The munchkin girls had stolen Mr. Larkin’s heart, just as they had hers. All the more reason for her to stay away from them.
She sank onto the porch swing and rocked herself back and forth in an effort to get a grip on her emotions. The precious girls had matchmaking up their sleeves, and she didn’t intend to raise another family. Standing on Zeke’s front porch had brought back painful memories of Eric and Joey. She could still see three-year-old Joey riding his tricycle in the driveway next door, toddling along with that stuffed bear he always liked to carry, curled up on her couch, snuggled with her grandmother’s afghan.
But Eric and Joey had deserted her, and she had her own goals now. Giving up her menial office job had been the first step. Taking a job at a boutique and enrolling in college was the second. Not dating any more single dads ranked next.
She laughed as the twins attempted cartwheels on the sidewalk while Zeke frantically removed the fliers from the neighbors’ mailboxes. Some geek. Big and brawny Zeke Blalock was nothing like the man she’d pictured. He obviously cared a great deal about his daughters. She had to give him points for that. As far as rating him in the sex appeal department—he’d rank up there with Tom Cruise and Tom Selleck. A definite one hundred and ten plus.
Handsome and tall, broad shouldered and muscular—she’d barely been able to resist staring at his naked chest before he’d buttoned his shirt. His chocolate-colored eyes had melted her insides and rendered her tongue-tied. His strong chiseled profile, big rough hands and olive skin suggested he worked outside, instead of inside a clinic. And his backside was firm and muscular, especially in those tight jeans, she noted, as she shamelessly watched him bend to pet Mrs. Blue’s small gray cat.
Stop it. He’s not for you. He has a ready-made family, and you’re not mommy material. Your own mother resented the sacrifices she made to stay home and take care of you.
Renewed determination filled her and she hurried inside to finish her project. She paused when she realized she’d forgotten to tell Zeke about the vandalism and the neighborhood watch meeting. She’d been too sidetracked by his good looks. Darn, she’d put a flier in his box later.
For now, she decided to tackle her design project. But when she touched the scraps of black satin fabric she’d collected for her textile project, she moaned.
She had planned to design an evening gown with the fabric. But an unbidden image came to mind—the shimmering fabric would make a perfect bed covering, with Zeke Blalock lying on top, naked as a jaybird.
ZEKE CLEARED A spot on the oak kitchen table and plopped the cardboard pizza box on top, using his foot to gently usher Henrietta away from the table. He’d tried to explain his reaction to the mommy-wanted fliers to his daughters, but he wasn’t sure they’d understood.
“Well, daddy, if we can’t adver…”
“Advertise,” Zeke supplied. “No, we don’t advertise for a mother or wife.” He dished Summer a slice of plain cheese pizza and August pepperoni, willing himself to be patient.
“Then how will we ever get a new mommy?” August asked, nibbling at the gooey cheese.
August picked a pepperoni off her pizza, licked it, then popped it into her mouth. “And how will you get a wive?”
“A wife,” Zeke corrected. “Honey, I don’t want a new wife. I’m happy being with the two of you.” He raked his hand through his hair and shook his head at Henrietta as she pawed at his feet. “No, Henrietta, pizza will give you heartburn.” Ignoring Henrietta’s woeful look, he turned his attention back to his daughters. “Listen, girls, I know you miss your mom, but we’ve talked about this before. You have me, and we’re a family—all by ourselves.”
August poked out her bottom lip. “But you’re a boy,” August said as if it were a news flash.
“Of course, I’m a boy,” Zeke said patiently.
“But boys can’t be mommies,” Summer protested.
Zeke’s throat clogged. “Honey, I’ll try my best to be both a mother and father to you.”
“But boy mommies can’t come to our Mommy and Me Tea at preschool. Only girl mommies!”
Zeke felt as if he’d been punched in the stomach. How could he have forgotten that Mother’s Day was coming up? Because he was an idiot.
At least he’d finally discovered the crux of the problem. “When is the mother tea?” he finally asked.
“Next week,” Summer said, sounding stricken. “Friday.”
“Yeah. Everybody else’s mommies will be there.”
Drive the knife in a little deeper, girls. Henrietta added to his guilt by whining and giving him a pitiful flop-eared look. He gritted his teeth and tossed her his pizza crust. If he could find Renee right now, he’d throttle her.
“I have an idea.” He forced a cheery smile. “Your grandmother can come. I’m sure she’d love to visit your school.”
Both girls’ faces fell.
“You can call her yourselves.” Zeke tried to brighten his voice with enthusiasm. “Maybe you could even spend the night with her.” And you could have a night out, a silent voice whispered. Call Paige. Have a date. A conversation with an adult, not a child or an animal.
Summer’s eyes lit up. “All night long?”
“Yep. Wouldn’t that be fun?”
August nodded. “Grandma lets us eat cookies for breakfast.”
Grandma would. Zeke ran a hand through his hair. Oh, well, it would only be one morning. And he had to do something for his heartsick daughters. He couldn’t allow them to be the only ones at school without a mother figure.
He handed them the phone. “Here, dial Grandma’s number. She’s been begging me to let you spend the night.”
Together the girls punched in the number. When he heard his mother’s voice screeching over the phone, he assumed by the pleased expressions on his daughters’ faces she’d accepted the invitation.
One more problem licked. At least temporarily.
When they hung up the phone, the girls’ moods had drastically changed. August gobbled another piece of pizza and Summer gulped her milk, then ran to the bathroom. He breathed a sigh of relief but the feeling disintegrated when Summer screamed. “Daddy!”
He sprinted through the house to find her. August trotted behind him, stepping on his heels in her haste.
Summer was standing in the bathroom, her eyes dazed. Her little hand shook when she pointed at the cat huddled in the bathtub. “What’s…wrong with Buffy?”
Zeke swallowed nervous laughter. “There’s nothing wrong with her,” he said gently. He knelt down beside the fat, panting calico cat and wrapped his arms around his daughters’ shoulders. He’d barely survived one traumatic moment before another struck.
Now, he had to explain the facts of life to his four-year-old daughters. Buffy was having kittens.
THE CREATIVE SIDE of design and the actual sewing intrigued Paige. She started sketching various ideas for the design project, considering fabric choice, cost and accessories as she worked. For this project, she only needed to design one outfit, but for her final, she’d design an entire wardrobe, taking into account the busy lives and schedules of the women who might wear her creations.
Several minutes later, she stared at the sketch, crumpled the paper and tossed it into the trash. The dress looked all wrong. Too high of a neckline. Not tapered enough. She started another drawing, but the telephone rang, disturbing her concentration.