Make Room For Mommy

“Oh, Romeo,” Maggie whispered to the cat. “Forget it. I’m not sharing my yogurt.” She ruffled the long fur between his ears and pushed him down from the couch.

I can’t believe how everything turned out, she thought, her mind turning back to her meeting with Ryan Conner.

She remembered her excitement a month earlier when she’d seen the article in the newspaper about the community center. The section detailing the women’s outreach program had caught her eye as she’d been picking at a TV dinner late one night after work. As she read the story describing the community center’s program, she was inspired to volunteer. She had Emma—her best friend—and her neighbors and coworkers, but something was missing. She hadn’t known just what until she’d read that article.

Maggie felt an empathy born of experience for children growing up with only one parent. She wanted to share her life with a child, to share the innocence and joy that had been cut short in her own childhood.

Through satisfying a child’s need in this way she hoped to fill the void—past and future—in her own life. At twenty-eight, she’d begun to think it was a very real possibility that she would never marry and have a child of her own.

Now it looked as if her chances of taking part in the life of sweet, bright Brandy Conner were pretty dim, too. And all because of the child’s insufferable father, Maggie thought with irritation.

She swallowed a spoonful of strawberry-banana yogurt. Who was she kidding? she berated herself. She certainly hadn’t done her cause any good by walking out on him. If she could have just gotten past the first meeting, she was sure she wouldn’t have had to have much to do with him after she was paired up with Brandy. After all, she was supposed to befriend the child, not the father.

And what was all that stuff about his wife? she wondered. He obviously had some ridiculous problem with self-sufficient women. He didn’t seem to understand that some women wanted—or needed—to work.

Maggie knew about need, about desperation. The picture of her own mother dragging home late at night after hours of cleaning offices or waiting tables intruded into her thoughts. Later, Maggie, too, learned to wait tables, but only long enough to work her way through college and earn her business degree.

But working and studying had left little time for a social life, and despite Emma’s dubious help, Maggie had rarely dated during college. The dates were even fewer and farther between after she began her career. Her job made up for it, she always told herself. Her work made her feel good, and she was good at it. She depended on herself, and no one else.

And Ryan Conner could go jump in a lake if he thought he had a right to criticize her for it, she thought defensively.

Maggie sat up and put the barely touched carton of yogurt down on the coffee table, leaving the cat to stretch up and sniff at it unhindered. Maggie rose and walked down the hall to her bedroom at the back of the house.

In contrast to the modern functional decor of the living room, Maggie’s bedroom, her private retreat, was traditional and romantic. A four-poster bed dominated the spacious and utterly feminine room decorated with white lace curtains and a white comforter. Maggie lay down across the cool white spread and tried to clear her mind of Ryan and the disappointing episode at the community center. She tried to force herself to concentrate on work, on the next week’s projects.

She closed her eyes and saw Ryan Conner’s soft smile.

“Daddy?”

Ryan hesitated, his fingers curved over the switch to his daughter’s bedside lamp. The book he had read aloud a chapter from—as per their usual evening ritual—lay closed on his lap. Brandy often fell asleep before he finished reading an entire chapter. Tonight she was awake. Wide-awake.

There was something about the way she spoke that caught his attention and made him freeze. She was worried about something.

“What is it, sweetie?” Ryan asked. Softly his fingers swept along her small, rounded cheekbone.

“Why don’t you like Maggie?” Brandy asked, her voice low in the stillness of her bedroom.

Snapping emerald eyes and rich auburn hair flashed into Ryan’s thoughts. And that scent that had surrounded her, like peaches ripe in a summer-hot grove, tempting and sweet.

He knew the answer to Brandy’s question. He knew exactly why he didn’t like Maggie Wells. He was afraid she might turn out to be too much like Delia, Brandy’s mother—who always seemed to have plenty of good intentions, but never the time to carry them out.

He’d approached the community center program with cautious optimism from the start. He knew Brandy could benefit enormously from the opportunity—but he wanted to be very certain that he didn’t set his little daughter up for a disappointing experience.

Still, in spite of all his concerns, he’d been attracted to Maggie at an immediate, undeniable, gut level. So attracted, that the careful wall he’d formed after his divorce had very nearly crumbled during their meeting.

