His Temporary Live-in Wife. Susan Crosby

offered a teaching position at MIT, his alma mater and where his father had taught for many years, as well. But a move to the west coast seemed … cleaner.

      He was almost forty, and he was done with the singles scene. He wanted to live near family, not just gather with them for holidays. His brothers were scattered around the country, but his sister lived just north of Sacramento. She was newly married and not bound to leave the area anytime soon.

      More important, he wanted marriage and children, and had bought a house suitable for raising a family. He’d been waiting for years to settle down, fulfilling his many other responsibilities before seeing to his own needs. He’d raised his four siblings after their parents died, and he didn’t regret or resent what he’d done, but it was his time now.

      His cell phone rang, jarring him out of his reverie. He saw it was Marcy Malone again. “Yes, Marcy?”

      “I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

      “I’m in my empty apartment, making a final pass-through. What can I do for you?”

      “I wanted to let you know that the window has been fixed.”

      “Good.”

      “However,” she added, “I just realized there are no blinds or curtains. Not a one.”

      “I’m aware of that.”

      “Have you ordered some? I don’t see anything on the list about it.”

      The nerves he’d heard in their previous conversation seemed more intense now. “The interior designer is handling it. I take it you’re afraid to stay there without window coverings?”

      There was a long pause, as if she was weighing her words and being careful not to displease the client. “I’m okay,” she said finally but in a tone that seemed to indicate she was trying to convince herself.

      He should’ve asked Julia Swanson for information on Marcy Malone. He’d like a visual to put to the voice. She sounded young. “If you’re sure,” he said, not wanting to have her replaced, but also not wanting her to fear staying in the house alone.

      “I’m sure. Okay, then. That’s all I wanted to know.”

      “I’m glad you called,” he said. “Don’t hesitate, no matter how trivial the issue seems.”

      “Thanks. Have a safe trip.”

      He said good-night then wandered to the living-room window, which overlooked Central Park. He’d taken Jamie there. They’d rollerbladed, eaten ice cream and talked a lot—about life and expectations and what mattered most.

      His time with Jamie had given Eric insight into the kind of life he wanted. A wife who was calm and soothing, but stable and competent, too. Maternal. Especially maternal.

      And willing to put her career on hold until their children were raised, a hopelessly chauvinistic and politically incorrect demand, but he wasn’t an idealistic young man any more. He knew what he wanted, what he could live with, and what were deal breakers. He wouldn’t settle. He’d earned the right to pursue his own happiness after all he’d been through.

      Eric locked the door of his co-op for the last time. Anticipation lightened his step, the same level of excitement he’d felt when his Realtor first took him into the house he’d ended up buying. The feeling was rare for him, and welcome.

      He hoped it was a sign of more to come.

      By the third day of his drive, Eric had gotten antsy. Talk radio couldn’t hold his attention, music only annoyed him. He’d downloaded an audio book, a thriller that should’ve dug its suspenseful claws into him and made the time pass quickly. It didn’t work.

      Why had he ever thought that driving across the country was a good way to transition to his new life? He was miserable. He talked on his cell phone to his siblings, old friends, and a few business acquaintances until they made up excuses to get off the phone.

      The only one who didn’t offer an excuse and rush off was Marcy Monroe, but he was also paying her for her time. He’d come to enjoy his conversations with her a lot.

      His phone rang. Speak of the devil, he thought, smiling. “Hello, Marcy.”

      “Hi. How’s it going?”

      “I just passed through Lincoln, Nebraska. I found a great hamburger place on the outskirts of the city. What’s up?”

      “The installers are here with your washer and dryer. I just wanted to double-check that you ordered Zephyr Blue?”

      She said it with such doubt in her voice, he grinned. “That’s the color.”

      “Okay. Let me tell them. Hold on a sec. Yes, that’s fine. Go ahead,” she said to the installers.

      “I guess you can’t picture me with Zephyr Blue appliances,” he commented.

      “It’s weird because I’m doing all this personal work for you but I don’t know anything beyond the fact you’re a math professor. May I ask why you’re moving here?”

      “For the women.”

      “I beg your pardon?”

      He laughed. “I’m looking to get married and have children. I’ve exhausted New York.”

      Her response was a little slow in coming. “I know a lot of women. What are you looking for?”

      “Do you? Because I don’t want to do the whole online dating thing, so a personal reference would be great. She has to want kids, even though this would be my second family. I’ve already raised four to adulthood.”

      “Four?” she repeated, a little breathlessly. “Ah, what age are you looking for?”

      “She needs to be childbearing age, of course, but not too young. I’m not looking to rob any cradles.”

      “So, you’re divorced? Or widowed?”

      “Neither.”

      “You’re a single dad?”

      Eric was having way too much fun with her, but he didn’t want to explain everything and turn the conversation serious. He was tired of serious. It was one of his reasons for making the move. “It’s a long story,” he said.

      “May I ask you this—did they all have the same mother?”

      “Absolutely.”

      Dead silence followed. “I hope you’ll share the story sometime,” she said finally.

      “That’s a date.”

      “Good. In the meantime, I’ll look through my address book and see if I can come up with some names.”

      “That is above and beyond the call of duty, Marcy. Thank you.”

      Eric started whistling after they hung up, then he found music on the satellite radio that he could sing along with. He was beginning to feel more than a little hopeful about his fresh start. He even had a matchmaker willing to help.

      He rolled down his window and flew down the Interstate singing at the top of his lungs. He couldn’t wait to get to California and see who she had in mind.

       Chapter Two

      Early Friday morning, Marcy dragged herself out of her sleeping bag and stumbled into the bathroom to splash cold water on her face. She stared at her haggard reflection.

      “One more night to go,” she reminded herself. It had been a very long week, but Eric was making good time on the road and thought he would arrive sometime tomorrow afternoon. In some ways she was ready to move on, but since her house-sitting job had been canceled, she didn’t have anywhere to go the following week. Usually she stayed at her back-up home, her friend Lori’s apartment, but she had out-of-town company, leaving no room for Marcy. She’d checked with two other friends, but