Ultimate Cedar Cove Collection. Debbie Macomber
the pictures you like for Katie’s baby book and I’ll get the rest on Sunday.”
“Thank you…I appreciate it.” He’d be back then, of course, to collect Katie. Her hold tightened around their daughter.
“I’ll see you Sunday.”
“Katie and I will be here.” She kept her eyes lowered.
She heard him walk over to the door. He opened it. “Maryellen?”
She glanced up and saw that his mouth was twitching with a barely suppressed smile. “You can hate me anytime you want.”
Zach Cox looked down at his watch. It was one of his nights with Allison and Eddie, and he needed to leave the office precisely at five. Frustrated, he closed a file and set it aside. He’d have to finish calculating the employment taxes for the Tulips and Things Craft Store tomorrow morning. Just as he was about to leave, Janice Lamond appeared in his doorway.
“Mr. Cox,” she said in a low voice. “I was wondering if you had a moment to review the Jackson quarterly tax statement with me?” Her look implored him.
It seemed she routinely required his help at closing time. Most nights Zach didn’t have a problem checking her figures, but on the evenings he spent with the kids, he simply didn’t have the extra minutes to spare.
“Can it wait until morning?” he asked as he stood.
Janice wore a short skirt. It rose up mid-thigh and exposed long, shapely legs. The skirt was too short and too tight. He’d never really noticed the way Janice dressed until recently. He glanced outside his office and realized the other women employed by the accounting firm were far more conservative in their clothing.
“Of course it can wait,” she assured him. “I forgot you’re with your children tonight.”
He nodded and reached for his briefcase.
“How is that arrangement working?” Janice moved all the way inside his office.
“About as well as can be expected.” Actually it was about as inconvenient as could be imagined. Half the time he didn’t know where he was sleeping—the apartment or the house. A week ago he’d arrived with clothes but no underwear. He now left a spare set in the trunk of his car. He didn’t feel inclined to tell Janice any of this, however.
As he prepared to leave the office, he placed several business magazines he hadn’t had time to read inside the leather case. Rosie had given him the briefcase for Christmas three years earlier and he’d used it every day since. He rarely had time for reading anymore. No time for golf, either, or jogging or any of the activities he’d once enjoyed.
“I won’t keep you, then,” Janice said with obvious reluctance.
“See you in the morning,” he said, and snapped his briefcase shut. “I can look at those figures then.”
“Figures?” she repeated. “Oh, yes, I almost forgot.”
He removed his suit jacket from the small closet and slipped his arms into the sleeves. Janice continued to linger. “Was there anything else?” he asked.
“Do you sometimes get lonely?” She fluttered her lashes and for some reason they reminded Zach of spiders.
“Lonely?” he asked.
“I mean, I did, after my divorce. It was such a hard time emotionally and I wanted you to know that I understand those feelings. If you ever need to talk to someone, I’m a good listener.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” Zach had no intention of combining business with pleasure. He’d made the mistake of letting the lines blur earlier. It had started out innocently—she’d joined him for lunch one day when Rosie had to cancel at the last moment. Later, when he realized how unreasonable Rosie had become, he’d asked Janice to help him look for an apartment. He’d hoped to shake up his wife, get her to recognize what she was doing. His attempt had failed, to say the least. Rosie had taken his leaving seriously and seemed more than happy to have him out of the house. Janice had found him an apartment, all right, and the lines had blurred even further when he’d accepted a housewarming gift from her and taken her and her son to lunch.
Janice hesitated. “I was thinking we could have dinner one night. My treat.”
Dinner? Her treat? No way. “I appreciate the invitation, but I don’t think it’s a good idea that we be seen together outside the office.” He wasn’t handing Rosie any ammunition or giving her one more excuse to toss accusations in his face. Unfortunately, living the way they did, moving in and out of the house, made confronting each other inevitable. Zach wasn’t happy about it and he suspected Rosie wasn’t, either.
“Maybe some other time,” Janice said, sounding hopeful.
“Maybe,” Zach agreed, but it wasn’t going to happen.
Rosie had claimed months earlier that Janice and Zach were having an affair. She was being ridiculous and had refused to believe him when he said they weren’t. Now he was beginning to wonder if Janice had been chasing after him. He hated the thought that he’d been played for a fool. If that was the case, then it was Rosie’s doing. She was the one so ready to leap to conclusions, so eager to find fault with him—so willing to abandon him to Janice’s attentions. Rosie had acted like a jealous shrew when she had no reason. It irritated him whenever he thought about it. Not that he was blaming Janice for their divorce. His marriage had been ailing for a long time before his assistant appeared on the scene.
Frowning as he walked out of the office, Zach refused to let his mind wander down the familiar paths of guilt and blame. His marriage was dead, and rehashing unresolved issues between him and Rosie would do no good.
Fifteen minutes later, Zach drove into the garage at 311 Pelican Court, the custom-built house he’d helped design. Together he and Rosie had pored over house plans for months on end. Despite this inconvenient arrangement, he felt grateful to the judge for her unconventional edict, since it meant he didn’t have to completely give up a place he loved.
To Zach’s surprise, the house was quiet when he came in through the kitchen door.
“Where is everyone?” he called as he set his briefcase on the counter.
“Here, Dad,” Eddie shouted from the family room. He was lying in front of the television on his stomach, manipulating the joystick to his video game. “Allison’s got a visitor in her bedroom,” he said, looking up at Zach. “It’s a boy.”
“What?” The word exploded out of Zach before he could stop it. He’d see about this. Allison knew the rules, and Rule Number One was no kids at the house without an adult present. No boys in her room, either. Ever.
Eddie nodded in the direction of the hallway. “Check it out.”
Zach didn’t need a second invitation. He practically ran to Allison’s bedroom; it was the fastest he’d moved in weeks. He pounded on the closed door, then flung it open. His daughter sat on the edge of her bed with her arms entwined around the neck of a skinny boy with long stringy hair badly in need of washing. He wore a black leather jacket and motorcycle boots that laced up to his knees. A studded leather dog collar circled his neck.
“Dad.” Allison’s eyes grew huge. “What are you doing here?”
“I live here three days a week. Who’s this?” He narrowed his gaze on the pimply-faced youth.
“This is Ryan Wilson. Ryan, this is my dad.”
“Ryan,” Zach said. He reached for the boy’s arm and jerked him to an upright position. “Nice to meet you.” Without taking a breath, he continued. “However, we have rules in this house and that includes no boys in my daughter’s bedroom.” He loomed over the teenager, who blinked up at him, face paling.
“Daddy,” Allison cried.
Zach ignored her. “If you want to see my