“I’ve heard that teaching high school is a pretty dangerous job these days, what with guns and drugs and violence,” Frisco said, trying desperately to bring the conversation out of this dark and ultrapersonal area. “Did they give you any special kind of commando training when you took the job?”
Mia laughed. “No, we’re on our own. Thrown to the wolves naked, so to speak. Some of the teachers have compensated by becoming real drill sergeants. I’ve found that positive reinforcement works far better than punishment.” She took another sip of her ice tea, gazing at him speculatively over the top of her glass. “In fact, you might want to consider that when you’re dealing with Natasha.”
Frisco shook his head. “What? Give her a cookie for running away? I don’t think so.”
“But what kind of punishment will possibly get through to her?” Mia persisted. “Think about it. The poor kid’s already been given the ultimate punishment for a five-year-old—her mommy’s gone. There’s probably nothing else that you can take away from her that will matter. You can yell at her and make her cry. You can even frighten her and make her afraid of you, and maybe even give her worse nightmares. But if you reward her when she does follow your rules, if you make a really big deal about it and make her feel as if she’s worth a million bucks, well, she’ll catch on much more quickly.”
He ran his fingers through his hair. “But I can’t just ignore what she did this morning.”
“It’s difficult,” Mia admitted. “You have to achieve a balance between letting a child know her behavior is unacceptable, and not wanting to reward the child’s bad behavior by giving her too much attention. Kids who crave attention often misbehave. It’s the easiest way to get a parent or teacher to notice them.”
Frisco pushed his mouth up into another smile. “I know some so-called grown-ups who operate on the same principle.”
Mia gazed at the man sitting at her kitchen table. It was amazing. He looked as if he’d been rolled from a park bench, yet she still found him attractive. What would he look like, she wondered, shiny clean and dressed in that uniform she’d found in his closet?
He’d probably look like someone she’d go out of her way to avoid. She’d never been impressed by men in uniform. It wasn’t likely that she’d be impressed now.
Still, all those medals…
Mia set her empty glass down and pushed herself off the counter. “I’ll get Tasha out of the tub,” she told Frisco. “You probably have things to do—she told me you promised to take her shopping for furniture for her bedroom.”
“Yeah.” Frisco nodded and pulled himself clumsily to his feet. “Thanks again for bringing her home.”
Mia smiled and slipped down the hall toward the bathroom. Considering their rocky start, they’d actually achieved quite a nice, neighborly relationship.
Nice and neighborly—that’s exactly where they were going to leave it, too. Despite the fact that this man had the ability to make her blood heat with a single look, despite the fact that she genuinely liked him more and more each time they met, she was going to be careful to keep her distance.
Because the more Mia found out about her neighbor, the more she was convinced that they were absolute polar opposites.
CHAPTER SEVEN
IT WAS PINK. It was definitely, undeniably pink. Its back was reminiscent of a scallop shell, and its arms were scrolled. Its cushions were decorated with shiny silver buttons that absolutely, positively could not have been comfortable to sit upon.
It was far too fancy to be called a couch or even a sofa. It was advertised as a “settee.”
For Natasha, it was love at first sight.
Fortunately for Frisco, she didn’t spot it until they were on their way out of the furniture store.
She sat down on it and went into Russian princess mode. Frisco was so tired, and his knee and head ached so badly, he sat down, too.
“Kneel in front of the Russian princess,” Tash commanded him sternly.
Frisco put his head back and closed his eyes. “Not a chance, babe,” he mumbled.
After Tash’s bath at Mia’s place, he’d taken her home, then they’d both suited up and headed to the beach for the kid’s first swimming lesson. The current had still been quite strong, and he’d kept his fingers solidly locked on Tash’s bathing suit the entire time.
The kid was fearless. Considering that she hadn’t even seen the ocean before yesterday, she was entirely enthusiastic about the water. At the end of the week, she’d be well on her way to swimming like a fish.
Frisco shook his head. How on earth had Sharon’s kid managed to live to the ripe old age of five without having even seen the ocean? Historically, the Franciscos were coastline people. His old man had worked on a fishing boat for years. Vacations were spent at the water. Frisco and his two older brothers had loved the beach. But not Sharon, he remembered suddenly. Sharon had damn near drowned when she was hardly any older than Natasha was now. As an adult, Sharon moved inland, spending much of her time in Las Vegas and Reno. Tash had been born in Tucson, Arizona. Not much beachfront property there.
After the swimming lesson and a forty-five-minute lecture on why Tash had to follow Frisco’s rules, they’d dragged themselves home, had lunch, changed and gone shopping for furniture for Frisco’s second bedroom.
They’d found this particular store in the Yellow Pages. It was right around the corner, and—the advertisement boasted—it had free, same-day delivery. Frisco had picked out a simple mattress, box spring and metal-framed bed, and Tash had chosen a pint-size bright yellow chest of drawers. Together, they’d found a small desk and chair and a petite bookshelf.
“Can we get this, Frisco?” Tash now asked hopefully.
He snorted as he opened his eyes. “A pink couch? Man, are you kidding?”
As usual, she answered his rhetorical question as if he’d asked it seriously. “No.”
“Where the hell would we put it?” He glanced at the price tag. It was supposedly on sale, marked down to a mere small fortune.
“We could put it where that other icky one is.”
“Great. Just what that condo needs.” Shaking his head, Frisco pulled himself to his feet. “Come on. If we don’t hurry, the delivery truck is going to beat us home. We don’t want them to deliver your new furniture to some other kid.”
That got Tasha moving, but not without one final lovelorn glance at the pink sofa.
They were only two blocks from home, but Frisco flagged down a cab. The sun was merciless, and his knee was damn near making him scream with pain. His head wasn’t feeling too great, either.
There was no sign of Mia out in her garden in the condo courtyard. Her door was tightly shut, and Frisco found himself wondering where she had gone.
Bad mistake, he told himself. She had been making it clear that she didn’t want to be anything more than a neighbor. She didn’t want the likes of him sniffing around her door.
Mia actually thought he was a drunk, like his old man and his sister. It was entirely possible that if he wasn’t careful, she would be proven right.
No more, he vowed, pulling himself up the stairs. Tonight, if insomnia struck, he’d tough it out. He’d face the demons who were at their ugliest in the wee hours of the morning by spitting in their faces. If he awoke in the middle of the night, he’d spend the time working out, doing exercises that would strengthen his leg and support his injured knee.
He unlocked