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“Thank you. And I’m very sorry—”
The door shut in her face before Emily could apologize again for disturbing him.
“Come on.” Patrick nodded toward the car.
When they’d walked several yards, Emily mused, “Did it seem as if he wanted to get rid of us?”
“He was in a hurry. We caught him on his way out the door.”
“Yes…but, still, he seemed a little odd.”
Patrick stopped walking. “Grief will do that to a person.” His voice was low.
Somehow, Emily got the impression he was speaking from experience. “Yes, it will.”
He started walking again.
She resisted the urge to ask him who he grieved for. “I’ll let you know if there’s anything interesting on the disk.”
He was silent for a moment, until they reached the SUV, where he again opened the passenger door for her. “How about if I let you know if there’s anything interesting on the disk?”
“Absolutely not. I didn’t pester that poor man only to get secondhand information from you.”
“I’m not letting that disk out of my sight. At least not until I make a copy. My place isn’t too far from here. We can stop, make a copy and I’ll drop you off at your car.”
Emily glanced at her watch and groaned. “It’s almost nine o’clock and Jason probably didn’t put the kids to bed on time. How about if I make a copy and drop it off at school tomorrow?”
“No way.”
“You’re the one who said I was trustworthy.” She raised her chin.
“I said you seemed trustworthy.”
“Thanks a bunch.”
He stepped closer. “Look, I’ve got a lot riding on this Sea World trip.”
His proximity flustered her. Emily would have agreed to nearly anything to get him to back off. “Fine. Why don’t you drop me off at my van, then follow me to my house. I’ll make you a copy of the disk.”
The dome light cast a weak yellow glow over her shoulder, revealing only his profile. But there was enough light for Emily to see him wince, as if he’d rather do anything than be in her home. Maybe it should have struck her as funny, but instead, it made her sad.
“Or the offer’s still open—I can drop off a copy at school first thing tomorrow morning. Those are your choices.”
Shaking his head, he went around to the driver’s side and got in. “I’ll follow you home.” His voice was resigned, as if he faced impending death.
“Patrick, I promise Jason will be on his very best behavior.”
He mumbled something under his breath that sounded an awful lot like, “That’s what I’m afraid of.”
EMILY PARKED and waited for Patrick to set the SUV alarm.
She prayed, silently, that the house would be somewhat presentable.
Patrick approached, eyeing the front of her home. “Nice. With all those planting beds, you must be quite a gardener.”
Shrugging, Emily said, “I should have tulips coming up soon if the weather holds. And I’ll add a few annuals, but nothing fancy, I’m afraid.” She fit the key in the lock, her mouth dry. She felt very, very vulnerable inviting Patrick Stevens into her home.
The sight that greeted her made her want to turn tail and run. To Patrick Stevens, it would seem like the inmates were running the asylum. And a chaotic asylum at that.
“Come in.” Her voice was weak.
Of course, it could have been because she was drowned out by the cacophony of blaring TV, a barking dog, yowling cats and screaming children.
Emily wished the ground would swallow her whole.
When it didn’t, she squared her shoulders and entered the fray. She caught Mark by the arm as he raced past her. “Whoa.” Then she snagged Ryan by the neck of his superhero pajamas. “What’s going on here. Where’s Jason?”
Both boys laughed uproariously, as if she’d entered the comedy hall of fame. Their red fruit-drink mustaches made them look like slightly insane clowns.
She gripped Mark’s arm a little tighter. “I said, where is Jason?” she asked between clenched teeth.
The boys apparently scented danger through their sugar-induced high and settled down immediately.
Ryan pointed toward the family room. “Watchin’ TV.”
Emily frowned. She’d blocked the Playboy Channel, so she was pretty sure it wasn’t a porn problem. Marching around the corner, she realized maybe the porn channel would have been the lesser of two evils.
“Ja-son.” It came out high-pitched.
But Jason didn’t seem to hear. Neither did his girlfriend, Cassie.
Truth be told, Emily couldn’t tell where Jason left off and Cassie began, they were so intertwined. Fortunately, both seemed to be fully clothed. And there were two feet touching the floor. Cassie’s by the looks of them.
“Cassie.” It was whispered, almost a hiss. And perfectly pitched to get through the haze of lust hanging in the room.
