Almost Like Love(17)

His nephew had always been a quiet boy, and the two of them had never really connected. But since Jacob had come here to live, he’d been more than quiet. He’d been silent and withdrawn.

For the first few months, Ian had respected Jacob’s obvious desire to spend his free time alone, figuring that was his way of dealing with his grief. Ian made it clear he was ready to listen if Jacob wanted to talk, but beyond that, he didn’t push his nephew to interact with him.

But when the school year began, Ian started to worry that Jacob’s behavior was more than a normal response to the loss of a parent. If his nephew had mouthed off or acted out, Ian would have known better how to deal with him. But he’d never been around a kid who was so . . . remote.

In the fall, Ian pushed him to try out for his school’s soccer team—or any sports team. Jacob had refused, politely but firmly. Ian took him to games—baseball, football, basketball—but Jacob always brought a book along. When Ian tried to talk him into going to the park to toss a Frisbee or a football around, Jacob always turned him down.

As Ian grew more worried, he wondered if he should take his nephew to see a therapist. Not only to help him deal with his mother’s death, but in case he had Asperger syndrome or something on that spectrum.

Whatever was going on with Jacob, Ian felt out of his depth. They’d been living together for almost a year and nothing had changed. Jacob’s grades were good, and his teachers spoke highly of him, but they also noticed that he kept to himself and seemed to have little interest in making friends.

The intercom buzzed. “Mr. Hart? Kate Meredith is on her way up.”

“Thanks, Harvey.”

What he’d told Kate was true: he hadn’t had many options for Jacob tonight. The agencies he’d called were booked up, the two young people in the building he trusted to babysit were busy, and his closest friends would be at the wedding.

But he hadn’t called Kate only as a last resort. Other factors—ones he wasn’t all that eager to admit to—had been part of his decision.

There was the fact that if Kate were over here, she wouldn’t be at a nightclub, hooking up with a stranger. And if Kate were over here, he’d get to see her again.

He told himself that desperation was the main reason he’d called her and that anything else was a minor factor at best. Then he remembered their conversation and found himself smiling.

Somehow, he wasn’t surprised at the price Kate had demanded for helping him out—not money, but a concession that people could be unselfish. That was the naive, idealistic Kate he knew.

He was looking forward to seeing her again and putting her back in the box he’d always kept her in: charming but infuriating, and definitely not someone he was interested in sexually.

Last night had been unsettling for both of them. It would be good to get back on more familiar footing, but with a little more civility and mutual respect between them.

There was a knock on the door, and he went to open it.

He’d planned to give Kate an easy, friendly greeting—something that would make it clear that the previous night’s interaction had been an anomaly, the consequence of alcohol and her bad day.

But when he opened the door and saw her standing there, the words died on his lips.

She didn’t look anything like the sexy vixen of the night before, but it didn’t matter. His body reacted the same way—hardening and tightening, his heartbeat quickening.

She was wearing a pair of old, worn jeans that showcased her long legs, and a faded tee shirt she filled out impressively. She wore no makeup and her eyes looked a little tired, but they were still beautiful—dark blue and fringed with thick lashes.

As for those soft, full lips . . .

He cleared his throat. “Hi, Kate. Thanks again for doing this.”

“No problem. Do you need help with that?”

She was looking below his chin, and he realized she meant his bow tie, which hung loose around his neck.

“Uh . . . sure. Okay.”

It took her only about ten seconds, which was fairly impressive. He concentrated on keeping his eyes away from her cleavage.

She stepped back with satisfaction. “What do you think?” she asked, nodding towards the mirror that hung next to the coat rack.

He stepped in front of it, putting himself shoulder to shoulder with Kate. He knew he was supposed to be looking at the tie, but for a moment all he could see was the two of them.

When she wasn’t in heels, the top of her head was about level with his chin.

Perfect kissing distance.

She was smiling at him in the mirror, and he smiled back. “It looks great,” he said, even though he hadn’t so much as glanced at the tie. When he did, though, he found it was true.