Rainy Day Kisses

“I think you are, but don’t worry, I’ll take care of that.” He walked boldly into her kitchen and paused in front of the refrigerator. “Your mood will improve once you have something in your stomach.”

Shifting Michelle higher, Susannah stood and followed him. “You can’t just walk in here and—”

“I’ll say I can’t,” he murmured, his head inside her fridge. “Do you realize there’s nothing in here except an open box of baking soda and a jar full of pickle juice?”

“I eat out a lot,” Susannah said defensively.

“I can see that.”

Michelle had finished the bottle and made a slurping sound that prompted Susannah to remove the nipple from her mouth. The baby’s eyes were closed. Little wonder, Susannah thought. She was probably exhausted. Certainly Susannah was, and it was barely seven on Friday evening. The weekend was just beginning.

Setting the empty bottle on the kitchen counter, Susannah awkwardly lifted Michelle onto her shoulder and patted her back until she produced a tiny burp. Feeling a real sense of accomplishment, Susannah smiled proudly.

Nate chuckled and when Susannah glanced in his direction, she discovered him watching her, his grin warm and appraising. “You’re going to be fine.”

Flustered, Susannah lowered her gaze. She always disliked it when a man looked at her that way, examining her features and forming a judgment about her by the size of her nose, or the direction in which her eyebrows grew. Most men seemed to believe they’d been granted a rare gift of insight and could determine a woman’s entire character just by looking at her face. Unfortunately, Susannah’s was too austere by conventional standards to be classified as beautiful. Her eyes were deep-set and dark, her cheekbones high. Her nose came almost straight from her forehead and together with her full mouth made her look like a classic Greek sculpture. Not pretty, she thought. Interesting perhaps.

It was during Susannah’s beleaguered self-evaluation that Michelle stirred and started jabbering cheerfully, reaching one hand toward a strand of Susannah’s dark hair.

Without her realizing it, her chignon had come undone. Michelle had somehow managed to loosen the pins and now the long dark tresses fell haphazardly over Susannah’s shoulder. If there was one thing Susannah was meticulous about, and actually there were several, it was her appearance. She must look a rare sight, in an expensive business suit with a stained white blouse and her hair tumbling over her shoulder.

“Actually I’ve been waiting for an opportunity to introduce myself,” Nate said, leaning against the counter. “But after the first couple of times we saw each other, our paths didn’t seem to cross again.”

“I’ve been working a lot of overtime lately.” If the truth be known, Susannah almost always put in extra hours. Often she brought work home with her. She was dedicated, committed and hardworking. Her neighbor, however, didn’t seem to possess any of those qualities. She strongly suspected that everything in life had come much too easily for Nate Townsend. She’d never seen him without his baseball cap or his T-shirt. Somehow she doubted he even owned a suit. And if he did, it probably wouldn’t look right on him. Nate Townsend was definitely a football-jersey type of guy.

He seemed likable—friendly and outgoing—but from what she’d seen, he lacked ambition. Apparently there’d never been anything he’d wanted badly enough to really strive for.

“I’m glad we had the chance to introduce ourselves,” Susannah added, walking back into the living room and toward her front door. “I appreciate the help, but as you said, Michelle and I are going to be fine.”

“It didn’t sound that way when I arrived.”

“I was just getting my feet wet,” she returned, defending herself, “and why are you arguing with me? You’re the one who said I was doing all right.”

“I lied.”

“Why would you do that?”

Nate shrugged nonchalantly. “I thought a little self-confidence would do you good, so I offered it.”

Susannah glared at him, resenting his attitude. So much for the nice-guy-who-lives-next-door image she’d had of him. “I don’t need any favors from you.”

“You may not,” he agreed, “but unfortunately Michelle does. The poor kid was starving and you didn’t so much as suspect.”

“I would’ve figured it out.”

Nate gave her a look that seemed to cast doubt on her intelligence, and Susannah frowned right back. She opened the door with far more force than necessary and flipped her hair over her shoulder with flair a Paris model would have envied. “Thanks for stopping in,” she said stiffly, “but as you can see everything’s under control.”

“If you say so.” He grinned at her and without another word was gone.

