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“I can’t.”
Dillon kept his expression neutral, denying how disappointed he felt. Maybe he was all wrong about the two of them connecting. Maybe he was the only one aware of the electricity in the air when they were sitting close together like this. But then he leaned back in his chair, leveled his gaze on her and knew he wasn’t wrong. Still, this was her call. He wasn’t going to pressure her.
“Okay,” he said, pushing his chair back. “That’s settled then.”
But before he could pick up his cup of coffee, her hand clasped his forearm. The electricity was there all right—sparking, buzzing, tingling.
“I have a commitment tonight,” she explained. “It’s a potluck dinner with some of the women in my neighborhood. But …” She gave him an intriguing half smile.
“But?” he asked, denying the fact his heart rate had sped up.
“But you’re welcome to come along.”
“Won’t I be the only guy?”
“Is that too much of a challenge?” she teased.
He knew she wasn’t teasing entirely. It didn’t take a genius to realize this was probably some kind of test. She was throwing down a gauntlet. He’d spent much of his life picking up gauntlets. The future was always more exciting when he did.
“A potluck dinner sounds great. What can I bring?”
That evening Dillon’s rented luxury sedan followed Erika’s small Ford to an older section of Thunder Canyon, possibly an original section. The row houses—a mixture of brick, clapboard and stone—jutted in and out along tree-lined streets.
Erika pulled up in front of a narrow redbrick house that rose two stories. A windowsill box of colorful mums decorated the front window. The house next door, in gray brick instead of red, had a similar box at its front window.
As Erika stepped out of her car, Dillon joined her. She said, “I have to pop inside my place first to get my contribution to the supper, then we’ll go over and gather up Emilia.”
“Your mom lives next door?”
“Yes. It’s more than convenient. It’s wonderful really.
For a while I lived there with her and she wanted me to stay. But I needed a place of my own. This one went up for sale right when I was thinking of buying a house. I knew it was fate. It took every penny of my savings for a down payment, but I wanted something I could invest in and have for a lifetime, maybe even leave to Emilia someday. It’s not very big, but it’s perfect for the two of us.”
She walked up the two front steps and unlocked the door.
Leaning against the wrought-iron railing, Dillon asked, “Mind if I come inside?”
“Not at all.”
When Dillon walked in, he wasn’t sure what to expect. But right away he could see this little gem of a house was something special.
She saw him looking down at the gleaming wood floors and said, “They just needed to be refinished. I did it myself with a little help from our neighbor.”
“You do home improvement?” he asked with a smile.
“I watch the Home and Garden channel when I have a chance. I’ve learned a lot. I also go to the local hardware store and the clerks there fill me in on what I don’t know.”
The living room was to the right, off the small foyer. A braided rug in blue and green and yellow was surrounded by a comfortable-looking sofa and an easy chair in the same colors. Green throw pillows fringed in yellow picked up the colors in the curtains. An entire wall was devoted to framed photos of Emilia. Dillon felt the familiar lance to his heart as he remembered the photographs of Toby that had decorated his and Megan’s living room.
Shaking off the shadows, he noticed a red washbasket full of toys that sat in one corner accompanied by a milk crate that held books. Passing the stairway to the second floor, they headed through the dining room into the kitchen.
“If you haven’t guessed, I like blue and yellow a lot,” she said with a wide smile.
Dillon glanced around the room at the yellow cupboards with blue accents, a round table with a high chair positioned at it and two shelves of cookbooks in a corner hutch. A circular, stained-glass window let in jewel-colored light even as the sun descended. The overall effect of the first floor was charming, and he could imagine Erika happily running after Emilia, bringing laughter into all of the rooms.
“What?” she asked him when she caught him staring at her.
“You’re full of surprises. I never thought you’d dabble in paint or hardware.”
“I’m a single mom, Dillon. I do what I have to do.”
Yes, she was a single mom. He remembered being a dad. It sounded as if she’d always put her daughter first. He hadn’t put his son first. Not until it was too late.
She unplugged the Crock-Pot on her counter. “We’ll just put this in the backseat of the car. It will stay hot.”
Dillon crossed to the kitchen counter to help her. Standing beside her, looking down on her, smelling that wonderful scent from her hair, he wanted to kiss her more badly than he wanted to do anything else. She was looking up at him as if she might want it, too. But he wouldn’t rush anything with Erika. In fact, he shouldn’t even think about starting anything with Erika. She had a child. They lived in two different states.
