Six More Hot Single Dads!. Kate Hardy

place, made it all come into focus.

      By nature he was ordinarily an upbeat sort of person, but having her around had wound up making his very soul sing.

      That, my boy, is because you’ve finally given yourself permission to be in love.

      There was no getting around that, he thought—not that he really wanted to. He’d forced himself to admit it. He was in love. And being so made all the difference in the world.

      He was anxious to make it official as soon as possible. He wanted to tell Isabelle how he felt about her. Wanted to declare his feelings out loud so that he could go forward and start making plans. Important plans. Plans not just for the two of them but for all three of them because Isabelle and Victoria had a bond, as well.

      The very thought of that made him incredibly happy. He suspected that Victoria felt exactly the same way about Isabelle as he did.

      Well, maybe not exactly the same way, he amended with a wicked grin, but close.

      Brandon pressed down on the accelerator, in a rush to get back home. Finally, he could go forward with his life. He no longer believed that the best was behind him, he thought as he pulled up before his house. The best was yet to be.

      As he got out of his car, Brandon was vaguely aware that Isabelle’s car wasn’t parked at the curb or in the driveway either.

      What a time for her to pick to run an errand, he thought, just the slightest bit crestfallen.

      He was going to have to hang on to his enthusiasm for a little while longer, he told himself. Until she got back.

      He hoped he could hold out.

       Chapter Sixteen

      “Well, you’re looking pretty pleased with yourself,” Anastasia commented to her son when he walked into her room.

      Or rather, to his reflection in her mirror, which was what she was looking at as she finished carefully arranging her hair. Done, she turned around to face him and crossed to her bed which was currently buried under mounds of her clothing.

      “You’re just in time to help me decide. Which color is more flattering? The turquoise?” She held up a dress that was clearly not meant for daywear. “Or the hunter green?” She switched to another garment, one that was shot through with silver threads, and held it up against her torso.

      “The turquoise,” he told her. Unable to hold the news in any longer, he shared it with her. “And I’ve just sealed a deal to have The Thrill of the Hunt made into a movie.”

      About to remove the last articles of clothing from her closet, Anastasia stopped in midstep and whirled around to look at Brandon. There was genuine pleasure in her eyes. “Oh, how wonderful, Brandon!” Ever the competitive actress, she automatically asked, “Do you think there’s a part in it for me?”

      “Depends,” he said, brushing a kiss to her cheek. “Can you play a tough as nails L.A.P.D. detective in her early thirties?”

      “She’s that old?” Anastasia lamented, then waved her hand, dismissing the subject. “Maybe I’ll just let someone else get it.”

      He saw her glancing in the mirror, examining her profile. Some things never changed, he thought fondly. “That’s very thoughtful of you.” Belatedly, the chaos on her bed—and the opened suitcases—registered. “What are you doing?”

      “Packing, darling.” She laughed indulgently. “You’d think after all these years of watching me do it, you’d recognize it when you saw it.”

      And here it was, the weather forecast for his parade. Was it merely going to rain, or was there a flash flood in the offing? “But you weren’t going to leave until your physical therapy program was over.”

      “Exactly.” Anastasia stopped packing her clothes and went through the motions of taking a curtain call bow. “It’s over. I am officially ‘as good as new.’” She allowed a contented sigh to escape. “Isabelle said there was nothing else she could do for me.”

      Why was there this uneasy, queasy feeling burrowing into the pit of his stomach?

      He was jumping to needless conclusions, Brandon told himself. “Speaking of Isabelle, do you know when she’ll be back?”

      Anastasia looked at him blankly, waiting. When he didn’t continue, she asked, “No, when?”

      “I’m asking you,” Brandon stressed, struggling to keep this strange, swiftly-growing agitation he was experiencing from getting out of hand.

      Ah, the mighty confirmed bachelor has fallen, Anastasia thought, well satisfied. She’d seen that look before, on the faces of the men who told her they were in love with her. “How should I know? Her work here is done.”

      That was exactly the answer he didn’t want to hear. “Then she’s not coming back?”

      As far as Anastasia was concerned, she was playing her part beautifully, seeing as how she was improvising her dialogue as she went along.

      In true motherly fashion, she put her hand to his cheek. “Darling, is there something wrong with your attention span? I just said I was ‘good as new.’ Isabelle’s accomplished what she came here to do. I’m sure she’ll be moving on to another assignment. She might even be starting right now,” Anastasia speculated.

      He was having a very hard time wrapping his head around this. “And she left here—for good—without saying goodbye?”

      “Well, she said it to me,” Anastasia informed him, as if she was the primary one who counted in this scheme of things. “But I suspect that was only because our paths crossed at the front door. I think she just wanted to slip quietly away without making a fuss.” She smiled. “You know how unassuming Isabelle can be when it comes to herself.”

      He knew. He also saw her leaving like that as something different than not wanting to “make a fuss.” He saw it as running out on him.

      Just as his ex-wife had.

      Except that back then, he knew why Jean had run out on him. She’d told him in no uncertain terms. She wasn’t cut out to be a mother and didn’t want to be tied down by either a baby or a husband.

      It was different with Isabelle. She was everything he wanted in a woman, in a life partner—or at least he thought she was everything he wanted.

      Now he didn’t know.

      What he didn’t want was someone who couldn’t be counted on. Someone who literally turned around and ran after all but pledging her heart to him.

      Or had he misread that, too?

      “What’s the matter, dear?” Anastasia asked, playing the concerned mother for all she was worth. “You look as if you’ve just lost your best friend.” Deliberately pretending that she was misinterpreting the reason for the look on his face, she crossed to him and took his chin in her hand. “Don’t worry, darling, I’ll be back to visit you and Victoria regularly. I promise.”

      He forced a smile to his lips, removed her hand and turned it so it was palm side down. In the fashion of gallantry of centuries gone by, he pressed a kiss to her hand.

      “I know you will, Mother.” He let her hand go and stepped back. “I’ll get out of your way so you can finish packing. Let me know when you want me to take the suitcase to the front door for you.”

      “Won’t be for a while yet, dear.”

      His mother’s voice followed him out into the hallway, but he hardly heard her.

      She was gone, he thought, numbly placing one foot in front of the other.

      Isabelle was gone.

      Gone, just like that.

      Without