Four Little Problems. Carrie Weaver

      Down, boy. He reminded himself she was someone’s mother, for God’s sake. Four little someones’ mother. The thought was an effective mood killer. “I mean, I’m sure you are very good at your job. Where did you say you work?” Lame save, but better than nothing.

      Emily glanced away. “Luxury Lingerie. And I guess I’m a pretty darn good administrative assistant.”

      They waited for a car to go by before crossing the parking lot. Patrick cupped Emily’s elbow in a friendly, don’t-want-you-to-get-run-over gesture. “How long have you been there?”

      “Twelve years. Since right after Walt left. Walt was my first husband.”

      Her long-term job surprised him. For some reason, his initial impression had been that she was flighty. But then again, they hadn’t met under the best circumstances. “You worked after the younger boys were born?”

      “I didn’t have much choice. Larry couldn’t keep a job—Larry was my second husband. And when he left, he cleaned out what little I had in the bank.”

      Patrick shook his head. “I don’t get it.”

      “Get what?”

      “I don’t get women letting men take advantage of them like that.”

      Emily stopped in the middle of the sidewalk. She put her hands on her hips. “I made a mistake.”

      “I could have told you that. I mean, why would such a beautiful, courageous, intelligent woman allow any man to treat her that way?”

      She folded her arms over her chest. Her voice was soft when she said, “You’re not going to get laid tonight, Patrick, so save the BS.” Then she turned and stalked toward the gym.

      He stood for a moment, wondering what he’d said wrong. Compliments were a good thing, weren’t they? Apparently Emily didn’t think so.

      He couldn’t help but admire the steel in her spine. Then he noticed the luscious curve of her hips. Was he, on some subconscious level, trying to get laid?

      Shaking his head, he lengthened his stride to catch up. He grasped her elbow. “Emily.”

      She stopped. Her eyes sparkled under the outdoor lighting, whether from tears or anger, he wasn’t sure. “What?”

      Patrick tried to articulate what he didn’t really understand himself. “It wasn’t BS. I won’t lie, I find you very attractive. But I have no desire to start a relationship with you. It just wouldn’t work. I simply describe you the way I see you.”

      “That’s a hell of a way to mess with my mind. Insult me one second, then the next say one of the sweetest things a man has ever said to me. You swear you’re on the up-and-up, but tell me you’re not interested in a relationship. What exactly are you doing here, Patrick?”

      He swallowed hard. “Research?”

      “Research this.” She made a rude gesture and stalked through the double doors.

      Patrick’s mouth dropped open.

      And then he laughed. He’d never met a woman so unpredictable and refreshingly honest. Now, if he could just figure out exactly how he’d ticked her off so badly.

      CHAPTER SIX

      EMILY STEPPED THROUGH the doors and felt as if she’d stepped into a time warp. There was something about a school gym that transcended space and time. It was as if she’d entered her own high school gym in the mid-eighties. The only thing missing was the big hair.

      The odor of stale athletic socks and sweaty bodies lingered in the air, despite the elaborate decorations. Festoons of crepe paper and balloons, confetti on the refreshment table, disco balls reflecting the light. And on the dais, a DJ and sound system.

      “Hey, wait up.” Patrick appeared at her elbow.

      Inviting him had been a mistake. How could she have known he’d turn all goofy on her? First, his compliments had made her mad. How could he think she’d fall for that crap? But then she’d understood he’d been absolutely sincere.

      Her chest grew tight. His sincerity had caused her to, for a very short time, figure she might stand a ghost of a chance with a man who saw her not as a brassy, burnt-out mom, but as the kind of woman she desperately wanted to be.