The Perfect Match

  Naked.

  Hell, he was buck naked.

  He dove for the towel, managing to wrench it out from under his foot, then scrambled to wrap the bath sheet around himself to cover the most vital parts.

  But damned if Vinny hadn’t shrunk the towel in the wash. The blasted thing seemed about the size of a postage stamp. Cash’s cheeks burned, and yet, damn. He couldn’t quite shake the memory of the expression he’d glimpsed on her face.

  Her soft mouth parted as if she’d gone breathless. Her eyes sunflower-wide and hot as a July sky. And one thing he knew for sure. She hadn’t been looking at his face.

  Cash tamped down the unexpected surge of heat that pulsed through him and latched onto the question at hand. What the blazes was the woman doing on his doorstep? Again?

  That demon dog of hers had better not have made another break for it or…Cash would save the dog the trouble of aggravating him to death and just shoot himself.

  Cash opened the door just enough to talk while still trying to keep his neighbors from getting an eyeful.

  “Hi,” he said, clutching the towel together.

  “Hi.” Her face shone the hectic pink of the peonies his mother used to grow.

  “I was in the shower.”

  “I see.”

  Yeah, she’d seen, all right. The shock of it still registered in her eyes. Along with something more. A little breathless, a little wicked, a lot tempting.

  “I didn’t mean to…well…bother you. But Vinny said this was a good time to catch you at home. Without the girls around. You know. Alone.”

  She wanted to catch him alone? Her gaze flicked to his mouth. Cash remembered some kind of body language thing one of the guys at the office had read in a men’s magazine somewhere—that if a woman looked at a man’s mouth she wanted to be kissed.

  But who believed that bullshit anyway? Nobody with a brain. Unfortunately, it wasn’t the part of his anatomy that was listening at the moment. It had been a long time since he’d seen that brand of appreciation in a woman’s eyes.

  Damn, what the hell was wrong with him? He had a full-fledged mess on his hands and Rowena Brown was at least partially to blame. It didn’t matter that she was turned on by him, even a little. Having sex was the last thing on his current list of priorities. He needed to be in combat mode—that’s what he and Vinny called times like these, when you needed to strip your life down to the bare essentials just to survive.

  “This really isn’t a good time,” Cash said.

  “Then I’ll make this quick.” Rowena fidgeted with the hem of her green T-shirt, looking at his chest, over his shoulder, anywhere but straight in his eyes. “Have you figured out what you’re going to do with the girls while Mr. Scoglomiglio is out of commission?”

  “I’ve got half a dozen calls in to different centers to try and arrange temporary day care, but it’s complicated.” Frustration gnawed inside him. “The girls don’t do so well in crowds of strangers since their mother abandoned them. And wheelchair accessible is just one more thing to add on to my giant sized list of requirements. All the centers I’ve contacted want a full breakdown of Mac’s medical records from her doctors before they’ll admit her. That way the school understands what it would be dealing with in light of MacKenzie’s disability.”

  God, how he hated that word.

  He should have left it at that, but he found himself going on, drawn by Rowena’s empathetic eyes. “Even once the medical data is cleared, there’s still the issue of getting the girls wherever they need to go after school. Changing bus routes and working out how to get Mac to therapy, doctor’s appointments and God knows what else.” He kneaded his temple wearily. “Truth is, the situation looks damn near impossible with the way my work schedule bounces around.”

  “Maybe that won’t be as big a problem as you think,” Rowena said.

  Cash’s lip curled. “And maybe Santa Claus will come down the chimney Christmas morning. Listen, Rowena. I’m not sure why you’re here. But I really don’t have time for—”

  “Anything, from what I can see,” she cut in, a crease between her dark golden brows. “According to Vinny, you’re exhausted. You’re overwhelmed. You’re overextended and now you’re without a babysitter.”

  “Not exactly a newsflash—Vinny?” Cash frowned, readjusting his towel. “What do you mean according to Vinny?”

  “Mr. Scoglomiglio and I have been discussing your problem, and we think we’ve come up with a solution.”

  “Whoa, there. Hold on a minute now,” Cash growled. “I handle my own problems, got it? I don’t need you—or even Vinny—to figure this out for me.”

  Her chin bumped up and she looked him straight in the eye. “That may be true, but it would sure make things a little easier if you let us help. You’re going to have to trust somebody someday, Cash. And Vinny thinks you should trust me.”

  “Trust you to what?” Cash demanded.

  “To take the edge off.”

  Her answer didn’t help. He shifted uncomfortably, remembering his fantasies of a few minutes before. There were things he might like to have her take the edge off all right, like the hard-on that had threatened to spring up and embarrass the hell out of him when he’d realized she was staring at him through the window. Thank God he’d gotten to the towel before his growing arousal became too obvious.

  “To take some of the pressure off you,” Rowena continued. “You know, to help you out. The way I figure it, Vinny can’t lift Mac with his broken leg, or carry her off and on the bus, or get her up and down the stairs. He really can’t even drive until the doctors shorten his cast. So I was thinking, what if Vinny filled in some hours at the store for me, while I taxied your girls wherever they needed to go?”

