Baby By Chance. M.J. Rodgers

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      “Come on, Honey,” she called, shaking her head. “Go get your dinner bowl.”

      Honey didn’t have to be told a second time. He barked his excitement as he flew off the couch. She followed the dog into the kitchen. She heard David enter a moment later as she was taking Honey’s meal out of the refrigerator. She unwrapped the steak and placed it in the bowl Honey held in his mouth. Honey expertly lowered the bowl to the kitchen floor and dug in.

      “Steak for dinner,” David said. “Honey’s a lucky dog.”

      “He’s a loved one,” Susan said, staring down at the ball of fur.

      “That’s what I meant,” he said. “Get your coat. You can take your pick of Italian, Chinese or a steakhouse. They’re all within a twenty-minute drive.”

      “I’m not dressed to go out,” she said, looking up in surprise.

      His impressive height and massive shoulders dwarfed her small kitchen. The overhead light played through the thick, rich brown of his hair.

      “You look fine to me.”

      There was absolutely no readable expression on his calm face, but his voice told her he meant those words.

      She knew then that he had intended to take her out to dinner all along. Damn. She wished he had said something. She would have dried her hair and worn something suitable. How thoroughly annoying this man could be.

      She looked away from him and turned toward a cupboard.

      “I was going to have some soup and a salad,” she said. “There’s enough for two if you’re hungry.”

      She fiddled with the dishes and waited through the stretching silence, slightly appalled at the sudden impulse that had her inviting him to share a dinner with her here.

      “I’ll make the salad,” he said.

      He hadn’t offered. He’d told her. She did not appreciate the caveman approach. A spark of annoyance skittered across nerve endings she recognized were already taut. A small, reasonable voice inside her tried to suggest that he might have offered to make the salad as a way of being helpful. But she didn’t really want to listen to that voice at the moment.

      She felt him move behind her to the refrigerator. Felt the cool air as he opened the door. Felt the impressive breadth of him that blocked a lot of that cool air. He was crowding her, and she didn’t like to be crowded.

      But what Susan really didn’t like was her sudden suspicion that David might actually be a considerate man. She hadn’t been prepared for that. The possibility threw her off balance in a most unexpected and disconcerting way.

      SOUP AND SALAD, she’d said. Sounded simple enough to David. But as he was fast discovering, nothing about Susan was simple.

      She’d added sliced apples, pears, grapes and then finely chopped almonds, walnuts and pecans to the assortment of greens he’d put into salad bowls. Instead of salad dressing, she topped off the blend with sharp, shredded cheddar. The combination turned out to be both unusual and quite delicious.

      She’d put chicken broth to simmer on the stove. Then she’d chopped an assortment of springtime vegetables into the broth—asparagus tips, onions, garlic, snow peas, spin-ach—and added tender juicy chunks of freshly cooked chicken seasoned with ginger and ground pepper. The flavors blended well and tasted great with the warm corn bread she served right out of the oven.

      David had planned from the beginning to take her out to dinner. He hadn’t dreamed she’d offer to make him a meal. But he was glad she had. And not just because the meal had turned out to be superior to what they could have gotten at a restaurant.

      Watching her prepare the food, he’d discovered her penchant for neatness and for organization. Every inch of her small kitchen served a specific and useful function. He’d discovered some of her preferences, as well. Fresh fruits and vegetables were clearly major players in her diet. She was concerned about what she put in her body. He’d discovered her attention to detail in the way she sifted and measured and made sure quantities were correct. She was not a careless woman.

      They had eaten at her country-style, cloth-covered kitchen table. Her town house had a small formal dining room, but he was certain she rarely ate there, because few photographs adorned the walls. Every inch of the kitchen was covered with them.

      The photographs in the living room had told him a lot about her. These told him more. They were all of baby animals—a doe nursing her new speckled fawn, a mother bear playing with her twin cubs, a tiny hummingbird flittering protectively over her hatchlings. And whereas the living room scenes had been full of the bold vibrancy of wildlife, these were filled with the warm, cherished charm of new life.

      When they finished eating, David helped her clear the table and put the dishes in the dishwasher. “I have a few things I’d like to go over,” he said.

      “All right,” she agreed as she led the way back into the living room. She took a seat on the chair. He sat across from her on the couch. Honey hopped up beside him and nudged his hand, clearly communicating his desire for more petting.

      David gave in to the demands of the little terrier, unable to resist. But even as he looked at the dog snuggling against him, the woman sitting so silently across from him claimed his thoughts. He was more confused than ever by her and by the reason she had come to him.

      She was not the kind of woman to casually have a fling with a stranger. Everything about her told him that. And yet, she had. He had to know why.

      Susan watched Honey stretch out beside David, legs in the air, total trust shining out of his big brown eyes. David’s large hand gently rubbed the terrier’s tummy. The little dog sighed with delight. The expression on David’s face as he looked at Honey was that of a man fast becoming wrapped around the charming paws of a pooch.

      She decided she could forgive David a lot when she saw that look. Maybe even forgive him for his intrusion into her home tonight.

      “Your husband died two years and ten months ago,” he said, breaking the silence. “You went to the community center six weeks ago to attend a bereavement seminar, not one on self-improvement.”

      So, he had checked up on her. Seemed odd he had done so after having turned down her case, and odder still that he was now willing to help her. There was so much about this man that was confusing.

      But his voice had been surprisingly gentle when he made that statement. And so was his hand on Honey’s tummy.

      “Being able to deal effectively with grief is a form of self-improvement,” she said, trying not to sound defensive.

      His immediate response told her she had failed. “I’m not trying to corner you. I’m trying to understand. I’m well aware that losing a loved one can be devastating. Did attending the seminar help?”

      She looked down at the gold band on her finger. “No.”

      “Tell me how he died.”

      “How will that help?”

      “I’m not sure that it will. But I’d like you to tell me.”

      There СКАЧАТЬ