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  A slow flush crept up Emilee’s cheeks. She glanced down at her fingernails for a few seconds. “I’ve got a history test this morning that I don’t want to miss. And I used an ankle wrap. It’ll be fine.”

  “If Dr. Hartvigsen says it’s okay for you to walk on it, I’ll take you to school as soon as we’re through here.” She thought that might make Emilee a bit happier.

  It didn’t. Emilee let out another heavy sigh and muttered something under her breath Sharon couldn’t quite hear.

  Before Sharon could figure out what she’d said, Dr. Hartvigsen’s nurse poked her head into the waiting room. “Emilee Lawrence?”

  Emilee stood quickly and started toward the nurse. Sharon set the magazine aside and started after her, but Emilee held up a hand to stop her. “It’s okay, Mom. You don’t need to come in with me.”

  Sharon’s step faltered. She’d always gone with the girls for regular checkups, and they’d always wanted her with them when they were sick or hurt. But at seventeen, she supposed Emilee might imagine herself too old to need her mother around. “All right. I’ll wait here. But I want to talk to the doctor after he’s examined you.”

  Emilee’s eyes widened as if Sharon had offended her. “Why? Don’t you trust me?”

  The question knocked Sharon completely for a loop. “Of course I trust you. That has nothing to do with it.”

  Something flickered in Emilee’s eyes. Worry? Panic? Fear?

  Sharon caught her breath and wondered if Emilee was trying to hide something. All the concerns she’d managed to put behind her for the past few days came back again.

  She returned to her seat in the waiting room and tried to read several short articles, but the words seemed to swim on the glossy pages. She set the magazine aside and picked up another one with lots of pictures.

  After what felt like forever, the nurse reappeared in the doorway. “Mrs. Lawrence? Dr. Hartvigsen can see you now.”

  Relieved, she followed the nurse to the doctor’s office at the end of the corridor. Dr. Hartvigsen motioned her toward one of the empty leather chairs. “Have a seat, Sharon.”

  She sat and propped her purse beside her feet on the floor. “Thanks for taking the time to talk with me.”

  “It’s quite all right.” He frowned slightly and scratched just above one ear. “I’ve had a look at Emilee’s ankle.”

  “How bad is it?”

  His frown deepened. “Not bad at all.”

  “But she does have a sprain?”

  Dr. Hartvigsen smoothed his fringe of graying hair with one hand. “To be perfectly honest, Sharon, I don’t think there’s anything wrong with Emilee’s ankle.”

  Sharon stared at him in disbelief. Her mood took a plunge. She didn’t want Emilee to be hurt, but she didn’t want Norman Taylor to be right, either. “Are you sure?”

  “There’s no swelling, and I can’t find any evidence of a sprain.” He linked his hands over his round stomach. “I hate to say this, but I think she’s pretending.”

  If Dr. Hartvigsen hadn’t been treating the girls for as long as she could remember, or if he’d ever been wrong before, she might have argued. Motherly instinct told her to argue anyway. Common sense held her back.

  Dr. Hartvigsen’s eyebrows knit in concern. “Is she having trouble at school?”

  “No.” The word sounded far more definite than it should have. Sharon ran her hands across the legs of her slacks and tried again. “None that I’m aware of.”

  The doctor let out a sigh. “Well, maybe it’s nothing to worry about. Maybe it’s just a test she’s trying to avoid or trouble with some of the kids at school.”

  “I wish I could believe that,” Sharon admitted. “But Emilee didn’t want to stay home. In fact, she practically begged me to let her go to school this morning.”

  “Really?” He seemed as confused as Sharon. “Well, then, maybe I’m missing something. You can always get a second opinion.”

  Sharon shook her head slowly. “No. I believe you. In fact, that’s exactly what the school nurse thought. I brought Emilee here this morning so you could prove him wrong. It’s just not like her to do something like this.”

  Sharon leaned down and retrieved her purse from the floor. “I know you’re busy, Doctor. I won’t keep you any longer. Thanks for talking to me.”

