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“Well thank you.” He reached out for the bag, and his fingers brushed against hers. It took everything she had not to jump back in reaction. His hands were twice the size of hers, and softer than she’d expected, with long elegant fingers that seemed to conduct electricity straight through her skin.
“So I should go. My daughter’s asleep in my apartment.” She gave him a tight smile.
“What’s your name?” he asked, tipping his gorgeous head to the side.
“Meghan Hart.”
“And your husband?”
“I don’t have a husband. It’s just me and Isla. She’s eight, but she’s quiet. She won’t give you any trouble.”
The corner of his lip twitched. “I’m not around much anyway.” The music moved on to another song, the bass pumping out, and it made him frown. “Oh, uh, should I turn the music down? I don’t want to wake up your kid.”
Yeah, he should. And if she had any sense she’d tell him she could feel it vibrating through the walls. But right now she was too busy trying to stop looking at him to find the words to tell him that.
“It’s fine. Her bedroom’s on the other side.”
He nodded. “I’m Rich, by the way. Rich Martin.” He wiped his right hand on the towel and held it out to her, his left clutching the gift bag.
She slid her palm against his and felt that electricity again. She was such an embarrassment.
The guy was good looking. Period. He probably had women fluttering their eyelids around him all the time. She was better than this.
Giving him a firm handshake, she flashed him a smile and stepped back. “It’s lovely to meet you, Rich. I guess I’ll see you around.”
He smiled, his eyes crinkling and it didn’t make her insides turn to jelly at all. “I look forward to it.”
She turned and walked away, glad that she could screw her face up at herself without him seeing. God, she was such a loser. That’s what happened when you spent the last eight years bringing up a child, with only the occasional date or physical contact with the opposite sex.
It turned you into a raving moron.
By the time she pulled open her apartment door, Rich’s had closed, the loud music muffled by the wood.
But then it opened again, just as fast as last time, and his deep blue eyes met hers. “Meghan?”
She gave him a half smile. “Yes?”
“Welcome to your new home.” He closed the door just as fast as he’d opened it, leaving her staring at the dark wood instead of his eyes.
3
“Mommy, please can we go to the pool?” Isla implored, giving Meghan a hopeful smile.
It was just after eight on Saturday morning. Jeannie was due to open the shop today, aided by three students they’d employed to work part-time shifts. Meghan and Isla would go in for the late shift. The office had been converted into a cozy playroom, complete with a two-seater sofa, a coffee table for Isla’s painting projects, and a television for those moments when she was really bored.
It wasn’t perfect, but Isla’s babysitter didn’t work on the weekends.
“Maybe for an hour,” Meghan said, mentally shifting her morning schedule in her head. “But after that we have some errands to run. And we need to clean the apartment, because Granny and Gramps are visiting us tomorrow.”
“They are?” Isla’s face lit up. “Yay!”
At least one of them was happy about it. Meghan’s relationship with her parents was fragile. Had been since the day she’d told them she was pregnant and the father didn’t want anything to do with it. At first, her parents had gone crazy. It had taken them almost six months before they spoke to her again. But they loved Isla and she loved them back. And that was enough.
“Yep. So you’ll need to tidy your room when we get back from the shop tonight.”
“Can we bring some cookies home for Granny and Gramps?” Isla asked. “I could decorate them. They’d love it.”
Yes they would. Luckily, Isla could do no wrong in their eyes. Their worship of their granddaughter made up for their disappointment in their only child.
