Rainy Day Kisses. Debbie Macomber

and nine o’clock appointments,” her assistant went on to explain. “When I spoke to Mr. Adams, he asked if you could join him for drinks tomorrow night at six.”

      “That’ll be fine.” The old lecher would love to do all their business outside the office. On this occasion, she’d agree to his terms, since she’d been the one to cancel their appointment, but she wouldn’t be so willing a second time. She’d never much cared for Andrew Adams, who was overweight, balding and a general nuisance.

      “Will you be needing me for anything else?” Ms. Brooks asked when she delivered the coffee.

      “Nothing. Thank you.”

      As she should have predicted, the meeting was an unmitigated disaster. The presentation took twenty-two minutes, and in that brief time Michelle managed to dismantle Susannah’s Cross pen, unfasten her blouse and pull her hair free from her carefully styled French twist. The baby clapped her hands at various inappropriate points and made loud noises. At the low point of the meeting, Susannah had been forced to leave her seat and dive under the conference table to retrieve her niece, who was cheerfully crawling over everyone’s feet.

      By the time she got home, Susannah felt like climbing back into bed and staying there. It was the type of day that made her crave something chocolate and excessively sweet. But there weren’t enough chocolate chip cookies in the world to see her through another morning like that one.

      To Susannah’s surprise, Nate met her in the foyer outside the elevator. She took one look at him and resisted the urge to burst into tears.

      “I take it things didn’t go well.”

      “How’d you guess?” she asked sarcastically.

      “It might be the fact you’re wearing your hair down when I specifically remember you left wearing it up. Or it could be that your blouse is buttoned wrong and there’s a gaping hole in the middle.” His smile was mischievous. “I wondered if you were the type to wear a lacy bra. Now I know.”

      Susannah groaned and slapped a hand over her front. He could have spared her that comment.

      “Here, kiddo,” he said, taking Michelle out of Susannah’s arms. “It looks like we need to give your poor aunt a break.”

      Turning her back, Susannah refastened her blouse and then brought out her key. Her once orderly, immaculate apartment looked as if a cyclone had gone through it. Blankets and baby toys were scattered from one end of the living room to the other. She’d slept on the couch in order to be close to Michelle, and her pillow and blankets were still there, along with her blue suit jacket, which she’d been forced to change when Michelle had tossed a spoonful of plums on the sleeve.

      “What happened here?” Nate asked, looking in astonishment at the scene before him.

      “Three days and three nights with Michelle and you need to ask?”

      “Sit down,” he said gently. “I’ll get you a cup of coffee.” Susannah did as he suggested, too grateful to argue with him.

      Nate stopped just inside the kitchen. “What’s this purple stuff all over the walls?”

      “Plums,” Susannah informed him. “I discovered the hard way that Michelle hates plums.”

      The scene in the kitchen was a good example of how her morning had gone. It had taken Susannah the better part of three hours to get herself and Michelle ready for the excursion to the office. And that was just the beginning.

      “What I need is a double martini,” she told Nate when he carried in two cups of coffee.

      “It’s not even noon.”

      “I know,” she said, slowly lowering herself to the sofa. “Can you imagine what I’d need if it was two o’clock?”

      Chuckling, Nate handed her the steaming cup. Michelle was sitting on the carpet, content to play with the very toys she’d vehemently rejected that morning.

      Nate unexpectedly sat down next to her and looped his arm over her shoulder. She tensed, but if he noticed, he chose to ignore it. He stretched his legs out on the coffee table and relaxed.

      Susannah felt her tension mount. The memory of the meeting with marketing was enough to elevate her blood pressure, but when she analyzed the reasons for this anxiety, she discovered it came from being so close to Nate. It wasn’t that Susannah objected to his touch; in reality, quite the opposite was true. They’d spent three days in close quarters, and contrary to everything she’d theorized about her neighbor, she’d come to appreciate his happy-go-lucky approach to life. But it was diametrically opposed to her own, and the fact that she could be so attracted to him was something of a shock.