Susannah banged the door shut with her hip, feeling a rush of satisfaction as she did so. She knew this was petty, but her neighbor had annoyed her in more ways than one.

Soon afterward Susannah heard the soft strains of an Italian opera drifting from Nate’s condominium. At least she thought it was Italian, which was unfortunate because that made her think of spaghetti and how hungry she actually was.

“Okay, Michelle,” she said, smiling down on her niece. “It’s time to feed your auntie.” Without too much trouble, Susannah assembled the high chair and set her niece in that while she scanned the contents of her freezer.

The best she could come up with was a frozen Mexican entrée. She gazed at the picture on the front of the package, shook her head and tossed it back inside the freezer.

Michelle seemed to approve and vigorously slapped the tray on her high chair.

Crossing her arms and leaning against the freezer door, Susannah paused. “Did you hear what he said?” she asked, still irate. “I guess he was right, but he didn’t have to be so superior about it.”

Michelle slapped her hands in approval once again. The music was muted by the thick walls, and wanting to hear a little more, Susannah cracked open the sliding glass door to her balcony, which was separated from Nate’s by a concrete partition. It bestowed privacy, but didn’t muffle the beautiful voices raised in triumphant song.

Susannah opened the glass door completely and stepped outside. The evening was cool, but pleasantly so. The sun had just started to set and had cast a wash of golden shadows over the picturesque waterfront.

“Michelle,” she muttered when she came back in, “he’s cooking something that smells like lasagna or spaghetti.” Her stomach growled and she returned to the freezer, taking out the same Mexican entrée she’d rejected earlier. It didn’t seem any more appetizing than it had the first time.

A faint scent of garlic wafted into her kitchen. Susannah turned her classic Greek nose in that direction, then followed the aroma to the open door like a puppet drawn there by a string. She sniffed loudly and turned eagerly back to her niece. “It’s definitely Italian, and it smells divine.”

Michelle pounded the tray again.

“It’s garlic bread,” Susannah announced and whirled around to face her niece, who clearly wasn’t impressed. But then, thought Susannah, she wouldn’t be. She’d eaten.

Under normal conditions, Susannah would’ve reached for her jacket and headed to Mama Mataloni’s, a fabulous Italian restaurant within easy walking distance. Unfortunately Mama Mataloni’s didn’t deliver.

Against her better judgment, Susannah stuck the frozen entrée into her microwave and set the timer. When there was another knock on her door, she stiffened and looked at Michelle as if the nine-month-old would sit up and tell Susannah who’d come by this time.

It was Nate again, holding a plate of spaghetti and a glass of red wine. “Did you fix yourself something to eat?” he asked.

For the life of her Susannah couldn’t tear her gaze away from the oversize plate, heaped high with steaming pasta smothered in a thick red sauce. Nothing had ever looked—or smelled—more appetizing. The fresh Parmesan cheese he’d grated over the top had melted onto the rich sauce. A generous slice of garlic bread was balanced on the side.

“I, ah, was just heating up a…microwave dinner.” She pointed behind her toward the kitchen as if that would explain what she was trying to say. Her tongue seemed to be stuck to the roof of her mouth.

“I shouldn’t have acted like such a know-it-all earlier,” he said, pushing the plate toward her. “I’m bringing you a peace offering.”

“This…is for me?” She raised her eyes from the plate, wondering if he knew how hungry she felt and was toying with her.

He handed her the meal and the wine. “The sauce has been simmering most of the afternoon. I like to pretend I’m a bit of a gourmet chef. Every once in a while I get creative in the kitchen.”

“How…nice.” She conjured up a picture of Nate standing in his kitchen stirring sauce while the rest of the world struggled to make a living. Her attitude wasn’t at all gracious and she mentally apologized. Without further ado, she marched into her kitchen, reached for a fork and plopped herself down at the table. She might as well eat this feast while it was hot!

One sample told her everything she needed to know. “This is great.” She took another bite, pointed her fork in his direction and rolled her eyes. “Marvelous. Wonderful.”

Nate pulled a bread stick out of his shirt pocket and gave it to Michelle. “Here’s looking at you, kid.”

