Rainy Day Kisses. Debbie Macomber

“There’s got to be one in all this paraphernalia.”

      “I’ll find it—you keep the kid quiet.”

      Susannah nearly laughed out loud. If she was able to keep Michelle quiet, he wouldn’t be here in the first place. She imagined she could convince CIA agents to hand over top-secret documents more easily than she could silence one distressed nine-month-old infant.

      Without waiting for an invitation, her neighbor moved into the living room. He picked up one of the three overnight bags and rooted through that. He hesitated when he pulled out a stack of freshly laundered diapers, and glanced at Susannah. “I didn’t know anyone used cloth diapers anymore.”

      “My sister doesn’t believe in anything disposable.”

      “Smart woman.”

      Susannah made no comment, and within a few seconds noted that he’d come across a plastic bottle. He removed the protective cap and handed the bottle to Susannah, who looked at it and blinked. “Shouldn’t the milk be heated?”

      “It’s room temperature, and frankly, at this point I don’t think the kid’s going to care.”

      He was right. The instant Susannah placed the rubber nipple in her niece’s mouth, Michelle grasped the bottle with both hands and sucked at it greedily.

      For the first time since her mother had left, Michelle stopped crying. The silence was pure bliss. Susannah’s tension eased, and she released a sigh that went all the way through her body.

      “You might want to sit down,” he suggested next.

      Susannah did, and with Michelle cradled awkwardly in her arms, leaned against the back of the sofa, trying not to jostle her charge.

      “That’s better, isn’t it?” Her neighbor pushed the baseball cap farther back on his head, looking pleased with himself.

      “Much better.” Susannah smiled shyly up at him. They hadn’t actually met, but she’d certainly noticed her new neighbor. As far as looks went, he was downright handsome. She supposed most women would find his mischievous blue eyes and dark good looks appealing. He was tanned, but she’d have wagered a month’s pay that his bronzed features weren’t the result of any machine. He obviously spent a great deal of time outdoors, which led her to the conclusion that he didn’t work. At least not in an office. And frankly, she doubted he was employed outside of one, either. The clothes he wore and the sporadic hours he kept had led her to speculate about him earlier. If he had money, which apparently he did or else he wouldn’t be living in this complex, then he’d inherited it.

      “I think it’s time I introduced myself,” he said conversationally, sitting on the ottoman across from her. “I’m Nate Townsend.”

      “Susannah Simmons,” she said. “I apologize for all the racket. My niece and I are just getting acquainted and—oh, boy—it’s going to be a long weekend, so bear with us.”

      “You’re babysitting for the weekend?”

      “Two days and two nights.” It sounded like a whole lifetime to Susannah. “My sister and her husband are off on a second honeymoon. Normally my parents would watch Michelle and love doing it, but they’re visiting friends in Florida.”

      “It was kind of you to offer.”

      Susannah thought it best to correct this impression. “Trust me, I didn’t volunteer. In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m not very maternal.”

      “You’ve got to support her back a little more,” he said, watching Michelle.

      Susannah tried, but it felt awkward to hold on to her niece and the bottle.

      “You’re doing fine.”

      “Sure,” Susannah muttered. She felt like someone with two left feet who’d been unexpectedly ushered onto center stage and told to perform the lead in Swan Lake.

      “Relax, will you?” Nate encouraged.

      “I told you already I’m not into this motherhood business,” she snapped. “If you think you can do better, you feed her.”

      “You’re doing great. Don’t worry about it.”

      She wasn’t doing great at all, and she knew it, but this was as good as she got.

      “When’s the last time you had anything to eat?” he asked.

      “I beg your pardon?”

      “You sound hungry to me.”

      “Well, I’m not,” Susannah said irritably.

      “I think you are, but don’t worry, I’ll take care of that.” He walked boldly into her kitchen and paused in front of the refrigerator. “Your mood will improve once you have something in your stomach.”

      Shifting Michelle higher, Susannah stood and followed him. “You can’t just walk in here and—”

      “I’ll say I can’t,” he murmured, his head inside her fridge. “Do you realize there’s nothing in here except an open box of baking soda and a jar full of pickle juice?”

      “I eat out a lot,” Susannah said defensively.

      “I can see that.”

      Michelle had finished the bottle and made a slurping sound that prompted Susannah to remove the nipple from her mouth. The baby’s eyes were closed. Little wonder, Susannah thought. She was probably exhausted. Certainly Susannah was, and it was barely seven on Friday evening. The weekend was just beginning.

      Setting the empty bottle on the kitchen counter, Susannah awkwardly lifted Michelle onto her shoulder and patted her back until she produced a tiny burp. Feeling a real sense of accomplishment, Susannah smiled proudly.

      Nate chuckled and when Susannah glanced in his direction, she discovered him watching her, his grin warm and appraising. “You’re going to be fine.”

      Flustered, Susannah lowered her gaze. She always disliked it when a man looked at her that way, examining her features and forming a judgment about her by the size of her nose, or the direction in which her eyebrows grew. Most men seemed to believe they’d been granted a rare gift of insight and could determine a woman’s entire character just by looking at her face. Unfortunately, Susannah’s was too austere by conventional standards to be classified as beautiful. Her eyes were deep-set and dark, her cheekbones high. Her nose came almost straight from her forehead and together with her full mouth made her look like a classic Greek sculpture. Not pretty, she thought. Interesting perhaps.

      It was during Susannah’s beleaguered self-evaluation that Michelle stirred and started jabbering cheerfully, reaching one hand toward a strand of Susannah’s dark hair.

      Without her realizing it, her chignon had come undone. Michelle had somehow managed to loosen the pins and now the long dark tresses fell haphazardly over Susannah’s shoulder. If there was one thing Susannah was meticulous about, and actually there were several, it was her appearance. She must look a rare sight, in an expensive business suit with a stained white blouse and her hair tumbling over her shoulder.

      “Actually I’ve been waiting for an opportunity to introduce myself,” Nate said, leaning against the counter. “But after the first couple of times we saw each other, our paths didn’t seem to cross again.”

      “I’ve been working a lot of overtime lately.” If the truth be known, Susannah almost always put in extra hours. Often she brought work home with her. She was dedicated, committed and hardworking. Her neighbor, however, didn’t seem to possess any of those qualities. She strongly suspected that everything in life had come much too easily for Nate Townsend. She’d never seen him without his baseball cap or his T-shirt. Somehow she doubted he even owned a suit. And if he did, it probably wouldn’t look right on him. Nate Townsend was definitely a football-jersey type of guy.

      He seemed likable—friendly and outgoing—but from what she’d seen, he lacked ambition.