“I’m sorry.” Jason grabbed her arm in time to prevent a tumble. “I’m not usually this clumsy.” His head came up as he took in the contents of the room. There was a long, contemplative pause. “When did you start running a day-care center?”
“Believe it or not, one baby created all this mess. My niece and her daughter are visiting.” Heather hated to lie, but if there was anyone she didn’t choose to bare her soul to, it was Jason Carmichael. Especially after that comment about how Cynthia should have known better than to get pregnant out of wedlock.
“Great architecture.” Apparently accepting her explanation, he indicated the high ceiling and open staircase. “How’s the construction?”
On the verge of praising it, she remembered her goal of discouraging him from renting in the complex. “The upstairs bathroom tilts. There are cracks in the walls, too.” That was true, more or less. Practically every wall in Southern California had a few cosmetic cracks, thanks to the occasional earthquakes.
“There’s got to be some reason you chose to live here,” he said.
Darn the man, why did he insist on questioning her so closely? He took far too great an interest in Heather’s home for her comfort.
“I’ll show you,” she said, deciding openness was the only way to satisfy his curiosity. “Follow me.”
She led him through the living room. The angles and sightlines felt different when she tried to regard them from Jason’s point of view. Or perhaps it was his thoroughly male, keenly inquisitive presence that changed everything.
He radiated a subtle energy, a vibration that filled the town house. Heather battled the instinct to touch him. In spite of herself, she knew where that could lead and wasn’t absolutely certain she’d be able to stop.
In the kitchen, Jason’s eyebrows rose at the sight of the high chair. “Your niece brought a lot of equipment for a visit.”
“She’s staying with me while she finishes college,” Heather clarified. On the point of mentioning that Olive was getting married next month, she stopped. Guilty people gave themselves away by prattling too much, and the more she talked, the more suspicious he was likely to become.
“You’re a gracious aunt to put up with all this mess,” he said.
Heather’s gaze traveled across the unwashed dishes on the counter to a bib smeared with breakfast food. She supposed it was disorderly from the point of view of a man who had only himself to care for. Until this moment, she’d hardly noticed. “I don’t mind. It’s only temporary.”
“At least the kitchen is a good size,” he said approvingly.
Heather tried to find some flaw to point out, but failed. Reaching the glass door, she slid it open and stepped onto the enclosed patio. “This is the reason I rented the place.” She indicated a small flowerbed bursting with cool-weather flowers suitable for a Southern California winter.
“It’s very pretty. You like to garden?” Jason asked.
“I’d love to have a whole yard full of flowers.” Heather’s mind painted the scene as she spoke. “Rose bushes in every corner and climbing on a trellis. I want enough blooms for cutting and the air filled with old-fashioned perfume.”
“You’ve got it planned out, I see.” Jason edged away, or perhaps he was turning to examine a potted coleus. “I can’t imagine where you find the time.”
“Gardening’s restful,” Heather said. “Digging in the dirt settles my mind.”
His teasing manner of a few minutes ago disappeared. “It looks to me like a lot of effort for a place you’re going to leave behind eventually.” Heather could have sworn she saw disapproval in the way he regarded the rioting flowerbed.
“Sticking a few bedding plants into the ground isn’t exactly a lifetime commitment,” she said. “Besides, these are annual flowers. They have to be replaced a couple of times a year in any case.”
“Suit yourself,” Jason said.
She couldn’t resist teasing him. “If you decide to lease a unit, I’ll be glad to offer you tips. You might become a real aficionado.”
“I can’t imagine investing that much effort in something I’m going to leave behind,” Jason answered. “It’s a waste of effort.”
“How soon are you planning to move on?” Heather leaned down and yanked a weed.
In the midday light, Jason’s green eyes took on a hard emerald gloss. “Not soon, of course, but let’s be honest. Although heading this clinic is a terrific opportunity, I don’t picture myself sticking around forever.”
“No roses and no roots,” Heather said. “How sad.”
Jason shrugged. “A house is just a place.”
She imagined him as an old man, living in Spartan quarters, still refusing to commit himself to anything beyond his profession. Feeling a pinch of regret, she conceded silently that, without meaning to, she’d begun to picture Jason in a romantic light. The man was so darn handsome, and the way he moved sent shivers down her spine.
She ought to know better. Thank goodness he’d brought her up short today. There were good men in the world, such as her friends’ husbands, but they were few and far between. Too many were like Ned, quick to promise the moon and ready to run when a woman needed them.
Or like Jason, who valued only the professional side of himself. There was no point in arguing with him. The man was as set in his ways as concrete.
After dusting off her hands, Heather took him back inside. “I’d show you the bedrooms but they’re in worse shape than the kitchen.”
A subdued Jason didn’t press the point. “Thanks for the tour. I’ll see you at work on Monday.”
“Good luck finding a place to live.” Although it might be unwise, she found herself adding, “Did you decide against renting a town house?”
“It’s a bit large for a single guy. I wouldn’t want to inadvertently encourage any relatives to move in with me, particularly ones with babies,” he said, and let himself out.
Maybe he was joking, but Heather didn’t find the remark funny. She was tempted to throw one of Ginger’s toys at his retreating back.
She couldn’t imagine why she’d ever allowed herself to be attracted to that stuffed shirt. Okay, Jason could be charming when he turned the frost level down to low, but with him, as with most men she’d met, you never knew when you were going to get a blast of arctic air in the face.
Well, Heather had better things to do with her Saturday than stand here hurling mental insults at Jason Carmichael. Even a woman with a limited attention span for mall shopping could help her daughter get married.
She switched on her computer, logged on to the Internet and cruised the wedding-related websites, bookmarking pages with gowns she thought Olive might like. Being the mother of the bride provided a lot more satisfaction than she’d ever found or ever expected to find with a man.
Chapter Four
The three puppies wiggled in their basket, barking excitedly and trying to pour over the edges. Two little boys whom Jason guessed to be about six and eight kept stuffing them back inside.
“Hi, there.” He crouched on the walkway and scratched each set of floppy ears in turn. Eager pink tongues swiped his hand and one pup, a shaggy black-and-tan shepherd mix, leaped as if trying to land in his lap.
“You want one, mister? They’re ten dollars.” The older boy