One in a Million (7 page)

When Nash reached for the glasses, she came to
her senses.
,

“
Hey, I'm the hired help around here, not you," she said as she stepped in close and took the glass
from him.

Their fingers touched. Just for a second, but it was
enough. Not only did she hear the faint ringing of
bells, she would swear that she saw actual sparks
arc between them. Holy wow. Sparks. She didn't
think that kind of stuff was possible after age thirty.

Nash looked at her. His dark eyes seemed bright
with what she wanted to say was passionate fire, but
was probably the light from the overhead fixtures.
Awareness rippled through her, sensitizing her skin
and making her want to fling herself into his arms
for a kiss that went on for at least six hours, follow
ing by mindless, intense sex. Right there, in front of
the appliances.

She swallowed and took a step back. Something
was really wrong with her. Seasonal allergies? Too much television? Not enough? She felt soft and wet
and achy inside. She felt unsettled. All of this was
so out of the ordinary, so unexpected and so extreme
that it would be really hilarious...if it weren't so
darned terrifying.

Nash wondered if Stephanie really was issuing an
invitation with her parted lips and wide eyes or if
that was just wishful thinking on his part. No doubt
the latter, he told himself as he heard footsteps on
the stairs.

The boys walked into the kitchen. Adam and Ja
son each had a backpack with them while Brett car
ried a math book and several sheets of paper.
Nash figured it was time for him to excuse him
self. Homework seemed like family time. But before
he could say anything, Jason patted the chair next
to him and offered a winning smile.

“I have to finish my calendar for summer. I wrote something about each of the months. Wanna hear?" Nash glanced from the boy to Stephanie who gave
him a shrug, as if to say it was his call. When he
looked back at Jason, the boy pulled the chair out a
little.

What the hell, Nash thought. He crossed to the
table and took the seat.

“
So your calendar is only three months long," he
said.

“
Uh-huh. We did pictures. See—I colored
fireworks in the sky for July, coz that's when it's
the fourth and we always go to the park for
fireworks." Jason opened a large folder and withdrew a folded
sheet of construction paper as he spoke. Nash ad
mired the crayon depiction of fireworks, then bent
close to see what Jason had written underneath.

“
It's a poem," the boy said proudly. "The
teacher said we could copy it from the board if we
wanted. I can read it to you."
The last sentence sounded more like a question
than a statement. Nash nodded. "Sure. Go ahead."
Jason cleared his throat, then read the poem.
When he was finished Adam quietly pushed a spell
ing list toward him.

“
I got 'em all right," he said in a low voice.
Nash studied the word list, and the big A at the
top of the paper.

“You did great. There are some big words here." Adam beamed.

The twins pulled out more papers and talked
about their homework. When they'd explained ev
erything they had to do, they started the work. But
it wasn't a silent process. They asked questions,
shared each step, bickered over the pencil sharpener
and asked for more snacks, another glass of milk or
even water. Stephanie kept gently steering them
back to their assignments.

“
They're usually more focused than this," she
said as she pulled food out of the refrigerator. "The
last couple of weeks of school are always crazy."
Nash remembered what that was like—the un
bearable anticipation of an endless summer with no homework. Being here with the boys reminded him
of a lot of things. How he and Kevin were supposed to do their homework as soon as they got home, but
with their mom out working, there was no one
around to make sure it happened. Nash had always
done his, but Kevin had usually ducked outside to
play. Later, when their mom got home, they fought
about it. Nash had retreated to his room to get lost
in a book.

As he glanced at the three bent heads, he realized
he didn't have any children in his life. No kids of
friends, no neighbors with little ones running
around. He couldn't remember the last time he'd
spent any time with a child. It wasn't that he didn't like them; they simply weren't a part of his world.
Had someone asked him what it would be like to
spend an hour or so with three boys, he would have
assumed time would go by slowly, that he would
feel awkward and restless. But his usual underlying
sense that something was wrong seemed to have
faded. The twins were friendly enough and while Brett obviously didn't want him around, Nash un
derstood enough of what he was feeling not to mind.
When Nash had been his age, he'd done exactly the
same thing.

Stephanie came over and put her hand on Brett's shoulder. "How's it going?"

“Fine."
Nash wasn't sure that was true. Brett hadn't writ
ten anything on his paper in nearly ten minutes.
Stephanie smiled at Nash. "Brett is in an accel
erated math group. He's already starting on algebra,
and it's a little tough. Unfortunately I was never a math person. Still, he's way better at it than me."
Brett winced. "Mo-om, I'm doing fine."

