Substitute Father

Releasing his grasp, he leaned back. “Sorry. Guess my enthusiasm got the best of me.”

Kealey nodded, but her formal, professional demeanor was firmly back in place. “That’s all right. But you need to understand that this situation is strictly temporary. Either the children’s relatives will be located within a short time or they will be placed in a two-parent home. And that’s something I won’t budge on.”

Meeting her gaze, he realized just how set she was on those conditions. Which meant he had two options. Resign himself to the inevitable, or win Kealey over. He picked up his coffee mug, meeting her gaze with a noncommittal one of his own. Resignation wasn’t part of his makeup. Now, he just had to learn what made Kealey tick. And that talent was one he possessed.

CHAPTER THREE

KEALEY WASN’T CERTAIN how Luke had talked her into going shopping with him. Yet they were standing in front of the display of backpacks, discussing their merits.

“This looks like a good standard style,” Luke mused, pointing to one. “And it’s roomy enough for Brian who’ll probably have more to carry.”

He picked up a navy-colored one. “This comes in both large and small versions. That way no one can disagree over the style. I could get them in different colors so they won’t get mixed up.”

“Hmm,” she responded, her eyes on a girlish, pink model.

“Don’t you agree?”

Kealey held up the one she’d been eyeing. “Well, actually, I think Hannah might prefer something like this. It’s probably closer to the kind the girls carry.”

He studied it. “Do you think she’ll really care?”

Kealey’s throat tightened, remembering how desperately she had wanted to fit in with the other girls when she’d been growing up, how impossible that had been. Her clothes and accessories had screamed outsider as clearly as a label would have.

Luke reached for the pink backpack, then met her gaze. “If you think she’d like this one, we’ll get it. Now, what about Troy?”

Amazed that he’d so willingly accepted her advice, she felt an unexpected warming, a rush of appreciation for a man so tuned in to children.

Together they located a backpack emblazoned with a cartoon-character for the youngest child.

Luke held up the two smaller backpacks. “I have to admit you’re right. The kids will like these much better than the plain variety.” Then he glanced at the sturdy, but unimaginative one he’d selected for the oldest child. “Now, we have to find another for Brian as well.”

She smiled. “Since you were able to deal with the pink, girly model, I don’t think you’ll have too much trouble with one for Brian.”

He winced. “I guess I thought that since I have such a big family this stuff would come naturally. But I see the benefits of the female influence.”

She kept her smile benign. “Luckily, you have lots of sisters.”

He rolled his eyes. “With too many instructions.”

“Even Rachel?”

“She’s not so bad,” he admitted. “Since we’re younger, we both got the brunt of our older sisters’ bossiness so we kind of stuck together.”

Kealey managed a smile, envying his easy sense of family, the solid reassurance that never failed. A few bossy siblings sounded like a blessing. But Luke wouldn’t understand that. “So you and Rachel are allies?”

Smiling, he nodded. “Absolutely. How about you? Do you have a special brother or sister?”

Kealey shook her head at the question, having learned long ago how to reply to such questions without revealing her feelings. At the same time, she knew the conversation was becoming too personal and she needed to put immediate distance between them. And she was fairly certain Luke would be difficult to dissuade. “That’s my pager.”

Distracted, he glanced at her purse. “I didn’t hear anything.”

“It vibrates,” she fibbed. “Looks like you’re finished here and I’ve got to get back to work.”

“But—”

“You’ve made some great choices. I’ll be in touch within a short time.”

“Kealey, you don’t have to—”

“Bye,” she called back, escaping. Glancing back briefly, she saw him standing there staring, his arms filled with backpacks.

It was her own fault, she realized. She shouldn’t have gotten into such a revealing conversation with him. Of course it would lead to questions. And he wouldn’t understand the answers. Worse, despite years of counseling that had supposedly taught her how to deal with her past, she couldn’t bear to share it.

THE FIRE ROARED, not a timid pile of skinny sticks, but huge, dry logs that crackled and warmed. It was one of the advantages of Luke’s old Victorian house. The fireplaces were enormous—immense grand spaces intended to heat the home. Not that it got terribly cold in their part of Texas, but the Victorians hadn’t done anything by halves.

“We built a good fire, huh, Luke?” Brian asked.

“Yep.” He grinned, thinking he would be up late making sure it was out. But the kids had loved building the fire and he hated to spoil their fun.

“We never had a fireplace,” Troy told him.

“Lots of people don’t,” Luke replied. “This house is so old, it was built before central heating.”

“I like your house,” Hannah said softly. “It’s like dress up and make-believe.”

Oh, this child was a charmer, Luke realized. They all were.

