herself in the rearview mirror. There she went again, wishing she had a partner in this parent thing. But what good would a partner be if he’d never wanted you to be pregnant in the first place, cheated on you, maxed out your joint credit cards, and expected to be waited on as if you were his slave and he was King of Siam? In other words, if he was anything like her ex-husband and the father of her unborn child. No, she didn’t mind getting her own pickles, thank you very much. Divorcing Brad was the best thing she’d ever done for herself and her baby.
Melissa decided that even thinking of Brad was probably bad for her and the baby, so she took deep, cleansing breaths and diverted her thoughts by looking out the window at an east-side neighborhood in the Salt Lake City foothills she’d always admired. Large sycamore and maple trees lined the curving streets, and classically styled houses ranging from imposing Tudors and Queen Annes to smaller, but just as charming, brick bungalows and English cottages stood at the bottom of deep, well-tended lawns.
Melissa wondered what kind of house this Professor Avery owned. All she knew about him was his occupation, last name, the number and ages of the children she’d been hired to take care of for the next five days and his address. She’d also been told that his wife had had to go out of state to a funeral, and he needed help while she was gone. Three children aged four and under, would definitely be a handful, especially for a working dad.
Suddenly she spied the address she was seeking on the side of a bricked-in mailbox. She looked at the house and felt several indefinable emotions at once.
It was a large Tudor with climbing ivy and blooming clematis covering a good portion of the front of the house, big trees shading the side yard, and the tops of other trees in the back swaying in the wind above the wood-shingled roof. While imposing, it still looked homey and absolutely perfect for a house full of children.
It was just the sort of house Melissa had always dreamed of sharing with Brad and the children they would have together.
Suddenly those indefinable feelings she’d had when she first saw the house became crystal-clear. Because of the happily-ever-after dreams she’d started spinning the minute Brad had given her his class ring when they were juniors in high school and officially going steady, the house seemed almost…well…familiar, and she felt envy and nostalgia and the bittersweet loss of those dreams.
Where had it all gone wrong? she wondered for the millionth time. Brad had been captain of the football team, and although not a sterling student, he was a star athlete with scholarship offers to several colleges, and the most popular guy in school. She’d been head cheerleader, Homecoming Queen her senior year, and an A student. They were the “golden couple” at East High. She’d been on cloud nine in those days, the envy of all her girlfriends, headed for a bright future. But the reality of her future had been a far cry from everything she’d hoped and dreamed for as a naive and starry-eyed teenager.
She’d been only eighteen when she and Brad had married right out of high school. The wedding had been magical. The marriage had been a disaster.
To her surprise, Melissa felt the sting of sudden tears in her eyes. Angry at herself, she blinked several times and got rid of them.
Melissa drove up the long driveway of Professor and Mrs. Avery’s house, turned off the ignition and sat in the car for a moment, gathering her composure as she smoothed out the seat belt wrinkles from the front of her maternity blouse. Why was she thinking about Brad and being so emotional and weepy? It had to be the pregnancy hormones, because she was glad Brad was out of her life.
Of course, it didn’t help her general frame of mind that she felt so awkward and large. She envied the movie stars who were confident enough to actually flaunt their pregnant bodies on the covers of magazines…some of them not even wearing clothes! Maybe she didn’t feel pretty because Brad had always chided her whenever she gained even as little as two or three pounds around the holidays. With an extra thirty pounds packed on around her middle—and, yes, a little bit on her fanny, too—he’d definitely think she was unattractive now.
Melissa snapped down the sunshade and looked in the mirror. At least from the neck up she looked the same as before her pregnancy. Today, though, she hadn’t bothered to put on any makeup other than a dab of lipstick, and had had pulled her shoulder-length hair into a practical ponytail. Fortunately, although her hair was naturally a pale blond, her eyebrows and eyelashes were dark.
She snapped the sunshade back into place and opened the car door. Her backside stuck to the hot vinyl of the bucket seat of her compact car as she struggled to get out. Melissa heaved a relieved sigh as she finally straightened up, pressing her hand into the small of her already-aching back.
Then she remembered her nanny bag, a small suitcase well-stocked with fun and useful items to help her on the job, as well as a few jars of toddler meals from her fledgling business, Missy’s Kid Cuisine. With a sigh, she bent over again, reached into the low-slung car and pulled out the suitcase.
Straightening up the second time was even harder than the first time. Clutching her suitcase, she shut the car door and headed for the house. She felt as though she was waddling, but couldn’t be sure. She was teetering slightly from side to side…was that waddling?
Melissa scolded herself again for dwelling on Brad and put on a bright smile as she rang the doorbell. She didn’t exactly feel bright, but she could fake it for the children’s sake.
The door was opened by a tall, lean man in a green-and-white pinstriped cotton shirt, the long sleeves folded to above his elbows, and jeans that were wet at both knees. He had auburn hair and green eyes and was, in a word…gorgeous. His sinewy forearms were damp and sudsy and he was holding a chubby, redheaded cherub with rosy cheeks. The towel-wrapped toddler was obviously fresh from the tub and smelled like watermelon-scented bubble bath.
Melissa was beginning to think she really was asleep and dreaming, because this man fit so perfectly with her idea of a hunky husband doing domestic duties, and he was doing them in her dream house! Mrs. Avery was one lucky lady.
After a couple of minutes, Melissa realized that not only she, but Professor Avery, seemed at a loss for words. He was staring at her, probably in the same way she was staring at him. But he couldn’t possibly be staring for the same reasons. She’d been struck by his good looks and obvious “good daddy” traits. Why he’d be speechless at the sight of a ready-to-burst pregnant lady in denim capri pants with a stretch panel, and a wrinkled white tent of a blouse, was beyond her comprehension.
Then it occurred to her that he might be a tad irritated that she was nearly half an hour late. “Professor Avery, I’m sorry. I know I was supposed to be here at nine,” she said, offering an apologetic smile. “I won’t be late again.”
Still he said nothing.
She was about to break the awkward silence once again when he finally said something. Something she hadn’t expected at all. “Missy? Missy Richardson?”
Melissa frowned. He knew her? And he knew her by her high-school nickname, the name no one but Brad, her parents and her two brothers still called her? But she didn’t know him. Certainly if they’d ever crossed paths before, she’d remember.
“I’m sorry, have we met?”
He smiled. “I’m Charles Avery.”
Melissa stared. He had a wonderful smile. Straight, white teeth. Sexy dimples. But she had no idea who he was.
His smile wavered a little. “We went to school together.”
Melissa searched frantically
