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When Georgia came down the next morning, the couch was empty, the bedding neatly folded. The bathroom door was shut, and she heard the shower running. She had dressed in jeans and a dark-blue T-shirt after a quick shower upstairs. Her short honey-blond hair was damp and curling from the humidity. She hardly looked like a woman who planned to be married shortly, she reflected. Of course, try to tell Jackson Bradshaw that. His suspicious mind would reason that she was merely trying to trick him and perhaps had a wedding gown on underneath her outfit.
Never one to wear much makeup, she had taken the time to cover the dark shadows under her eyes with a dab of concealer and slap on a bit of lip gloss. She needed a little boost to her self-confidence this morning in order to take on the “dragon” again.
She swiftly got the coffee maker started and pulled out the ingredients for breakfast from the refrigerator. She was a good cook—a great cook, some said—and she now strategized that Jackson Bradshaw’s temperament might be improved by a tasty meal.
She imagined that he hadn’t eaten during his long, arduous journey last night and would appreciate a good breakfast—crisp bacon, blueberry pancakes, scrambled eggs and freshly squeezed orange juice. And even if the good food didn’t mollify his contentious personality, the distraction of chewing and swallowing would at least slow down his interrogation.
For Georgia fully expected another interrogation this morning regarding the whereabouts of Will Bradshaw. Or perhaps Jackson thought all he had to do was hang around Georgia in order to catch the slippery groom?
She didn’t want him hanging around here all day, she reflected as she whipped the pancake batter with nervous energy. Something about the man positively…unnerved her. It wasn’t just his difficult personality. That she could deal with. If only he was short, paunchy, balding…why, she’d have no problem at all dealing with him. But no, he had to be so…so…outrageously attractive it made her brain blow a fuse when he so much as smiled at her. Thank goodness he was such a sourpuss he rarely did.
She lowered the heat under a skillet of simmering bacon and sliced some fruit into a colorful bowl.
No, she hadn’t been attracted to a man in such a way in a long, long time. It would have been funny actually, if it wasn’t so annoyingly perverse, that of all the men she’d met lately, she should have such a reaction to this one.
“Just my luck,” Georgia reflected wryly as she tested the griddle.
“What’s your luck?” a deep voice interrupted her thoughts.
Georgia looked up, trying to hide her surprise. “Umm…just talking to myself about the weather. It’s still pouring out.”
“Yes, I noticed…. Though they say rain is good luck on a wedding day,” he added pointedly.
“Oh, yes. My wedding. I nearly forgot,” she replied dryly. She lightly slapped her forehead. “Thanks for the reminder.”
“Not at all,” he replied politely.
She finally lifted her head and took a good look at him.
If he’d looked good last night in damp, rumpled clothes and a day’s growth of beard, he looked even better now. Fresh from the shower, he wore the borrowed black T-shirt that was attractively form-fitting and a pair of gray sweatpants that hung low on his slim hips. He’d obviously used the little plastic razor she’d found and had only nicked himself once, on the chin, she noticed. Her hands itched to test the smoothness of his lean cheeks.
She abruptly turned back to her cooking. “Help yourself to coffee. Breakfast will be ready in a few minutes.”
“Smells good in here.” He poured himself a mug of coffee. “I never have time for a real breakfast.”
“Well, this is a real one, a high-cholesterol special. I hope you’re not a health food freak or anything like that?”
“Even if I was, right now I could eat anything you put in front of me.”
She laughed. “Did you sleep okay?”
“Once I transferred from that back-breaking sofa to the floor.”
“Yes, I imagine the floor would have been more comfortable after all,” she agreed, the corner of her mouth itching to smile.
He leaned on the counter and sipped his coffee, watching her. The thoughtful expression on his face unnerved her. She wished he would go and sit at the table or something, but she didn’t want to ask him outright. His nearness made her self-conscious, and she focused on the pancakes. She didn’t want them to get overcooked and tough. She tested the edge of one with the spatula, then flipped it expertly.
