LITMIR.BIZ

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poverty, he was a proud man. Since they were from two different worlds, he’d never let her into his life. Even if she wanted to be a part of it.

      You do, girl.

      Of course she did. But there were many things she wanted and couldn’t have. A baby. A dance studio. Freedom from self-imposed vigilance of her father. Ben whatever-his-last-name-was was simply another thing to add to that list.

      CHAPTER THREE

      THE COCKER SPANIEL WAS BEAUTIFUL, with its big soulful eyes, delicate features and golden red fur. When Ben entered Cassidy Place and saw her in the partially enclosed alcove, curled up on a bed of blankets, he couldn’t resist kneeling in front of her. “Hey, Lady, what are you doing here?”

      The dog stood, barking first before nuzzling into his neck. He held her there a minute, mesmerized by the throb of her body—and the little bodies obviously inside her. “You make me miss my girl, Lady.”

      “Want a puppy?” He didn’t have to turn to see who was behind him. That soft voice and that body had haunted his dreams for two weeks since the night in the parking lot when he’d touched her.

      He stood while the dog continued to sniff him. “No can do. But thanks.” Emily was dressed for dance class again. This time, the tights and leotard were dark wine under the black skirt. “How are you, Emily?”

      “I’m fine. We missed you last week.”

      “I, um, had something else to do.” Which was to avoid her. He wouldn’t have come to the soup kitchen tonight if Trey hadn’t called earlier. After he’d hung up, Ben’s isolation had become too big for him to handle. “So this is Lady.”

      “Uh-huh.” Emily hugged the dog. “How’re you feeling, girl?”

      “When’s she due?”

      “Not for ten days.” She looked up at Ben, the scoop of her form-fitting spandex top revealing the top of her breasts. “I leave her alone all day and now, at night, she cries when I go out. Hormones,” she said, a twinkle in her beautiful eyes, which were more brown than green tonight. “So I brought her with me.”

      Hormones were something Ben knew a lot about. Especially these past few weeks. His body had been in hibernation for two years and he was pissed that Emily had woken it up.

      “She looks close to ready.” He’d delivered his own dog’s pups once, so he could read the signs.

      “I know. And she was restless tonight.” She rose. “Go back and lie down, girl.”

      The dog obeyed.

      Emily folded her arms across her waist. “Have you been well?”

      “As well as can be expected.”

      She cocked her head. “What does that mean?”

      He ran a hand through his shaggy dark hair, which needed a trim. “Nothing.” He glanced over her shoulder. “It’s slow tonight.”

      “Yes. Sit at my table. I’ll bring your food. It’s fried chicken. Your favorite.”

      Damn, he wished she wouldn’t do that—keep track of him, try to please him. It made resisting her all the harder. He took a seat at the table she indicated. Max, who was a recovering alcoholic and on unemployment, nodded. “How’s it goin’, Ben?”

      “Just fine. You?”

      “Twenty weeks and countin’.” The man sipped his coffee.

      Ben gave him the thumbs-up.

      Across from Max was Lorena. Every week she sat in the same chair and spoke to no one but Emily. She wore hats no matter what the weather and covered herself, albeit in tattered clothes, from head to foot. She also stowed most of her food in plastic bags, odd containers and napkins. He nodded to her, but she looked away. The only others at the table were a family of five he’d seen here occasionally, but didn’t know personally. The man—the father?—had gone to get some giveaways, and the woman was frantically trying to seat her three children. “Here, let me help.” Ben hefted one of the toddlers, who appeared to be about two. “What’s his name?”

      “Mohammed,” the woman told him in accented English. Ben guessed they were one of the many refugee families who frequented Cassidy Place. “And this is Anwar and Tidi.” The youngest curled into her chest, secured by a long scarf. The woman herself was dressed in matching colorful robes.

      Ben seated the boy, who began to bang on the tray.

      “Thank you.” The woman’s smile was weary.

      The father returned carrying a plastic bag. Periodically, when the soup kitchen had extra, vegetables and bread were set out for the guests on a long table. When Ben had been in charge, if there had been no donations for a week, he’d supplied them out of his own pocket.

      “I was able to obtain bread and carrots and lettuce,” the man said.

      His wife sighed. Most people had no idea what it was like to live hand to mouth, Ben thought. Many of the impoverished would work but couldn’t find jobs. Ben hadn’t known any of this, not really, until he’d experienced his own downslide. His heart went out to them.

      The meal was served and Ben tried hard not to watch Emily, but his gaze kept tracking her as she glided over the floor like the dancer that she was. He wondered what she did for a living—not dance, he knew that. Did she like her job? Who were her friends? Did she have a guy in her life?

      When she brought his meal, her arm brushed against him and he felt it all the way to his toes. “Thanks,” he muttered hoarsely.

      She placed plates in front of the family and asked what to do with Mohammed’s dinner. “Set it here,” the mother said. “I’ll feed him first.”

      “No need.” Emily pulled up a chair. “I’ve got a few minutes.”

      The boy looked up at her. He babbled something in his native language. “Hungry, aren’t you, little guy?”

      Out of the corner of his eye, Ben could see her cut the boy’s food. She fed him some chicken and let him spoon up his own mashed potatoes. The few minutes she spent with the child gave the mother an opportunity to eat. When the second boy, Anwar, started to whine, Ben leaned over. “What do you need, buddy?”

      He pointed to his milk.

      The mother tried to adjust the baby in the front makeshift knapsack. “Wait for a minute, Ani.”

      “I’ll get it.” Ben helped the four-year-old sip. Over the child’s head, he caught Emily’s gaze. The approval there warmed him. He smiled, genuinely, without holding back. Her eyes darkened and she focused on his mouth.

      He glanced away, affected by that look. So when he finished his dessert, he decided to head out. He preferred to wait until the evening was over to help close up, but he needed to get away from Emily. Unfortunately, she caught his arm when he was halfway to the door.

      “Leaving already?”

      “Yes.”

      “I wish you’d stay. Talk a while.”

      “I told you two weeks ago that kind of thing wasn’t a good idea.”

      Her cute little chin tilted. “Says you.”

      “Yep. Says me. Night, ma’am.”

      On his way out, he heard some rustling in the alcove where the dog was resting. Lady was up, pacing. Ben frowned. “Hey, girl, you all right?” As he petted her head, he noticed she was shivering. Uh-oh. On the other side of the room, Ben saw Emily at the counter and motioned her over.

      She hurried to him. “What’s going on?”

      He nodded down to the dog, who’d begun to pant. “I think you’re about to become a grandmother.”

      “Oh, dear. It’s

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