“I’ve told you. My aunt Ellen called about the teaching position here and I decided to give it a try. I was actually working when she called me—a small, but interesting part in a critically well-received off-Broadway production. The public hasn’t really discovered it yet, but I think it will happen soon.”
Sometimes when Trevor looked at her, she felt as though he could look right into her head. It was those unnervingly intense blue eyes of his—they sometimes seemed to see too much. She wouldn’t want him to guess that she’d come back partially because he was here. She had only recently admitted that to herself.
“So you just dropped everything in New York and came back here because you heard there was an opening for a drama teacher?” he asked, politely skeptical.
She lowered her eyelashes to conceal her expression—just in case he could see more than she wanted him to. “Yeah. Something like that.”
He obviously didn’t believe her, but he must have decided he had no right to pry any further. He took another sip of his coffee and set it aside. “I forgot to tell you that Tara called just before I left the house this evening. She said to tell you hello.”
“How is she?”
“Ready for the baby to be born. They already know it’s a girl. They’re going to call her Alison.”
“Pretty.”
“Mom’s beside herself, of course, at the thought of another grandchild. She does love being a grandma.”
“You’re lucky to have her. I know she’s been a big help to you with the children.”
“I don’t know what I’d have done without her,” he admitted. “She actually enjoys baby-sitting. She even asks me to let her keep the kids.”
Jamie couldn’t help comparing Trevor’s family to her own. His could have come from a 1950s sitcom. Lawyer father, schoolteacher mother, three smart, well-behaved offspring. Sure, they were McBrides—but they’d been remarkably scandal-free in comparison to the other branches of the family, as far as Jamie knew. Had Trevor’s wife not died in that car accident, he would probably still be living that Norman Rockwell life, himself.
Though the prospect of having her own children seemed remote at the moment, Jamie couldn’t imagine her mother being a devoted grandparent. Lorena Flaherty spent her days in a blurry haze of booze and television. The only time she’d paid much attention to Jamie in the past few years was when Jamie had had a small, ten-week part on Lorena’s fa
vorite soap opera. During their usually stilted weekly phone calls, Lorena had pelted Jamie with questions about the other characters. Somewhat pitifully, she had seemed to truly believe the actors were the people they played—she’d even confused Jamie with her character a few times, chiding her for causing problems between a popular pair of lovers in the story.
She would have to give birth on the air to get her mother’s attention, Jamie thought with long-resigned irony. And then she wondered what had triggered the thought. It wasn’t as if she was planning to have children any time soon—if ever.
“Do you want more coffee?” she asked, nodding toward Trevor’s empty cup.
“No. Actually, there’s something I still have to do this evening.”
“Oh?” She wasn’t sure how to read his expression.
He nodded. “You told me to be prepared to grovel. I’m ready to do so now.”
She’d almost forgotten their little spat earlier in the week. “Perhaps you’ve noticed that I’ve forgiven you. Groveling isn’t necessary at this point.”
“You’re sure?”
“Quite sure.”
“I’m happy to hear that,” he said, and pulled her toward him.
Her mouth only an inch or so from his, she murmured, “It was probably the case of Gummi Bears you brought when you picked me up this evening that did the trick.”
He chuckled, his breath whisper-warm against her lips. “It was a toss-up between Gummi Bears and diamonds.”
Cupping his face between her hands, she pulled him closer. “You made the right choice.”
He couldn’t know how much it had touched her to find him on her doorstep with the big box of candies in his hand. Diamonds could never have affected her the way the whimsical gesture and his slightly sheepish smile had.
She was crazy about his mouth, she thought as they dived into an eager kiss. His lower lip was full, his upper lip straight and firm. Two deep creases bracketed his smile—not dimples, exactly, but sexy hollows that begged to be explored with the tip of her tongue. Delicious.
They stretched the kiss out a very long time. When it ended, Jamie was sitting on Trevor’s lap, his arms around her, hers locked around his neck. “Funny,” she said. “I seem to keep ending up here.”
“I’m not complaining.”