“You do that very well,” he observed.
“I was a cook in a diner once,” she confided, “one of my many employment experiences. But you probably know all about the exciting chapter of my life from your…research?” she prodded him.
“My research?” His cheeks looked a bit flushed under his bronzed complexion. “Oh, yes, I do remember reading that,” he admitted. “It’s hard work for a woman, cooking in a diner,” he added thoughtfully.
“It’s hard for anyone,” she corrected. “But the lady who owned the place was a good sort. She let me take Noah along sometimes when I couldn’t get a sitter.”
“You took your baby to work with you?” he asked in disbelief. “Was that…safe for him?”
“He was fine. I’d set him up on the counter in his little infant seat. All the waitresses took turns holding him and playing with him. They made such a fuss over him, they spoiled him silly. You’d think he had about ten grandmas.”
She turned and looked at him. She and this man were obviously from different worlds—different planets, in fact. Clearly, he’d never known what it meant to struggle to pay the bills, pay the rent, stretch every dollar to the end of the month. There was no way to explain that reality to him. She would be wasting her breath even trying.
“It was either take him…or get fired,” she added. “And I needed my paycheck.”
“I understand,” he said thoughtfully.
“No, I don’t think you do,” she replied. Someone like Jackson Bradshaw could research someone like her for ages, and though they might get the facts in black-and-white, they’d never understand the whole story, she reflected.
The kitchen suddenly felt small, his presence distracting her. Disturbing her. The sound of the rain steadily beating on the windowpanes made the room feel close and airless.
She suddenly thought about the way he’d kissed her—and the way she’d reacted to him. Neither of them had spoken about it afterward, and she certainly wasn’t about to start the morning off on that topic. When she’d thought it over later, she wondered if he was perhaps testing her. Trying to see if she’d be faithful to his brother or willing to flirt with any guy who crossed her path. Yet his kiss had been so intense, so passionate, it was hard to believe it had been merely a test.
What did it matter? she finally decided. It had been a fluke. An aberration. It wouldn’t happen again. She wouldn’t allow it. He was a totally condescending snob, anyway. How could she ever be attracted to a man like him?
“Can I help in some way? Set the table perhaps?” he offered politely.
“Thanks, would you? The plates are in that cupboard and the silverware in this drawer,” she directed him. “Why don’t you turn on the radio so we can hear the weather report?” she added.
The lively chatter of a local morning radio show helped ease the tension in the room, Georgia thought. But the news was not good. “And the record rainfall is expected to continue throughout the day, folks, with flooding reported on Route 6, west and north of town, and most of the side roads washed out. In other words it’s a great day to stay indoors if you can. Unless you’re a duck,” there was a loud quacking sound accompanied by the announcer’s chuckle. “And if you do go out today, don’t forget those hip waders. We’ve got mud out there up to our dang eyebrows, don’t we, Wally?” he asked his partner.
“Up to the old…wazoo, buddy boy,” Wally rejoined. There was a funny, twanging noise—a mouth harp, probably—that made Georgia smile. “Look for a break in the clouds sometime tomorrow afternoon, friends.”
“Can’t they just give a blasted forecast, without the comedy?” Jackson scowled, his expression darkening. “I don’t suppose the rental car company can even get a tow truck out here in this weather, much less a replacement car.”
Georgia glanced over at him as she set a platter of golden pancakes on the table. “I’d doubt it.”
From the looks of things, she was going to be up to her old wazoo with Jackson Bradshaw for the rest of the day, short of some miraculous break in the weather. The twist of his fine lips told her he was thinking the same.
“Blueberry pancakes! Cool! And it’s not even Sunday!” Noah’s chipper voice broke the heavy silence as he raced into the kitchen and headed for the table. But suddenly noticing the stranger in the room, his sneakered feet skidded to a halt near his mother.
“Noah, this is the man I told you about, the one that got stuck on the road last night. His name is Jackson.”