The doorbell rang, breaking their quiet circle.

Opening the door, he was surprised to find Kealey. It was the first time he’d seen her since she had vanished so abruptly in the store. “Hello.”

“Luke,” she replied, gripping her purse tightly.

He opened the door wider. “Come on in.”

Leading the way into the living room, he glanced back, noting the apprehension on her face. Grimly he wondered if she had bad news.

But when she entered the room, her face softened. “What a magnificent fire.”

“One of the advantages of an old, drafty house.”

Luke’s dogs greeted her with wet noses and wagging tails. Some of her stiffness evaporated as she petted them, returning their affectionate greetings.

The children spotted Kealey just then, however. While Troy and Hannah remained relaxed, Brian’s smile fled, replaced by wariness.

She glanced at Luke, then back at the children. “Hi! I’m here to see how you’re getting along at the new school.”

“It’s okay,” Brian replied, not surrendering any of his trepidation.

“I like it,” Hannah announced. “I got new crayons to put in my backpack.”

Luke took Kealey’s elbow. “Let’s sit down.”

Since the children were grouped into a semicircle in front of the fire, he and Kealey sat on the couch angled close to them. His cats were splayed out across the top of the cushioned back, regally surveying the visitor.

“So, tell me about your classes and your teachers,” Kealey began.

With a long-suffering expression, Brian answered for them all. “It’s sort of like our old school. But the stuff we’re learning in my class seems kind of different.”

“Has it been difficult for you to catch on?” Kealey asked.

“Nah. Luke’s been helping me.”

Kealey’s gaze flickered toward Luke before veering back to Brian. “How about your teacher? Do you like her?”

“Yeah.”

“What about the other kids in the class?” Kealey prodded.

“They’re okay, too.”

Since it was evident he was going to remain taciturn, Kealey turned to Troy. He was much more forthcoming, chattering about the toys and crafts in kindergarten. As the youngest, he seemed remarkably well-adjusted, obviously trusting his older siblings.

Finally she turned to Hannah. “And how’s the first grade?”

Hannah bit her lip, her already large eyes seeming huge. “I was scared at first.”

Kealey leaned forward. “How about now?”

“Not so much anymore. Luke went to school with me three times.”

Kealey glanced at him in surprise.

He shrugged, looking a bit sheepish. “They kicked me out because I was too big for the chairs.”

Hannah and Troy giggled madly. Even Brian snickered.

Kealey turned back to Hannah. “So now it’s okay?”

The little girl bobbed her head up and down. “Uh-huh. They liked Luke and my backpack.”

Surprise took over Kealey for a moment. “They did?”

“Mine’s prettiest. I love pink.”

Kealey was immensely grateful that she’d insisted on the girlish backpack. It was a little thing to be sure, but she remembered how much the little things had mattered. “I’m glad, Hannah.”

Hannah blinked her cornflower-blue eyes. “Luke says you picked it out.”

Again surprise flitted through her. Most men would have taken credit for the act. “But it was his idea to buy the backpacks.”

Hannah leaned forward, whispering. “He’s nice.”

Kealey couldn’t resist an answering smile. But she couldn’t yet agree with the child. So much was at stake here. Luke might very well be nice, but he wasn’t part of a two-parent family.

“We’re going to make popcorn,” Troy announced.

“You can have some,” Hannah offered. Then she scrunched up her small face, turning to Luke. “Can’t she?”

Luke met Kealey’s eyes, his own inscrutable. “Sure. We have enough popcorn for the whole neighborhood.”

“But the neighborhood’s not coming over,” Hannah protested.

“You’re absolutely right, punkin,” Luke told her. Then he reached over, picking up Hannah and raising her high in the air. “But who knows how much you’re going to eat?”

Hannah’s giggles spilled into the room. Troy, along with a more reluctant Brian, joined in as they paraded to the kitchen, followed by the dogs.

Luke was like the Pied Piper, Kealey realized, trailing more slowly. And the longer the children stayed with him, the more difficult the break would be.

Troy and Hannah collected several bowls, all mismatched, yet somehow perfect for popcorn.

“I’ll grab the popper,” Luke was saying. “Kealey, do you want to help Brian melt the butter?”

She blinked, realizing again that Luke had a way of including everyone. “Sure.”

And within a few moments they located a pan and the butter.

“You turn the heat real low,” Brian told her seriously.

“That’s right. How’d you know?”

He shrugged, a forlorn gesture. “I used to help my mom when she cooked stuff.”