  He stood and came around from behind his desk, clapped a gentle hand on her shoulder and steered her toward the door. “Hopefully it’s not a big problem. After all, Emilee is seventeen. That’s a rough age. Believe me. My wife and I raised three daughters of our own. All sorts of things go on inside them. They think they’re adults, but emotionally…” He let his voice trail away and shook his head in resignation.

  Sharon tried to smile, and failed.

  Dr. Hartvigsen patted her shoulder again. “Have you been unusually busy at work or distracted by anything?”

  She shook her head without conviction.

  “Sometimes kids this age do things as a cry for attention,” the doctor said. “Maybe it’s nothing more than that.”

  Maybe. Sharon just didn’t know.

  “Of course,” the doctor went on, “there are professionals who could give you better advice than I can.”

  Professionals. Analysts. Psychiatrists. Sharon didn’t like the way that sounded. She steeled herself to face Emilee again now that she knew the truth. Or maybe more appropriately, now that she realized she had no idea what was going on with her own daughter.

  She’d never had trouble with her kids before.

  Never. And she didn’t intend to start now. If Emilee had a problem, Sharon would get to the bottom of it. If Emilee needed attention, Sharon would give it.

  One thing was certain. She wouldn’t give up until she’d resolved the problem.

  GABE WOULD NEVER admit it aloud, but the strain of keeping his bet with Jesse was beginning to wear on him. Lunch with Sharon the day before had left him even more acutely aware of her.

  She was very attractive and one of the nicest women he’d ever met. He could talk with her easily about any subject—even the ones he usually avoided. But she was a client. He couldn’t lose sight of that.

  He never should have made that stupid bet in the first place.

  He lugged his toolbox through the garage and knocked on the door. And he told himself firmly he wouldn’t let her get to him tonight, no matter what she said or did. No matter how she looked. He’d just have to be strong. He could do it. He could resist.

  She opened the door a moment later and stood there, bathed in the soft light of the landing. Her dark hair framed her face and caught the glow of the lamp. But she didn’t smile the way she usually did when she saw him. And when he looked closer, he could see something unsettled lurking in her eyes.

  Touched by her vulnerability, he shifted his toolbox to the other hand. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine,” she said as she stepped aside to let him enter. “No, I take that back. I’m not fine at all. I went to Emilee’s school after work to apologize to Mr. Taylor. I’m still a little upset by our conversation.”

  “Norman the nurse?”

  She laughed, and some of the tension seemed to leave her. “Norman the nerd is more like it.”

  “What did he say?” He caught himself and added quickly, “You don’t have to tell me. It’s none of my business.”

  “It’s okay. I don’t mind. In fact, maybe talking about it will help.”

  He was pleased to hear that. “Okay, then. Talk away.” He left the toolbox by the door and followed her into the dining room, looking at anything but her.

  She sat at the table and motioned him toward a chair. “Both of the girls are out with friends tonight. I’ve been scouring the kitchen trying to work off some of this anger. To tell you the truth, I’m not sure who I’m most angry with—Mr. Taylor or Emilee.”

  “Why Emilee?”

  “Because she was faking. Dr. Hartvigsen couldn’t find anything wrong with her ankle. I’ve been trying and tryi
ng to think of a reason why she’d do something like this, but I just can’t.”

  Gabe sat slowly, aware that he held the information she wanted, yet hesitating to give it to her. “Emilee seems like a pretty steady girl,” he said. “I’m sure it’s nothing serious.”

  “I wish I could believe you. One part of me wants desperately to believe you, but the other part tells me I need to be realistic.” She dropped her hands to her lap and studied them for a moment. “I am upset with Emilee, but do you know what makes me angriest?”

  Did he want to know?

  She told him anyway. “Mr. Taylor.”

  He raised one eyebrow. “Why?”

  “Do you know what he thinks is wrong?”

  Gabe shook his head slowly.

  “He thinks Emilee’s acting out because she doesn’t have a father figure. No, wait, because her real father doesn’t live with us anymore.” She shot to her feet and paced toward the bay window, then whirled back to face him. “I told him I’ve been divorced five years. I asked him why she’d suddenly start acting out now. Do you know what he said?”