Georgia carefully omitted adding Jackson’s last name. Noah was so bright, he’d surely make the connection between Will—who he’d recently started addressing as Uncle Will—and his older brother. One slip from Noah, and her charade would be blown. Could she possibly keep this farce afloat until the rain let up?
“How do you do?” Jackson said politely. “You must be Noah.” He held his hand out to Noah, and they shook in a manly fashion.
“How d’ ya do,” Noah echoed, puffing himself up to his full height.
During encounters like this one she was always amazed to see how much her boy had matured. He’d always been a good kid, never causing her much trouble. But it was clear to her lately that his baby days were well and truly over. At times like this he seemed to be a little man. His eyeglasses which he’d needed since age four—with their owlish, tortoise-shell frames—also added to the impression. His remarkable intelligence made him seem older than most children his age.
Teachers had told her that Noah was more than simply intelligent, he was actually gifted. He’d skipped second grade and might skip fourth, too. But he was still a bit bored with school. Unfortunately, there weren’t any special programs in their small public school system for gifted children, and Georgia couldn’t afford a private school.
She hoped that later, when Noah was older, she could somehow provide the type of educational environment that would challenge and nurture his intellectual potential. But for now she did what she could by buying him books, educational toys and encouraging his varied interests. This summer he was going to spend two weeks at a special science camp, and she had nearly saved enough to buy him a computer for Christmas. Will was going to help her choose something suitable. While Faith and Will were visiting, Noah and Will had struck up a great rapport. Noah was fascinated with stories of Will’s scientific research, and Georgia thought her son’s new uncle was going to be a wonderful influence.
She wondered now about Jackson. What kind of influence, if any, would he have on Noah? For, in fact, though he had no idea of it, they were all related now by Faith and Will’s secret marriage.
Georgia brought the rest of the food to the table. She sat at one end of the small table, and Jackson sat at the other. Noah sat between them. Everyone was quiet for a while as they fixed their plates and began eating.
“Is a tow truck coming to pull your car out of the mud?” Noah asked, chewing a slice of bacon.
“I hope so,” Jackson answered. “I haven’t made any calls yet.”
“The storm front isn’t expected to pass this area until late tonight. A front of cooler, drier air is moving south, through the midwestern states, at about twenty miles per hour,” Noah explained in a patient tone to the adults. “It could reach us tonight. Or could be stalled out by another low pressure system coming in from the Gulf region,” he warned.
Jackson stared at the boy, wide-eyed, a forkful of pancakes held halfway between his plate and mouth. “You don’t say.”
“Noah is very interested in the weather,” Georgia explained. “He has a weather-band radio up in his room.”
“Can I watch the tow truck when it comes, Mom?” Noah asked, suddenly sounding his age again. “Please?” he wheedled.
“We’ll see,” Georgia replied.
“I bet they’ll send a flatbed,” Noah said with anticipation.
“They’d better send a tugboat,” Jackson replied glumly as he glanced out the window. He dabbed at his mouth with a napkin. “Great pancakes, by the way,” he added to Georgia.
“Thanks,” Georgia replied. Was her cooking softening him up, she wondered? He hadn’t mentioned Will or her so-called wedding plans in—what was it?—an entire ten minutes.
“I bet Will can eat a dozen of these,” Jackson said with a challenging look at Georgia. “He always had a thing for blueberry pancakes.”
Noah’s face brightened. “Do you know my uncle Will?”
“Don’t be silly, Noah,” Georgia said nervously. “How could he know Uncle Will? He means…someone else.”
She glanced back at Jackson and felt her throat get tight.
It was too late. The damage had been done. His tense, alert expression was that of a lion who had just caught the scent of his prey.
“You have an uncle Will, do you?” he asked Noah in a light, conversational tone. “That’s funny. I have a brother with the same name.”
“What a coincidence,” Georgia said, interrupting. She felt a sinking sensation in her stomach. “More pancakes anyone? Bacon? Orange juice?”
