Mother in Training Read online

  “They only become old wounds if you let them heal,” Zooey murmured. “Otherwise, they remain ongoing, open wounds.”

  “So now you’re dispensing medical advice along with hors d’oeuvres?” Jack’s voice came from directly behind her.

  She swung around, surprised by his unexpected appearance and trying her best not to show it. It didn’t jibe with the cool, calm and collected image she was attempting to portray tonight.

  “Whatever it takes,” Zooey replied nonchalantly. She set the now empty tray on the nearest flat surface and faced Jack. “Do you need me for something?”

  He almost laughed out loud. If ever he’d been asked a loaded question, this was it. A dozen different answers, all variations of the same feeling, the same desire, materialized in his head in response to her innocent query.

  Or maybe not so innocent, Jack amended, looking into Zooey’s eyes. She seemed to know exactly what she was asking, he realized. Exactly what kind of response her question aroused.

  He doubted it was possible for her to be ignorant of what she was doing to him just by breathing.

  But because he hoped no one else was privy to this, he said, “I thought maybe you’d want to get the kids started playing their games. It looks to me like everyone’s here.”

  Not trusting his assessment, Zooey conducted her own quick survey, and discovered he was actually right. There was surprise and admiration in her eyes. “You do keep track.”

  He saw Angela and Megan struggling not to laugh as they moved off to another area of the room.

  “I’m a lawyer, Zooey,” he said to her. “Credit me with a little bit of awareness.”

  “Oh, but I do,” she told him, the soul of innocence. “Very little.” And then she laughed at her own joke. The dark look on Jack’s face brought her up short. Now what?

  She didn’t have long to wait. “Don’t do that,” he told her.

  He’d lost her. She hadn’t done anything. Not for the last five minutes. “Do what?”

  “Laugh.”

  Okay, now he was getting just plain weird, she thought. Just because he had trouble curving his mouth into a smile didn’t mean she had to become solemn as well. This was a party. He needed to loosen up.

  “Why?” she retorted, propping one hand on her waist.

  His answer totally floored her, leaving her without a comeback.

  “Because it gets to me,” he told her tersely, just before he turned on his heel and walked toward a gathering comprised of a cowboy, an alien, a futuristic space traveler and Fred Flintstone. The group, all neighbors that he recognized and spoke to on occasion, looked very eclectic. It suited his mood.

  Stopping only long enough to collect the last of the hors d’oeuvres from the kitchen and replenish her supply, Zooey made her way over to Molly Jackson and her fiancé, Adam Shibbs. The duo were dressed as Romeo and his ever-so-slightly pregnant Juliet.

  Molly reached over to the tray without looking. Her attention was riveted to the boyish-looking, blond-haired Adam. Zooey had known the woman since starting her job with Jack, and had never seen Molly looking happier.

  Why shouldn’t she be? Zooey thought, retreating again. Molly was getting a baby and a husband, almost at the same time. What could be better than that?

  She watched as Rebecca approached the couple, moving to hug Molly and say something to Adam. Both greeted her warmly. Zooey recalled that Rebecca had thrown Molly a baby shower just last month.

  That meant the woman wasn’t all bad, Zooey supposed. Actually, Rebecca wasn’t really bad at all. Just in her space.

  Her space.

  Listen to her, Zooey mocked herself. As if Jack Lever was hers. As if the man would actually have anything to do with an ex-waitress, an ex-dog walker, currently a nanny who, if the truth be told, was having trouble finding where her head really belonged.

  Her heart, however, was another matter. Zooey knew where her heart belonged, or at least was.

  Even if it shouldn’t be.

  Rousing herself, she abandoned thoughts that were going to lead her nowhere, and got back to overseeing the party and making sure everyone was having fun. Even Rebecca.

  Zooey had no concerns as to whether Megan, Angela’s sister, was enjoying herself. It was obvious she was, even to the casual observer.

  Megan had arrived dressed as a fairy godmother, right down to the wand.

