with built-in shelves.
The backyard boasted a swimming pool, plus a separate Jacuzzi beyond a good-size covered patio.
Mark had hired a decorator who had chosen large, comfortable furniture in tones of gray and light-to-dark burgundy. The overall effect was one of simple elegance.
He had known when he designed and built the house that it was much too big for a single man, but he’d had hopes of having a wife and children someday and wanted to be prepared. He’d also intended to establish a sizable investment portfolio that would provide not only for his retirement, but for college educations for his children. He wanted available funds for any emergencies that might arise.
One had.
Until Joey’s arrival, the three spare bedrooms had been empty. Together, they had shopped for Joey’s furniture, which had proven to be a study in frustration, as Joey offered no opinions and answered most questions with his ever-familiar shrug.
Wanting Joey to have his own possessions with him, Mark had his nephew’s clothes, toys, and books shipped from New York. He had even purchased a Game Boy as a gift for Joey, but had yet to see the little boy play with it.
Cedar would see that Joey had a nice home.
Joey’s new bedroom was large and had its own bathroom. It contained a double bed, dresser, desk, and bookshelves to hold his belongings. Everything that a little boy could possibly want was available under this roof.
Yeah, right, Mark thought, shaking his head. It all sounded great except for the fact that Joey was a very unhappy kid. The easy way out would be to blame Joey’s emotional state entirely on the loss of his parents. That might very well be true, but Cedar would need to make that determination.
“No, part of it is me,” Mark said, frowning.
He was doing a lousy job of being a father, no doubt about it. He should be able to get Joey to smile, for Pete’s sake, to talk to him, to spend just one evening with his Uncle Mark.
Hell, what did he know about being a dad? Not a damn thing. He sure hadn’t had any kind of role model. Not even close. Should he tell Cedar that? Explain his own childhood to her so she could understand why he was doing such a crummy job of—no. He wasn’t about to pour out his heart and soul to a woman he hardly knew. No way.
The doorbell rang, jerking Mark from his rambling thoughts. As he started across the room, Joey came running down the hall and entered the living room.
“Cedar’s here,” Joey said, zooming to the door. He flung it open just as Mark reached him.
“Hi, Cedar,” Joey said. “Did you bring the chicken and stuff?”
“I certainly did,” Cedar said, smiling. “Are you ready to be a chef?”
“Yeah,” Joey said. “Cool.”
“Joey,” Mark said, “why don’t you invite Cedar in?”
“Huh?” Joey said. “Oh. You wanna come in now?”
Cedar laughed. “Yes, thank you.” She stepped into the living room and swept her gaze over the large expanse. “What a lovely home,” she said. “Oh, and a fire in the hearth. Perfect.” She looked at Joey again. “Would you take one of these grocery sacks, please?”
“Sure,” Joey said, slamming the door closed, then accepting one of the bags.
Cedar hadn’t acknowledged his presence or even glanced in his direction, Mark thought. So, okay, she was here in her role as Joey’s psychologist, but still—
Man, listen to him. He was reacting like a bratty little kid who was jealous because the new baby was getting all the attention. But, cripe, the woman could at least say hello.
“Hello, Cedar,” he said.
Cedar slowly, very slowly, shifted her gaze to meet Mark’s.
“Hello, Mark,” she said.
“Let me take that other sack,” he said, reaching toward it.
“Oh, it’s fine,” Cedar said.
“I insist,” he said, then grasped the bag, the back of his right hand brushing her breast lightly. “Oh, excuse me. I didn’t mean to…sorry.”
“Apology accepted,” Cedar said. “On to the kitchen, gentlemen.”
Providing that her legs would carry her that far, she thought frantically, which was doubtful because her bones were dissolving from the incredible heat that was consuming her. That one-second flicker of Mark’s hand on her breast was wreaking total havoc on her body.
There was a flush on her cheeks, too, she just knew there was, darn it. This evening was not starting out well at all.
“Are you coming?” Joey said from across the room.
“What?” Cedar said. “Oh, yes, of course. Lead the way, sir.”
In the kitchen, Cedar offered the appropriate compliments on the state-of-the-art appliances and the generous size of the room, finally deciding that she was babbling like an idiot.
“Okay,” she said, then drew a steadying breath. “First thing we do is wash our hands.”
As they all turned toward the double sink, Cedar was acutely aware that Mark was behind her…very, very close behind her.
“I’ll go first and get out of the way,” she said quickly.
Oh, Cedar, she admonished herself, as she dried her hands on a towel. Would you please get it together before you make a complete fool of yourself?
She reached into one of the sacks now sitting on the counter and removed a bright blue square of material.
“This is your chef’s apron, Joey,” she said. “All famous chefs wear aprons, you know.” She shook it out to reveal the bright orange Garfield the Cat on the front. “How’s this?”
“Cool,” Joey said.
Cedar slipped the apron over Joey’s head and tied it in the back.
“I don’t want to get stuff on it,” Joey said.
“That’s what aprons are for, sweetie,” Cedar said. “It doesn’t matter if it gets messy.”
“Yes, it does,” he said, nearly shouting. “’Cause then it will be yucky, and you might tell me to throw it away or something, and I won’t have it anymore, and it will be gone forever.”
“Hey, buddy,” Mark said, “calm down. You can keep the apron even if it gets stained.”
“Promise?” Joey said.
“Promise,” Mark said.
“Well…okay then,” Joey said.
He’s so fragile, Cedar thought, her heart seeming to melt as she looked at Joey, who was smoothing the