“What gave you the idea that I didn’t like her?” Ryan asked, sidetracking to another question.

Brandy’s blue eyes stared back unwaveringly.

“I don’t know,” she answered simply. “I just didn’t think you did.”

Ryan laughed and ruffled his daughter’s hair with a careless brush of his hand. He leaned forward and kissed her cheek.

“I’m sure she’s a very nice lady,” Ryan told her. “You know what? I bet you’re going to get to meet lots of nice ladies at the community center, and you’ll get to choose one to be your very own special friend.”

“I want Maggie to be my special friend.” Brandy reached out and took her father’s hand. “Please.”

Ryan looked down at the small hand in his, then back up to the pleading expression in Brandy’s eyes. And he remembered the flash in Maggie’s gaze when he’d demanded to know why she wanted to be part of his daughter’s life.

She felt she had something to give, she’d said, and no one to give it to. She had no husband, no child of her own.

He couldn’t help but wonder why. Had she made work her whole life?

The spark in Maggie’s eyes when she’d talked about her job hadn’t passed Ryan by. He’d seen that kind of spark before. At the time, it had been walking out the door, leaving him to raise Brandy alone.

“Doesn’t Maggie want to be my friend?” Brandy asked. A crack broke through her voice on the last word.

“Oh, sweetheart.” Ryan leaned down and hugged his daughter. “I didn’t mean that. I just meant that you don’t have to make a decision right away. Mrs. Fletcher is going to introduce you to some other nice ladies, too.”

“But I don’t want anybody else,” Brandy persisted. “I want Maggie.”

“Why?” Ryan asked, genuinely surprised by Brandy’s insistence on Maggie Wells. After all, they’d spent only five minutes together. Ryan had hoped Brandy would forget all about her.

But apparently his daughter was having as much trouble clearing her mind of Maggie as he was. He’d been haunted all day by her heart-shaped face and luscious fall of red curls, and pained by the old memories she stirred, inside him.

“I like Maggie,” Brandy said softly. She chewed her bottom lip. “Doesn’t she like me?”

“Of course she likes you, sweetie,” Ryan assured her.

“Will you call Mrs. Fletcher and tell her I want Maggie?”

Ryan hesitated. Seconds passed in silence.

Too bad, Maggie had said to him coolly as she’d left the community center. You’ll never know, she’d added.

Never know what?

“Please, Daddy.”

Chapter Two

Water dripped from Maggie as she hurried from the bathroom to the shrilling brass phone in her bedroom. Damp footprints marked her path across the plush tan rug. She grabbed the receiver as she fumbled to wrap a towel around her wet form.

“Miss Wells?” the familiar gravelly voice inquired.

“Yes. This is Mrs. Fletcher, isn’t it?” Maggie asked. She experienced the little sinking feeling that always came to her when she knew someone was going to give her bad news.

“I’ve spoken with Mr. Conner,” Mrs. Fletcher said. “He says Brandy wants you. He’d like to go ahead and sign you up with her. Do you accept?”

Maggie gasped. Had that horrible conversation with Ryan Conner really taken place last week, or was that just a nightmare? What could have changed his mind? For a few seconds she considered whether she should say no. Or tell Mrs. Fletcher she’d have to think about it. After all, how could she work with this man’s child? What if he kept acting the same way toward her?

Oh, who cares about him? she decided in a flash. Brandy is the one who matters.

“Yes,” she agreed quickly before she could change her mind.

“Fine,” Mrs. Fletcher said. “Now, it’s going to be up to you to set up the days and times to see Brandy. Remember to clear all your plans with her father first. Let me give you his phone number and address. Be sure to tell me when your first outing is scheduled so I can check back with you to see how things are going.”

Maggie grabbed a pad and pen from her night table and shakily wrote down Ryan’s phone number and address. After saying goodbye to Mrs. Fletcher, she set the phone down and sank onto the bed, heedless of the spreading wet splotch she made as she soaked into the downy white comforter. She stared at the ceiling.

Should she call him now?

