His Temporary Live-in Wife. Susan Crosby

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СКАЧАТЬ “Actually, I’m used to sleeping in strange houses, although not unfurnished ones. I also wondered if you want me to buy a vacuum cleaner.”

      “I have one, but it’s in the moving van. Doesn’t do much good there, does it?”

      “I can borrow one. I should get going. There’s a lot to do.”

      “I appreciate your checking with me.”

      She pushed the end button and stared at her phone. He had a pleasant voice. More than that, really—an enticing voice, deep and clear, although a somewhat-formal tone. She didn’t think students would have any trouble listening to him lecture.

      She should’ve asked Julia how old he was. She had no visual image of him. He sounded settled. Professorial. She pictured a man in his sixties, wearing a sweater vest and tweed jacket with elbow patches.

      Marcy smiled at the stereotype that formed in her head. She wasn’t anywhere near settled, but twenty-eight and still working toward her educational goals, and then to a career to sustain her through good times and bad.

      Her future was something she could ponder forever, but for now she had a job to do—get the window fixed so she could spend her first night in the cave Eric Sheridan called home.

      Eric made a final walk-through of his empty co-op. Having some last-minute business to tend to before he could leave town, he’d been staying at a hotel since the movers had packed everything a few days earlier. In a few minutes he would hit the road. He could’ve flown, could’ve had the car moved with his belongings, but had decided he needed to clear his head so that he could start fresh in California. A road trip would do that.

      He needed to let go of his life in New York City. A year had gone by since Jamie had been taken from him, and Eric was still stuck in the anger stage of mourning, one he was well familiar with, unfortunately. This time he knew he had to find a way to make quicker work of the other grief stages and get on with life. He’d been offered a teaching position at MIT, his alma mater and where his father had taught for many years, as well. But a move to the west coast seemed … cleaner.

      He was almost forty, and he was done with the singles scene. He wanted to live near family, not just gather with them for holidays. His brothers were scattered around the country, but his sister lived just north of Sacramento. She was newly married and not bound to leave the area anytime soon.

      More important, he wanted marriage and children, and had bought a house suitable for raising a family. He’d been waiting for years to settle down, fulfilling his many other responsibilities before seeing to his own needs. He’d raised his four siblings after their parents died, and he didn’t regret or resent what he’d done, but it was his time now.

      His cell phone rang, jarring him out of his reverie. He saw it was Marcy Malone again. “Yes, Marcy?”

      “I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

      “I’m in my empty apartment, making a final pass-through. What can I do for you?”

      “I wanted to let you know that the window has been fixed.”

      “Good.”

      “However,” she added, “I just realized there are no blinds or curtains. Not a one.”

      “I’m aware of that.”

      “Have you ordered some? I don’t see anything on the list about it.”

      The nerves he’d heard in their previous conversation seemed more intense now. “The interior designer is handling it. I take it you’re afraid to stay there without window coverings?”

      There was a long pause, as if she was weighing her words and being careful not to displease the client. “I’m okay,” she said finally but in a tone that seemed to indicate she was trying to convince herself.

      He should’ve asked Julia Swanson for information on Marcy Malone. He’d like a visual to put to the voice. She sounded young. “If you’re sure,” he said, not wanting to have her replaced, but also not wanting her to fear staying in the house alone.

      “I’m sure. Okay, then. That’s all I wanted to know.”

      “I’m glad you called,” he said. “Don’t hesitate, no matter how trivial the issue seems.”

      “Thanks. Have a safe trip.”

      He said good-night then wandered to the living-room window, which overlooked Central Park. He’d taken Jamie there. They’d rollerbladed, eaten ice cream and talked a lot—about life and expectations and what mattered most.

      His time with Jamie had given Eric insight into the kind of life he wanted. A wife who was calm and soothing, but stable and competent, too. Maternal. Especially maternal.

      And willing to put her career on hold until their children were raised, a hopelessly chauvinistic and politically incorrect demand, but he wasn’t an idealistic young man any more. He knew what he wanted, what he could live with, and what were deal breakers. He wouldn’t settle. He’d earned the right to pursue his own happiness after all he’d been through.

      Eric locked the door of his co-op for the last time. Anticipation lightened his step, the same level of excitement he’d felt when his Realtor first took him into the house he’d ended up buying. The feeling was rare for him, and welcome.

      He hoped it was a sign of more to come.

      By the third day of his drive, Eric had gotten antsy. Talk radio couldn’t hold his attention, music only annoyed him. He’d downloaded an audio book, a thriller that should’ve dug its suspenseful claws into him and made the time pass quickly. It didn’t work.

      Why had he ever thought that driving across the country was a good way to transition to his new life? He was miserable. He talked on his cell phone to his siblings, old friends, and a few business acquaintances until they made up excuses to get off the phone.

      The only one who didn’t offer an excuse and rush off was Marcy Monroe, but he was also paying her for her time. He’d come to enjoy his conversations with her a lot.

      His phone rang. Speak of the devil, he thought, smiling. “Hello, Marcy.”

      “Hi. How’s it going?”

      “I just passed through Lincoln, Nebraska. I found a great hamburger place on the outskirts of the city. What’s up?”

      “The installers are here with your washer and dryer. I just wanted to double-check that you ordered Zephyr Blue?”

      She said it with such doubt in her voice, he grinned. “That’s the color.”

      “Okay. Let me tell them. Hold on a sec. Yes, that’s fine. Go ahead,” she said to the installers.

      “I guess you can’t picture me with Zephyr Blue appliances,” he commented.

      “It’s weird because I’m doing all this personal work for you but I don’t know anything beyond the fact you’re a math professor. May I ask why you’re moving here?”

      “For the women.”

      “I beg your pardon?”

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