stacking. “That cost me the chance to have a child of my own with him. Had I pushed for the one thing I truly wanted, a baby, I wouldn’t have been alone when he died. I would have also proven myself a capable parent. Nobody would wonder whether I could care for Harry.”
This time Cullen took the step back. “You’re saying you don’t want me around me because I’m like your husband?”
She raked her fingers through her hair. “Yes. No. Because for me this isn’t about you and me. It can’t be. It has to be about Harry.”
“Why?”
“You don’t think he’ll miss you when you return to Miami?”
And suddenly he got it. They were talking about Harry, but she was also talking about herself. She would be hurt when he left. She would miss him.
He took another step back. Away from her. The events from Friday night came back to him in a rush. He couldn’t help himself from being romantic with her, from touching her, from wanting to kiss her again. Now, she was telling him she didn’t want to be involved with him because he reminded her of her husband. Which should—and did—put the appropriate fear in him. Tighten his chest. Make his heart speed up and his stomach tighten. She was seeing him as a husband.
And he was a bachelor. She’d even gone so far as to accuse him of being a playboy. He liked Miami. He loved nightlife. He wasn’t wild about responsibility so he chose his responsibilities carefully.
But the way he was behaving around her reminded her of a husband.
He took another step back. “I’m helping Harry through a tough time in his life. He needs me because he knows I understand him because my mother also died recently. But by the time I leave, he’ll be adjusted to you, secure with you. He’ll miss me a bit, but not for long.”
“Really?”
The trust in her eyes nearly was his undoing. No one had ever looked at him like that.
He pulled in a breath. Took another step back. He’d never wanted anyone to look at him like that.
“Take it from a guy who had to get adjusted to a lot as a kid. Once Harry feels secure with you, I could fall off the face of the earth and he’d be okay in a day or two. It’s in this transition time as he’s adjusting to living with you that he needs someone he thinks understands, and that’s why I’m making myself available.”
She smiled and nodded, and Cullen turned on his heel, eager to escape to Paul McCoy’s office, but he stopped and faced her again.
“For the record, I would never deliberately hurt anyone.” It was as close as he could come to telling her that he understood her fears. She didn’t want his advances, didn’t want to get too close because she would be hurt when he left.
He got it.
Now he just had to stop himself from acting on all the impulses that raced through him whenever she was around.
Harry’s mood improved greatly on Tuesday morning. Wendy made him oatmeal, sprinkled it with cinnamon and sugar and promised him a trip to the mall after school. She didn’t downplay his sadness or his fear of being alone, but rather, tried to show him he was secure with her by feeding him and taking him to school. She promised him the trip to the mall to demonstrate that life went on by making plans for the future.
Walking into work, on time, she experienced a swell of pride until she glanced into Cullen’s office and saw him sitting behind Mr. McCoy’s big desk.
She knew she’d scared him silly the day before by telling him he reminded her of her husband. She’d done it on purpose. He liked her. She liked him. Their chemistry could go off the charts if they let it, and he didn’t seem to have a practicality switch or understand that they were opposites. He might be the if-it-feels-good-do-it type, but she wasn’t. If they got involved, he’d have a good time, maybe be sad when he returned to sunny Miami, but in twenty minutes on his boat he’d forget all about her. While she’d be left in snowy Pennsylvania with a broken heart.
No thanks.
She understood that Cullen being in Harry’s life in Harry’s time of trouble was a good thing. She also got Cullen’s point that by the time he left Pennsylvania, Harry would be adjusted. Though he’d miss Cullen, he wouldn’t pine for him because he’d be secure with Wendy by then. So it was good for Cullen to be involved with Harry. His point had been made. But she’d also made her point with him. He had to stop giving in to their attraction.
She didn’t even poke her head into his office to say good morning. Instead, she stripped off her coat, hung it in the small closet, and went straight to work. A half hour later, he strolled out of his office and stopped in surprise. “Oh, you’re here.”
She smiled her best administrative-assistant smile. Friendly, but not personal. “I’ve been here a while.”
He angled his hip on her desk and made himself comfortable. “So everything went well this morning?”
“Yes. Harry’s back to being his typical sunny self.” She pushed her chair back, rose and took some papers to the filing cabinet, putting some distance between them.
“That didn’t take long.”
Deliberately occupied with filing so she wouldn’t look at him, she said, “As you said, he’s becoming secure with me.”
“You sound like the girl giving the morning news when you talk like this.”
“Really?”
Cullen was about to say yes, but he stopped himself. This was the reason she would miss him when he left. Because of one icy night together they’d bonded enough that making conversation came naturally. Easily. And, for two people totally unsuited to each other, they really were beginning to like each other too much. He’d already decided to rein in his romantic impulses, but he now saw the reining had to include private conversations.
Without replying, he returned to Paul McCoy’s desk. He tried to read the numbers on the production reports, but he couldn’t focus, and soon they blurred on the sheet in front of him. Before he knew it, he was thinking about how nice Wendy looked in her blue sweater. With a growl of annoyance, he rose and walked to the window, shifting his thoughts in a direction they were allowed to go: Harry. But thoughts of Harry naturally segued to Wendy again.
He glanced out at her. She sat at her desk diligently typing on her computer keyboard. She’d make a terrific mom, and that made his heart swell with respect for her. He liked Harry. In fact, he saw a little bit of his own loneliness and insecurity as a child when he looked at Harry. Knowing exactly how Harry felt, if he had one wish, it would be that Harry could feel safe and secure. Always. For the rest of his life.
He turned back to the window. He didn’t trust wishes. He trusted in his own abilities. Even as a child, he’d quickly realized the only person he could count on was himself. So if he wanted to help Harry, it couldn’t be with a wish. It would have to be with something substantial he could do—
Returning to his desk, he grabbed the phone and punched the intercom numbers for the human resources director. There was something he could do. And that something might even be why fate had brought him to Barrington.
When Poppy Fornwalt answered her phone, Cullen said simply, “I want the detailed wage reports for the past six months.”
Wednesday morning, Harry dressed himself for school and had toast ready for Wendy when she ambled into the kitchen. Pleased, thinking her life was finally settling into a routine, she hugged him and he proudly served her toast with strawberry jam.
Off in her own little world, contemplating how great life would be now for both her and Harry, she drove to work and was surprised out of her reverie when Poppy Fornwalt called her down to her office.
She entered with an enthusiastic hello, and dark-haired, blue-eyed Poppy looked up with a smile. “Close the door.”
Wendy