Part-Time Wife (11 page)

She waited, counting her heartbeats. At ten, Ben turned toward her. Distrust and hope warred in his eyes. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." She stood up. "I'll wait for you downstairs. Put on something comfortable and athletic shoes."

Five minutes later, he met her by the front door. When they walked outside, she inhaled the sweet smell of morning. It was still early enough to need a jacket, even with the walking, but it was going to be another warm, perfect
California
spring day.

They walked in silence to the end of the block. Ben seemed to keep up with her easily, so she increased her pace. After another few minutes of quiet, she pointed out a budding flower. He didn't say anything. She tried to console herself with the fact that if he didn't talk, he couldn't be sarcastic.

A neighbor's dog trotted out to greet them. She paused long enough to pat it. Ben scratched its ears, too, and when she glanced at him, she caught a faint smile. Maybe, she thought, casually crossing her fingers for luck. Just maybe this was going to work.

When they'd been walking for nearly twenty minutes, she said, "I think I'd like to make your lunch for a while. Can you bring food from home or would all your friends laugh at you?"

He shrugged. "About half the kids bring their lunches. It's not so bad. But in a bag, okay? The real nerds still use lunch boxes."

"No lunch boxes, I swear." She smiled. "I'll give you lots of food. You won't be hungry. You can eat it all or just eat some of it. If you don't like something I make, then tell me and I'll change it. All I ask in return is that you don't trade it for junk food. Do you drink milk at school?"

"Nah. It's not cold enough. There's a soda machine, or I get juice."

"Both of those are fine." She knew she was treading on delicate ground here. She didn't know Ben very well and he didn't trust her yet. If she said the wrong thing, he might never respond to her. "It's not about how much you eat, but what you eat. There's lots of fun things to have. Cookies, frozen yogurt. It won't be hard."

He didn't say anything. They turned around and started for the house.

"I want to help you, Ben," she said, not looking at him. "If you want me to. No one would have to know. It could be our secret."

Silence. Jill drew in a deep breath. She'd tried. The rest was up to him.

When they reached their house, she stopped by the porch and stretched out her legs. Ben watched her for a moment, then did the same. He finished before her and pushed open the front door, then paused.

"Can you make my lunch today?" he asked, staring at his shoes.

Happiness filled her and she had to fight back a smile. "Sure. I'd be happy to."

"Thanks, Jill." He raced inside.

Jill turned her head toward the faint breeze rustling the leaves on the trees and told herself the burning in her eyes was just from the dryness of the wind.

* * *

"Come on, batter, batter, batter," Jill called and clapped her hands together. "Hit it clean over the house."

Danny glanced over his shoulder at her. "Ji-ill, it's just a plastic ball. It's not gonna go that far."

"How do you know until you try?"

He grinned, then hunched over the imaginary plate. Ben pitched perfectly. The ball came sailing straight and true. Danny struck with all his might, dropped the bat and started running.

Jill leaned back against the tree and watched the three boys at play. It had been a week since she'd arrived at the Haynes household. In some ways, it felt as if she'd always been here. They'd settled into a routine, and she was getting to know the boys.

She and Ben had walked together for the past four mornings. Slowly, he was opening up to her, telling her about school and his few friends. He was self-conscious about his appearance, but when he forgot about it, he was funny and bright and a pleasure to be with. So far, he'd taken the lunches she made and given her enough feedback on the food to convince her he was actually eating it. She'd made a few low-fat changes in the evening meals, so he didn't have to have a different menu. He followed her lead, taking more of what she took more of, less of the dishes she ignored.

She turned her attention to the youngest of the Haynes boys. Danny was a sweetheart. He gave everything a hundred percent and wore his heart on his sleeve. He would never be the athlete his brothers were, but it wasn't for lack of trying. Even as C.J. caught the ball and started toward their makeshift third base, Danny kept on running. It didn't matter that his brother was bigger or faster. Danny was the little engine that could. One day that trait would help make him successful.

Then there was C.J. Jill studied the middle of the three boys. Craig Junior had his father's good looks and smooth delivery. He had that innate ability to say the right thing at the right time. He had enough charm to be a gigolo in his next life, although she hoped he chose something more stable for this one.

All in all, she was pretty happy with how her job was going. It wasn't tough duty and she was well paid.

"It's C.J.'s turn to hit," Ben said.

"But I wanna try again," Danny whined.

"You got tagged out. It's not your turn."

"Yes, it is!" Danny stamped his foot.

"If you're gonna act like a baby, you can't play," Ben said.

C.J. strolled over to join his brothers, but he didn't take sides.

"I'm not a baby."

"Are too."

Danny dropped his bat and curled his hands into fists. "Am not. And you're just a fat old mobyhead."

C.J. started to laugh. Jill straightened up. Mobyhead?

"Boys," she started, but it was too late. Ben tore off his glove and dropped it on the ground.

"This is stupid," he said, and headed for the house.

"You come back here," Danny said. "You help me. Ben, you have to help me."

His big brother ignored him and kept on going.

Danny ran to Jill. Tears streamed down his cheeks. "He has to help me. I want to do better."

"Maybe you should have thought about that before you called him names."

"He called me names, too."

Danny had a point. "Okay, that was wrong. However, did you do anything to make him think you were acting like a baby?"

C.J. strolled over. "I don't mind missing my turn."

Danny sniffed. "I didn't mean to," he said softly. The sun caught his light brown hair and turned it the color of gold.

"I'm not the one you have to apologize to. And while we're on the subject, what's a mobyhead?"