She sat up. Yes, she answered herself, she should do it now, before she lost her nerve. She stared numbly at the piece of notepaper that held Ryan Conner’s phone number. She picked it up, then set it back down as if the paper had burned her fingers.

She stared at the notepaper again. She could see Ryan Conner’s clear, cold stare in her memory. Then she remembered Brandy’s earnest blue eyes, gazing hopefully at her.

Maggie picked up her pen and quickly punched in Ryan’s phone number.

“Hello.”

Maggie swallowed tightly.

“Mr. Conner—I mean, Ryan, this is Maggie Wells.”

Good start, she chided herself.

“Yes?”

Maggie fingered the edge of her thick, damp towel.

“I’m calling about seeing Brandy next weekend, if that’s all right,” she said. “Mrs. Fletcher called me today.”

“What time do you want to see her?” Ryan asked. His voice was businesslike and polite, without the animosity he had formerly shown, yet still lacking warmth.

“Well, there’s a miniatures exhibit at the civic center this Saturday. I thought Brandy might like to see it,” Maggie suggested, gaining confidence. “It starts at ten o’clock.”

“Fine.”

“Can I talk to—” Maggie began, but stopped short as she realized he had already hung up. She shook her head in frustration.

She put down the receiver and lay back on her soft bed, staring up at the ceiling. She hoped she hadn’t just made a terrible mistake.

Maggie pressed slowly on the brake, easing her car to a smooth halt in front of Ryan Conner’s house. The long, one-story gray brick house sat back from the road, partially hidden from the street by a stand of pine trees. The house occupied a large lot in a rural area just outside Charleston. From the large bare patch at the side of the house, Maggie could see Ryan was a gardener. This surprised her, and then she wondered why it should.

After all, she didn’t really know anything about him. And based on his previous behavior, she had no reason to think that was going to change, she reminded herself.

He’ll probably just push Brandy out the door without a word, she thought dryly.

Maggie took a deep breath and stepped out, slamming the door of her shiny silver sports car behind her. Her low heels clicked loudly in the quiet country air as she followed the flagged walkway to the front door. Grabbing the brass knocker, she banged loudly.

The door opened so quickly, she knew someone must have been watching her approach. The knocker fairly flew from Maggie’s hand as Brandy yanked the door wide, a broad smile lighting her small face.

“Hi, Maggie!” she cried. “I’m almost ready. I just need my jacket.”

Brandy tore off into the inner reaches of the house, leaving Maggie standing on the doorstep. Ryan Conner stepped forward toward the door.

“Maggie,” he said, sounding oddly uncomfortable with her name. “Come in. Please.”

Maggie forced a smile to her lips.

He’s being polite, she thought. Be polite back.

“Thank you,” she said carefully, and followed his outstretched arm. She was surprised to find how large the house looked once she was inside. The living room was light and spacious with wide windows giving view to a wooded backyard that seemed greatly devoted to Brandy’s play. An elaborate swing set dominated a wide-open space between some pines, while a rudimentary tree house sat low in an oak.

“This is a lovely home,” Maggie commented.

Ryan didn’t ask her to sit down, so she stood and looked about with interest, determined not to let him bother her. She would be out of there in just a few minutes, she reminded herself, with the whole day to spend with Brandy alone.

She tried to concentrate on the view, but her eyes were drawn back to the man standing quietly at her side.

How tall he was. Maggie’s slim height came close to that of many men, an asset in the business world, she’d always thought. But as she stood in the living room beside Ryan, she realized he was at least four inches taller than she was.

Ryan started to gesture Maggie to the couch, then stopped himself. He hesitated to take that extra step toward friendliness, afraid in his heart of where it might lead.

Maggie was supposed to be Brandy’s friend, not his. And while easing the tension between them might seem to pave the way to a smoother relationship for Brandy and Maggie, Ryan knew that it could set a dangerous precedent.

As much as he feared Maggie might turn out to be like Delia, she appealed to him on an even deeper, more sensual, level. Maintaining the tension preserved the distance.

Ryan turned his back on Maggie and stared out the window at the dry winter day. Hands stuffed in his jeans pockets, he willed his daughter to hurry back with her jacket.

