small things. He didn’t want his kids becoming strangers.
When he walked into the kitchen, Jill was just hanging up the receiver. She scribbled something on a small pad of paper.
“Was that the station?” he asked.
She glanced up. Color stained her cheeks. “Um, not exactly.” She looked at the floor, then at the note and the refrigerator, before settling her gaze on the center of his chest.
“Someone named Austin just called. He said to tell you that it’s been so long since he’s seen you that he’s forgotten what you and the boys look like. Call him and set up a date for a barbecue or suffer the consequences.”
Jill’s blush deepened. Craig leaned against the doorframe and folded his arms over his chest. He fought back a smile. “What else did he say?”
“Well, he said that—” She cleared her throat. “He said if I’m the reason you’ve been laying low, then it’s about time and I’m welcome too.”
He had the fleeting thought that life would be pretty damn pleasant if Jill was the reason he hadn’t spent time with his family. “What did you tell him?”
“That I’m just the new nanny. I tried to convince him I was old and matronly, but he won’t believe me. Who is that guy?”
“A friend of the family, but we all think of him as a Haynes. Austin’s got a research company. He does work with heat-resistant polymers and other substances. Very high-tech stuff. It’s used in the space shuttle and for certain manufacturing processes.”
“He didn’t sound like a scientist.”
“He doesn’t look like one either,” he said, remembering how all the women in Glenwood had sighed over his friend’s good looks. He figured it was the earring that got to the women. Glenwood wasn’t an earring sort of town.
She motioned to the full coffeepot on the counter. “I thought you might like some before you went back to the station.”
“Sure. Thanks.”
He walked to the table and pulled out one of the chairs. After turning it neatly, he sat, straddling it and resting his forearms on the back. She poured coffee into a mug and brought it over black.
He smiled his thanks. “Travis and Austin became friends first. Then he was just part of the family.” He frowned, trying to remember all that had happened. “He was gone for a while. He stole a car and was sent to a juvenile facility. It ended up being the best thing for him. He met a man who taught him about chemistry and manufacturing. The old guy got him a scholarship, and Austin never looked back. His company has grown. It’s privately owned.” He grinned. “Just the five of us.”
Jill took the seat opposite. “Five of you?”
“Austin, of course, and me and my three brothers.”
She shook her head. “I’m confused. You guys are all partners?”
“Yes.” He took a sip of coffee.
She brushed her bangs off her forehead and frowned. “If the company is doing well, why aren’t you rich?”
“I can afford a full-time nanny, can’t I?”
“How much is the company worth?”
He shrugged. “Millions.”
“And you work as a cop?”
“I want to.”
“But you don’t have to?”
He thought about the last financial statement. “No, I don’t have to.” None of his brothers did. But money wasn’t important. It never had been. They hadn’t grown up lacking things; they’d grown up lacking love.
“You are too weird,” Jill said, pushing to her feet. “You want some prune bread?”
“Sure. And why am I weird? Lots of people enjoy their work.”
“I guess. Although when I was at the insurance company, if someone had offered me a large income, I think I would have quit that very day.”
“You have to do something with your time. All of us work.”
“Your brothers?” She sliced the rest of the loaf onto a plate and set it in front of him. Then she got a diet soda from the refrigerator and returned to her seat. “Maybe it’s a faulty gene pool,” she said. “You all have an unnatural desire to be employed.”
“You could be right.” He snagged a slice and took a bite. “I’ve thought about quitting, but I couldn’t figure out what I’d do with myself. Besides, I like making a difference. Like on this case. If we can nail the bastards preying on the elderly, then a whole bunch of people will be saved a lot of heartache.”
Her full lips curved up at the corners. “An honest-to-God hero. I thought you guys only existed in the movies.”
Her praise made him uncomfortable. “I’m no hero. Just look at my kids.”
“You mean Ben, don’t you?”
He nodded and pushed away the plate. “I don’t know where I went wrong with him. I guess I’ve been working too much. I don’t know him anymore. We don’t have anything to talk about.”
“He’s unhappy about his weight,” Jill said.
“I know. Maybe I should hook him up with a counselor. Or one of those camps over the summer. But I hate to separate the boys. What do you think?”
“I understand your concerns. Has he been on a diet before?”
“No. We talked about it, but Mrs. Miller never thought there was a problem. She said he would outgrow it. But then she was a large woman herself. Since she left, no one has been around long enough to do anything.”
“He needs to lose the weight, but if he’s never been on a diet, then maybe we could try that before sending him away to a camp.”
Craig liked the sound of the word “we” on her lips. It made him feel that he wasn’t in this alone.
She waved her diet soda in the air. “After the divorce, I gained about fifteen pounds. It doesn’t sound like much, but at five-one and three-quarters—”
He laughed. “Can’t you just say five-two?”
She straightened in her chair. “Number one, we aren’t all blessed by being tall, and number two, I’m not going to exaggerate. Five-one and three-quarters is a very nice height.”
He was willing to admit it looked pretty fine on her. He held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. “You’re right. Sorry for interrupting.”
