The Bonus Mum. Jennifer Greene

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      Over the bouncingly exuberant girls, their eyes met. She was both laughing and rolling her eyes—there was no shutting the girls up, no chance to temper their exuberance. And his eyes were filled with humor, too....

      But somehow she’d expected the girls’ father to be...well, fatherly looking. A lot older than her twenty-seven. Sure, she’d expected him to be reasonably good-looking, because the girls were adorable, but he’d been married awhile. He should have looked more staid, the way settled down guys tended to get, more safe, less...how would a woman say it?...less hungry.

      Whit radiated all the safety of a cougar just freed from a cage. He was tall, rangy and sleek. He had the shoulder and arm muscles of a guy who was physical and exceptionally strong. He wore an old canvas jacket, jeans and country boots.

      His hair was sort of a dusty blond shade, rumpled from the wind, a frame for the rugged bones in his face. The haircut was the choice for a guy who didn’t waste time on grooming. Straight eyebrows set off his eagle-shrewd eyes—shrewd, except when he looked at his daughters.

      Then his gaze turned into a helpless puppy’s.

      “Did they drive you crazy?” He said it under the relentless stream of eleven-year-old chatter.

      Oh, right. Like she’d kick a puppy in the teeth. The girls were obviously the sun and the moon to him. Besides, even if they had driven her a little crazy, they’d been fun. “They’re wonderful,” she said.

      “Yeah. I think so. But...”

      “I never had a chance to give them the ‘bear’ talk. They should know...you don’t run from a bear. You don’t leave food in the wild, ever, and if you make loud noises, he’ll likely turn tail and take off. A bear doesn’t want to hurt a human—unless it’s spring and it’s a female with cubs. Or it’s fall, and he’s filling up on every berry he can find. So if they spot one from a distance, just move away. Make noise. Trust me, he doesn’t want to eat you. He just wants you out of his space.”

      Pepper had been listening, but she wasn’t buying this advice wholesale. “But what if he’s crazy? You know. What if it’s a people-hater bear. Like the bear in that movie, where the model’s in Alaska—”

      “If he’s crazy, you’re up a creek. But the population of black bears around here doesn’t have a bad reputation. If a crazy one showed on the radar, DNR and rangers would be all over it. So if you just use common sense and do the regular safe things, you should be fine.”

      “Dad, do you see how much she knows? Even about things like bears? And she’s a girl.”

      “I noticed that.”

      Her head whipped toward him again. There was nothing suggestive in his tone. Just in his eyes. There was just something there that sparked a sizzle in her pulse...and Rosemary was too darned practical to feel sizzles—in her pulse or anywhere else.

      “I think it’s time we got out of this nice lady’s hair.”

      “But she likes us, Dad. She said so.”

      “Of course she likes you. You’re the angels of the universe. But we’re still giving Rosemary her life back and going home. It’s already dark.”

      “You sure didn’t call us angels when we put the red and green in our hair. Even though we told you and told you and told you it’d wash out. And everybody does it.”

      The adults barely exchanged another word—they had no chance. Rosemary was amused—and surprised—by the violent silence when she closed the door after them. She was used to silence. Or she should be. She was happy living alone.

      Or that’s what she’d been telling herself for six months now.

      Maybe she’d been telling herself that her whole life. If you’re waiting for someone else to make you happy, you’re waiting for a spit in the wind. It has to start on the inside. Being content with who you are.

      Rosemary always thought she was. Content within herself. Until last June, and since then she couldn’t seem to fit in her own skin.

      She turned away from the window, fed the fire and turned her attention back to things that mattered. Another cream puff, for starters.

      And what a hunk of a man that Whit was. Maybe she could have a hot, steamy dream about him tonight. He was the kind of guy that looked all sexy and dangerous when he was sweaty.

      Not that Rosemary was attracted to sweat and oiled shoulders and bad boys.

      But losing a wife and raising two young girls alone—that was a tough road. Tougher than her own problems, by far.

      Which was probably why she couldn’t get him off her mind.

      Chapter Two

      Whit opened the refrigerator and stared at it blankly. He’d bought a truckful of groceries. The fridge was full. He just couldn’t seem to find anything to eat.

      At least anything that didn’t involve cooking and dishes and cleaning up.

      “What are you hungry for, you two?” He called out to the living room, and then wondered why he’d asked.

      The answer came in joyous unison. “Mac and cheese. From the box.”

      Followed by, “And don’t burn it this time, Dad.”

      He still had two boxes, thank God. All the green stuff he’d bought was going to waste. But the sugary cereals, the mac and cheese and the ice cream—after two days, he was nearly out of those. He could probably feed the kids on five bucks a day—if they had their way. Instead he’d spent better than $500 on stuff that was good for them.

      Why wasn’t that in the parenting rule book, huh? That short of putting an eleven-year-old in a coma, there was no way to get anything fresh and green down them without a war that involved pouting, door slamming, dramatic tragic looks, claims of being misunderstood, claims of being adopted, claims of child abuse...and...that torture could go on for hours. Sometimes days.

      He scrounged for a pan, and filled it with water. Read the directions on the mac and cheese box for the millionth time. When he turned around, Lilly was leaning on the blue-and-white tile counter.

      It was a trick, since he knew she hadn’t come in to help. He was in trouble. He just didn’t know over what. And the truth—which Lilly possibly knew—was that he’d do anything she asked. Anything.

      He was terrified of both daughters, but Lilly more than Pepper. Lilly had stopped talking after her mom died. She’d just lain there, in that hospital bed next to her sister, but where Pepper would cry and shriek, Lilly just carried that silent look in her eyes. Grief too deep to understand, grief that made her go still, as if in any motion, no matter how tiny, could tip her over the edge. She couldn’t take more.

      Eventually Lilly started talking again, but it went on and on, that grief of hers. She answered questions, and talked about things like school and dinner, but it was months before she volunteered anything. Months before that unbearably sharp grief started to fade. Months before he won a real smile—and he’d done everything but stand on his head СКАЧАТЬ