As Michelle chewed contentedly on the bread stick, Nate pulled out a chair and sat across from Susannah, who was too busy enjoying her dinner to notice anything out of the ordinary until Nate’s eyes narrowed.

“What’s wrong?” Susannah asked. She wiped her mouth with a napkin and sampled the wine.

“I smell something.”

Judging by his expression, whatever it was apparently wasn’t pleasant. “It might be the microwave dinner,” she suggested hopefully, already knowing better.

“I’m afraid not.”

Susannah carefully set the fork beside her plate as uneasiness settled over her.

“It seems,” Nate said, covering his nose with one hand, “that someone needs to change Michelle’s diaper.”

CHAPTER 2

Holding a freshly diapered Michelle on her hip, Susannah rushed out of the bathroom into the narrow hallway and gasped for breath.

“Are you all right?” Nate asked, his brow creased with a concerned frown.

She nodded and sagged against the wall, feeling light-headed. Once she’d dragged several clean breaths through her lungs, she straightened and even managed a weak smile.

“That wasn’t so bad now, was it?”

Susannah glared at him. “I should’ve been wearing an oxygen mask.”

Nate’s responding chuckle did little to improve her mood.

“In light of what I just experienced,” she muttered, “I can’t understand why the population continues to grow.” To be on the safe side, she opened the hall linen closet and took out a large can of disinfectant spray. Sticking her arm inside the bathroom, she gave a generous squirt.

“While you were busy I assembled the crib,” Nate told her, still revealing far too much amusement to suit Susannah. “Where would you like me to put it?”

“The living room will be fine.” His action had been thoughtful, but Susannah wasn’t accustomed to depending on others, so when she thanked him, the words were forced.

Susannah followed him into the living room and found the bed ready. She laid Michelle down on her stomach and covered her with a handknit blanket. The baby settled down immediately, without fussing.

Nate walked toward the door. “You’re sure everything’s okay?” he said softly.

“Positive.” Susannah wasn’t, but Michelle was her niece and their problems weren’t his. Nate had done more than enough already. “Thanks for dinner.”

“Anytime.” He paused at the door and turned back. “I left my phone number on the kitchen counter. Call if you need me.”

“Thanks.”

He favored her with a grin on his way out the door, and Susannah stood a few moments after he’d left the apartment, thinking about him. Her feelings were decidedly mixed.

She began sorting through the various bags her sister had brought, depositing the jars of baby food in the cupboard and putting the bottles of formula in the fridge. As Nate had pointed out, there was plenty of room—all she had to do was scoot the empty pickle jar aside.

She supposed she should toss the jar in the garbage, but one of the guys from the office had talked about making pickled eggs. It sounded so simple—all she had to do was peel a few hard-boiled eggs and keep them refrigerated in the jar for a week or so. Susannah had been meaning to try it ever since. But she was afraid that when the mood struck her, she wouldn’t have any pickle juice around, so she’d decided to keep it on hand.

Once she’d finished in the kitchen, Susannah soaked in a hot bath, leaving the door ajar in case Michelle woke and needed her. She felt far more relaxed afterward.

Walking back into the living room on the tips of her toes, she brought out her briefcase and removed a file. She glanced down at her sleeping niece and gently patted her back. The little girl looked so angelic, so content.

Suddenly a powerful yearning stirred within Susannah. She felt real affection for Michelle, but the feeling was more than that. This time alone with her niece had evoked a longing buried deep in Susannah’s heart, a longing she’d never taken the time to fully examine. And with it came an aching restless sensation that she promptly submerged.

When Susannah had chosen a career in business, she’d realized she was giving up the part of herself that hungered for husband and children. There was nothing that said she couldn’t marry, couldn’t raise a child, but she knew herself too well. From the time she was in high school it had been painfully apparent that she was completely inadequate in the domestic arena. Especially when she compared herself to Emily, who seemed to have been born with a dust rag in one hand and a cookbook in the other.

Susannah had never regretted the decision she’d made to dedicate herself to her career, but then she was more fortunate than some. She had Emily, who was determined to supply her with numerous nieces and nephews. For Susannah, Michelle and the little ones who were sure to follow would have to be enough.