  “Actually,” the graphic artist had confided a few minutes earlier, “I feel more like Cinderella. Especially every time I look at Greg.” A contented sigh, tinged with a hint of disbelief, accompanied the admission. “I’m surprised I’m not black-and-blue from pinching myself.”

  “That’s supposed to be a figurative statement,” Zooey had told her with an amused laugh.

  Megan appeared lost in her own thoughts as she continued gazing toward Greg. Even dressed as one of the Musketeers, he looked very Ivy League.

  “Who would have ever thought that a plain Jane like me would have landed someone like that?”

  The one thing Zooey couldn’t abide was listening to people run themselves down. Especially someone she liked.

  “Me. I would have thought,” Zooey told her. “And just take a look at yourself.” For lack of a mirror, she directed Megan toward her reflection in the sliding glass door that led out to the patio. “You’re not a plain Jane anymore. And even when you thought you were, you weren’t,” she insisted. “There was always an inner glow about you, Megan,” she pointed out. A shy, appreciative smile bloomed on Megan’s face. “You just relaxed long enough to let it surface and come out.”

  Megan knew better than to offer any denials to what Zooey was saying; she just wouldn’t accept them. But something else struck her. “You’re a great one for dispensing advice.”

  “Yes,” Zooey agreed, sensing something more was coming. “I am.”

  “What about you and Pulse-Accelerating Man?” Megan nodded toward where Jack was standing with a group of men.

  “Jack?” Puzzled, she wasn’t sure where Megan was going with this. “What about him?”

  “He has his eye on you, you know,” Megan told her.

  “No, he doesn’t,” she said quickly. Because to entertain the hope that Megan might be right, and find out otherwise, would have been too cruelly disappointing. Better not to hope at all than to be crushed. “And even if he does, it’s just to make sure that I’m doing what he pays me for.”

  Humor curved Megan’s mouth. “You’re taking money for that?”

  “No!” Zooey retorted with feeling, then lowered her voice when she saw that she’d attracted attention she definitely didn’t want. “I mean—he pays me for watching his children.”

  “Mothers watch children, too, you know.”

  The word “mother” stirred up an entire myriad of feelings inside of her, setting off thoughts she didn’t feel equipped to deal with at the moment. Because in the dead of night, when restlessness plagued her, she’d found herself entertaining the idea of being Emily and Jackie’s mother.

  And Jack’s wife…

  Still, she was confident that no one would ever guess she thought about that. Zooey raised her head. “What are you saying?”

  The smile on Megan’s lips was kind. Understanding. “What do you think I’m saying?”

  She didn’t trust herself to answer, so she diverted the conversation by pointing out the obvious. “Jack was going out with Rebecca.”

  There were next to no secrets in the neighborhood. Everyone took a great deal of interest in everyone else. “But he’s not anymore, is he?”

  “No.”

  Megan put her hand over Zooey’s and squeezed it warmly. “That’s because someone closer to home has his attention.”

  No, she wasn’t going to go there. She wasn’t going to begin building castles in the air, much as she wanted to. “The only thing that has his attention on an ongoing basis are his briefs.”

  Laughter entered Megan’s eyes. She’d changed a great deal in the last month or s
o, come out of her shell and grabbed life with both hands.

  “Tell me about them.”

  “Not those kinds of briefs,” Zooey hissed.

  Megan stood back as if to get a better view of her. “I never thought it was possible.”

  “What?” Zooey demanded.

  “You’re blushing.”

  She could feel the heat rising along her neck, her cheeks. She had no doubt that Megan was right, but she wasn’t about to admit it. “There are a lot of people here. The room’s getting warmer.”

  Megan glanced to where Jack was standing. He was in the center of a group of men, yet completely separated from the conversation going on around him. And he was looking over toward them.

  Toward Zooey.

  “And with any luck,” Megan commented, “it’ll get warmer still after everyone leaves.”

