LITMIR.BIZ

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from where I was standing.”

      She looked down at his shoes. “Must be some loose wiring running under your feet,” she decided innocently. “Maybe you’d better examine it later just to be safe. Wouldn’t want this place going up, especially after all the work we’re going to put into it.”

      “Guy doesn’t give a woman’s little girl an easel because there’s loose wiring in the floor,” he observed.

      Janice sighed, refusing to entertain the thought of what Gordon was suggesting. Philippe was her client. If he liked the job she did for him, she had no doubt he would refer other people to her. There was nothing more to their relationship. Besides, she was not about to get involved with anyone. She’d never been able to get through to her father, never had that magical moment she’d waited for where he saw how much she loved him, how much she wanted him to be proud of her. And as for her husband, well that had never had a chance to go anywhere, so she would never know. She had been a wife and a widow within six months. That had had its own set of pain attached. She didn’t need to seek out more.

      Besides, she had enough to keep her busy. She had Kelli and her work. There wasn’t space for more than that, certainly not for another pass at having her heart broken.

      “Make yourself useful, Gordon.”

      He grinned at her. “I thought I already was, since you can’t seem to see the forest for the trees—” He scratched his head. “Or is it the trees for the forest? I always get that confused.”

      That wasn’t the only thing he got confused, she thought. “It’s the floor for the debris,” she declared, pointing to the very large pile of splintered wood veneer and plasterboard, the end results of her swinging her sledgehammer at the kitchen cabinets yesterday. Philippe had sent her home before she’d had a chance to remove the debris. “Clean it up.”

      He could have taken exception to her tone. Once, when his father’s company had been his, he’d been her boss. And even when they’d worked with their father, he had supposedly always been the one in charge. It was only after the company went bankrupt and Janice began getting jobs on her own and throwing some of the business his way that she started issuing orders.

      Gordon saluted her, his expression suddenly somber. “I’m on it.”

      “Good to know,” she murmured. She didn’t want to repay Philippe’s kindness by appearing to take advantage of him.

      Stooping down, she filled her arms with splintered plasterboard and got started.

      He wasn’t in his office.

      Janice glanced at her watch to check the time. It was close to eleven and she’d assumed that he’d be busy at his work. She’d deliberately gone out of her way to pass his office to talk to him.

      Can’t talk to an empty chair.

      Had he gone out and she’d missed hearing him leave? She’d begun work on gutting the downstairs powder room and wanted to have all her ducks in a row. Or at least swimming in the right direction.

      She’d brought a color chart so that Philippe could decide what color he wanted her to paint the walls.

      Shrugging, she tucked the chart under her arm and went back out again. It was getting close to lunchtime anyway. She might as well collect Kelli and her brother and get something to eat. Because this was their first day on a job together, she thought she’d take them both out to celebrate the occasion instead of just bringing lunch from home.

      Janice moved around the corner. She didn’t have to look to know that Kelli would be completely captivated with her work. Painting always summoned this font of joy from within her, even when it wasn’t going well. With her sunny disposition, Kelli always managed to see the bright side of everything.

      “Kelli, honey,” she called out, “we’re going to break for lunch. Would you like to be the one to pick the restaurant?”

      It always made her daughter feel so grown up when she could choose where they would all go to eat. And then she laughed to herself. Before she knew it, Kelli would be an adult. God knew the little girl was growing up much too fast, doing ten years for every candle she blew out.

      When she received no response, Janice quickened her pace and made her way through the dining room toward the alcove. The moment she came near the threshold, she could feel her heart thudding in her chest.

      Could, unaccountably, feel a sting in her eyes.

      Allergies, she told herself.

      Philippe was standing behind Kelli, guiding her hand, giving her instructions in a low, patient voice. It was a father-daughter scene worthy of a holiday card.

      Except that they weren’t a father and daughter.

      So what? she demanded silently. Her own father had never been that patient on the rare occasions he explained something to her. Most of the time, he’d waved her back with that trite, archaic sentiment that “girls don’t need to know that.” She’d learned her trade by watching, by sneaking behind her father’s back to observe him in action.

      Never once had he put a hammer or a screwdriver into her hand and shown her how to use it. No tips or secrets were passed to her the way they had been to Gordon. Except that Gordon wanted no part of it. He remained, pretending to listen, because he was afraid not to. But his mind was always preoccupied with the current flavor of the month he was squiring. He’d been there in body, but not in spirit.

      She would have killed for a moment like this in her own life. And Kelli was obviously lapping it all up, she thought, watching the way her daughter beamed up at Philippe.

      Greeting-card moment or not, she had to break this up. “Kel, we’re going out to lunch.”

      But Kelli was completely focused on the images she was creating on the canvas and the technique Philippe was showing her. “In a minute, Mama.”

      She knew better than to let herself be ignored. “Now, honey.”

      Philippe removed his hand from Kelli’s and stepped back. “You’d better listen to your mother, Kelli.”

      The resigned sigh was filled with disappointment. Kelli retired her brush. “Okay.” And then she looked at her mother hopefully. “Can Philippe come, too?”

      She had to nip this in the bud, too. “His name is Mr. Zabelle, Kelli,” she reminded her daughter. “And I’m sure Mr. Zabelle has better things to do than come to eat with us.”

      He was about to take the excuse she tendered. He’d already spent way too much time not doing his work. So no one was more surprised than he was to hear himself say, “Actually, I don’t.” He was looking at J.D. rather than the little girl. “Unless of course, you’d rather I didn’t come along.”

      Her mouth felt like she’d been snacking on sandpaper since morning. Janice knew she should be blunt and say something about lunch being a family affair. The truth was she didn’t want him around her because he made her uncomfortable—but he only made her uncomfortable because she wanted to be around him. It was a conundrum, as her father had been fond of saying.

      The simplest way to avoid all that, to avoid any explanations that would probably result in her turning redder than the color of the shoes that Kelli had insisted on wearing this morning, was to say, “No, by all means, the more the merrier. Of course you can join us for lunch.”

      So, she did.

       Chapter Ten

      As it turned out, Philippe seemed to hit it off very well with Gordon and if one or the other paused to take a breath, there was Kelli, chatting like a little old lady, eager to fill in the dead air.

      Consequently, Janice contributed very little to the conversation that took place over salads and seasoned chicken

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