school.”
“How did you handle it?”
“I told her I’d just met someone, and your name kind of slipped out.”
Nate’s eyes narowed. “What is it with families?”
“They mean well,” she said. “At least mine does. My mom was a single parent, too, and it was hard for her.”
“My family wants to find a new mother for Molly and Martha.” His voice was thick with resentment. “They seem to think I’m in over my head.”
“Oh, I’m sure they don’t. Your girls are great. They’re happy. Anyone can see they’re well cared for.”
“So, how about it? You come to my sister’s birthday party, I’ll go to your family barbecue, and we’ll call it even.”
Say no. “Sure,” she said instead.
He offered his hand to seal the deal. “It’s a date.”
She shook it. “A fake date.”
“Make that two fake dates.” He smiled and her insides turned to jelly.
I’m not sure why, but people are often surprised to learn that after I completed a bachelor of science degree (with honors, I’m proud to say) I went on to do graduate work in earth sciences. Yes, that makes me a bit of a nerd, so you probably won’t be surprised to learn that my absolute favorite show on television right now is The Big Bang Theory.
I’ve always wanted to turn a science geek into a sexy hero, and I hope you’ll agree that Nate McTavish is that hero. He’s one of those supersmart guys who knows lots of obscure facts about all sorts of things, and it’s really just the mundane details of day-to-day life—like keeping house and raising four-year-old twins on his own—that gets him a little flummoxed from time to time.
Enter Kristi Callahan, the interior decorator he’s hired to stage his house before it goes on the real-estate market. She might not have a PhD, but she knows a thing or two about being a single parent, and Nate could sure use a good teacher.
The Daddy Project is Kristi’s story and the second of three books set in the beautiful city of Seattle, centered on three women who run a real-estate business called Ready Set Sold. Readers have already met Samantha the carpenter in The Christmas Secret, and Claire’s story will be up next. I do hope you enjoy all three! I love to hear from readers, and I hope you’ll visit my website at www.leemckenzie.com.
Happy reading!
Lee McKenzie
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
From the time she was ten years old and read Anne of Green Gables and Little Women, LEE MCKENZIE knew she wanted to be a writer, just like Anne and Jo. In the intervening years, she has written everything from advertising copy to an honors thesis in paleontology, but becoming a four-time Golden Heart finalist and a Harlequin author are among her proudest accomplishments. Lee and her artist/teacher husband live on an island along Canada’s west coast, and she loves to spend time with two of her best friends—her grown-up children.
For Mom and Dad, with love.
Acknowledgment
Thank you Geoff W. for an excellent idea.
Kristi Callahan rang the doorbell of her dream home. A sprawling 1960s rancher with two fireplaces, a breezeway separating the house from the two-car garage, and enough West Coast flair to appeal to potential buyers searching for their own dream home in one of Seattle’s family-friendliest neighborhoods. And it was just her luck to be on the wrong side of the door.
This house was well beyond the reach of a single mom raising a teenage daughter on a single mom’s income, but that didn’t stop her imagination from playing with the idea of actually living in a house like this someday. And since she’d been hired to get this one staged for the real estate market, she would at least get to put her personal stamp on the place before returning to reality. Her modest two-bedroom town house was no dream home, but it was hers. Or it would be hers in twenty-three and a half years.
The other reality was that by the time she and her team at Ready Set Sold were finished here, this client would get top dollar, even in today’s less-than-stellar market, putting this house even further out of her reach.
Speaking of clients, she had an appointment and she was only five minutes late. Okay, eight, but surely Mr. and Mrs. McTavish hadn’t given up on her and gone out. There was a big silver-colored SUV and two pink plastic tricycles parked in the driveway but that didn’t necessarily mean anyone was home.
She dug her phone out of the side pocket of her bag. No messages, no missed calls. Taking care not to get tripped up by a tattered teddy bear missing half its stuffing and three small yellow rubber boots strewn across the wide front step, she rang the bell again, and waited. A moment later her patience was rewarded with footsteps, lots of them. Two identical faces with earnest blue eyes and blond Cindy Brady pigtails appeared in the glass sidelight next to the door. One had her thumb in her mouth; the other’s pigtails were oddly askew. No doubt these were the tricycle riders. And then they were dwarfed by a huge dog whose head appeared above theirs, a panting, drooling Saint Bernard.
“Is your mommy home?” Kristi asked, loud enough so they could hear.
Their pigtails shook from side to side.
The dog pressed its moist nose against the glass.
Hmm. The children stared at her but made no attempt to summon a grown-up. Surely they hadn’t been left here on their own with only a dog to look out for them. A dog that let loose a strand of drool that now slithered down one of the blond pigtails.
Gross. Kristi quickly looked away and reached for the doorbell yet again, pulling her hand back when another set of footsteps, heavier ones, approached from the other side of the door.
The man who opened it was wearing faded blue jeans, a gray T-shirt with what appeared to be a complicated chemical equation in green lettering stretching across his chest, and the annoyed expression of someone who wasn’t expecting anyone.
“Can I help you?” he asked.
Darn. Did she have the wrong day? No. She had checked her calendar and this appointment had definitely been scheduled for Wednesday. And it was Wednesday, wasn’t it?
The man at the door gave her a wary look and held up his hands, both clad in dirt-caked gardening gloves. “If you’re selling something, I’m not interested.”
“No.” She shook her head emphatically, trying to ignore his mucky gloves and struggling not to be distracted by the intensity of his eyes. Cool blue eyes that a girl could practically swim in. “I’m not selling anything.”
“Who’s