Brandy arrived suddenly in the living room, breathless from a run down the hallway, pulling on her jacket as she came. Ryan swiveled back around at the sound of her approach, grateful to no longer be alone with Maggie.

“I’m ready,” Brandy announced with youthful exuberance for the anticipated treat.

“Great,” Maggie said, grinning at her enthusiasm. Turning to Ryan, she added, “As I told you on the phone, we’ll be going to the civic center to see the miniatures show.

“There will be all kinds of dolls and dollhouses on display,” she continued, looking at Brandy. The little girl’s eyes lit up.

“Should I bring Penny?” Brandy asked.

Maggie laughed. “Oh, I don’t think so. What if you lost her among all the dolls at the show? I think you’d better leave her here,” she advised.

“Okay,” Brandy agreed, placing her hand in Maggie’s. “Let’s go.”

Maggie looked down at the small hand in her own, touched by Brandy’s warmth and easy acceptance. As they reached the door, Maggie turned back to say goodbye to Ryan and tell him when to expect them back. She was surprised to see him donning a brown suede jacket.

“You’re going out?” she asked.

“Yes,” he said, looking at her strangely. “I’m going with you.”

“You’re going with us?” Maggie repeated, her heart skipping a beat. “Why?”

“Do you have a problem with that?” he asked, as if she, rather than he, were the one suggesting something out of place.

“Well, I guess…I mean, I don’t think that’s the idea, do you?” she asked, fumbling to express herself and realizing she was not doing a very good job of it.

“Have you got a set of rules?” he challenged. Her expression of disbelief amused him as well as intrigued him. Apparently she wasn’t any more eager to spend time with him than he was to spend time with her. But in this case, he was determined to insist. He had to make sure that allowing Maggie Wells into Brandy’s life had been the correct choice. He couldn’t simply let a complete stranger take his six-year-old daughter on an outing.

And since Brandy would be with them on this expedition, there would no worry of his dealing with Maggie alone. He wouldn’t have any trouble maintaining the distance between them.

Maggie stiffened as she stared at Brandy’s father. She could hardly believe what she was hearing from Ryan Conner. He acted as if he didn’t trust her to care for Brandy alone!

Okay, Maggie, take a deep one, she told herself.

She breathed deep and smiled. It felt a little unnatural on her lips, but she was sure it looked all right.

“Well, then, let’s go, shall we?” she suggested amicably, taking Brandy along with her out the door. Fighting Ryan on this when they were about to walk out the door would do no good, Maggie decided. Acquiesce, and live to battle another day.

She heard Ryan pulling the door shut as he followed them down the flagstone walk. Maggie hurried down the long path toward the street to her car until Brandy suddenly tugged on her arm. Maggie looked at Brandy, and followed her gaze back toward the house where Ryan stood in the driveway unlocking the door to a dark blue four-door sedan.

Ryan looked up and met her gaze coolly.

Maggie released a sigh and, slipping her car keys into her purse, walked with Brandy to the blue sedan. Brandy jumped in the back, leaving the front to Ryan and Maggie.

Ryan backed out of the driveway wordlessly while Brandy chattered away, leaning forward between the front seats as far as her seat belt would let her to talk to her father and Maggie. Aside from warning Brandy several times to sit back, Ryan listened quietly for the most part, allowing Maggie to talk to his daughter.

Glancing at Ryan from the corner of her eye, Maggie observed how his face softened whenever he spoke to Brandy.

He really adores her, Maggie thought. He appeared a completely different person with his daughter.

What do I do to make him react so harshly? Maggie wondered. He was clearly capable of gentleness.

I’m not even asking for gentleness, she thought, smiling to herself. Mere civility would do.

Her eyes met his and she didn’t try to hide her smile.

His brows furrowed in response, and he stared hard at the road.

Ryan found himself oddly irritated by Maggie’s seemingly unfaltering cheer. He felt anything but cheerful himself, caught as he was between desire and apprehension.

It was going to take a lot more than her word—or her smile—to convince Ryan that Maggie’s dedication to Brandy was genuine and lasting. The women’s outreach program might have sounded appealing to her on the face of it, but taking on the responsibility of being part of a child’s life could involve sacrifices and commitments that Maggie Wells wasn’t expecting.

