I'm Your Man. Susan Crosby

      I’m Your Man

      Susan Crosby

       www.millsandboon.co.uk

      For Austin and Molly, who brighten my life in infinite ways.

       And for Barbara, Chickie and Linda, who soothe the savage beasts.

      CONTENTS

      CHAPTER 1

      CHAPTER 2

      CHAPTER 3

      CHAPTER 4

      CHAPTER 5

      CHAPTER 6

      CHAPTER 7

      CHAPTER 8

      CHAPTER 9

      CHAPTER 10

      CHAPTER 11

      CHAPTER 12

      CHAPTER 13

      CHAPTER 14

      CHAPTER 15

      CHAPTER 16

      CHAPTER 17

      CHAPTER 18

      CHAPTER 19

      CHAPTER 20

      CHAPTER 21

      CHAPTER 1

      Maureen Hart watched the glass cleaner drip down the bedroom window as she waited for someone to react, her back to the three other females in the room. Usually she spent the third Saturday of every month with the Rowdies, a group of girlfriends who descended on San Francisco’s club-and-concert scene with all the restraint of teenagers on spring break. This third Saturday, however, the Rowdies were blowing off steam without her as Maureen helped the pregnant-and-bedridden Bonnie Sinclair instead.

      “He gave you a key to his house?” Maureen’s aunt Cherie repeated, her reaction sufficiently surprised. She had picked up her red Candy Land game piece but didn’t move it to the next purple square on the path. “Did you accept it?”

      Maureen attacked the wet window with paper towels. “I didn’t know how not to.”

      The game came to a complete halt at the news that Maureen’s boyfriend of five months, Ted Montague, had made a show out of giving her a key to his house, having wrapped it up like a present and smiling like a kid at Christmas as she opened it.

      “Did you give him yours?” Cherie asked.

      “I didn’t have an extra one.”

      Cherie gave her an easily interpreted look.

      “Well, I didn’t,” Maureen said.

      “Are you going to?”

      “I either have to or return his, don’t I?”

      “Play, please,” ordered five-year-old Morgan, fidgeting on the queen-size bed.

      Morgan’s seven-months-pregnant, ordered-to-bed mother, Bonnie, brushed the girl’s brown curls from her face and smiled. “Be patient, sweetheart. This is important information for later in your life.”

      Morgan sighed. “Boring. Can I watch a movie?”

      “Sure.”

      The girl climbed off the bed and skipped out of the room. Bonnie rubbed her hands together. “Now we can talk. Why don’t you want to exchange keys, Maureen? You’ve been dating long enough, and you’re taking a big vacation together. It’s a natural step.”

      It was a fish-or-cut-bait step, Maureen thought, eyeing the clean window for streaks. Exchanging keys was only a step away from moving in together, a first in her thirty-nine years.

      “I’m sorry,” Bonnie said, subdued. “It’s really none of my business.”

      “No, that’s not it at all. I just don’t have an answer.” Maureen set her cleaning supplies aside and sat on a chair next to the bed that Bonnie had called home for a week, and would continue to until she gave birth. “I’m sorting through how I feel.”

      Maureen’s gaze drifted to the framed photograph on the nightstand of a handsome Navy lieutenant, Bonnie’s husband of six years, now stationed in the Middle East, with six months left on his current tour. “Did you hear from Jeremy today?” Maureen asked.

      “I got an e-mail. He was very upbeat. I know he doesn’t want me to worry….”

      An impossible task, Maureen thought, since Bonnie was confined to bed, unable to work, unable to do much of anything for herself or her daughter, which left a lot of time for thinking—and worrying. She had no family nearby, was dependent solely on public services and Cherie and Maureen, strangers until a week ago.

      Morgan bounded back into the room, carrying several DVDs. With the efficiency of someone who’d grown up with the technology, she popped in a movie then climbed onto her mother’s bed, remote control in hand.

      “So, Bonnie,” Cherie said as she put away the board game. “What else can we do before we leave?”

      “Else? You’ve cleaned my apartment, top to bottom. You’ve stocked my refrigerator, given Morgan a bath, changed the bedding. I can’t even list it all. There’s nothing else. Thank you so much. Both of you.”

      “Gregor will bring your food tomorrow and Monday. By Tuesday we should have a helper in place, at least for four or five hours a day. No word from your sister about coming to stay with you?”

      “She’s trying to work it out. She’s got three kids of her own, you know. Everyone else has jobs they can’t leave.”

      Can’t or won’t? Maureen wondered.

      “I’ll see you on Tuesday,” Cherie said. “Just to make sure everything is working out. Call me if you need anything before then.”

      Everyone hugged goodbye. A minute later Maureen and Cherie went down the flight of stairs and left the building. Night hadn’t quite fallen on the cool, breezy June day, a time of year Maureen loved, contrary to winter, when it was dark so early, making her bus ride home from work seem twice as long.

      “I can’t believe no one from Bonnie’s family has come,” Maureen said as they walked to her car. “Or Jeremy’s for that matter. Why isn’t anyone helping?”

      “My guess? Bonnie’s downplayed the seriousness of her condition.”

      “Well, that’s ridiculous. Maybe I can sneak around a bit, find a phone number or two and give someone a nudge.”

      “You’re getting attached,” her aunt said with a smile as Maureen pulled away from the curb, agitated.

      Maureen smiled back. “Guilty. I can’t imagine being restricted like she is. I’m glad you found out about her. Glad we can help.”

      “Me, too.”

      Maureen admired her aunt more than anyone on earth. At seventy most people had slowed down a little. Cherie seemed to get busier. Retired from a forty-five-year career as a nurse, she now volunteered at a free clinic three mornings a week; delivered Mobile Meals three afternoons a week, a service she started herself five years ago when she retired, and worked at a soup kitchen on Sundays. She swam twice a week and walked almost everywhere. A petite five-two, she dressed in comfortable, trendy clothes and kept her hair colored and highlighted. She’d never married, but men doted on her. Most people did, actually. She sparkled like the silver peace symbol she always wore on a chain around her neck.

      “Are you going to catch up with the Rowdies?” Cherie asked. “Seems like there’s enough time.”

      “I’m tempted just to take a shower, slip into something comfortable and watch TV. It’s been a long