watching Simon’s expression soften as he gazed at Nathan, Kit couldn’t believe he’d ever threaten her or harm her physically. He had always been a patient man. He had also treated everyone he knew with kindness and understanding—including Lucy, even when her behavior toward him had been careless and chaotic.
Running out on her, as he had the one time she’d really needed him, had seemed totally out of character to Kit. But the fact remained that he had—proof, as far as Kit was concerned, that he wasn’t nearly as good or kind or decent as she’d once believed him to be.
“It’s time for Nathan to have his lunch,” Kit said, maintaining a pragmatic tone, but only with great effort. “Why don’t you join us in the kitchen? We can talk while I feed him.”
Simon seemed to fill the apartment’s cozy living room with his masculine presence. Though nicely furnished and quite comfortable under normal circumstances, it certainly wasn’t spacious. At least not spacious enough for a woman, namely her, who would have rather not been in close quarters with a man, namely Simon, whom she considered more of an enemy than friend.
Unfortunately, the kitchen was smaller still. Kit’s mother had rarely used it, preferring, as she had, to cook in the diner’s larger and better-equipped facility. Kit didn’t cook there, either. She mostly just reheated whatever leftovers she brought up from the diner for herself and Nathan.
Giving the little boy his meals in the upstairs kitchen had become a part of their routine, though—one that Kit was loathe to disrupt. She had learned that any change in routine tended to make Nathan extremely fussy. Not unusual, considering he’d lost his mother, and certainly understandable. Upsetting him in order to keep Simon at a distance that would be nominal at best simply wasn’t necessary.
“Can I do anything to help?” Simon asked, following her as she headed for the kitchen doorway.
“I’m used to managing on my own,” she answered in a tart tone, bristling at him all over again before she could stop herself.
She didn’t like feeling crowded on any front, and just then Simon seemed to loom large—his broad shoulders and powerful physique making her feel ill at ease. He wasn’t being obnoxious about it, and he’d meant well, offering to help, but still…
“Of course, you are,” he said, pausing just inside the kitchen doorway, obviously aware of her discomfort. “I just thought you might be glad to have someone lend a hand for a change. But I’ll stay out of your way if that’s what you’d prefer.”
She was making a difficult situation even more so by behaving in such a disdainful manner, Kit thought, drawing a calming breath as she settled Nathan into his high chair and fastened the safety straps. Simon was right. She regularly wished she had someone to help her.
“You can get one of the bottles out of the refrigerator and put it in the bottle warmer on the counter to heat up,” she said, her tone now slightly conciliatory.
“So he still takes a bottle?”
Simon seemed genuinely interested as he followed her instructions without any fumbling or bumbling.
“Only after he’s eaten lunch. It helps him settle down for a nap. He gave up his bedtime bottle about six weeks ago. He decided one night that he didn’t want it.”
Moving efficiently around the tiny kitchen, managing somehow not to bump into Simon, Kit took a container of chicken noodle soup out of the refrigerator, dumped it into a pan on the stove and lit the burner. She gave Nathan a cracker to tide him over, opened a fresh jar of apple juice and poured some into a sippy cup. He reached for it eagerly, babbling in a happy voice.
“He seems like a good baby,” Simon ventured, stirring the soup with the spoon she’d left in the pot.
Very domestic, she acknowledged to herself, stepping around him to get a bowl from one of the cabinets above the counter. He had only taken a few seconds to figure out how to work the bottle warmer, too. He certainly deserved an A for effort, but that didn’t change the fact that he’d treated her best friend like dirt.
Reminded that she owed Simon no appreciation at all, Kit reached up to open the cabinet, and much to her chagrin, brushed against him accidentally. The physical contact, slight as it was, sent a shaft of heat through her. Startled, she almost dropped the bowl as she spun away from him.
Seeming equally off-kilter, Simon winced and shifted to the side, away from her, as well. Embarrassed, Kit plunked the bowl on the counter and turned to take a spoon from the drawer by the sink.
“He’s very good…all things considered,” she said, not really caring that she sounded snappish again.
Kit could feel Simon’s gaze on her as he continued to stir the soup. She could also sense that he was eyeing her with renewed frustration. Better that than getting too comfortable around her, she thought. It wasn’t her responsibility or her intention to make the present situation easy for him. He hadn’t earned easy from her, and as far as she was concerned, he never would, no matter how her body betrayed her with girlish longing.
The young man she’d secretly desired years ago had proven to have feet of clay. He had used Lucy, then abandoned her, and he would probably do the same to her if she gave him half a chance.
“Looks like the soup is ready,” he said. “Do you want me to spoon some of it into the bowl?”
“Yes, please.”
Kit stood by in silence as Simon carefully filled the bowl halfway. Then she picked it up off the counter and carried to the table. She sipped a spoonful, testing to make sure it wasn’t too hot, then offered some to Nathan. Sitting with her back to Simon, she tried to pretend he wasn’t there. Finally he moved to the chair across from her and sat down with an audible sigh.
“I didn’t know Lucy was pregnant with my child,” he said, his voice low but steady, commanding her attention with his simply spoken, and utterly unbelievable, statement.
Kit’s first instinct was to lash out at him in anger. He had a lot of nerve saying such a thing to her. He couldn’t honestly think he’d gain ground with her by spouting such a ridiculous lie. She wasn’t stupid, after all, and she’d been Lucy’s best friend. There had been no secrets between them—not where Simon Gilmore was concerned.
Remembering how upset Nathan had been the few times Lucy raised her voice in front of him, Kit managed to keep her emotions in check, however. There was no need to throw a tempter tantrum and cause the child to cry. Not when she could make her point just as forcefully in a calm, quiet manner.
“Give me a break, Simon,” she said, her voice low, as well, but heavily laced with sarcasm. “You knew Lucy was pregnant when you left Belle three years ago. She told you about the baby the last time you were together, and you took off like a shot the very next day. You abandoned her and you abandoned your child and you didn’t give either of them a second thought. Don’t come around here now, trying to change history. It’s not going to work—at least not with me.”
“I’m not trying to change history, Kit,” Simon insisted.
Sitting forward in his chair, his hands gripping the edge of the oak table, he seemed unwilling to let the matter drop. Kit bit back another caustic comment with a grim twist of her lips, and glanced at him with exasperation, her look all but shouting “Oh, please.”
“I’m