Not everyone was willing to make those sacrifices and commitments. Especially for someone else’s child. More than one promising relationship had ended for Ryan after the women learned he had sole custody of a young child. The experiences had made him all the more protective of Brandy—and of himself. Neither one of them needed any more disappointments.

Maggie chatted with Brandy about the various things they might see at the show as Ryan continued to drive silently. Relief swept over her when they arrived downtown at last. The three of them filed in behind a crowd of exhibitgoers.

We look just like a typical little family, Maggie thought, the notion coming to her from out of the blue. These people probably look at us and think we’re married.

Now why did she think of that? She shook herself mentally and turned to Brandy, determined to focus on the little girl.

Brandy and Maggie wandered through the large open hall for several hours, stopping at every display table. Brandy peered and gasped with wonder at the intricate miniatures and the fancy dolls. Maggie enjoyed the light in Brandy’s eyes every time the little girl saw something that particularly excited her. Ryan followed along behind them slowly, staying just far enough back to make it almost seem as if he weren’t there.

“Look!” Brandy cried. “They’re real little playing cards! They have numbers and pictures and everything.”

Brandy leaned comfortably on Maggie and pressed her nose against the glass display case. Maggie turned around to find Ryan staring at her, his forehead knitted in thought.

She tried smiling at him, but he looked away.

Finally Brandy had seen everything except the children’s puppet show that played every half hour. Maggie settled her on the floor near the puppet stage and retreated to the back of the theater area where Ryan waited, arms crossed, a bored expression on his face.

Maggie stood beside him and stared at the puppet show with unseeing eyes, trying to ignore the fact that he was ignoring her. Five minutes later, she knew it was no use. She couldn’t stand it. She turned and faced his stern profile.

“Mr. Conner.”

He looked at her blandly.

At least he knows I’m alive, she thought.

“Ryan.” The word came out of his mouth in a short clip.

“Of course,” Maggie said. He does hate it when I call him Mr. Conner, she thought. Her lips curved upward slightly. “Sorry,” she said.

He turned away again.

“Wait a minute,” Maggie said. He looked back at her. “I think we should talk. I don’t know why you came here with us today, or what exactly your problem is with me. I just know that you agreed to allow me to work with Brandy. Obviously you decided I could provide something your daughter needs. You might as well let me do it.”

The words had tumbled out before she could think them through, but she knew they had to be said. Things couldn’t go on this way.

“Why do you disapprove of me?” she demanded when he didn’t respond to her outburst.

“Disapprove?” he repeated so softly, she could barely hear him over the laughter of the children.

“I don’t know. Disapprove, or whatever.” Maggie shook her head. “Look, you’re the one who told Mrs. Fletcher you wanted me to work with Brandy.”

“Brandy chose you, not I,” he corrected. “I want what’s best for Brandy. She doesn’t always know what’s best for herself. Sometimes I let her make her own decisions, but I don’t want to see her get hurt. I want to make sure that allowing her to make this decision was right.”

“You have to give me a chance if you’re ever going to find that out,” Maggie retorted hotly. “You don’t need to tag along with us or drive us around in your car.”

He cocked his head and, for the first time, Maggie thought she detected the glimmer of a grin on his face.

“I don’t find this amusing,” she said, surprising herself at the rising anger she felt. “I’m not playing games here.”

“Oh, no?” he questioned, all evidence of the grin gone. “You want to play at having a part-time daughter who you can put away and take out whenever you want to.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Maggie answered quickly.

“Really?” he asked. “Why aren’t you married, with a family of your own?”

Maggie was speechless for a moment. Who did Ryan Conner think he was, questioning her about her marital status? Her stomach tightened as she stifled the indignant question.

For Brandy’s sake, she’d stop before the conversation degenerated into a shouting match.

“You know, I think I’ll just wait in one of those chairs by the wall,” she said coldly, abruptly leaving Ryan.

Maggie was still fuming when Brandy rushed over, flushed with laughter, dragging her father behind her.

It’s going to be a long ride home, Maggie thought.

To Maggie’s relief, it was weeks later before she shared the same air space with Ryan in an automobile again. This time it was in her own car.