Her Kind of Man. Debbie Macomber

hard to remember why I even got involved with him.” The words had begun to sound like a wornout litany.

      “Brad,” Jazmine said, and seemed satisfied now that she knew his name.

      Shana struggled to hide her reaction. Even the mention of Brad’s name irritated her. She might have worked the last twelve hours straight, and on her feet at that, but she had enough energy left to maintain her outrage toward Brad. Still, she would’ve preferred never to talk about him—or hear about him—ever again.

      “You still have a heart, though,” Jazmine pressed. “Right?”

      “Of course I have a heart.” Shana didn’t know where this was leading and she didn’t care, as long as it didn’t end up on the subject of Adam Kennedy.

      “That’s why you’re so hot on my uncle Adam.” Darn.

      “I am not hot on your uncle Adam.”

      “Are too.”

      “Am not.”

      “Are too.”

      “Jazmine!”

      Her niece laughed and despite her irritation, Shana smiled. This was not a conversation she wanted to have, but she’d walked right into it and was determined to extricate herself as gracefully as possible. “Don’t get me wrong,” she said in conciliatory tones. “I think he’s a very nice man, but I don’t want to get involved with anyone at the moment. Understand?”

      Jazmine bit her lower lip, as if she wanted to argue, but apparently changed her mind. “For how long?”

      Shana decided to nip this question in the bud. “Forever.”

      “That long?” Jazmine threw her a crushed look. “You don’t want children? That means I’ll never have cousins!”

      “Okay, months and months, then.” At this point Shana was ready to agree to just about anything.

      “Months,” Jazmine repeated. She seemed to accept that—or at any rate ventured no further argument.

      Shana parked in front of her house, grateful to be home. “You know what? I don’t want to cook. Do you have any suggestions?”

      “I can open a can of chili,” Jazmine said. “I’m not very hungry.”

      Shana wasn’t all that hungry, either. “Sounds like a perfectly good dinner to me.”

      “Let me do it, okay?”

      “Thanks, Jazz.” Shana had no intention of turning down this generous offer. “Fabulous.” Then considering her role as guardian, she felt obliged to ask, “Do you have any homework?”

      “A little.”

      Now came the dilemma. A really good substitute mother would tell Jazmine to forget dinner; Shana would rustle up a decent meal while the kid did her schoolwork. A woman of character would insist on opening that can of chili herself. But not one with tired feet and the start of a throbbing headache, brought on by all this talk about Adam Kennedy.

      Once inside the house, Shana left the front door open to create a cooling breeze. She lay back on the sofa and elevated her feet. It was little wonder the Olsens had been ready to sell their restaurant. This was hard work. For part of each day, Shana had her face buried in threegallon containers of ice cream. Her nose felt like she was suffering from permanent frostbite.

      Jazmine immediately went into the kitchen and started shuffling pans, clanking one against the other. “Do you need any help?” Shana felt she had to ask, but the question was halfhearted, to say the least.

      “No, thanks.”

      “This is really very sweet of you.”

      Jazmine grumbled a reply and Shana realized she’d failed again. A kid like Jazmine, who wore ankle-high tennis shoes to school, didn’t take kindly to the word sweet. Sooner or later, Shana would need to develop a more appropriate vocabulary. Later, she decided.

      A good ten minutes passed and if not for the sounds coming from the kitchen, Shana would be napping by now. Her head rested against the cushion, her feet were propped up and all was well. For the first time since she’d arrived, Jazmine was talking freely with her. She wasn’t sure whether she should credit Adam Kennedy with this improvement or not. She’d rather think she was making strides in her relationship with her niece due to her own efforts.

      “Uncle Adam says you need a man in your life.”

      Her peace shattered, and Shana’s eyes sprang open. She sat up, swung around and dropped her feet to the floor. “What did you just say?”

      Jazmine appeared in the doorway between the kitchen and the living room, wearing a chagrined expression. “I…Uncle Adam said you’re the kind of woman who needs a man in her life.”

      That did it. She’d utterly humiliated herself in front of him, and he thought…he assumed she was making some kind of play for him. This was the worst possible scenario.

      “Shana?” Jazmine whispered. “You look mad.”

      She wondered if the smoke coming out of her ears was any indication. “That’s ludicrous!”

      “I’m pretty sure he meant it as a compliment.” Shana doubted it, but gave her niece credit for some fast backtracking.

      “He thinks you’re beautiful.”

      He did? Although it shouldn’t have mattered, his comment gave Shana pause. “He said that?”

      Jazmine hesitated. “Well, not exactly.”

      Okay, then. “Listen, it’s not a good idea for us to talk about your uncle Adam right now.” When she saw him next, she’d have plenty to say, though.

      “You don’t want to talk about him?”

      “Nope.” The kid was catching on fast.

      “You don’t want to talk about Brad, either.”

      Right again. “You could say men aren’t my favorite topic at the moment.”

      “I guess not,” Jazmine said pensively. “I won’t mention either of them if that’s what you want.”

      “I want.” Her serenity gone, Shana gave up the idea of resting and joined Jazmine in the kitchen. Her niece’s backpack was propped against the kitchen chair; she seemed to keep it close at all times.

      Despite her intentions to the contrary, Shana gave the sexy lieutenant commander plenty of thought. What she had to do was keep her distance. She would be polite and accommodating if he wanted to spend time with Jazmine, but other than that, she’d be cool and remote. Never again would she allow him the opportunity to suggest that she needed a man—least of all him.

      Jazmine stirred the chili with her back to Shana. “I probably shouldn’t have said anything.”

      “Don’t worry about it.” Shana was eager to drop the subject.

      “You’re not mad, are you?”

      “Not anymore,” Shana assured her.

      “You look mad.”

      “I’m not,” she said.

      “Are too.”

      “Am not.”

      “Are too.”

      “Am not.”

      They both broke out laughing. Obviously Jazz remembered that this childish interchange had amused her earlier, and she wasn’t above repeating it.

      Shana had to admit it felt good to laugh with her niece; it was almost like having her sister there. Jazmine was a petite version of Ali and after she’d lowered her guard, they got along well.

      Shana wondered if she should clarify her position