so I took the bus.”
“No problem. I’ll drive, and drop you off at home afterward.”
Darcie unlocked the door to her sleek black luxury car.
“So what else do you know about Caleb Tarrington?” Julie asked once Darcie had pulled onto the road.
“I know that he inherited more money than he could ever spend. That he’s an extremely successful architect. That he very quietly supports quite a few charities. But I don’t know much about his personal life.”
“Anything else?” Julie persisted.
Darcie grimaced. “I know blondes don’t turn him on. At least, this blonde didn’t.”
Julie blinked. “You tried to…”
“Attract his interest is as good a euphemism as any. And, of course, I did. Any normal, red-blooded woman is going to have a go at Caleb Tarrington. It was at a Christmas party last year we both attended. I gave him my best sultry look.”
“And?”
“And I could have been ninety years old for all the response I got.”
“I find it hard to believe that someone as beautiful as you didn’t get some reaction from him,” Julie said slowly.
“Actually, I was rather surprised, too,” Darcie agreed with her usual candor. “I guess it comes under the heading of you can’t win them all.
“So tell me why you want to know about Caleb Tarrington,” Darcie demanded.
“He came to see me today about his son,” Julie said.
“His son!” Darcie yelped, and the car suddenly shot forward as her foot inadvertently depressed the gas pedal. “I didn’t know he had a kid.”
“He’s six years old. Will has come to live with him, and Caleb wants to make sure the child has covered everything we teach in the first grade here,” Julie said, reluctant to tell even her sister the personal details Caleb had given her about his marriage.
“And Caleb wants you to tutor the kid this summer?” Darcie immediately made the connection.
“Got it in one.”
“Don’t do it,” Darcie said.
“Why not? Don’t you think I’m a match for Caleb Tarrington?” Julie demanded, her pride stung.
“No,” Darcie said succinctly. “Hell, I’m not a match for him, and I’m a hundred times more knowledgeable about men than you’ll ever be.”
“Not about six-year-old men,” Julie said smugly. “And it’s the six-year-old I’d be dealing with.”
Darcie took her eyes off the road long enough to give Julie a rueful grin.
“I hate to be the one to break it to you, but most men are six-year-olds at heart. Besides, I won’t be here to give you any sage advice if you do accidentally get in over your head.”
“Where are you going?”
“The firm is sending me off the backwoods of Vermont to buy a patent.”
“Well, you don’t have to worry about me doing anything stupid. I fully intend to turn the job down. I was only curious about him.”
“Just you remember that curiosity killed the cat!”
Julie chuckled. “Clichés yet. Where’s your sense of originality?”
“Originality be damned. It’s the truth, and don’t you forget it.”
Darcie’s advice was probably right, Julie told herself. And it was definitely prudent. She’d enjoy her lunch and then go home, have a piece of chocolate and figure out how she was going to tactfully decline Caleb’s plea.
Julie frowned slightly as she remembered the determined jut of Caleb’s square chin. Maybe she’d have two pieces of chocolate.
Despite eating most of an eight-ounce box of truffles, by the following morning Julie still hadn’t been able to think of a light, witty way to tell Caleb she wasn’t going to help him.
Probably because she wasn’t a light, witty person, she decided as her cab came to a tire-shrieking stop in front of the address Caleb had given her. At least, not when it came to kids who needed her help. But this time would be different. This time she would say no and make it stick.
“Hey, lady.” The cabdriver broke into her thoughts. “This is the address you gave me.”
“Sorry.” Julie paid the man and climbed out, barely managing to get the door closed before the cab tore off down the street.
But Julie barely noticed. She was too busy studying Caleb’s house as she slowly walked up the redbrick sidewalk that curved across the velvety, green lawn. Darcie had said that Caleb Tarrington was rich. Very rich. And Darcie had sounded very sure of her facts. Yet his house certainly wasn’t ostentatious. The bottom story was built of a soft-gray limestone and the second story was white clapboard. The roof was a dark-gray slate punctuated by six attic dormers. Dark-green shutters outlined each of the oversize windows. The house looked like the comfortable, well-kept home of a professional, not the estate of a wealthy man.
Julie had no trouble imagining a child’s bicycle lying on the grass or a baby stroller on the front steps. Maybe Darcie had her facts wrong for once, Julie thought, and then dismissed her speculation as irrelevant. Caleb Tarrington’s financial status had nothing to do with her.
Julie nervously straightened her cream linen jacket, brushed the front of her blue silk shirt and then swallowed to ease the sudden dryness in her mouth before she rang the doorbell.
The door was jerked open before the melodious sound of the chimes had died away, and Julie found herself staring at the harassed features of a middle-aged woman.
“Yes?” the woman asked. Her eyes slipped to the bulging briefcase Julie held. “I never buy from door-to-door salesmen.”
“A wise policy, I’m sure.” Julie slipped into her best schoolteacher mode. “However, I am not here to sell you anything. I—”
“There you are.” Caleb’s voice came from behind the woman. It was threaded with some emotion that sounded suspiciously like desperation. He grabbed her arm as if he expected her to make a run for it, and pulled her into the house.
She’d been right, Julie thought distractedly. Caleb Tarrington did look every bit as good in casual clothes as he did in a suit. Maybe better. Definitely sexier. She studied his khaki pants and worn denim shirt with approval.
“You said ten o’clock and…” Julie used the excuse of checking the time to remove her arm from his grasp. For some reason, physical contact with Caleb Tarrington played havoc with her thought processes, and she needed to keep her wits about her.
“It’s exactly ten now,” she said.
Caleb grimaced. “Strange, I feel like it’s