  Zooey looked at her sharply. For one of the very few times in her life, she was flustered. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Her friend inclined her head, lowering her voice. “Trust me, Zooey, the people involved are sometimes the last to know.” She glanced toward Greg. He was coming over to join her. Her eyes shone with love. “Believe me, I should know.”

  Zooey shook her head. Megan meant well, but her instincts were off.

  She was happy for Megan. Very happy for all the couples here who had found love and were making the most of it. But you didn’t find what you weren’t looking for, and she wasn’t looking for love. First she needed to get her life in order and on the right track, then she could find a place for love. Not before.

  She realized that she was looking toward Jack and clutching the tray extra hard. With effort, she forced herself to blow out a breath and then take another one in. Slowly.

  It was an evening that seemed to go on forever. Not that Zooey found it a hardship to endure. The party was nothing short of wonderful. She enjoyed people, and the folks who lived along Danbury Way were a very special lot, with the possible exception of the always-bickering Martins.

  But they hadn’t shown up, which was just as well. They weren’t really missed, and everyone else, with or without children, had responded positively to the Halloween party invitation. So much so that the original planned sit-down dinner had to be turned into a stand-up buffet. The kids loved it, gathering together whenever they wanted and eating when the mood hit.

  That eventually translated into an incredible amount of paper plates, cups, napkins and miscellaneous garbage strewn around the entire first floor of the house, and the grounds outside by those hardy enough to brave the sudden drop in temperature. It was all worth it.

  The exodus began at eight and continued until almost eleven. The discrepancy in time depended on whether or not guests had children to take home.

  Cleanup was an ongoing process that didn’t seem to get done, despite the help Zooey received from Angela, Megan, Carly, Molly and, surprisingly, from Rebecca. Before they left, the women did, however, put a sizable dent in what she was going to have to face tomorrow.

  She was still finding stray glasses and plates to pick up even as the last of the guests walked out.

  “Leave it,” Jack told her after he closed the door.

  Emily and Jackie had long since been put to bed, and the house suddenly seemed almost eerily quiet.

  Zooey continued gathering. “I just thought I’d do a little more now—”

  Crossing over to her, Jack physically took the paper plates out of her hands.

  “I said leave it, Zooey,” he repeated. “You’ve done more than enough.” He glanced around. The house looked almost clean to him. “Call in one of those cleaning crews tomorrow to handle the rest.”

  She hated wasting money. “There’s no need, Jack, I can—”

  He frowned, stopping dead in his tracks. “Do you feel an overwhelming need to contradict everything I say?”

  “No. Not an overwhelming need,” she replied, a smile creeping over her lips. “Just when you’re wrong—”

  He cut her short. “Humor me. Call in a cleaning crew. Your time is far too valuable to waste picking up paper plates.”

  She liked that he thought so, but wasn’t sure if that was the punch or the man talking. She needed to be clear. “I thought that was what you were paying me for. Being the nanny-slash-housekeeper.”

  He laughed shortly. “I don’t want to wear you out before your time.”

  There was little chance of that. If the kids hadn’t done it by now, a little elbow grease wasn’t about to do the job.

  “I’m more resilient than I look.”

  He gazed at her for a long moment. When he spoke, his voice was low. “I already know that.”

  Damn, there went her heart again. In double time. “Oh?”

  “Yes, ‘oh,’” he echoed.

  How she came to be in his arms the next minute, Jack couldn’t have explained. He had no memory of making the first move, no memory of folding his arms around her. All he knew was that time seemed to suddenly stop of its own accord.

  Because her presence was filling the room.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Even as he kissed her, Jack knew it was wrong. Knew that he should have more control over himself, more willpower than this.

  But the sad truth of it was, he didn’t. When it came to the feelings that Zooey stirred up, his willpower, his resolve, his whatever it was that ordinarily kept him on the straight and narrow, unwavering path, were badly corroded. Moreover, the very foundations of that willpower had been turned, by this mere slip of a woman, from concrete to Swiss cheese, so that simply taking her into his arms, simply kissing her, was setting off an entire chain reaction inside him that he couldn’t control. He could only stand here in mystified confusion and feel it unfold.