She sniffed, then continued. “On me, fifteen pounds is about two dress sizes. I had the body tone of a water balloon. Anyway, I took it off with a low-fat diet and exercise. Now I’m a walking fiend. Maybe we could try the same with Ben. I think the key is to not let him get hungry or feel deprived. I know kids need a certain amount of fat for growth and energy. Let me talk to Ben and do some research in the library. Maybe we can work out a program he can live with.”
“Thanks,” he said, knowing he owed her a lot more. “You didn’t sign up for this when you agreed to look after my kids.”
“Maybe not, but I’m having a good time. It’s nice to think about someone other than myself.”
He glanced at his watch. “I’ve got to go. Bingo gets out soon and I want to be there. Several of the accidents have occurred at this time of night and on the same street.”
He rose to his feet and Jill did the same. She circled around the table and placed her hand on his forearm. The top of her head barely came to his shoulder, but her spine was pure steel, and her touch, while gentle, offered strength.
“You’re doing a good thing,” she said.
“At the expense of what? My kids?”
“They understand, and they’re proud of you.”
“It’s not enough.”
She gave him a half smile. “Maybe not, but it’s a start.”
Their gazes locked. The pure green of her irises reminded him of cat eyes. Her expression was just as enigmatic. He didn’t know what she was thinking. With any luck, she couldn’t read his mind, either. Because he wasn’t busy being grateful for her advice, or planning low-fat meals for his kid. Instead he was wondering what her mouth would taste like against his and how she would feel in his arms. The memory of holding her on his lap was enough to fuel his already-active imagination. He wanted to bury himself inside her, touching her, kissing her until she was wild with passion, then drained by fulfillment.
His arousal made itself known against the fly of his uniform trousers. He ignored the throbbing.
“Thanks for talking with me tonight,” he said. “And thanks for the advice.” It had been a long time since he’d been able to talk with anyone.
“My pleasure.” An emotion flickered in her cat eyes. He almost convinced himself she wanted him to kiss her, but he knew it was just wishful thinking.
He walked out of the room and toward the garage. He was a damn fool if he started projecting his desires onto Jill. She’d made it clear this was nothing but a temporary job for her, and he knew better than to get involved in something that wasn’t a sure thing.
* * *
It was barely six when Jill knocked on Ben’s door. She was a little nervous, not sure what her reception would be. Would he be mad that she was trying to help?
She opened the door and stepped into the dark room. The sun was just up and little light shone through the space between the shade and the edge of the window.
As her eyes adjusted to the darkness she could make out Ben sleeping on his side, facing the door. Lying down, tucked under the covers, he didn’t seem as grown-up. There was a sweetness about him that made her heart ache with longing for a child of her own.
She sat on the edge of the mattress and shook his arm. “Ben, it’s Jill.”
“Huh?” He raised his head and blinked, then stared at the clock. A scowl pulled his eyebrows together. “It’s an hour early. It’s only six. Can’t you tell time?”
So much for the warm welcome. “I’m going for a walk. I thought you might want to come with me.”
He rolled away from her. “You thought wrong. I don’t want to take a walk.”
“I like to walk in the morning. It’s good exercise and helps keep my weight down. But the best part is no one has to know. I’ll be back before C.J. and Danny wake up.”
She waited, counting her heartbeats. At ten, Ben turned toward her. Distrust and hope warred in his eyes. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” She stood up. “I’ll wait for you downstairs. Put on something comfortable and athletic shoes.”
Five minutes later, he met her by the front door. When they walked outside, she inhaled the sweet smell of morning. It was still early enough to need a jacket, even with the walking, but it was going to be another warm, perfect California spring day.
They walked in silence to the end of the block. Ben seemed to keep up with her easily, so she increased her pace. After another few minutes of quiet, she pointed out a budding flower. He didn’t say anything. She tried to console herself with the fact that if he didn’t talk, he couldn’t be sarcastic.
A neighbor’s dog trotted out to greet them. She paused long enough to pat it. Ben scratched its ears, too, and when she glanced at him, she caught a faint smile. Maybe, she thought, casually crossing her fingers for luck. Just maybe this was going to work.
When they’d been walking for nearly twenty minutes, she said, “I think I’d like to make your lunch for a while. Can you bring food from home or would all your friends laugh at you?”
He shrugged. “About half the kids bring their lunches. It’s not so bad. But in a bag, okay? The real nerds still use lunch boxes.”
“No lunch boxes, I swear.” She smiled. “I’ll give you lots of food. You won’t be hungry. You can eat it all or just eat some of it. If you don’t like something I make, then tell me and I’ll change it. All I ask in return is that you don’t trade it for junk food. Do you drink milk at school?”
“Nah. It’s not cold enough. There’s a soda machine, or I get juice.”
“Both of those are fine.” She knew she was treading on delicate ground here. She didn’t know Ben very well and he didn’t trust her yet. If she said the wrong thing, he might never respond to her. “It’s not about how much you eat, but what you eat. There’s lots of fun things to have. Cookies, frozen yogurt. It won’t be hard.”
He didn’t say anything. They turned around and started for the house.