  Gabe couldn’t even begin to guess.

  “He said she talked about the divorce almost constantly when she first came into his office. About how hard I work to make ends meet, how much I have to do around the house, how I never get out and do anything anymore.”

  Subtlety obviously wasn’t one of Emilee’s strengths. Gabe lowered his gaze and tried not to let her see the smile that tugged at his lips. “Maybe he misunderstood her.”

  “I don’t think he did.” Anger flashed in her eyes. “She even told him how much time I have to spend in the garden every spring and summer and said I need help around the house. And the worst part was, I could tell he felt sorry for me. He told me to call Parents Without Partners.”

  Bad move, Emilee. Very bad move. Gabe tried to think of some way to ease Sharon’s worry without breaking his promise to the girls. He stood and rounded the table. “I don’t think Emilee expected him to have that reaction.”

  “I wouldn’t have thought so either before today.” Sharon kneaded her forehead with her fingertips. “I just can’t believe she’s upset because her dad’s not here. Things are so much better now than they were before.”

  “Maybe she’s worried about you,” Gabe suggested. “Maybe she’d like to see you find someone who’d make you happy.”

  “I am happy,” she snapped.

  In spite of her obvious distress, Gabe chuckled. “Anyone who saw you right now wouldn’t think so.”

  She scowled at him, but she couldn’t maintain it. Slowly, a smile replaced the frown and her eyes lost some of their anger. “Well, okay,” she admitted grudgingly. “I’m not ecstatic right this minute—”

  Without taking time to think it through, Gabe put an arm around her shoulder and gave her a gentle squeeze. “I’m sure you have nothing to worry about with Emilee.”

  Immediately, the mood shifted. At least his did. Warmth spiraled all the way up his arm to his chest. His fingertips tingled. For a moment, they both froze.

  Then she met his gaze and held it. He swallowed convulsively and tried to look away. His mouth dried. His pulse roared in his ears. It would be so easy to pull her close and hold her. To kiss her.

  But it would also be so wrong. Somehow, he managed to release her.

  “Maybe you’re right.” She took a step away and brushed back a lock of hair. Gabe noticed her fingers trembling slightly. “Thanks for the listening ear, but I’d better let you get to work. I know you have a lot to do.”

  “Yeah.” His voice came out thick. He cleared his throat and tried again. “Yeah, it’s, uh…” He checked his watch and nodded. “It’s getting late.”

  “If you’d like to get in some extra time on the basement, I’ll be working at home all day tomorrow.” She flushed slightly and added, “I need some time to think.”

  “Thanks. An extra day would help.” He turned away, ignoring the urge to pull her into his arms again, and snatched up his toolbox from beside the back door. Obviously, he wasn’t quite as strong as he’d thought he was.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  TIRED, ACHING, SORE and frustrated, Gabe pulled into Milago’s parking lot and hurried to get inside and out of the cold. He’d have a garlic burger and a beer, then go home to his empty apartment and the memory of having his arm around Sharon, which he hadn’t been able to put out of his mind all evening.

  He wanted to kick himself for holding back the truth about Emilee. There was, after all, a perfectly harmless explanation for what she’d done. He could have set Sharon’s mind at ease and maybe even made her laugh. Instead, he’d opted to leave her in turmoil. First thing tomorrow, he vowed silently, he’d talk to those girls about their ridiculous scheme and convince them to tell their mother everything. Then he could stop feeling as though he’d lied to her.

  He found Jesse sitting at the bar again. Jesse smiled as Gabe hitched himself onto a stool. “Long time no see, buddy. What’s going on?”

  “I’ve been working.” Gabe made little effort to keep his irritation under control. He never should have taken that bet with Jesse, he said to himself for the umpteenth time.

  Jesse’s eyebrows formed a solid ridge over his eyes. “Just working?”

  “Just working.” Gabe started to order a beer then changed his mind and ordered a whiskey soda.

  Jesse flashed an annoying grin. “Hitting the hard stuff, eh? That’s not like you.”

  “It’s like me tonight,” Gabe said with a growl. “Do you mind?”