Cassie shot to a sitting position, adjusting her clothes. “Um, Mrs. Patterson, hi.”
“Time for you to go, Cass.”
“Yes, ma’am.” She threw a geometry book in her backpack and scrambled for the door.
“Jason, I’ve been very clear that friends aren’t allowed over when I’m not home. I would suggest you go up to your room and we’ll discuss this later.” Certain death was promised in her tone, and Jason for once heeded the warning.
His eyes widened when he glanced past her and saw his nemesis, Patrick Stevens, standing in their living room.
Jason vaulted the coffee table and took the stairs two at a time.
“I haven’t seen him move that fast in months.” Emily released a shaky breath.
“Last time I saw him move that fast was after there was a small explosion in the boys’ restroom.” Patrick’s tone was dry. He shook his head mournfully, as if to say, “What did I expect?”
Emily wanted to sit down in the middle of the floor and cry.
But there was still one child left unaccounted for.
“Where’s Jeremy?”
“Upstairs. Reading.”
Jeremy, the good child. At least she’d been blessed with one kid who seemed to have both feet on the ground. Literally, and figuratively speaking.
“What’s Clifford barking about?” she asked.
Both boys shrugged.
“He was howlin’ earlier,” Mark offered.
Oh, no. “What did you feed him? He only howls when he’s about to—”
Emily slapped a hand over her mouth. She advanced on the black Lab, grasping him by the collar and marching him out the door.
That left only the two cats barreling through the house as if possessed.
“Catnip?” She didn’t really need to ask.
The boys nodded and giggled.
“You two say good-night to Mr. Stevens, go brush your teeth and get to bed. And I better see clean teeth, not just wet toothbrushes. I’m on to that trick.”
The boys stepped in front of Patrick, gazing upward with awe. “G’night, Mr. Stevens.”
“Good night, boys,” came his strangled reply.
Emily wouldn’t have been surprised if Patrick had run from the house screaming.
But instead, his eyes sparkled, as if he were having a hard time containing laughter.
And for some reason that made Emily mad.
“Mark, Ryan, bed. Now.”
They trotted up the stairs, the picture of obedience.
Then Emily turned her attention to Patrick, who grinned.
“You think it’s funny? You think you could do better? I might just leave right now. As the only adult, you’re honor bound to watch them until I get back.” She’d made up the rule, but it sounded good.
And evidently Patrick took her at her word, because he became very serious. The Patrick she was accustomed to.
“Yes, ma’am.”
If he saluted, she’d have to kill him.
Fortunately, he didn’t.
PATRICK WAS VERY AWARE of Emily’s presence as she peered over his shoulder at the computer screen.
“Nothing there,” she said. “Next page?”
“You’re sure you read that?”
“I can speed read.”
Evidently, he must’ve allowed his shock to show.
“What? Lots of people speed read.”
“Yes, I’m sure you’re right.”
“Or are you just surprised I know how to read the words with more than one syllable?”
Patrick winced. She was dead on.
“Why is it that men assume I must be stupid? Just because I’m, um, full-figured and tell a joke here and there.”
He eyed her cautiously over his shoulder. She made him nervous, standing so close, her breath warm on his ear. If he turned a fraction more, he’d have a tantalizing view of the lace playing hide-and-seek with her cleavage.
“Voluptuous and irreverent.”
“What?”
“That’s how I think of you.”
“Oh.”
Emily remained silent after that.
He hoped she knew he meant it as a compliment. And hoped she didn’t realize how totally distracting the combination was.
Closing his eyes, he tried to summon the image of Ari and Kat, laughing at the antics of dolphins.
It worked. Emily’s curves were no longer an issue. Patrick was a man with a mission.
The documents flew by, a journal-like testimonial to how overscheduled Tiffany Bigelow had been.
Along about page four, Patrick started to sweat. Tiffany had apparently been unwilling or unable to refuse a single request for funds. A little mental math told him she’d promised more money than the PTO was likely to raise in four years, let alone four months.
His heart sank. He no longer wanted to think about Ari and Kat at Sea World. Because, instead, all he saw was the sad acceptance in their dark eyes. And the I-knew-it-was-too-good-to-be-true slump to Kat’s shoulders. Worse would be Ari’s devastation, because he’d believed Patrick’s promises with his whole being.
