LITMIR.BIZ

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was exhausting living with the constant weight of grief on his shoulders.

      The lights changed and he accelerated through the intersection, very aware of the need to relieve Mrs. Linton. He’d been fortunate enough to get Charlie into day care three days a week, but Mrs. Linton had saved his bacon, agreeing to pick up Eva from school and look after her until he could make a more permanent arrangement. Still, he didn’t want to abuse her generosity.

      He swung by day care to collect Charlie, then headed home. A familiar green SUV was parked in front of his house when he pulled into the driveway. He smiled as he hit the button for the garage door. Angie had been busy putting her studio back together and they hadn’t seen much of her lately. It would be good to catch up with her. Good to assure himself that she was recovering okay from the break-in.

      It would also give him a chance to hassle her about the rental listings he’d sent to her, too. He’d touched base with a handful of his real estate contacts and put the feelers out for a suitable studio space for her, determined to get her out of that death trap of a building. So far, her only response had been silence. If she thought that stonewalling him would make him give up, she didn’t know him very well.

      He released Charlie from his car seat and locked the car. Michael could hear voices and laughter as they entered the house. He walk into the kitchen and found Angie and Eva putting toppings on three pizza bases.

      “Hello,” he said.

      They looked up with identical surprised expressions, obviously so involved in their conversation they hadn’t heard his arrival.

      “Perfect timing. Dinner is almost ready,” Angie said.

      Charlie immediately went to Angie, gazing up her worshipfully.

      “Why, hello there, Charlie Bear,” she said, tapping his nose lightly.

      She looked different. For a moment Michael was puzzled, then he realized it was because her hair was tucked high on her head in a ballet dancer’s bun. She was wearing her yoga gear, too—tight black leggings and a soft-looking pale pink top with sleeves that stopped at her elbows.

      “Mrs. Linton left a note for you before she left. Something about having a doctor’s appointment next week,” Angie said.

      “Right. Thanks.”

      “Guess what we’re having for dinner, Daddy?” Eva asked.

      “Could it possibly be pizza?”

      “Yes! With the lot. I mean everything.”

      “She’s not kidding on that one.” Angie cast a significant glance toward the pizza Eva was working on.

      It was piled high with salami, cheese, tomato and mushrooms to the point where it looked more like a pie than a pizza.

      “Check that out. Sure you don’t want to throw a chair or table on top of that thing, too?” he asked Eva, dropping a hand onto the back of her neck and squeezing lightly.

      She tilted her head backward so she could look at him upside-down. “Which pizza do you think is the best?”

      Michael pretended to consider the options. “I like the simplicity of this cheese-and-tomato one, which I’m guessing is for Charlie. And Angie’s is nice and colorful…”

      Eva gave him a look, clearly knowing when she was being strung along. “Just admit it. Mine is the best,” she said with the unashamed egotism of a six-year-old.

      “It does look pretty special.”

      “Let’s put it on the top shelf so all the many, many layers will get a chance to cook through.” Angie slid the pizza onto a baking tray and turned toward the oven.

      He followed her movements idly, not really paying attention, but when she bent to put the pizza in the oven his gaze slid down her slim spine to her backside, perfectly showcased in black Lycra.

      He quickly looked away, but not before he’d noticed that Angie had a very nice ass.

      He cleared his throat. “I might go change while those cook.”

      “Sure,” Angie said.

      He could feel heat in his face as he headed for the bedroom and he hoped like hell that she hadn’t noticed. He kicked his work shoes off with more force than was strictly necessary once he was in his room. He had no business noticing her ass. She was Billie’s best friend. Better yet, she was his friend. The shape and size of her ass was utterly irrelevant. Certainly it was of no interest to him.

      No interest whatsoever.

      Even if it was a very fine, very firm-looking ass.

      Giving himself a firm mental shake, he concentrated on pulling on his jeans.

      * * *

      ANGIE CHECKED ON THE pizzas, then poured herself a glass of wine. She was glad she’d given in to the impulse to surprise Michael with dinner. Even though she hadn’t seen him much recently, she’d been very aware that this first week at work might be hard for him. He’d been on her mind a lot, and she’d wanted to let him know he wasn’t alone. Dinner wasn’t much, but it was something.

      She glanced up when Michael returned wearing a pair of old jeans and a stretched-out T-shirt. He’d put on a bit of weight and it suited him. Made him look more like his old self.

      She poured him a glass of wine. “So, how’s your first week as a born-again architect been?”

      “Not too bad. If I can find a child-care solution that doesn’t involve me shamelessly exploiting Mrs. Linton, I think it’s doable.”

      “Still no luck with finding a nanny?”

      “Nope. I’ve got more interviews lined up on Friday, though.”

      “Well, if you need someone to help relieve Mrs. Linton in the meantime, let me know. I could easily pick up Eva after school a few days if I plan my schedule right.”

      Michael was already shaking his head. “I can’t ask you to do that.”

      “Why not?”

      “Because you do enough for us already.”

      “No one’s keeping a score card, Michael. Besides, I love spending time with the kids.”

      He shook his head again and she knew from his stubborn expression that there was no point pursuing the subject.

      “Fine. Then tell me about work.”

      “How about we talk about why you haven’t responded to my email about those rentals?”

      Angie busied herself wiping the counter again. She’d been hoping he wouldn’t bring up the matter of her finding a new studio. For a number of reasons.

      “Didn’t I? Sorry. I’ve been so busy, getting things on track…” When she risked a glance at him, his gaze was knowing.

      “Did you follow up on any of those leads?”

      “I checked a couple of them out on the internet.”

      “And?”

      She shuffled her feet, feeling for all the world like a kid who’d been called to the principal’s office. “One of them was too big. The other one was too far from the city.”

      “Did you speak to any of the agents, tell them what you’re looking for?”

      “I’m on it. Relax.”

      “I’m going to take that as a ‘no.’”

      She took a big gulp of wine, not liking the disapproving way he was eyeing her. It was a little disconcerting to realize how much his good opinion meant to her.

      “Good studios are hard to find. I need the right size, the right price…” She could hear how lame she sounded. She put her wineglass down. “The thing is, I’ve been at the Stradbroke

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