him to leave with her refusal to talk hanging in the air between them, she took them back to neutral conversational ground. “Thanks again for your help.”
Shrugging into his overcoat, he nodded. “It’s not a problem.”
His voice was gruff, as if her refusal to talk had annoyed him, so she smiled and said, “Still, it’s very kind of you to be so good to Harry.”
“I’m good to Harry because I like him.” He spoke softly, and Wendy quickly glanced over at him. “I like you both.”
His unexpected statement left Wendy with no chance to stop her automatic response to it. Her cheeks flushed. The air in the room evaporated. Joy coursed through her veins. All of which was ridiculous. They could not have a relationship. She shouldn’t even want a relationship with a playboy who would disappear from her life when his work in Barrington was done. But with Harry in the picture, it was doubly wrong.
She quickly turned to the sink again, grabbed a paper towel from the wall-mounted roller and dried her hands. Keeping her voice light and friendly, she said, “We like you, too.”
She heard him take the few steps to the counter and wasn’t surprised when she felt his hands on her shoulders, or that he turned her to face him. “No. I mean I really like you. I feel so at home here.”
Not knowing whether to be relieved or disappointed, Wendy laughed. “You lived here. Of course, you feel at home here.”
He shook his head. “This was hardly a home. My parents were rarely around. Which was actually good because when they were here they fought.”
“Your parents fought in front of you?”
“They weren’t much on the decorum of fighting.” He took a breath, as if he couldn’t believe he’d actually admitted that. “My dad wanted to leave Barrington. He knew he could start an investment firm anywhere. But my mom didn’t want to leave her friends. The people who depended on her for their jobs.”
Wendy’s eyes widened. “That’s why you didn’t want to go into the plant alone?”
“No. I’ve simply never been on the plant floor before. I didn’t know anyone and I didn’t want to scare anyone. The first morning, when I saw everybody peeking into your office to say good morning in the few minutes before you came into my office to explain why you were late, I knew you were the perfect person to introduce me around.”
That made sense, but she suddenly realized they were standing close, his hands still on her shoulders. Memories of their kiss came tiptoeing back, causing her lips to tingle and her breathing to falter. He was the first man to kiss her since Greg. She’d been alone so long. Empty for so long—
Neither of which made wanting him right. Especially when he was so wrong for her.
She cleared her throat. “I guess I’d better finish cleaning up so I can get up on time for Harry tomorrow.”
He grinned. “You slept in? That’s why you were late Monday morning?”
“It wasn’t funny. I’m trying to be a good parent to Harry, and the very first time he was supposed to be somewhere I slept in.”
“Oh, Wendy,” he said, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her close. “You are only human.”
The feeling of being held by a man flooded her system. The joy of the emotional connection with someone who seemed genuinely to like and understand her nearly overwhelmed her. Then the scent of his aftershave filtered to her and she realized her breasts were nestled against his chest. Their thighs brushed. Strong muscles braced her softer form. They fitted together perfectly. And she so wanted to fit with someone again.
She took a breath to bring herself back to reality. She and Cullen didn’t fit. He was a playboy. She wouldn’t get involved with a man who wouldn’t be interested in anything permanent. By Christmas day he’d be gone. If she depended upon him too much, grew accustomed to having him around, or, God forbid, actually fell in love with him, she’d find herself with a broken heart on Christmas morning.
She pulled herself out of Cullen’s warm embrace. “Thanks for your help tonight.” She motioned to the door. “I’ll see you on Monday.”
Time suspended for the few seconds it took for Cullen to get her message. It looked as if he might say something, then he turned on his heel and headed for the door. “Good night, Wendy.”
“Good night, Cullen.”
She said the words softly, but it really didn’t matter. He’d already walked out and closed the door. The soft click echoed through her empty kitchen.
Busying herself with finishing the dishes, she ignored the emptiness. She was glad he could help her through some of the initial difficulties with Harry. She wasn’t too proud to refuse the assistance that a scared little boy needed. But she was also smart enough not to get sucked into the daydream that she might be the woman to tame the playboy who owned the company where she worked. She was even smarter not to get involved with another man who would dictate, not discuss. She’d been hurt once and she wouldn’t let it happen again. She had everything she wanted now. A child. And she would never risk hurting Harry.
She dried her hands on a paper towel and threw it in the trash before heading for bed. If she was so smart and had done all the right things, why the hell was she so damned disappointed that he hadn’t argued, but had simply gone?
Which proved she really didn’t mean anything to him.
CULLEN just barely caught his flight to Miami. Exhausted from the week of almost nonstop work, he fell asleep two minutes after takeoff, and woke when the wheels touched down at Miami International. But part of him was glad. He’d never felt as odd as when Wendy showed him the door that night. She’d kicked him out. Out. After he’d helped her! And told her the thing about his parents that he’d never told anyone. That they fought. Often. If he’d stayed awake, he would have spent the entire flight fuming about that.
Hoisting his duffel bag off the carousel in baggage claim, echoes of the odd sensations he’d felt when she pointed at her kitchen door rumbled through him again. He reminded himself that he had already been in his coat and she probably had been tired. Walking out into the balmy Miami night, he decided that she hadn’t so much kicked him out as gotten him moving.
In his Mercedes, he lowered the convertible top and exited the airport, letting the wind whip through his hair as he made his way to the house on the beach that he shared with his dad.
But he couldn’t stop thinking about Wendy, about how the emotion of the situation had caused him to hug her and her to cuddle into his embrace. What he’d felt in those few seconds was different than anything he’d ever felt with a woman.
He frowned. Maybe different wasn’t the right word. Expanded was better. He felt all the usual male/female things he felt when he held a woman, but there was more.
Over an icy weekend, they’d both helped Harry adjust to living with her. She’d told him bits and pieces of her life. He’d told her bits and pieces of his. Together they’d told Harry about his dad, then helped him get through the difficult evening with hot dogs and s’mores.
Of course he felt close to her. He typically didn’t get this involved in anybody’s personal life. When he pulled her into his arms, he wasn’t simply wooing an attractive woman, he was holding somebody he knew. Somebody he liked. The velvet of her skin was warm and familiar. The questions in her eyes echoed his own. In a few short visits, they’d become so close that he swore he could feel her heart beating.
Then she’d kicked him out.
With a growl of annoyance, he reminded himself he’d already figured out that she’d done it because she was tired, but he suddenly realized that wasn’t what bothered him. The real