abruptly turned back to her cooking. “Help yourself to coffee. Breakfast will be ready in a few minutes.”
“Smells good in here.” He poured himself a mug of coffee. “I never have time for a real breakfast.”
“Well, this is a real one, a high-cholesterol special. I hope you’re not a health food freak or anything like that?”
“Even if I was, right now I could eat anything you put in front of me.”
She laughed. “Did you sleep okay?”
“Once I transferred from that back-breaking sofa to the floor.”
“Yes, I imagine the floor would have been more comfortable after all,” she agreed, the corner of her mouth itching to smile.
He leaned on the counter and sipped his coffee, watching her. The thoughtful expression on his face unnerved her. She wished he would go and sit at the table or something, but she didn’t want to ask him outright. His nearness made her self-conscious, and she focused on the pancakes. She didn’t want them to get overcooked and tough. She tested the edge of one with the spatula, then flipped it expertly.
“You do that very well,” he observed.
“I was a cook in a diner once,” she confided, “one of my many employment experiences. But you probably know all about the exciting chapter of my life from your…research?” she prodded him.
“My research?” His cheeks looked a bit flushed under his bronzed complexion. “Oh, yes, I do remember reading that,” he admitted. “It’s hard work for a woman, cooking in a diner,” he added thoughtfully.
“It’s hard for anyone,” she corrected. “But the lady who owned the place was a good sort. She let me take Noah along sometimes when I couldn’t get a sitter.”
“You took your baby to work with you?” he asked in disbelief. “Was that…safe for him?”
“He was fine. I’d set him up on the counter in his little infant seat. All the waitresses took turns holding him and playing with him. They made such a fuss over him, they spoiled him silly. You’d think he had about ten grandmas.”
She turned and looked at him. She and this man were obviously from different worlds—different planets, in fact. Clearly, he’d never known what it meant to struggle to pay the bills, pay the rent, stretch every dollar to the end of the month. There was no way to explain that reality to him. She would be wasting her breath even trying.
“It was either take him…or get fired,” she added. “And I needed my paycheck.”
“I understand,” he said thoughtfully.
“No, I don’t think you do,” she replied. Someone like Jackson Bradshaw could research someone like her for ages, and though they might get the facts in black-and-white, they’d never understand the whole story, she reflected.
The kitchen suddenly felt small, his presence distracting her. Disturbing her. The sound of the rain steadily beating on the windowpanes made the room feel close and airless.
She suddenly thought about the way he’d kissed her—and the way she’d reacted to him. Neither of them had spoken about it afterward, and she certainly wasn’t about to start the morning off on that topic. When she’d thought it over later, she wondered if he was perhaps testing her. Trying to see if she’d be faithful to his brother or willing to flirt with any guy who crossed her path. Yet his kiss had been so intense, so passionate, it was hard to believe it had been merely a test.
What did it matter? she finally decided. It had been a fluke. An aberration. It wouldn’t happen again. She wouldn’t allow it. He was a totally condescending snob, anyway. How could she ever be attracted to a man like him?
“Can I help in some way? Set the table perhaps?” he offered politely.
“Thanks, would you? The plates are in that cupboard and the silverware in this drawer,” she directed him. “Why don’t you turn on the radio so we can hear the weather report?” she added.
The lively chatter of a local morning radio show helped ease the tension in the room, Georgia thought. But the news was not good. “And the record rainfall is expected to continue throughout the day, folks, with flooding reported on Route 6, west and north of town, and most of the side roads washed out. In other words it’s a great day to stay indoors if you can. Unless you’re a duck,” there was a loud quacking sound accompanied by the announcer’s chuckle. “And if you do go out today, don’t forget those hip waders. We’ve got mud out there up to our dang eyebrows, don’t we, Wally?” he asked his partner.
“Up to the old…wazoo, buddy boy,” Wally rejoined. There was a funny, twanging noise—a mouth harp, probably—that made Georgia smile. “Look for a break in the clouds sometime tomorrow afternoon, friends.”
“Can’t they just give a blasted forecast, without the comedy?” Jackson scowled, his expression darkening. “I don’t suppose the rental car company can even get a tow truck out here in this weather, much less a replacement car.”
Georgia glanced over at him as she set a platter of golden pancakes on the table. “I’d doubt it.”
From the looks of things, she was going to be up to her old wazoo with Jackson Bradshaw for the rest of the day, short of some miraculous break in the weather. The twist of his fine lips told her he was thinking the same.
“Blueberry pancakes! Cool! And it’s not even Sunday!” Noah’s chipper voice broke the heavy silence as he raced into the kitchen and headed for the table. But suddenly noticing the stranger in the room, his sneakered feet skidded to a halt near his mother.
“Noah, this is the man I told you about, the one that got stuck on the road last night. His name is Jackson.”
Georgia carefully omitted adding Jackson’s last name. Noah was so bright, he’d surely make the connection between Will—who he’d recently started addressing as Uncle Will—and his older brother. One slip from Noah, and her charade would be blown. Could she possibly keep this farce afloat until the rain let up?
“How do you do?” Jackson said politely. “You must be Noah.” He held his hand out to Noah, and they shook in a manly fashion.
“How d’ ya do,” Noah echoed, puffing himself up to his full height.
During encounters like this one she was always amazed to see how much her boy had matured. He’d always been a good kid, never causing her much trouble. But it was clear to her lately that his baby days were well and truly over. At times like this he seemed to be a little man. His eyeglasses which he’d needed since age four—with their owlish, tortoise-shell frames—also added to the impression. His remarkable intelligence made him seem older than most children his age.
Teachers had told her that Noah was more than simply intelligent, he was actually gifted. He’d skipped second grade and might skip fourth, too. But he was still a bit bored with school. Unfortunately, there weren’t any special programs in their small public school system for gifted children, and Georgia couldn’t afford a private school.
She hoped that later, when Noah was older, she could somehow provide the type of educational environment that would challenge and nurture his intellectual potential. But for now she did what she could by buying him books, educational toys and encouraging his varied interests. This summer he was going to spend two weeks at a special science camp, and she had nearly saved enough to buy him a computer for Christmas. Will was going to help her choose something suitable. While Faith and Will were visiting, Noah and Will had struck up a great rapport. Noah was fascinated with stories of Will’s scientific research, and Georgia thought her son’s new uncle was going to be a wonderful influence.
She wondered now about Jackson. What kind of influence, if any, would he have on Noah? For, in fact, though he had no idea of it, they were all related now by Faith and Will’s secret marriage.
Georgia brought the rest of the food