Love and the Single Mum. C.J. Carmichael

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СКАЧАТЬ Nora sighed. “Like usual.”

      As well as being the mother of an active little boy, Nora had a full-time job as a physiotherapist. On top of all that, her sister was living with her but not paying her share of the household expenses.

      “How are Suzanne’s wedding plans coming along?”

      “I’m not sure. Suzanne’s being a little cagey lately. I hope her fiancé knows what he’s getting into. I love my sister, but—”

      She didn’t need to say any more. Suzanne was a charming person, but not exactly reliable where money was concerned.

      “So how about you, Margo?” Nora helped herself to a piece of the cake, then lost no time digging in to it.

      “It’s been one of those days….”

      “Oh?”

      “I had a call from my ex. But first, take a look at these.” Margo slipped the photographs from their packet. “I had the pictures from last week’s party developed. There are some really cute ones of Danny.”

      Like any proud mother, Nora reached for the pictures eagerly. She’d oohed and aahed through about half of them when she suddenly stopped. Leaning close to Margo she whispered, “Who is that guy? In the back. The one staring at you?”

      Margo felt a prickling at the base of her neck. Not a creepy, icky prickling, but a sensual, exciting sort of tingle.

      She knew without looking.

      He’d come back.

      She pretended to check out the washroom door. Yes, it was Suit Guy, only he wasn’t dressed in his suit now, but in jeans and a T-shirt and he looked hot.

      Suddenly she became very aware of the ambiance in the room. In the daytime, when sunlight streamed in from the floor-to-ceiling windows and highlighted the lemon tree and the hibiscus, the bistro’s annex room had the feel of a greenhouse.

      At night, however, when she drew the ginger-colored curtains and lit the candles, then the annex was transformed into an intimate, slightly exotic place—a world away from the bustle of cosmopolitan San Francisco on the other side of the walls.

      In short, it became a room perfect for romance….

      “Is he looking this way?” she asked Nora.

      “Not anymore. Now he’s eating his soup. Do you know him?”

      “He came in yesterday, then again this afternoon. But the answer is no. I don’t know him.” That shadow of a memory just would not take substantial shape. She wondered if perhaps she just wished she’d met him before.

      “Would you like another piece of cake?” Margo asked. Nora was already finished her first and was sipping on her chai latte.

      “Forget the cake. How long has it been since you’ve been on a date?”

      “Are you trying to be cruel?” No one knew better than Nora the pathetic state of her social life. That was one of the subjects they often talked about—how hard it was to meet men when you had kids and worked full-time.

      Sometimes Margo wondered if that part of her life was over for good.

      “Wait.” Nora tried to appear blasé. “He’s looking this way again.”

      “Probably at you.”

      “No way. This one is yours, Margo. What are you going to do about it? He’s coming this way.”

      “He is not.” But he was. Margo couldn’t believe it. She set down her fork, but in her nervousness, she knocked aside the photographs she and Nora had been looking at.

      Several of the glossy four-by-sixes fell to the floor.

      Suit Guy scooped them up as if he’d crossed the room for exactly that purpose. Before handing them over, he glanced at the photos and frowned.

      “Thank you.” Margo accepted the pictures and set them on the table. “That was clumsy of me.”

      The guy had boy-next-door looks, except for his eyes, which were darkly lashed and deeply blue. Right now those eyes seemed to be looking at everything in the room except her.

      “No problem. I was just coming by to, uh, to tell you how much I enjoy your soups. Do you make them here?”

      Soup? He’d crossed the room to ask about soup? Margo shot an “I told you this wasn’t what you thought it was” look at Nora. “Sure. We have a different special every day, and they’re all my own recipes. I’m glad you like them.”

      “The best I’ve ever tasted.”

      She sensed Nora grinning at her and her face grew hot. “By the way, I’m Margo.”

      “Yeah. I assumed as much. From the name of the place.”

      Margo felt her face grow hotter. “Margo Evans,” she clarified.

      “Robert Brookman,” he said before shaking first her hand, then Nora’s.

      Realizing she hadn’t introduced her friend, Margo added quickly, “And this is my friend, Nora Clark.”

      Robert asked Nora a few questions and seemed keenly interested. Margo sank back into the cushions of the sofa and prayed desperately for Sandy or Edward to call her with an emergency from the kitchen. She’d known Robert wasn’t looking at her. He liked her soups. Not her.

      When Robert found out Nora was a physiotherapist, he told her about a buddy with a sore knee. Nora gave him the name of a colleague who ought to be able to help, then scribbled a number on the back of one of her business cards.

      “Thanks a lot.” Robert pocketed the card. “Well, I should be going. Sorry to interrupt, but it was good to meet you, Nora. You, too, Margo.”

      He left without giving either of them a backward glance.

      ROBERT HIT THE SIDEWALK and kept on walking. He didn’t care where he went, he just needed to move. That had been close. Damn close. He’d gone to that table intending to ask Margo out, but one look at those pictures had changed his mind.

      What if those were her kids?

      He couldn’t get involved with another single mom. Hell, what if she was married? He hadn’t even thought of that. They ought to make the wearing of wedding bands a legal requirement. It sure would make the life of a single man a heck of a lot easier.

      After a while, when he’d blown off the worst of the adrenaline rush, Robert slowed his pace. He noticed a boutique cycle shop ahead and went to gaze in the window.

      A sweet little two-wheeler, a BMX just like Andrew wanted, was in the display window. Maybe he could buy it for his birthday. Belinda had said no contact—but he could have it delivered….

      Imagining the delight Andrew would feel getting that bike, Robert was sorely tempted.

      But СКАЧАТЬ