She has a child, he repeated to himself.
“I’ll carry it,” he said, his voice a bit husky.
“It’s beef stew,” she said. “Most of us try to stretch out paychecks so you’ll see lots of casseroles, I’m afraid.”
“There’s nothing wrong with that.”
She quirked up her brows. “Just how often do you eat casseroles?”
He finally had to admit, “Not often. But that’s not because I don’t like them. I just usually grab some takeout supper, or eat at a restaurant.”
“No cooking skills?” she joked.
“No time to use cooking skills. That probably sounds like an excuse, but when I get home at nine o’clock some nights, the last thing I want to do is cook.” With sudden insight, he said, “That’s probably the same way you feel many nights, too, only you have a daughter to think about, so you don’t have a choice.”
Her eyes lingered on his. He thought her gaze dropped to his lips, stayed there a few seconds.
She brought her gaze to his again, then blushed a little. “Not many men understand that.”
“Maybe the men you’ve known don’t understand it, but I know men who do—Dax and D.J. particularly. Even I know that once children are in the picture, everything else should revolve around them.”
They came a little closer to each other, toe-to-toe. If he set down the stew, it would be easy to wrap his arms around her and bring her in for a kiss. But he knew this wasn’t the place or time to start something.
Still, he had the feeling something had already started.
“Speaking of children …” Erika joked, turning away to make sure everything was in order before they left. “If you put that in my car, I’ll get Emilia. Sometimes it takes a little while to coax her into her coat. She can be stubborn.”
Dillon went out the door first and Erika followed, locking the door. “I have a feeling you can be stubborn, too. Am I right?” he asked.
“Only when something is very important.”
A few minutes later, Mrs. Rodriguez was peering out the door when Emilia toddled down the steps and ran straight to Dillon. He’d just finished settling the pot on the floor of the car next to a huge box of chocolates he was contributing to the supper and spun around at the sound of her laughter.
That sound tore at his heart. But he lifted her, unable to resist holding Erika’s daughter. “Well, don’t you look pretty in that red sweater.”
She pulled a lock of her brown hair and grinned at him. “Cawwy … cawwy.”
Erika came over to her daughter and lifted her from Dillon’s arms. “I’ll carry you.”
But Emilia shook her head vigorously and pointed to Dillon.
Her gestures for some reason reminded him of Toby’s. “Would you like me to put you in your car seat?” he asked the almost two-year-old, his voice strained, not knowing if she’d understand.
She reached toward him again. “Go … go … go.”
Erika laughed and Dillon had to smile. At two, Toby had known what he’d wanted, too. When Dillon glanced at Mrs. Rodriguez, she wasn’t smiling. She waved goodbye but didn’t seem happy about her daughter driving off with a man. This Scott Spencerman must have done a number on them both.
A few minutes later, with Dillon driving her car, Erika was giving him directions to a church hall. It wasn’t far and they didn’t have time for conversation until right before they climbed out. Then she said, “Emilia doesn’t usually take to men as she’s taken to you.”
“Why do you think that is?”
“She hasn’t been around many men, so she sees them as strangers. But you—For some reason you’re different.”
Then Erika quickly unfastened her seat belt and exited the car.
Dillon watched as she expertly released Emilia from her car seat. But when Erika shut the back door of the car, Emilia reached her little hands toward Dillon. He could see Erika’s look of surprise. He was surprised, too. And touched … in a deep but bittersweet way.
Erika started to explain to her daughter, “Dr. Dillon doesn’t want—”
Dillon found himself responding impulsively, “Sure, Dr. Dillon will carry you inside. Come on.”
Emilia was a little bundle of sweater and cotton overalls. She smelled sweet and he recognized the shampoo scent, the same brand Allaire used on her child. She laughed up at him, her sparkling brown eyes full of mischief. Then as suddenly as she’d reached for him, she tucked her little head under his chin and poked her thumb into her mouth.
“I think she could become attached,” Erika said softly, a bit of worry in her tone.
“She’s a real gift, isn’t she?” he asked Erika, knowing what she’d been through.
“Yes, she is.”
An elemental understanding passed between them. It was bone-rattling in a way. Understanding could be as potent as chemistry.
He wondered if Erika felt the understanding, too, because suddenly she looked toward the social hall instead of looking at him, and said, “We’d better go inside.” Then she went to the backseat for the Crock-Pot. After handing him the chocolates, they strolled up the walk, side by side.
