LITMIR.BIZ

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even if Jack doesn’t know better, I do.”

      “You won’t have a problem with being chased around this fine, faux leather sofa?”

      “That won’t happen,” Abby said with confidence.

      Her friend patted the cushion beside her. “Sit down and spill it,” she said. “What are you up to?”

      Abby laughed. She walked across the room and flicked on the lamp. “What do you mean?”

      “I recognize that look in your eye,” Sharon said. “We’re finished moving for tonight. Sit and talk.”

      Abby set Wyatt on the carpet amid a cheerful clutter of toys, then took Rosie from her friend’s arms to put her down there, too. After that she plopped down on the sofa, shrugged and admitted, “I do have a teensy little plan.”

      JACK KNEW HE’D NEVER succeed at running his own business if he didn’t devote himself to it passionately. He spent most of his weekday hours developing and marketing software, training clients or troubleshooting problems.

      Most days, he had lunch delivered to wherever he was working, and often ate dinners there, too. The only personal things he rammed into his grueling schedule were an hour’s exercise at whichever end of the day he could fit it in, and a shower and shave after that.

      No one could work harder, and he had achieved a degree of success that allowed JK Business Software Systems to enjoy a nice little profit.

      He also knew that play restored him, and he worked hard at that, too. He couldn’t do well at one thing without focusing ample attention on the other.

      Therefore, most of his off hours were reserved for fun—any kind of fun. Wild or civilized, carefully charted or slapdash. His only requirement was that it, and the woman he chose to share it with, held his attention.

      By the time Friday night rolled around, he was usually the first in line for entertainment. This weekend was no exception. Although he’d returned to Kansas City to pack for his temporary stint in the country, there was no reason he couldn’t squeeze in a few dates with his lady friends.

      A year spent in the sticks taking care of two babies, with Abby’s solemn eyes judging his every move, sounded exhausting. And long. Possibly joyless. He wanted to cram as much of his usual rakish lifestyle into this weekend as possible.

      It had taken him only a few hours this morning to pack his things and dismantle his computer. He’d boxed everything and stacked it by the front door. The movers would pick up a few big items tomorrow and deliver them to the farmhouse on Sunday. It wouldn’t make sense to get out there before his furniture did, which meant most of the weekend was open.

      It only proved that he led a charmed life—he had plenty of time, and three beautiful girlfriends who should fill it rather nicely. Maybe if he could smooth things over with each of them, an occasional weekend visit might be arranged, making the year a little less arid.

      Since Diane happened to be a real estate agent, he called her first. Maybe she could help him find a temporary tenant for his condo. Even if that didn’t work out, she was well worth his time. His latest paramour had a cap of sexy black hair and mile-long legs. But his favorite feature by far was the seductive laugh she only used in the bedroom.

      He dialed her cellphone number, knowing her Friday morning would have been spent showing houses or scouting out opportunities.

      “Diane Westmoreland,” she barked.

      “Hey, Diane. I’m back in town.”

      “Ooh, Jacky!” she said, in a tone fairly dripping with carnality. “How good to hear your voice.”

      “You must be alone,” he said, chuckling at the change. She’d gone from frigid to fiery in a second.

      “Way, way too alone, big boy.”

      Good. He would enjoy seeing her, but more than that, he needed her help. “You busy in an hour?”

      “There’s not a thing happening here that can’t be rearranged for you.”

      “How about meeting me for lunch? We can go to your favorite Italian place in the city.”

      “Sounds wonderful,” she purred. “I’ll be waiting.”

      Wonderful it wasn’t. It was closer to woeful. Or wintry.

      Once Jack told Diane that he was moving to rural Topeka, her temperature went right back down to 98.6 degrees. And when he explained about moving into the farmhouse with Abby, it plummeted well below freezing.

      The mood had been so frosty at lunch, he’d worried that they’d both develop hypothermia. Or at least indigestion.

      He spent nearly an hour trying to convince her that he was not involved with Abigail Briggs. He told her that Abby was too countrified, often sharp-tongued and genuinely not his type. For some reason, Diane didn’t believe him.

      She had finished her meal and gathered her purse to leave before he remembered that he was going to ask her to sublet the apartment for him. He opened his mouth to speak, but after looking at her dour expression one more time, he thought better of it. He’d just have to call her later, after she had warmed back up to room temperature.

      There was no point in hiring a stranger just because the wiliest Realtor in town was a little miffed.

      Besides, there was no need to be alone tonight—Paula was next on his list. He owed her the choice Friday night slot because she’d been the most enduring girlfriend of his adult life.

      Ultrasophisticated Paula put up with his other lady friends and always greeted him with a smile. He was hoping she’d be willing to let him crash at her place whenever he had to come into the city on business.

      She surprised him. Their understanding about dating other people seemed to fly out the window as soon as he said the word roommates.

      “What do you mean, you’re going to live with her?”

      Jack held Paula’s wineglass out to her. She’d always understood his need to date around. This was only a slight deviation from normal, and it shouldn’t truly upset her.

      “She’ll be living in the same place, but that’s all,” he explained. “We’re not romantic. Think of her as a housemother, if you wish. Or the girl next door.”

      Paula didn’t take the glass, and she didn’t look amused. “And you’re actually going to help take care of two brats?”

      Jack frowned as he sat the glass back down. That had sounded ugly. He knew she wasn’t the nurturing type, but now she was slandering his own flesh and blood. “They’re only five months old,” he said. “Infants can’t be classified as brats.”

      “Future brats, then,” she sniffed, standing up to leave before they’d even ordered dinner.

      “Paula, you surprise me,” he said, as he stood up, too.

      “Darling, I’m afraid it’s you who has surprised me,” she said over her shoulder.

      Jack threw a couple of bills on the table and followed her out, wondering why two out of three of the women who were supposedly crazy about him were giving up so easily.

      He wasn’t doing anything shady. This was all just geographical. He was moving from a condo in the city to a house in the country, and it was an easy forty-five minute drive between the two. What was the problem?

      As they stood near the front of the restaurant, he held out her jacket so she could slip it on. In a desperate attempt to bring their conversation back to its usual witty banter, he said, “If I can ditch the rugrats one weekend and get to the city, may I give you a call?”

      “You can try,” she said. “I do have a life, you know. I’ll tell you what you can do—you can call me when you’re finished playing family man. Perhaps then we can move in together.” She gave him a peck on the cheek before she

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