“
I know, honey. You're doing great."
Nash glanced down at the open book. "I remem
ber algebra," he said.

She drew her eyebrows together. "Let me guess.
You
were
a math person."

“Sorry, yeah."

“
Figures."

“
The thing I always liked about it was the rules.
Once you learn them, you keep applying them.
Things need to happen in a certain order, otherwise
you get the wrong answer."
She shook her head. "That would be me. The
queen of the wrong answer. It was all that do-this first stuff that made me crazy. Why can't you just
do an equation from left to right, like reading?"

“
You can. Sort of. Like this problem here." He
pointed. "You do what's in the parentheses first,
then go from left to right."

“Why?”

“
Because that's how the steps work. If you're
building a model car and you glue down the hood
before you put in the engine, it's not going to look
right."
She groaned. "Is this where I tell you I can't put
a model together, either?"
Brett tapped his pencil on the table. "Can I have
my book back, please."

“
Sure."
Nash handed it over. At that moment Adam
claimed his attention to discuss what color green
would do best on his mountains for his report on
Wyoming
. As Nash checked out the various options,
he saw Brett read the first problem again, then start writing on his paper. When he'd finished his cal
culations, he plugged the answer back into the orig
inal equation and quickly solved it. His wide smile
told Nash that he'd gotten it right.

Nash handed Adam a colored pencil, then caught
Stephanie's eyes. She mouthed "thank you." Ap
parently she'd picked up his attempt to help Brett
without actually helping. Her gaze darkened slightly
as several emotions skittered across her face.

He tried to read them, but they came and went in
a heartbeat. He was left with a sense of sorrow, as
if she had something she regretted.

Of course she did, he told himself. Everyone did.
Regrets were a part of life. But for the first time in
a long time, he wanted to ask another person what
was wrong. He wanted to learn more about her, to
understand what she was thinking. He wanted to
connect.

His interest was more than sexual and that scared
the crap out of him. Feeling—getting involved—
would be a disaster.

He told himself to get out of there right now. To leave before he got trapped. Before it was too late.
But even knowing it was wrong to stay, he couldn't
seem to force himself to stand and walk away.

It was just a couple of hours, he told himself.
What could it possibly hurt?

Chapter Four

Nash stayed through dinner. Stephanie had no idea
why, nor could she decide if it was a good thing or
a bad thing. The man was nice enough, the twins
already adored him even though Brett remained
standoffish. She appreciated the opportunity to con
verse with an adult for a chance. So the situation
should have been a big plus.

Except she didn't know what was in it for him.
Why would a good-looking, intelligent man want to
hang out with her and her kids? She opened the
refrigerator and put the milk and butter back in the
door, then frowned. That didn't sound exactly right.
Nash's appearance and mental state didn't have any
thing to do with her confusion. Why would
any
man
not be running for the hills? Weren't guys supposed
to hate other men's children in a relationship? Not
that he had any designs on her. Despite the fact that
he made her long for satin sheets and champagne,
she doubted he saw her as much more than an ef
ficient hostess. After all, her luck just plain wasn't
good enough to hope for more.

So why had he stayed? Why hadn't he retreated
to the quiet and privacy of his room or gone out
somewhere for dinner?
You could ask, a small voice in her head whis
pered.

Stephanie nearly laughed out loud. Sure she
could, but that was so not her style.

“We're done," Brett said.

She turned around and saw that the table was in
deed cleared, the dishes scraped and neatly stacked
by the sink and the table wiped off.

“
Very nice job," she said. "Everyone finished
his homework, right?" Three heads nodded earnestly.

She smiled. "Then I guess this is a TV night.”

“
All right!"
Brett pumped the air with his fist. The twins tore
out of the kitchen. She heard their footsteps on the
hardwood floor and was able to guess their desti
nation.

“
Stop right there," she yelled after them. "We
have a guest. Use the TV upstairs."

“
Why?" Nash asked from where he leaned
against the counter.

She turned toward him, ignoring the continual
sexual impact of his presence. Not only did she not
want to make a fool of herself, but there was still a
minor in the room. "The downstairs TV is for our
guests."
He gave her a slow, sexy smile that could have
melted the polar ice cap. "I'm not much of a TV
watcher. It won't bother me if it won't bother you."
Stephanie figured she wasn't going to fight the point. If the man wanted to be generous, her kids
would be thrilled. She smiled at Brett. "Looks like
this is your lucky day. Go tell your brothers, and
keep the volume down."
Brett grinned and raced down the hall. "We can
stay down here," he yelled.