  “I don’t mind at all. Knock yourself out.” Jesse let a silence lapse between them for a moment, but not long enough. “I guess this means you’re winning the bet so far.”

  “You’d better believe it.”

  “And you’re doing okay?”

  “I’m doing fine.”

  “You’re not even tempted?”

  “Not in the slightest.” Gabe took a drink, grimaced when the whiskey burned a path to his stomach and told another lie. “In fact, I’ve never been better.”

  “Glad to hear it.” Jesse turned his beer bottle around in his hands. “Guess you won’t have any trouble making it the next five months, either.”

  “Piece of cake.” Gabe swiveled on the stool to look out at the dance floor. A dozen couples swayed to a slow country song. Women leaned their cheeks on their partners’ shoulders while the men held the women close. Gabe swiveled back again and focused on a jar of pickled eggs behind the bar.

  Chuckling, Jesse nudged him with an elbow. “Piece of cake, huh?”

  “Okay,” Gabe snarled. “So it’s not that easy.”

  “You want to call off the bet?”

  “No.” Pride answered before common sense could prevail.

  “You really think you can make it another five months?”

  “With my hands tied behind my back.” Gabe signaled Ringo to bring him another drink. One more wouldn’t hurt.

  Jesse added another beer to the order, turned around on his stool and propped both elbows on the bar behind him. “So, how are you coming on that basement?”

  “Slow. I only get to work on it a few hours each week, and you know what it’s like when you’re dealing with old buildings. There’s been one setback after another.” He could hear the tension in his voice, but he seemed powerless to change it. Anything connected to Sharon seemed to bring it out lately.

  Jesse rubbed his face with his palm and glanced at him from the corner of his eye. “What kind of setbacks?”

  Gabe glared at him. “What is this? Twenty Questions?”

  Jesse pulled back sharply. “Conversation, buddy. That’s all.”

  Gabe suddenly felt like a jerk. “Sorry. Just ignore me tonight. I’m not myself.”

  “So, what’s bugging you?”

  “Nothing.” He sent Jesse a thin smile and amended, “Everything.”

  “Helene giving you problems again?”

  “Not really. But it’s been over a
week since I talked to Tracy. I tried to call last night, but she wasn’t home. You’re lucky your kids still live nearby. At least you get to see them once in a while.”

  “Don’t kid yourself. They might live only ten miles away, but it still isn’t easy when they get to be teenagers. Half the time, I think they’re glad to see me. The other half, they act like I’m trying to ruin their social lives by asking them to spend time with me.” He looked away for a second. “I try not to let it bug me. Remember how we used to feel about spending time with our parents? It hasn’t been that long since we were teenagers.”

  “Some days it feels like it’s been forever. But you’re right. I guess I need to try to put myself in Tracy’s place.” Gabe settled more comfortably on the bar stool.

  “That’s not the only thing bothering you, is it?”

  Gabe didn’t answer right away.

  “There’s a woman, isn’t there?” Jesse spun around on his stool and pounded the bar with his fist. “I knew it.”

  “You’re wrong.”

  “No, I’m not. I know you too well. You can’t lie to me.”

  “Okay, so there is someone.”

  Jesse brayed a triumphant laugh. “All right! Who is she?”

  “It’s not what you think,” Gabe cautioned. “This one’s not like the others.” He rubbed his forehead a bit harder. “She’s all wrong for me, but I can’t stop thinking about her.”

  “Wrong for you how?”

  “She’s…domestic. You know the type. Likes to spend her evenings at home. Thinks a big evening is watching the movie of the week on TV. She’s got a couple of kids—”

  “Oh, yeah,” Jesse said with a grin. “She sounds like a real loser.”

  “That’s not what I mean,” Gabe protested. “There’s nothing wrong with that for some guys. But I’m no good at that kind of life. You know that as well as I do.”

  Jesse’s smile faded. “All I know is that after Helene, you’re afraid.”

  Gabe glared at him. “Afraid of what?”

  “Afraid of letting any woman see the real you.”

  “I’ve got news for you, buddy. This is the real me.”