  “That’s absurd.”

  “Is it? I could babysit Mac and Charlie while you’re at work. And on the evenings when they didn’t have appointments or whatever, the girls could come to the shop and help out. That way I could get my work done, too.”

  Christ, Cash thought, amazed. The woman really meant it. Irritation licked through him. “First of all, I barely even know you.”

  “Do a background check. I’m sure you’ve got access to that kind of stuff at work. I can even give you references if you want to check me out that way, too. Besides, Vinny will be around a lot of the time. He’ll see me in action, and he doesn’t seem to be the type to mince words if he thought I was screwing up.”

  Cash remembered plenty of times Vinny had given him a shakedown for something he didn’t approve of. “I’ll say this much. You’ve got him pegged right. But as for that whole hanging around the shop idea of yours—forget it. Things aren’t tough enough around here? You want my kids to spend hours wandering around in a pet shop?”

  “It’s perfectly clean!” Rowena hastened to reassure him. “The health department—”

  “It’s not dog germs I’m worried about! It’s the fact that the place is stuffed to the gills with animals my kids are going to want to bring home!”

  Cash shuddered, just imagining it. A relentless hell of plaintive little voices begging him please, Daddy, please. Please let me get a turtle! A hamster. A guinea pig. A freaking boa constrictor.

  And if they actually wore him down enough and he caved, with his luck the hamster would be pregnant, deliver the biggest litter of babies on record, and then promptly start to cannibalize its young right in front of his daughters’ eyes.

  “After what happened with Clancy, they’ll understand your no dog rule,” Rowena insisted. “But by spending time in the shop, they’ll get some of the benefits of being around animals, as well. And—”

  “This is insane,” Cash said, as much to himself as to her. “I can’t do this.”

  “What you can’t do is work long hours, night shifts and the occasional weekend, watch your kids and get them to their activities after school all at the same time.”

  Good point, Cash thought, but he wasn’t about to admit it to her. “That doesn’t mean I sh
ould let you do it. No offense intended, but it’s not like you’ve been a stellar example of responsibility since you came to town. You lost that dog of yours, for God’s sake. What’s to keep you from losing my kids?”

  She flushed again. “That’s the beauty of the plan. What red-blooded American kid would wander away from a pet shop?”

  “I suppose that’s true, but—”

  “You told me that a cop has to trust his instincts. Vinny believes I can do this. Do you?”

  She pierced him with those eyes of hers, so big, so full of emotion his breath hitched in his throat. A wisp of golden hair caught in the breeze and clung to the corner of her mouth.

  “I don’t know,” he admitted. Against his better judgment he reached up to brush the strand away. Her mouth was dewy soft, warm to the touch. He felt her breath catch before he pulled his hand back.

  “That’s fair enough,” Rowena said, her voice just a tad unsteady. “Let’s just try it this week, then. A trial run of sorts. You can make up your mind after that.”

  Cash frowned and she must have sensed his indecision.

  “If nothing more, it’ll give you the time you need to research the different day care centers thoroughly,” she said. “What do you have to lose?”

  “My mind?” he suggested all too seriously.

  “If you do, I promise I’ll help you find it.” She held out her hand as if to shake on it, something endearing in the simple gesture.

  Cash hesitated a long moment, feeling like his wheels were spinning out of control. A sensation he hated. Knew far too well.

  “Fine,” he agreed at last, and shook the hand she offered.

  KISSING THE BABYSITTER was a very bad idea. Cash had learned this life lesson at a young age—fourteen to be exact, when his parents had caught him laying one on Tilly Maloney while the busty high school sophomore was supposed to be watching his little brothers.

  It wasn’t as if he’d planned it—but who was he to argue when God dropped a cheerleader in his lap? Two years his senior, Tilly had been quite a catch, although she’d been less than pleased to find out that he was just a lowly eighth grader. Tilly had refused to babysit for Cash’s mother ever again, and with six rambunctious boys running around like savages, reliable babysitters had been worth more than gold.

  Question was, why had that old family story suddenly flared up in Cash’s memory, flashing like a neon warning sign?

  Yeah, it’s a freaking mystery all right, you idiot, he mocked himself, glancing over at Rowena in the passenger seat of his SUV. First, she sees you naked and stares at you like that dog of hers would eye a T-bone steak. Then she saves your ass by volunteering to solve your babysitting crisis—hell, that would merit a kiss just out of pure gratitude. And now?

  Cash gritted his teeth against the frisson of desire she stirred beneath the fly of his uniform pants. She was sitting so close to him in the car he could smell her lemon-scented shampoo and glimpse a sliver of breast where the shoulder harness pulled her V-necked tee askew. The aqua lace edging her bra cup peeped at him, made him want to pull the shirt aside to get a better look. Maybe he could appeal to her sense of fair play. After all, she’d looked him over, but good, when he’d dropped his towel.

