such a little thing. But—maybe she hadn’t ever touched him before, because she’d have remembered that kind of smoldering heat.
Nonsense, she told herself briskly.
As if they were afraid of missing something exciting, the babies did their best to fight off sleep. Ultimately they succumbed, however, and Nikki tucked them into their side-by-side cribs and tiptoed out of the room.
The house was quiet except for the catchy rhythm of a jazz tune coming from the radio in the kitchen. The front panels of the dishwasher were propped against a cabinet door, and Seth was lying on his back on the floor, peering into the dark cavity underneath the machine.
Nikki stopped in the doorway. “Have you found the problem?”
“Not yet. The drain’s not clogged, and the floats are working.”
“Is that good news?”
“Nope. I’ve eliminated the simple stuff.”
Which means he’ll be around for a while longer. Just leave him to his work and go get your briefcase, Nikki. But she didn’t move. “I’m going to make myself a cup of coffee. Want one?”
“Sure.” He slid further under the dishwasher. “How are you, Nikki? It’s been a while.”
“Since we ran into each other, you mean?” She shrugged. “Three or four months, I guess.”
“Three. It was at the christening, and you were scandalized that Laura had asked a heathen like me to be the babies’ godfather.”
Nikki didn’t bother to argue the point. Instead she stepped across him and started putting water into the coffeepot. “How’s Inga? Or was it Elsa you brought that day? I get your girlfriends all mixed up.”
Seth smiled, but he didn’t answer. Nikki wondered if that meant he’d forgotten the woman’s name, too. Quite likely, she thought. All of Seth’s girlfriends looked, sounded, and acted alike.
“How about you?” he asked. “Are you still seeing the stockbroker you brought to the christening?”
“He was a commodities trader,” Nikki corrected. “The stockbroker was before that. And no—not for a while now. There’s a banker I’m seeing at the moment.”
“What happened to the commodities trader? He was practically glued to your side that day.”
Nikki had to think about it for a moment before she remembered. “I realized that if I wanted to get a play-byplay of the day’s markets, I could watch the financial channel—and turn it off when I got tired of listening.”
He prodded at something deep under the machine. “What the…I hate working on antiques. I swear the motor’s rusted into this thing. Being second-best never did appeal to you, did it, Nikki?”
She stopped spooning coffee into the filter and turned to stare at him. “Oh, now The Lone Repairer has expanded into psychology?”
He reached into the cavity with a pair of pliers, and she heard a metallic snap. “Still touchy about the wedding, I see.”
Touchy. That was one way to put it, she supposed. “It’s been two years, Seth. I’ve put it behind me and gone on with my life. So can you just forget it?”
He shook his head. “Of course not. That was one of the great dramatic scenes of the age. I’ll never forget watching you tell Thorpe where to get off.”
She plugged the coffeepot in and pushed the button to turn it on. “Next time I break an engagement,” she said dryly, “I’ll be sure to invite you.”
“Don’t bother. Nothing could ever top that one. Thorpe’s already at the church, wearing his tux, boutonniere pinned in place, fussing with his hair and trying to cover up the signs of a really bad hangover, and you come storming into the ushers’ room wearing half a wedding dress and shrieking at him like a banshee. The costuming alone would have been worth the price of a ticket.”
“I was not shrieking. I was making a point.”
“Not that you didn’t have reason to shriek,” Seth added. “Though I still think you went a little over the top when you started yelling at me. Just because I happened to be there to hear it all—”
“You could have let me know you were there, instead of hiding behind a pillar and listening to every word I said.”
“And interrupted your train of thought while you were on a roll?” He shook his head. “You were just lucky all the rest of the ushers had stepped out for a breath of fresh air so I was the only witness.” He sat up and reached inside the machine, grunting as he tried to lift out the motor unit. “I admire you for doing that, you know.”
Nikki was startled. “For what? Calling off my wedding because the groom spent the night before the ceremony carousing with a bunch of call girls?”
“I think they’d probably prefer to be called exotic dancers.”
Nikki shrugged. “Same thing, as it turned out.”
“Anyway, that’s not the reason. I admire you for going out in front of the crowd and facing the whispers because it was Laura’s wedding day too, and you didn’t want to spoil it for her.”
Why there should be a lump in her throat was beyond Nikki’s understanding. She bit her lip. “Thanks.”
“Anytime.” The motor twisted, and Nikki heard a crack from somewhere deep inside the dishwasher. “I didn’t like the sound of that,” Seth muttered. “In fact, I think I may have found the problem. Or maybe I just created a new one. That’s not my cell phone ringing, so it must be yours.”
Nikki hadn’t even heard the buzz. That in itself was an indication of how badly the man got to her, she told herself as she retrieved the phone from her briefcase. “This is Nikki Marshall.”
“Thank heaven. I thought you’d never answer.” The voice was soft, feminine, and dripping panic.
Nikki recognized it—Jen was the youngest and least experienced member of the sales staff at the realty office. Why she was apparently on duty alone was beyond Nikki’s comprehension. “What’s wrong, Jen?”
“The MacIntyres are here to make a counteroffer on the house they want to buy, and I don’t know what to do. Can you come in right away?”
With two babies asleep in the next room? It had been difficult enough to take them for a simple walk through the neighborhood. Hauling them out of bed and across town to meet with a pair of clients would be torture. Unless Seth would agree to keep an eye on them…
She looked over her shoulder and saw him putting the panels in place on the front of the dishwasher. So much for that great idea.
“Out of the question, Jen.” She ignored the woman’s protest. “Their file is in my bottom desk drawer. The client number is on the tab of the folder. Pull it up on the computer, find the offer they made last week, put in the new price, print out the form, and have them both sign it.” She glanced at her watch. “Then call the delivery service—have a courier bring the papers here, and I’ll check them over. Got
