“You’re sitting in front of an open window. It can’t be more than sixty degrees out there.” With a little grunt, Jody shoved the window closed.
“I was feeling kind of warm.” Cybil set her pencil aside to stroke Charlie’s pudgy cheek. “It’s miraculous, isn’t it, that men start out this way? As pretty little babies? Then they … wow, boy do they grow up into something else.”
“Yeah.” Puzzled, Jody frowned, examined her friend’s somewhat glassy eyes. “You look funny. Are you okay?” Jody laid a maternal hand on Cybil’s forehead. “No fever. Stick out your tongue.”
Cybil obeyed, crossing her eyes as she did and making Charlie bubble with laughter. “I’m not sick. I’m fabulous. I feel like a million after taxes.”
“Hmm.” Unconvinced, Jody pursed her lips. “I’m going to put Charlie down for his morning nap. He’s zonked. Then I’ll get us some coffee and you can tell me what’s going on.”
“Sure. Um-hmm.” Dreaming again, Cybil picked up a red pen and began to doodle pretty little hearts on scrap paper.
Since that was fun, she drew larger ones, sketching McQuinn’s face inside one.
He had a great one, she mused. Hard mouth, cool eyes, very strong features set off by that thick, dark hair. But that mouth softened a bit when he smiled. And his eyes weren’t cool when he laughed.
She loved making him laugh. He always sounded just a little out of practice. She could help him with that, she mused, drawing his face again with the warmth of laughter added. After all, one of her nice little talents was making people laugh.
And after she’d helped him find some steady work, he wouldn’t have so much to worry about.
She’d get him some work, make certain that he ate regular meals—she was always cooking too much for one person anyway—and she was sure she could find someone who had a secondhand sofa they were willing to part with on the cheap.
She knew enough people to start the ball rolling here and there for him. He’d feel better, wouldn’t he, once he was more settled in, more secure? It wouldn’t be like meddling. That was her grandfather’s territory. She would just be helping out a neighbor.
A gorgeous, sexy neighbor who could kiss a woman straight into the paradise of delirium.
Of course that wouldn’t be why she was doing it. Cybil shook herself, turned the scraps of paper over a little guiltily. She’d helped Mr. Peebles find a good podiatrist, hadn’t she? And nobody would consider him a cool-eyed Adonis with great hands, would they?
Of course not.
She was just being a good neighbor. And if there were any other … benefits, well, so what?
Satisfied with her plans, she folded her legs under her and got back to work.
* * *
Jody settled the baby, thinking as she always did when she tucked him in that he was the most beautiful child ever to grace the planet. When his heavy eyes shut, his blanket was smoothed and his favorite teddy bear left on guard, she trotted downstairs to turn down the music.
As at home in Cybil’s kitchen as her own, she poured morning coffee into two thick yellow mugs, sniffed out a couple of cranberry muffins, then loaded up a tray.
The midmorning ritual was one of her favorite parts of the day.
In the past few years, Cybil had become as close as a sister to her. Closer, Jody thought, wrinkling her nose. Her own sisters were always bragging about their husbands, their kids, their houses—when anyone could see her Chuck and her Charlie were miles superior. But Cybil listened. Cybil had held her hand through the difficult decision to quit her job and stay home with the baby full-time. It had been Cybil who’d stood by during those early days when she and Chuck had been panicked over every burp and sniffle Charlie had made.
There was no better friend in the world. Which was why Jody was determined to see Cybil blissfully happy.
She carried the tray up, set it on the table, then handed Cybil her mug.
“Thanks,
“I was feeling kind of warm.” Cybil set her pencil aside to stroke Charlie’s pudgy cheek. “It’s miraculous, isn’t it, that men start out this way? As pretty little babies? Then they … wow, boy do they grow up into something else.”
“Yeah.” Puzzled, Jody frowned, examined her friend’s somewhat glassy eyes. “You look funny. Are you okay?” Jody laid a maternal hand on Cybil’s forehead. “No fever. Stick out your tongue.”
Cybil obeyed, crossing her eyes as she did and making Charlie bubble with laughter. “I’m not sick. I’m fabulous. I feel like a million after taxes.”
“Hmm.” Unconvinced, Jody pursed her lips. “I’m going to put Charlie down for his morning nap. He’s zonked. Then I’ll get us some coffee and you can tell me what’s going on.”
“Sure. Um-hmm.” Dreaming again, Cybil picked up a red pen and began to doodle pretty little hearts on scrap paper.
Since that was fun, she drew larger ones, sketching McQuinn’s face inside one.
He had a great one, she mused. Hard mouth, cool eyes, very strong features set off by that thick, dark hair. But that mouth softened a bit when he smiled. And his eyes weren’t cool when he laughed.
She loved making him laugh. He always sounded just a little out of practice. She could help him with that, she mused, drawing his face again with the warmth of laughter added. After all, one of her nice little talents was making people laugh.
And after she’d helped him find some steady work, he wouldn’t have so much to worry about.
She’d get him some work, make certain that he ate regular meals—she was always cooking too much for one person anyway—and she was sure she could find someone who had a secondhand sofa they were willing to part with on the cheap.
She knew enough people to start the ball rolling here and there for him. He’d feel better, wouldn’t he, once he was more settled in, more secure? It wouldn’t be like meddling. That was her grandfather’s territory. She would just be helping out a neighbor.
A gorgeous, sexy neighbor who could kiss a woman straight into the paradise of delirium.
Of course that wouldn’t be why she was doing it. Cybil shook herself, turned the scraps of paper over a little guiltily. She’d helped Mr. Peebles find a good podiatrist, hadn’t she? And nobody would consider him a cool-eyed Adonis with great hands, would they?
Of course not.
She was just being a good neighbor. And if there were any other … benefits, well, so what?
Satisfied with her plans, she folded her legs under her and got back to work.
* * *
Jody settled the baby, thinking as she always did when she tucked him in that he was the most beautiful child ever to grace the planet. When his heavy eyes shut, his blanket was smoothed and his favorite teddy bear left on guard, she trotted downstairs to turn down the music.
As at home in Cybil’s kitchen as her own, she poured morning coffee into two thick yellow mugs, sniffed out a couple of cranberry muffins, then loaded up a tray.
The midmorning ritual was one of her favorite parts of the day.
In the past few years, Cybil had become as close as a sister to her. Closer, Jody thought, wrinkling her nose. Her own sisters were always bragging about their husbands, their kids, their houses—when anyone could see her Chuck and her Charlie were miles superior. But Cybil listened. Cybil had held her hand through the difficult decision to quit her job and stay home with the baby full-time. It had been Cybil who’d stood by during those early days when she and Chuck had been panicked over every burp and sniffle Charlie had made.
There was no better friend in the world. Which was why Jody was determined to see Cybil blissfully happy.
She carried the tray up, set it on the table, then handed Cybil her mug.
“Thanks,
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