Inside the social hall, Dillon was surrounded by the sound of women’s voices. As he looked around, he realized this was indeed a test. Most of the women were accompanied by children. Already a few casseroles lined one of the tables. Paper dishes and plastic tableware marked each place. For once in his life, he wasn’t exactly sure what he should say, or what he should do. He was bombarded by memories of Toby as he caught sight of children with their moms playing with toys, sitting at the tables.
Leaning close to Erika, he asked, “Will there be gossip about you bringing me here?”
“Not the way I’m going to introduce you. I thought you could give them some tips on nutrition and on keeping their kids healthy.”
It was obvious Erika wasn’t ready to go on a “date” with him. It was also obvious she was comfortable here—more comfortable than she was with her coworkers at the resort. “Okay,” he agreed. “We’ll ward off gossip with facts about nutrition. Why don’t you introduce me? We’ll start with that.”
Erika clapped her hands for everyone’s attention. The chatter ebbed away as the women looked at her expectantly.
“I want you to meet Dr. Dillon Traub. He handles emergencies and ailments at the resort. If you have any questions about the best foods to feed your kids, or how to keep them healthy this winter, feel free to ask him.”
Dillon smiled at the women. “I don’t pretend to know all the answers, but if I can tell you anything that will help, I’ll be glad to do it.”
Tired of being held, Emilia squiggled around in his arms. He raised his brows at Erika.
“You can put her down. She likes to roam from chair to chair. Mom already fed her because she usually gets caught up in play with someone here and doesn’t eat.”
After Dillon set Emilia gently on the floor and she ran toward another little girl who looked to be about three, he took off his suit coat and laid it across the table at the rear of the room. Then he tugged down his tie, slung it from around his neck and stuffed it into his jacket pocket. His shirt sleeves were next. He rolled those up and felt a lot more comfortable.
As he took a seat next to Erika, women began filling the chairs around the table, introducing themselves and asking him questions. They weren’t shy and soon they were having a lively discussion about fresh foods, frozen vegetables and healthy snacks for kids. At one point, Dillon glanced at Erika and caught her watching him. Her interest gave him an odd feeling, but pleasurable and unsettling. What was he doing here? But then he realized, he enjoyed just being with Erika. The sound of her laughter entertained him, the curve of her hair against her cheek aroused him, her quick humor made him laugh. When her knee brushed his under the table, she quickly moved hers away. He felt sorry about that. The closeness of her body against his gave him an adrenaline rush he hadn’t experienced in a very long time.
Scalloped potatoes, chili, black-bean soup and homemade bread were all very good and he complimented the chefs. These women knew how to stretch a dollar and do it well. From what he overheard, they seemed to rely on each other for babysitting and rides to work when their cars broke down. Here, Erika was among friends who supported her.
Erika was fielding Emilia’s attempt to run around the table when Dillon caught sight of a young mother. She was holding the hand of a little boy who looked to be about five. As Dillon observed the child, he wondered if the boy had a fever. There was a glassy look to his eyes that Dillon didn’t like at all.
The women were mostly finished eating and talking among themselves. He pushed his chair back and casually made his way to the young woman and her child.
When he crouched down by the little boy, he said, “Hi, there. What’s your name?”
The little boy looked up at his mother.
“It’s okay,” she said.
“My name’s Kevin.”
Dillon extended his hand to the boy’s mother. “Dr. Traub.”
She took his hand hesitantly and shook it. “I’m Sue. Sue Kramer. Kevin isn’t feeling well. He has a sore throat.” Her arm went around her son’s shoulders.
Dillon felt Kevin’s forehead, then he took the boy’s pulse. It only took a few seconds for him to be able to tell Kevin’s heartbeat was fast. It was possible he could have strep, or it could simply be a virus. There was no way to know without a culture.
“I can’t really do a proper examination here,” Dillon said. “I’d like to make sure he doesn’t have strep throat.”
“Oh, but we don’t have any insurance,” she said, looking embarrassed.
“Do you have transportation?”
“Yes, my brother’s pickup truck. Why?”
Erika came over to them then and asked curiously, “What’s going on?”
“Kevin isn’t feeling well,” Dillon explained. “I’d like to take him to my office so I can examine him properly.”
“Where’s your office?” Sue asked.
“Thunder Canyon Resort.”
