to offset the censure inherent in her words. “To the baby-product-buying public, you are the epitome of a playboy. You have the position and enough power and wealth to subsidize a very adult lifestyle. It doesn’t hurt that you grew up in privilege.”
He snorted at that. Sometimes privilege was just another word for lonely.
She was saying, “Golf, fine dining, first-class travel at all-inclusive resorts not known for their child-friendly amenities—these are very adult activities. As such, they aren’t going to help us convince the broader public that you understand family life or its particular needs.”
“So you’re going to have me be seen out and about in public, kissing babies. Got it.” He sighed and made his hands unclench.
“That’s not exactly the attitude I’m hoping you’ll project.”
“I’ll work on it,” he grumbled.
She made a humming noise. Then her gaze narrowed. “How about a test run this evening?”
He frowned. “I’m not following you.”
“What do you have on your schedule for six o’clock?”
He did a mental check of his calendar. “A meeting with the head of the accounting department at five to go over some expense report irregularities. I don’t know if it will be concluded by then.”
“Really? A meeting after regular business hours? You can’t be a very popular boss.” She shook her head, forestalling his reply. “Can you reschedule it?”
“I guess so,” he said slowly. “Why?”
Those full lips bloomed into a smile that managed to be sexy despite the calculating gleam in her eyes. “Have you ever been to a T-ball game?”
* * *
What was she thinking, inviting Alec to join her at the game?
Julia asked herself the question a dozen times as she maneuvered through traffic after picking up her children from St. Augustine’s after-school program. Her goal was that Danielle and Colin never had to spend more than two hours there on any given day. Except during the summer. In another week, the school year would wrap up, and her children would be spending three days a week there, with the other two at their grandparents’ just outside the city.
Guilt nipped, as it always did, even though it couldn’t be helped. She was a working mother, the sole breadwinner. The after-school program wasn’t a bad one. The kids went on field trips to places such as Chicago’s Field Museum of Natural History, Navy Pier and the John C. Shedd Aquarium. But before they were born, Julia had pictured their lives differently. She’d planned to be a stay-at-home mom. For a brief time she had been. Then Scott had gotten sick and plans had changed.
“What’s for dinner?” Colin asked from the backseat as she brought the car to a stop at a light.
“Turkey grinders from Howard’s Deli,” Julia replied, deciding not to add that they would be on whole wheat buns with slices of tomato and green peppers and shredded lettuce to at least make them a somewhat balanced meal.
In the rearview mirror, she watched his face scrunch up. “Can’t it be cheeseburgers? Please, please, please!”
Danielle sighed, and in a superior tone, said, “He only wants the toy that comes with the children’s meal.”
She was nine, going on nineteen. It scared Julia sometimes, how serious and mature her daughter could be.
“You’ve got that line between your eyebrows, Mommy,” Colin observed. “Does that mean you’re thinking about it?”
To ward off further argument, Julia said, “Maybe.”
A snort sounded from the backseat. “When parents say they’re thinking about something or use the word maybe, it means no,” Danielle said. “Mom has been thinking about letting me go to art camp for a month now.”
Julia caught a glimpse of her daughter’s mutinous expression. “I am thinking about it. I haven’t ruled it out, Danielle.”
Where the camp was located and how much it cost weren’t what caused Julia’s stomach to drop. A full week away? Could Danielle handle that? Could Julia?
“I really want to go,” her daughter said quietly.
“I want to go, too!” Colin shouted. “Can I go, too, Mommy?”
“You can’t,” Danielle insisted. “It’s not for babies. Besides, you can’t even color inside the lines!”
Colin sent up a wail that rivaled a fire truck’s siren. By the time they reached the baseball diamond fifty-five minutes and one stop at the deli later, Julia had a raging headache. She barely had a chance to shift the car into Park before Colin was unbuckled and out the door.
“Hey! Come back and get your bag!” she called after him before he could get too far.
Julia had enough to tote, what with lawn chairs and a portable canopy that she kept on hand to shield them from the blazing afternoon sun. Danielle was of little help since she was carrying the bottles of water they’d picked up at the deli.
As Julia slammed the trunk closed, a slick, black sports coupe with tinted windows pulled into the parking space next to hers. It came as no surprise when Alec unfolded himself from the driver’s side of the
foreign-made two-seater. If a car could scream “no kids,” this one would.
He was still dressed in a suit, although he’d thought to loosen his tie. Mirrored, designer lenses shaded his eyes. His appearance said important. It said, I wield power. He looked like anything but a fun-loving family man.
“I’ve got my work cut out for me,” Julia muttered and forced a smile.
It didn’t help that the first words out of his mouth were a complaint. “It’s broiling out here.”
“Be thankful we’re the home team today. Fans of the visiting team will be looking straight into the sun for the entire game.”
“Is that supposed to make me feel better?”
She shrugged. “I told you to change your clothes.”
She had, happily trading in heels and a skirt for shorts and flat sandals when they’d grabbed dinner at the deli. “This is T-ball.”
“I didn’t have time to stop off at my apartment if I wanted make it here on time. Our meeting earlier aside, I do try to be punctual.”
She nodded her acceptance of what she figured he intended as an apology. “You might want to lose the suit coat.”
“No need to say that twice.”
As Alec shrugged out of it, she tried not to stare, but her gaze was pulled to the firm upper body showcased in the tailored cotton dress shirt. Genetics alone weren’t responsible for those shoulders or that chest. He might spend a lot of hours behind a desk, but he made time for exercise. When her gaze returned to his face, she realized he was watching her. One side of