Reminding herself that she was comfortable with her choices, Susannah quietly stepped away from the crib. For the next hour, she sat on her bed reading the details of the proposed marketing program the department had sent her. The full presentation was scheduled for Monday morning and she wanted to be informed and prepared.

When she finished reading the report, she tiptoed back to her desk, situated in the far corner of the living room, and replaced the file in her briefcase.

Once more she paused to check on her niece. Feeling just a little cocky, she returned to the bedroom convinced this babysitting business wasn’t going to be so bad after all.

* * *

Susannah changed her mind at one-thirty when a piercing wail startled her out of a sound sleep. Not knowing how long Michelle had been at it, Susannah nearly fell out of bed in her rush to reach her niece.

“Michelle,” she cried, stumbling blindly across the floor, her arms stretched out in front of her. “I’m coming…. There’s no need to panic.”

Michelle disagreed vehemently.

Turning on a light only made matters worse. Squinting to protect her eyes from the glare, Susannah groped her way to the crib, then let out a cry herself when she stubbed her toe on the leg of the coffee table.

Michelle was standing, holding on to the bars and looking as if she didn’t have a friend in the world.

“What’s the matter, sweetheart?” Susannah asked softly, lifting the baby into her arms.

A wet bottom told part of the story. And the poor kid had probably woken and, finding herself in a strange place, felt scared. Susannah couldn’t blame her.

“All right, we’ll try this diapering business again.”

Susannah spread a thick towel on the bathroom counter, then gently placed Michelle on it. She was halfway through the changing process when the phone rang. Straightening, Susannah glanced around her, wondering what she should do. She couldn’t leave Michelle, and picking her up and carrying her into the kitchen would be difficult. Whoever was calling at this time of night should know better! If it was important they could leave a message on her answering machine.

But after three rings, the phone stopped, followed almost immediately by a firm knock at her door.

Hauling Michelle, newly diapered, Susannah squinted and checked the peephole to discover a disgruntled Nate on the other side.

“Nate,” she said in surprise as she opened the door. She couldn’t even guess what he wanted. And she wasn’t too keen about letting him into her apartment at this hour.

He stood just inside the condo, barefoot and dressed in a red plaid housecoat. His hair was mussed, which made Susannah wonder about her own disheveled appearance. She suspected she looked like someone who’d walked out of a swamp.

“Is Michelle all right?” he barked, despite the evidence before him. Not waiting for a reply, he continued in an accusing tone, “You didn’t answer the phone.”

“I couldn’t. I was changing her diaper.”

Nate hesitated, then studied her closely. “In that case, are you all right?”

She nodded and managed to raise one hand. It was difficult when her arms were occupied with a baby. “I lived to tell about it.”

“Good. What happened? Why was Michelle crying?”

“I’m not sure. Maybe when she woke up and didn’t recognize her surroundings, she suffered an anxiety attack.”

“And, from the look of us, caused a couple more.”

Susannah would rather he hadn’t mentioned that. Her long, tangled hair spilled over her shoulders and she, too, was barefoot. She’d been so anxious to get to Michelle that she hadn’t bothered to reach for her slippers or her robe.

Michelle, it seemed, was pleased with all the unexpected attention, and when she leaned toward Nate, arms outstretched, Susannah marveled at how fickle an infant could be. After all, she was the one who’d fed and diapered her. Not Nate.

“It’s my male charm,” he explained delightedly.

“More likely, it’s your red housecoat.”

Whatever it was, Michelle went into his arms as if he were a long-lost friend. Susannah excused herself to retrieve her robe from the foot of her bed. By the time she got back, Nate was sitting on the sofa with his feet stretched out, supported by Susannah’s mahogany coffee table.

“Make yourself at home,” she muttered. Her mood wasn’t always the best when she’d been abruptly wakened from a sound sleep.

He glanced up at her and grinned. “No need to be testy.”

“Yes, there is,” she said, but destroyed what remained of her argument by yawning loudly. Covering her mouth with the back of her hand, she slumped down on the chair across from him and flipped her hair away from her face.

His gaze followed the action. “You should wear your hair down more often.”

She glared at him. “I always wear my hair up.”

