removed his suit jacket from the small closet and slipped his arms into the sleeves. Janice continued to linger. “Was there anything else?” he asked.
“Do you sometimes get lonely?” She fluttered her lashes and for some reason they reminded Zach of spiders.
“Lonely?” he asked.
“I mean, I did, after my divorce. It was such a hard time emotionally and I wanted you to know that I understand those feelings. If you ever need to talk to someone, I’m a good listener.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” Zach had no intention of combining business with pleasure. He’d made the mistake of letting the lines blur earlier. It had started out innocently—she’d joined him for lunch one day when Rosie had to cancel at the last moment. Later, when he realized how unreasonable Rosie had become, he’d asked Janice to help him look for an apartment. He’d hoped to shake up his wife, get her to recognize what she was doing. His attempt had failed, to say the least. Rosie had taken his leaving seriously and seemed more than happy to have him out of the house. Janice had found him an apartment, all right, and the lines had blurred even further when he’d accepted a housewarming gift from her and taken her and her son to lunch.
Janice hesitated. “I was thinking we could have dinner one night. My treat.”
Dinner? Her treat? No way. “I appreciate the invitation, but I don’t think it’s a good idea that we be seen together outside the office.” He wasn’t handing Rosie any ammunition or giving her one more excuse to toss accusations in his face. Unfortunately, living the way they did, moving in and out of the house, made confronting each other inevitable. Zach wasn’t happy about it and he suspected Rosie wasn’t, either.
“Maybe some other time,” Janice said, sounding hopeful.
“Maybe,” Zach agreed, but it wasn’t going to happen.
Rosie had claimed months earlier that Janice and Zach were having an affair. She was being ridiculous and had refused to believe him when he said they weren’t. Now he was beginning to wonder if Janice had been chasing after him. He hated the thought that he’d been played for a fool. If that was the case, then it was Rosie’s doing. She was the one so ready to leap to conclusions, so eager to find fault with him—so willing to abandon him to Janice’s attentions. Rosie had acted like a jealous shrew when she had no reason. It irritated him whenever he thought about it. Not that he was blaming Janice for their divorce. His marriage had been ailing for a long time before his assistant appeared on the scene.
Frowning as he walked out of the office, Zach refused to let his mind wander down the familiar paths of guilt and blame. His marriage was dead, and rehashing unresolved issues between him and Rosie would do no good.
Fifteen minutes later, Zach drove into the garage at 311 Pelican Court, the custom-built house he’d helped design. Together he and Rosie had pored over house plans for months on end. Despite this inconvenient arrangement, he felt grateful to the judge for her unconventional edict, since it meant he didn’t have to completely give up a place he loved.
To Zach’s surprise, the house was quiet when he came in through the kitchen door.
“Where is everyone?” he called as he set his briefcase on the counter.
“Here, Dad,” Eddie shouted from the family room. He was lying in front of the television on his stomach, manipulating the joystick to his video game. “Allison’s got a visitor in her bedroom,” he said, looking up at Zach. “It’s a boy.”
“What?” The word exploded out of Zach before he could stop it. He’d see about this. Allison knew the rules, and Rule Number One was no kids at the house without an adult present. No boys in her room, either. Ever.
Eddie nodded in the direction of the hallway. “Check it out.”
Zach didn’t need a second invitation. He practically ran to Allison’s bedroom; it was the fastest he’d moved in weeks. He pounded on the closed door, then flung it open. His daughter sat on the edge of her bed with her arms entwined around the neck of a skinny boy with long stringy hair badly in need of washing. He wore a black leather jacket and motorcycle boots that laced up to his knees. A studded leather dog collar circled his neck.
“Dad.” Allison’s eyes grew huge. “What are you doing here?”
“I live here three days a week. Who’s this?” He narrowed his gaze on the pimply-faced youth.
“This is Ryan Wilson. Ryan, this is my dad.”
“Ryan,” Zach said. He reached for the boy’s arm and jerked him to an upright position. “Nice to meet you.” Without taking a breath, he continued. “However, we have rules in this house and that includes no boys in my daughter’s bedroom.” He loomed over the teenager, who blinked up at him, face paling.
“Daddy,” Allison cried.
Zach ignored her. “If you want to see my daughter again, I suggest you abide by my rules. Do we understand each other, Ryan?” he asked pointedly.
Ryan nodded.
“Good.” He held out his hand. “Well, goodbye, Ryan. I assume you know your way to the front door?”
Ryan made a beeline out of the bedroom.
Allison was on her feet now, too, her expression one of outrage. “How dare you!”
“Oh, I dare, Allison, and I’ll dare a whole lot more. What the hell do you think you’re doing bringing a boy into this house without an adult present?”
“I’m an adult.”
Zach nearly laughed out loud. “When you’re living on your own, paying your own expenses, we’ll revisit that issue. As it stands now, you live in my house.” He paused, because technically this wasn’t his house. It belonged to Rosie and him jointly and to the kids.
“I can invite anyone I want into my room.”
Zach glared at her. “Don’t go there, little girl.”
“Little girl?” Indignation shone from her eyes, and her cheeks reddened as she clenched her fists at her sides.
Zach could see this argument was getting out of hand. He was angry and so was Allison. Difficult as it was, they both needed to step back and take a deep breath. “We’ll talk about this after dinner.” He turned and left the room, and heard the door slam a couple of seconds later.
By the time Zach entered the kitchen, he was shaking. He dragged several calming breaths into his lungs and forced his heart to settle down to a normal beat.
“What’s for dinner?” Eddie asked, following him inside.
“Hot dogs,” Zach said. It was convenient, quick and he was in no mood to mess with a casserole. He’d discovered he was quite good at tossing a few ingredients together. He had his failures—notably the ground turkey baked with peas and rice—and his successes. Eddie didn’t seem to care one way or the other. Of the two, Allison was the picky eater.
“We had hot dogs last night.”
Leave it to Rosie to beat him to the punch. “What would you like?”