“I’ll have another pancake, please,” Noah said.
Jackson glared at her. He turned his attention back to his breakfast, obviously debating the ethics of prodding her son for information.
“When you’re done with your breakfast, I want you to go straight upstairs and…clean up your room,” Georgia said firmly to Noah.
“But my room is totally neat,” Noah protested. “You made me pick up yesterday, Mom, before I got my allowance. Don’t you remember?”
“How about that hamster cage?” Georgia persisted. “I think Harry needs his cage cleaned.”
“But, Mom…” Noah complained as he swallowed the last of his breakfast.
“Don’t argue with your mother, son,” Jackson said firmly.
His deep, commanding voice surprised both Georgia and Noah. They both stared over at him. Georgia didn’t know whether to thank him—or tell him he had no right to interfere with her parenting.
Noah glanced over at Jackson, then seemed resigned to obeying. “Okay, okay.” He got up from his chair and took his plate to the sink. “I guess Harry’s cage could use a cleanup.”
Georgia felt relieved as she watched her son leave the kitchen. As if she’d averted a near disaster.
But the feeling of impending doom was on her again when Jackson suddenly rose from his chair with a warm smile. “Hey, Noah. I’d love to see your room,” he said brightly. “Can I help with the hamster?”
“Uh…sure,” Noah replied. He glanced at Georgia as if checking for her approval, but Georgia was too shocked to object.
So he interpreted her momentary silence as an okay. “Harry is unique,” he eagerly explained to Jackson. “He only has three legs, but it doesn’t bother him any. He runs on his wheel and everything. I also have a hermit crab and a newt,” he said proudly.
“You don’t say?” Jackson replied.
“Uncle Will says the next time he comes, he’s going to bring me real rat. A white one.”
“A white rat, eh?” Jackson leaned back in his chair, clearly fascinated by this turn in the conversation. “Now, whatever made your uncle think of bringing you a rat for a pet?”
“He’s a scientist. An ornithologist. That means he studies birds. He specializes in birds that live near the ocean,” Noah explained. “But they use white rats a lot at the university where he teaches. In the laboratory…for experiments and stuff.”
“Oh, your uncle is an ornithologist,” Jackson repeated quietly. “Very impressive. And there’s another coincidence. My brother Will is a marine ornithologist, too.”
His tone brought to mind the rumble of distant thunder, Georgia thought. But Noah didn’t seem to notice and prattled on.
“Aunt Faith says once she had a white rat as a pet, and Mommy thought the tail was creepy. She screamed every time my aunt brought it anywhere near her.”
“Aunt Faith?” Jackson’s voice rose on a puzzled note and Georgia’s heart skipped a beat. Here it comes, she thought, bracing herself. “Who is Aunt Faith?” Jackson asked patiently.
“My mom’s sister,” Noah replied, as if everyone knew that.
“She and Uncle Will stayed here for a few weeks, then they left to get ma—”
“Jackson?” Georgia cut in. “I think we need to talk for a moment. Before you check out Noah’s menagerie, I mean.”
This had gone far enough, Georgia decided. She wasn’t going to sit back and watch Noah get stuck in the middle of this totally adult mess. If anyone was going to tell Jackson the truth, it was up to her.
“If you say so, Georgia,” he replied. He turned to her, and she could see that he knew she was ready to tell all. He practically rubbed his hands together in anticipation, she noticed.
But before he moved in for the kill, he thoughtfully turned to Noah. “Why don’t you start on Harry’s cage? I’ll be up in a minute,” he promised. He reached out and ruffled Noah’s dirty-blond hair.
“Okay,” Noah agreed, giving Jackson a solemn look. “I’ll get everyone ready.”
Watching their exchange, Georgia felt oddly touched to see Jackson treat Noah with such kind, consideration. Then she whisked the thought aside. She couldn’t afford warm feelings toward Jackson Bradshaw.