“I want to help you, Ben,” she said, not looking at him. “If you want me to. No one would have to know. It could be our secret.”
Silence. Jill drew in a deep breath. She’d tried. The rest was up to him.
When they reached their house, she stopped by the porch and stretched out her legs. Ben watched her for a moment, then did the same. He finished before her and pushed open the front door, then paused.
“Can you make my lunch today?” he asked, staring at his shoes.
Happiness filled her and she had to fight back a smile. “Sure. I’d be happy to.”
“Thanks, Jill.” He raced inside.
Jill turned her head toward the faint breeze rustling the leaves on the trees and told herself the burning in her eyes was just from the dryness of the wind.
* * *
“Come on, batter, batter, batter,” Jill called and clapped her hands together. “Hit it clean over the house.”
Danny glanced over his shoulder at her. “Ji-ill, it’s just a plastic ball. It’s not gonna go that far.”
“How do you know until you try?”
He grinned, then hunched over the imaginary plate. Ben pitched perfectly. The ball came sailing straight and true. Danny struck with all his might, dropped the bat and started running.
Jill leaned back against the tree and watched the three boys at play. It had been a week since she’d arrived at the Haynes household. In some ways, it felt as if she’d always been here. They’d settled into a routine, and she was getting to know the boys.
She and Ben had walked together for the past four mornings. Slowly, he was opening up to her, telling her about school and his few friends. He was self-conscious about his appearance, but when he forgot about it, he was funny and bright and a pleasure to be with. So far, he’d taken the lunches she made and given her enough feedback on the food to convince her he was actually eating it. She’d made a few low-fat changes in the evening meals, so he didn’t have to have a different menu. He followed her lead, taking more of what she took more of, less of the dishes she ignored.
She turned her attention to the youngest of the Haynes boys. Danny was a sweetheart. He gave everything a hundred percent and wore his heart on his sleeve. He would never be the athlete his brothers were, but it wasn’t for lack of trying. Even as C.J. caught the ball and started toward their makeshift third base, Danny kept on running. It didn’t matter that his brother was bigger or faster. Danny was the little engine that could. One day that trait would help make him successful.
Then there was C.J. Jill studied the middle of the three boys. Craig Junior had his father’s good looks and smooth delivery. He had that innate ability to say the right thing at the right time. He had enough charm to be a gigolo in his next life, although she hoped he chose something more stable for this one.
All in all, she was pretty happy with how her job was going. It wasn’t tough duty and she was well paid.
“It’s C.J.’s turn to hit,” Ben said.
“But I wanna try again,” Danny whined.
“You got tagged out. It’s not your turn.”
“Yes, it is!” Danny stamped his foot.
“If you’re gonna act like a baby, you can’t play,” Ben said.
C.J. strolled over to join his brothers, but he didn’t take sides.
“I’m not a baby.”
“Are too.”
Danny dropped his bat and curled his hands into fists. “Am not. And you’re just a fat old mobyhead.”
C.J. started to laugh. Jill straightened up. Mobyhead?
“Boys,” she started, but it was too late. Ben tore off his glove and dropped it on the ground.
“This is stupid,” he said, and headed for the house.
“You come back here,” Danny said. “You help me. Ben, you have to help me.”
His big brother ignored him and kept on going.
Danny ran to Jill. Tears streamed down his cheeks. “He has to help me. I want to do better.”
“Maybe you should have thought about that before you called him names.”
“He called me names, too.”
Danny had a point. “Okay, that was wrong. However, did you do anything to make him think you were acting like a baby?”
C.J. strolled over. “I don’t mind missing my turn.”
Danny sniffed. “I didn’t mean to,” he said softly. The sun caught his light brown hair and turned it the color of gold.
“I’m not the one you have to apologize to. And while we’re on the subject, what’s a mobyhead?”
Danny flushed, but C.J. laughed. “Danny doesn’t want to say a bad word. You know.”
She shook her head. She didn’t know.
“Moby Dick?” She frowned, then said, “Oh, I get it.” She glared at Danny. “You were calling your brother a dickhead? Danny, I’m ashamed of you.”
He dropped his chin to his chest and sniffed. “Sorry.”
“You already said that. Once again, I’m not the person you need to apologize to. But before you go in, I want to remind you, we do not use that kind of language.”
“But he called me a baby.”
“He’s worked with you every single afternoon this week. He’s pitched to you and has given you advice on how to get better. Did you ever thank him? Did you ever tell him you appreciated his efforts? No, you got mad and called him names.”
By now Danny’s tears were flowing fast and furious. He glared at her. “I hate you,” he said and ran inside.
Jill sighed. So much for things going well. C.J. picked up the mitts, the bat and the ball. She glanced at him. “I believe it’s now your turn to be mad at me.”
“Nah. You’re okay. For a girl.”
They looked at each other and smiled. She rose to her feet and ruffled his hair. “You’re not so bad yourself.”
As they walked to the house, C.J. took hold of her hand. She was surprised, but didn’t pull back. In that moment she realized she hadn’t expected him to be the first one to steal her heart. But a piece had just been magically removed. How much more damage would this family do, before she had the chance to get away?