“I noticed. And frankly, it’s much more flattering down.”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” she cried, “are you going to tell me how to dress next?”

“I might.”

He said it with such a charming smile that any sting there might have been in his statement was diluted.

“You don’t have to stick with business suits every day, do you? Try jeans sometime. With a T-shirt.”

She opened her mouth to argue with him, then decided not to bother. The arrogance he displayed seemed to be characteristic of handsome men in general, she’d noted. Because a man happened to possess lean good looks and could smile beguilingly, he figured he had the right to say anything he pleased to a woman—to comment on how she styled her hair, how she chose to dress or anything else. These were things he wouldn’t dream of discussing if he were talking to another man.

“You aren’t going to argue?”

“No,” she said, and for emphasis shook her head.

That stopped him short. He paused and blinked, then sent her another of his captivating smiles. “I find that refreshing.”

“I’m gratified to hear there’s something about me you approve of.” There were probably plenty of other things that didn’t please him. Given any encouragement, he’d probably be glad to list them for her.

Sweet little traitor that she was, Michelle had curled up in Nate’s arms, utterly content just to sit there and study his handsome face, which no doubt had fascinated numerous other females before her. The least Michelle could do was show some signs of going back to sleep so Susannah could return her to the crib and usher Nate out the door.

“I shouldn’t have said what I did about your hair and clothes.”

“Hey,” she returned flippantly, “you don’t need to worry about hurting my feelings. I’m strong. I’ve got a lot of emotional fortitude.”

“Strong,” he repeated. “You make yourself sound like an all-weather tire.”

“I’ve had to be tougher than that.”

His face relaxed into a look of sympathy. “Why?”

“I work with men just like you every day.”

“Men just like me?”

“It’s true. For the past seven years, I’ve found myself up against the old double standard, but I’ve learned to keep my cool.”

He frowned as if he didn’t understand what she was talking about. Susannah felt it was her obligation to tell him. Apparently Nate had never been involved in office politics. “Let me give you a few examples. If a male coworker has a cluttered desk, then everyone assumes he’s a hard worker. If my desk is a mess, it’s a sign of disorganization.”

Nate looked as if he wanted to argue with her, but Susannah was just warming to her subject and she forged ahead before he had a chance to speak. “If a man in an office marries, it’s good for the company because he’ll settle down and become a more productive employee. If a woman marries, it’s almost the kiss of death because management figures she’ll get pregnant and quit. If a man leaves because he’s been offered a better job, everyone’s pleased for him because he’s taking advantage of an excellent career opportunity. But if the same position is offered to a woman and she takes it, then upper management shrugs and claims women aren’t dependable.”

When she’d finished there was a short pause. “You have very definite feelings on the subject,” he said at last.

“If you were a woman, you would, too.”

His nod of agreement was a long time coming. “You’re right, I probably would.”

Michelle seemed to find the toes of her sleeper fascinating and was examining them closely. Personally, Susannah didn’t know how anyone could be so wide-awake at this ungodly hour.

“If you turn down the lights, she might get the hint,” Nate said, doing a poor job of smothering a yawn.

“You’re beat,” said Susannah. “There’s no need for you to stay. I’ll take her.” She held out her arms to Michelle, who whimpered and clung all the more tightly to Nate. Susannah’s feelings of inadequacy were reinforced.

“Don’t worry about me. I’m comfortable like this,” Nate told her.

“But…” She could feel the warmth invading her cheeks. She lowered her eyes, regretting her outburst of a few minutes ago. She’d been standing on her soapbox again. “Listen, I’m sorry about what I said. What goes on at the office has nothing to do with our being neighbors.”

“Then we’re even.”

“Even?”

“I shouldn’t have commented on your hair and clothes.” He hesitated long enough to envelop her in his smile. “Friends?”

Despite the intolerable hour, Susannah found herself smiling back. “Friends.”

Michelle seemed to concur because she cooed loudly, kicking her feet.

Susannah stood and turned the lamp down to its lowest setting, then reached for Michelle’s blanket, covering the baby. Feeling slightly chilled herself, she fetched the brightly colored afghan at the foot of the sofa, which Emily had crocheted for her last Christmas.