  The car behind them beeped its horn, startling Cash into seeing the stoplight had turned green. He hit the gas a little too forcefully through the intersection, then had to jerk to a stop to park in front of the school. He saw Rowena stomp her foot down on an imaginary brake and grimaced.

  If Vinny had been in the seat beside him, Cash knew the crack the old man would make about the erratic ride. Been driving long, junior?

  But then, if Vinny had been riding shotgun, Cash wouldn’t have been distracted by his breasts. Had she noticed him giving her the once over? Cash wondered. Her cheeks looked a little pinker, her expression a little shy.

  He climbed out of the vehicle, rounded the hood and opened her door for her.

  “Come on in to the school office with me and I’ll register you with the secretary so you can pick up the girls.” He didn’t know why he said it. That had been the plan, after all. She’d waited while he got dressed for that very reason.

  He’d caught her at the kitchen window, looking out at the big oak tree, a quiet sadness in her eyes.

  Sometimes he thought he should cut the damned thing down so he didn’t have to look at it anymore. Be reminded of broken promises and unfinished business, of childhood interrupted and failures that still ate at him late at night.

  The blasted tree was the thing he’d liked best about the house when Lisa had wanted to buy it. The oak seeming so solid, its branches spreading wide like open arms welcoming him home. He’d perched Charlie atop his shoulders and imagined the fun they’d have building a tree house, as soon as Mac was old enough not to get hurt climbing after her sister.

  But Mac had just gotten hurt a different way. Now, with fall and winter coming, the wind would strip the oak’s leaves away, until the wooden platform Cash had built a lifetime ago stood out, a stark reproach, amidst bare black branches.

  Rowena pulled him back to the present, her long legs swinging toward him as she climbed out of the car. He pushed the bleak memories away, grateful for the distraction as she smoothed her shirt, hiding the aqua sliver of bra from view. A good idea since she was on her way to the principal’s office. Still, Cash couldn’t help but regret she’d done it.

  By the time they reached the office, she looked so nervous even the secretary could see it.

  “Something wrong, Deputy Lawless?”

  “This is Rowena Brown. She’ll be picking up the girls from now on.”

  “Well, isn’t that nice.” The secretary eyed Rowena with blatant curiosity. She handed Cash the forms and sent him to the table right outside the school office to fill them out.

  When he heard the secretary whispering something to Rowena, all but dripping with sympathy, Cash screwed up his own address and had to start over. By the time he finished, his jaw clenched in irritation.

  As they headed down the empty hallway to Mac’s classroom, Cash pounced. “What was Mrs. Kettering saying while I was gone?”

  Rowena actually gulped. “Nothing much.”

  “People don’t whisper when they say ‘nothing,’” Cash challenged.

  Rowena sighed. “She said all the teachers have been worried about the girls. That it will be good for them to have a woman around.”

  “Did you tell her you won’t be around? At least, not very long?”

  “I tried to, but…well, she seemed to think you and I are an item.”

  “An item?” Cash echoed in disgust. “Can’t a man just bring in his new babysitter without starting school gossip?”

  “Only if that babysitter is a stout woman with warts on her nose and the man has a beer gut and a bad haircut.” Rowena’s eyes twinkled up at him. “Apparently our imaginary affair will not be good news to Mac’s teacher, Ms. Daily. She thinks you’re hot. And she hasn’t even seen you drop your towel.”

  What was Rowena doing? Cash thought, off balance. Teasing him? Yeah. And enjoying the hell out of it. So much for the woman being scared of him.

  “Mac’s teacher is barely more than a kid herself. She hardly says boo to me!” he groused. “There’s no way she thinks I’m hot—oof.”

  The breath wooshed out of him as Rowena elbowed him in the ribs. He started to protest, but she was already turning to greet the pretty brunette who had somehow materialized before them. Plenty close enough to catch the gist of their conversation, if her fire-engine-red face was any indicator.

  Perfect.

  Ms. Daily looked at him with hurt puppy-dog eyes. The school secretary was right. The teacher did have that lovelorn look. Why hadn’t he ever noticed it before?

  Probably because he hadn’t even noticed she was female. He’d barely noticed that Angelina Jolie was female since Lisa left him. That is, until he’d seen Rowena Brown staring at him through the picture window.

  “I’
m Rowena Brown, MacKenzie’s new babysitter,” Rowena jumped in, obviously trying to fill the awkward silence.

  “I see.”

  Yeah. She saw, all right, Cash thought as Ms. Daily ushered him and Rowena into Mac’s classroom. And by the time the day was over, the whole rest of the school would be in on Ms. Daily’s little fantasy, too. They’d never believe his relationship with Rowena wasn’t X-rated.

  But then, maybe his life had been G far too long.

  He smacked himself mentally to shut himself down. He’d decided two years ago that he’d never risk what he saw so many other single fathers do: install a revolving door on his daughters’ home to admit a parade of women, meaningless fucks to take care of biological needs.