Danny flushed, but C.J. laughed. "Danny doesn't want to say a bad word. You know."

She shook her head. She didn't know.

"Moby. Like that whale book."

"Moby Dick?"
She frowned, then said, "Oh, I get it." She glared at Danny. "You were calling your brother a dickhead? Danny, I'm ashamed of you."

He dropped his chin to his chest and sniffed. "Sorry."

"You already said that. Once again, I'm not the person you need to apologize to. But before you go in, I want to remind you, we do not use that kind of language."

"But he called me a baby."

"He's worked with you every single afternoon this week. He's pitched to you and has given you advice on how to get better. Did you ever thank him? Did you ever tell him you appreciated his efforts? No, you got mad and called him names."

By now Danny's tears were flowing fast and furious. He glared at her. "I hate you," he said and ran inside.

Jill sighed. So much for things going well. C.J. picked up the mitts, the bat and the ball. She glanced at him. "I believe it's now your turn to be mad at me."

"Nah. You're okay. For a girl."

They looked at each other and smiled. She rose to her feet and ruffled his hair. "You're not so bad yourself."

As they walked to the house, C.J. took hold of her hand. She was surprised, but didn't pull back. In that moment she realized she hadn't expected him to be the first one to steal her heart. But a piece had just been magically removed. How much more damage would this family do, before she had the chance to get away?

Chapter 7

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E
veryone slept in on Saturday. Jill got up around seven, showered and put on jeans and a sweatshirt. She had to admit that this job was really easy to dress for. She sure didn't miss having to put on a suit and panty hose every day.

She made a detour on her way to the kitchen and peeked out the window. Craig's car was parked in front of the house. It was strange to never know if he was home or not. Worse, once she realized he was in the house – sleeping upstairs – her stomach gave a little flutter. She wondered what he slept in… She pressed her palm to her belly and willed herself to stay calm. It didn't matter if he was home. It didn't matter if he wasn't. She wasn't interested. He was her employer, nothing else. She wasn't going to get involved.

And pigs landed regularly at the airport just outside town.

She turned around and headed for the kitchen, trying to justify her attraction to Craig. He was a handsome man. She hadn't been with a man in a couple of years. The last few months of her marriage had been during the custody trial for the girls and she and Aaron hadn't been intimate much. She hadn't dated at all since then, so she was simply reacting to the proximity of an available male. It would have been the same with anyone. This wasn't specifically about Craig.

As she collected the ingredients to make pancakes, she thought it was pretty stupid to lie to herself. After all, she knew the truth. She might not like it, but she knew it.

In the two weeks she'd been a member of the Haynes household, she'd had several late-night or early-morning talks with her employer. If he wasn't home for dinner, she left something out for him. Usually she heard him in the kitchen and came out to see how he was. At first she'd been a little self-conscious, but then she reminded herself that he'd already seen her in a skimpy robe that first day he showed up at Kim's house. So seeing her in a terry-cloth one that brushed the floor was hardly exciting.

In the silent hours of night, he talked about his work, and she brought him up-to-date on the children. They talked about who was angry with whom, who was doing homework and who had broken what. In the time since her divorce, she'd forgotten how volatile childish tempers could be. One minute there were screams of hatred and the next they were playing together. She figured as long as everyone got along in the end, she didn't mind.

She hadn't heard Craig come in the previous night. Idly, she wondered if he was home for the weekend. He hadn't had a day off since she arrived two weeks ago.

The boys told her that he usually worked regular hours, but this special assignment demanded more. They weren't sure what he was doing, but they knew it was something they could be proud of.

They worried about their dad, and he worried about them. She poured milk into the pancake batter and stirred it vigorously. Aaron had always been concerned with how things looked, while Craig worried about how things really were. Too bad she hadn't seen her ex was a jerk before she married him.

When the batter was finished, she rinsed off the first strawberries of the season, cut them up and put them in a bowl. Then she started coffee. When the pot was dripping steadily, she went upstairs to wake the boys.

C.J. was already sitting up and reading. He gave her a smile and said he would be right down.

Danny stirred sleepily. "What's for breakfast, Jill?" he asked.

She bent over and brushed his hair from his eyes. "Pancakes."

He smiled. "Good. I love pancakes. I can eat a hundred."

She bent over and kissed his cheek. "Then that's how many I'm going to make for you."

She stood up and moved into Ben's room. When she opened the door, he opened his eyes and glanced at her, then at the clock.

"It's late."

"I know. Breakfast is ready."

Dark eyes met hers. "What about our walk?"

"Everyone gets to take a day off. Instead of walking, you can play outside with your brothers today. I don't know if your dad is going to stay home or not, but maybe we can do something as a group. The zoo, or a park. Don't worry, I'll make sure you get exercise."

He didn't return her smile. Instead, his big dark eyes widened. He flushed slightly. "Thanks, Jill."

"You're welcome." Her throat was uncomfortably tight as she backed out of the room.

She paused by Craig's room but didn't knock. She wasn't sure what time he'd come home, and he probably needed his sleep. He'd been working impossible hours since she arrived and for who knew how long before that.

Involuntarily, she brushed her fingers against the smooth surface of the door. Images sprang into her mind. Images of what Craig might look like on the other side of this door. She didn't want to think about it, but she couldn't help herself. Was he lying there in a tangle of sheets, his long, lean, athletic body bare? She knew he was alone. Craig wasn't the type to bring a woman home. She wondered what he did for sex. Was there a discreet lady friend somewhere? Did he have a type, and if he did, what was it?