LITMIR.BIZ

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too skinny. Not too plump. Firm and compact, with just the right amount up front and in back.

      Oh yeah, Keely Gilhooley was something.

      “Not that it makes any difference,” he said as he judged his portfolio ready and closed it.

      Sure, Keely Gilhooley was great-looking and he’d liked her on sight, but he also knew her type. The same type that had gotten him into trouble on the rebound from Clarissa.

      He would bet money that Keely Gilhooley was like Patty Hanson—the woman he’d rebounded with after Clarissa. A hometown kind of girl. Wholesome and homespun. A nice, quiet, sedate woman who probably wanted to settle down. Who wanted a husband with a nine-to-five job. A husband who came home to dinner every evening. Who puttered around the house on the weekends and took her to the movies on Saturday night.

      There was nothing wrong with that. It was just that Devon considered himself barely housebroken. And he sure as hell wasn’t a nine-to-fiver who puttered around the house on weekends.

      So, regardless of how appealing Miss Keely Gilhooley was, he knew better than to do more than appreciate her from afar.

      “But you certainly did improve the scenery while you were here,” he said as if Keely could hear him.

      It was true, she had improved the scenery and eased the blow of the earth-rocking news she’d delivered.

      That he could be a dad…

      Devon’s stomach clenched anew as that possibility brought him up short again all of a sudden.

      He could be a dad, and, tonight, for the first time, he was going to see the child who might have brought that about. The baby he might end up having to raise.

      It was a daunting thought.

      Almost more than he could handle.

      And only one thing kept him from totally freaking out at the prospect of the evening to come—the fact that he was also going to see Keely Gilhooley again.

      All right, so that wasn’t in keeping with his appreciate-her-from-afar decision.

      But still, he was pretty shaken by this turn of events and for now he needed all the incentive he could get to take the next step.

      “Is that you, Hill?” Keely called from the bedroom when she heard the front door open.

      “It’s me,” her sister called back.

      It was nearly seven-thirty in the evening; Keely had given Harley his bath and was getting him ready for bed while he happily chewed on a clean tennis sock he’d adopted as a teething ring.

      After coming up the stairs, Hillary appeared at the doorway and took the extra two steps to the changing table to greet Harley with a rub of the tip of her nose to the tip of his. “Hello, sweet baby.”

      Harley gave her a slobbery smile for her trouble and she returned to the doorway to lean against the jamb.

      Apparently only then did she actually take in Keely.

      “Well, look at you!” she said.

      Keely was hoping her sister wouldn’t notice that she’d primped a little in anticipation of Devon Tarlington’s visit. As it was, she’d done it almost against her own will—certainly it had been against her better judgment—and she didn’t want to talk about it. So she played dumb. “Look at me? Look at you—you’re all dusty and dirty and smudged. And I think you have cobwebs in your hair.”

      Hillary brushed at the reddish-blond hair she wore very short and spiked on top, and slapped at her sweatshirt.

      Other than the hair, the two of them resembled each other so much that they were often mistaken for twins. But Hillary was almost a year younger.

      “Are they gone?” she asked, leaning over so Keely could see the top of her head.

      “All clear. What were you packing that got you so grimy?” Keely asked, to continue the distraction.

      “We had to get some of Brad’s stuff out of the attic over there.”

      “Over there” was the house where Hillary’s soon-to-be-husband lived. But since Brad had sold the house, he and Hillary were in the process of moving him into Hillary’s and Keely’s place in advance of their wedding in two weeks.

      “It seems like you should be just about finished, shouldn’t you?” Keely said.

      “Close,” Hillary answered. But rather than offering more than that, she returned to the subject Keely had been trying to avoid. “So, are you having company tonight?”

      “Why? Just because my hair is down?”

      “And your face is all fresh and you have on my kiss-me lipstick and the sweater set I wore the night I got engaged and the jeans that make your butt look good. I don’t think I’ve seen you so fixed up since your divorce.”

      “I didn’t know I’ve looked so bad for the last year.”

      “You never look bad. I’m just saying that you haven’t gone to this much trouble in forever. What’s going on?”

      Keely hadn’t seen her sister since before the meeting with Devon Tarlington the previous afternoon. Both Hillary and Harley had been at Brad’s house, and that morning Brad alone had dropped Harley off at home. So Keely hadn’t had the chance to fill her sister in.

      She did it now, making sure to keep her tone neutral and her eyes on Harley as she tugged on his pajamas.

      But, by the time she’d snapped the last snap and informed Hillary that Devon Tarlington would be arriving any minute to see the baby for the first time, Hillary started to laugh.

      “You liked him,” she accused.

      “I didn’t like like him,” Keely said defensively.

      “Is he beautiful?”

      “He’s a guy. Guys aren’t beautiful,” she said as if he were nothing remarkable, when the truth was she thought he was about the best-looking man she’d ever laid eyes on.

      Hillary saw through her anyway. “Translation—he’s killer-cute,” her sister said.

      “It doesn’t matter if he is. I wouldn’t touch him with a ten-foot pole.”

      “Why not? Does he smell bad or something?”

      Keely had Harley all ready to be put down for the night as soon as Devon Tarlington accomplished what he was coming for so she picked the baby up and settled him on her hip.

      “No, Devon Tarlington doesn’t smell bad,” she said. “But he was not happy to hear he could be a father, either. And that’s the last thing I need—another guy who wants to pawn off his responsibilities on someone else.”

      “Oh, that reminds me!” Hillary blurted out, half-startling Harley and Keely both. “Mary called.”

      Keely fought to keep the pain that statement brought from showing. “When?” she asked as if it was no big deal.

      ‘Yesterday afternoon when you went to find this Devon Tarlington person.”

      “I’m sorry I missed her,” Keely said because it was true, even if any contact with Mary Kent did open the wound she was still working to heal. “What did she have to say?”

      As if she were reciting by rote, Hillary said, “She was just checking in to see how you are. She said she’s hard to get hold of because she’s almost always in class or with her friends, so don’t bother calling her back. She’ll try you again in a few days but she hopes the two of you can have lunch or dinner when she’s home for Thanksgiving break.”

      “That would be nice.” And not easy for Keely. But she didn’t say that.

      Still, Hillary knew the subject was a sore one for her sister so she changed it. “Now tell me about this Devon

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