  The effects were heightened when Zooey rose up on her toes, wrapped her arms around his neck, leaned into him and deepened the kiss. It was as if she’d been waiting for this to happen all evening long.

  If so, that made two of them.

  But still, it shouldn’t be happening. He wasn’t some reckless teenager, governed by mindless impulse, by raging hormones. Hell, he’d never had raging hormones. He hadn’t behaved this way when he actually was a teenager, so why was he doing so now, surrendering to his emotions as an adult? He was a lawyer, for God’s sake, a man whom his colleagues said was the last word in steely control.

  Where was that steely control now, when he really needed it?

  With what felt like his last ounce of swiftly dwindling strength, Jack managed to take hold of Zooey’s shoulders and pull back.

  His brain vainly searched for a way to frame an apology. Because he owed her one for misleading her this way. For making her think that this was about something other than just gratifying a physical urge. Because it couldn’t be about anything else.

  He searched her face, looking for a sign, for a way to ease into this. But all he saw was exactly the opposite. “Zooey, I didn’t mean—”

  The look in Zooey’s green eyes told him she had his number, but good.

  “Yes,” she whispered, “you did. And so did I.”

  She was right. But going forward, as everything inside of him begged him to, could very possibly destroy that newly constructed haven that not only he, but more importantly, his children, had taken up residence in. He needed to make Zooey understand that. To understand that while she was precious to him, to all of them, nothing could be allowed to happen here.

  He threaded his fingers through her hair. Desire pounded its fists against him. He was having trouble trying to ignore everything but the right course to take. “Zooey, you’ve come to mean a great deal to Jackie and to Emily, of course—”

  And they, Zooey thought, had come to mean a great deal to her. Almost from the first moment in the coffee shop that morning he’d brought them in. More than she could even put into words.

  But this wasn’t about Emily or Jackie, this was about Jack. About them.

  Or was she just deluding hers
elf?

  She’d never been one to hang back, to wonder if there was rain or sunshine outside her door. She wasn’t the type to find out by listening to a weather report, or staying safely indoors while looking through a window. Zooey was proud of the fact that she’d always thrown open the door and braved whatever it was that was waiting outside for her.

  This was no different.

  “And you?” she pressed, her eyes never leaving his. “Do I mean a great deal to you?”

  How did he answer that and stay true to the goal he’d set for himself? And how could he accomplish that without hurting Zooey? He felt like a man in an uncharted minefield.

  “Having you here… Having you here…”

  He was trying to say that having her here, taking care of his children the way she did, afforded him peace of mind. It allowed him to function and do what he did best. But right now, having her here didn’t allow him to function. It didn’t even allow him to think, or talk like a man with half a brain. Having her here at this moment was scrambling his thoughts, his pulse, setting absolutely everything on its ear.

  His voice had trailed off and he didn’t look as if he was going to finish what he’d begun to say. “Yes?” Zooey murmured.

  Frustration all but exploded in his veins. “Oh, the hell with it,” he growled. The next second he lowered his mouth back to hers.

  Oh, the hell with it. The words echoed in her head. Not exactly an endearment, Zooey thought, surrendering to the feeling Jack summoned from within her. And definitely not the tender words a woman waited to hear. But in an odd way, she understood the sentiment behind the frustration that had caused him to say it.

  Understood it because it was rampaging through her own body.

  She wanted to make love with him. Desperately. To have him touch her and take what was already his.

  But even as everything suddenly went on overload inside of her, Zooey knew that they couldn’t give in to the demands raging within them. Or at least, not where they currently were, standing beside the buffet table. They were right out in the open down here, and Emily and Jackie had a habit of popping up where least expected. Zooey didn’t want to take a chance on setting their sex education back by a couple of decades.