The Daddy's Promise. Shirley JumpЧитать онлайн книгу.
chuckled, leaning against the wall. “Remind me never to let you work on my Chevy.”
She held up a palm. “Scouts’ Honor. I’ll stay far away.”
He smirked. “When were you a Girl Scout?”
“Never.” Anita laughed. “Hey, but in a pinch, I can sell you a box of cookies and start a fire with a good set of matches.”
Luke glanced down at her and wanted to ask about the obvious pregnancy, but couldn’t think of a tactful way to do it. So he bumbled along with the only question he could come up with. “There isn’t anyone with you who knows about cars?”
“I live alone.” She didn’t elaborate.
Luke should have realized that last night. There’d been one dish in the sink, one glass on the countertop. “That must be hard,” he said.
“Not really.” She smiled, but it was clear she wasn’t going to talk about the lack of a man in her life. “I do quite well as a hermit. Except when it comes to Home and Auto Maintenance 101. Then I could use a team of experts, especially with that rental house.”
“It didn’t look too bad last night. Well, except for the light in the kitchen.”
She laughed. “It all looks good in the dark. Let’s see,” she began, ticking off the items on her fingers, “my front door is stuck. The roof leaks, the water is the color of coffee, the telephone doesn’t work and oh, there’s this mouse—”
“Whoa!” He held up his hands. “I think you win the Worst Day Award. My dad won’t be back for a few hours, so why don’t you come into the kitchen, have a cup of coffee.” He grinned. “We’ll work on the rest later.” He reached out and took her hand, intending only to lead her into the kitchen. Heat flared between them when he touched her, as if he’d set off a two-alarm fire without meaning to. Luke stepped back, releasing Anita’s palm, and stuffed his hands into his pockets, then led the way down the hall. “I, ah, guess a lot has happened to you since the last time I saw—” he began, but was cut off by his daughter.
“Dad, I need to go to the library. I have a report due on Friday.” Emily was leaning against the kitchen counter, arms crossed, toe tapping against the vinyl.
Now she was interested in schoolwork. Luke figured it was more a means of escape than scholarly intent. “No.”
She dropped into a chair and dumped her book bag on the floor. “Fine. I’ll just fail history then.”
Luke sighed. So much for the light mood he’d slipped into when Anita had arrived. “You can look up the information you need in the encyclopedias Grandma has in the den.”
She rolled her eyes. “I need current stuff. Like from this year, not the Stone Age.”
“You have to stay here, Emily. You broke the rules and being grounded is part of your punishment.”
She kicked at her bag. “So when I fail, can I blame you?”
“Blame yourself. If you hadn’t—”
“I have my laptop with me,” Anita interrupted, patting the black bag on her shoulder. “I was on my way to the library to do some work because my phone line hasn’t been connected yet. I could help Emily look up some information from here.”
Emily stuck out her chin, pouting. She huffed, then sighed. “That sounds okay,” she conceded.
Luke threw up his hands. “I don’t know why I didn’t think of that. I’m a software developer, for Pete’s sake. You’d think I’d make the computer connection.”
“You’ve had a lot on your mind lately.” Anita’s voice was soft, understanding. She stepped closer to him, lowering her tone. “Let me help her. Maybe someone other than Dad can get through easier.” She cast a smile at him, one that seemed to say she understood preteens. A small measure of calm rippled through him.
“Okay.” He smiled. “When we worked together on that launch project two summers ago, you weren’t such a bad taskmaster.”
“Gee, flatter a girl.” She laughed.
“I didn’t mean—”
“I know.” She smiled again, then brushed past him on her way to the kitchen table, leaving the faint scent of jasmine in her wake. The lusty fragrance jetted Luke’s mind back to that night eighteen months ago, to the memory of her in his arms, her body entwined with his, her lips—
What the hell was he doing? The last thing he needed to do was take a trip down Memory Lane right now.
Luke let out a deep breath, regaining control of his senses and his racing pulse. Emily was his priority. His life could be put on hold. Hers was just beginning and she didn’t need a father who was distracted by a new relationship. Besides Anita clearly had other priorities.
That thought set off a strange plummeting feeling in his gut. Anita was entitled to a life, a man. He shouldn’t be bothered one iota about her personal life.
But he was. More than he wanted to admit.
Anita sat at the table, then opened a black case that held a slightly outdated laptop. Luke could see from the brand name and model that she’d selected the best. She had good taste in technology, something he respected.
“I’m Anita,” she said, turning to Emily and sticking out her hand. “I don’t think you remember me, and we didn’t exactly have a proper introduction last night. The last time I saw you, you were ten and visiting your dad’s office after school.”
Emily hesitated. “Nice to meet you again.” As if the politeness had cost her, she quickly scrambled to get her books out of the backpack.
Anita unraveled a telephone line that was tucked inside her bag and inserted one end into the computer. “Do you mind if we tie up the phone lines for a minute?”
Luke barely heard the question. He was too busy watching her deftly connect the power cord, flip up the top and start the laptop.
Anita had long, delicate fingers, more fitting for a concert pianist than a marketing consultant. She had a graceful ease about her appearance, as if she felt comfortable anywhere. And when she was happy, her lips curved into a welcoming smile that slid through Luke like silk.
She shifted in her chair and her skirt crept up, exposing another three inches of leg. Who’d have thought that such a tiny measurement could get his heart sprinting like a runner at the start of a race?
“Luke? Can I use the phone line?” Anita’s question brought him back to reality.
“Oh. Yeah.” He cleared his throat. “Sure.” He took the cord and plugged it into the phone jack.
“Thanks.” Anita turned back to her computer, clicking with the mouse until the browser program was open and dialing up to the Internet.
Emily scowled and dropped her chin into her hands. “I hate history.”
“Those who don’t study it are doomed to repeat it, you know,” Anita said.
“The chances of me starting the next world war are about the same as me ending up on tour with Mandy Moore.”
Anita laughed. “You and me both. I can’t sing at all. But I love to pretend I can, with a hairbrush, a mirror and a cranked stereo.”
Emily face turned a slight shade of pink. “Me, too,” she said quietly. “I thought only kids did that kind of thing.”
Anita leaned close and lowered her voice. “Just between you and me, I’ve had a hard time giving up the dream of being the next Shania Twain.”
Emily smiled. Almost laughed.
“I remember seeing you get pretty cozy with a karaoke machine once,” Luke said. Anita’s voice, clear and strong. Her face, lively, animated, laughing. It had been some client’s party