Kealey felt his loneliness as deeply as she had once felt her own. As the oldest, Brian’s loss was keener, more difficult—because he hadn’t allowed himself to be a child, to simply grieve. Instead he continued watching over his siblings, taking on the responsibility of being head of the family. She made a mental note to discuss his case with her supervisor, to see if a therapist might be in order.

Soon, kernels of corn began bursting into white clouds in the popper, each mini explosion scenting the air. And Luke brewed hot cocoa as well.

However, Kealey was surprised when he headed back toward the living room with the refreshments. “Isn’t this kind of messy?” she asked, knowing little ones tended to scatter and spill.

“My entire house is for living,” he replied with a shrug. “Spills and messes included.”

Within a few minutes, the kids were sprawled out on the thick rug that anchored the wide-planked wooden floor. They dug into the overflowing bowls of popcorn and sipped cocoa from steaming stone-ware mugs.

Kealey perched stiffly on the couch, watching.

Luke placed a mug in her hands, then dropped down on the floor beside her, managing to share the rug with the children, yet not making Kealey feel isolated from the cozy group.

However, his proximity made her very aware of his tall, strong frame, the slant of his handsome profile. Kealey had been highly aware of his rugged good looks when they’d first met. Despite that, she was uncomfortable with someone so open, so…

So much what she wanted to be but wasn’t.

Kealey had known from the moment Rachel had insisted on setting up the meeting that it wouldn’t work. But Rachel was one of her rare friends and it had been impossible to refuse.

Luke turned just then, scattering her thoughts. “How’s the cocoa?”

Realizing she hadn’t yet tasted it, she sipped some, surprised at the rich taste. “It’s better than I expected,” she admitted.

“It was one of my grandmother’s specials—all of us learned how to make it. And homemade has its advantages.”

Looking down into his warm, unshifting eyes she had to agree. “I’m sure it does.”

Hannah rose to her knees, balancing one of the bowls of popcorn. “Do you want some?” Her small fingers, slippery with butter, were having trouble hanging on to the large bowl.

As Kealey could have predicted, the bowl slid from Hannah’s hands, tumbling on to the rug, scattering popcorn in every direction.

“Uh-oh!” Hannah exclaimed, her eyes widening. She looked at Luke as though expecting a rebuke.

But his calm demeanor didn’t change. “Won’t take a minute to clean up. I’ll help.” And he did, his big hands scooping up the popcorn far more rapidly than Hannah’s tiny hands could do on their own.

Kealey wondered if his unflappable reaction was for her benefit. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d seen a prospective foster parent fake a performance.

Luke rose when all the spilled popcorn had been picked up. “Come on, Hannah. We’d better wash those hands and get a fresh bowl. This time we won’t fill it quite so full.”

She scampered behind him toward the kitchen.

When Luke and Hannah disappeared from her line of vision, Kealey turned, noticing that the two boys were staring at her.

She smiled, directing her words to both boys. “Do you like staying here with Luke?”

Brian immediately looked wary. “It’s okay.”

Realizing they wouldn’t respond to the usual questions, she changed tactics. “Did you have any pets at home?”

Surprised, Brian stared for a moment. “We had a hamster, but he died. We were gonna get a dog when we moved to a house.”

“You can’t have dogs in an apartment,” Troy explained.

“I know. They need yards,” Kealey replied. “That’s why I don’t have a dog.”

Brian drew his brows together. “Really?”

“That, and I live alone and work long hours. That wouldn’t be fair to a dog.”

“That’s what Mama said,” Troy told her.

Kealey’s heart ached for these children who had so clearly loved their mother. “Then she must have been a very wise woman.”

“She was the best,” Brian replied fiercely.

“I’m sure she was,” Kealey said, knowing it probably was true. Also knowing how vulnerable the children were without a mother’s protection.

“We like Luke’s dogs,” Troy told her, dividing his attention between her and the golden retriever. “Bentley got left without a home just like us.”

“He did?”

“Somebody dumped him out in a field when he was little,” Brian explained. “And he was real sick ’cause he hadn’t had nothing to eat.”

Just like these children, Kealey realized with a pang.

“But he’s all better now,” Troy told her. “Except for one leg that got broke when he got hit by a car.”

“Luke did surgery on him,” Brian offered. “He’s okay except he can’t run a long ways.”

“Bentley probably likes being close to home anyway,” Kealey responded, touched by their story—and even more by the image of a strong Luke rescuing a forgotten puppy.

“That’s how Luke got Spencer and Kate, too,” Troy told her, referring to the cats. “They didn’t have a home neither.”

“And Miles and Ginger,” Brian added.

So many orphans under one roof, Kealey realized. All except Luke himself. Which was why she had run so fast the first time they’d met.

“Fresh bowl of popcorn,” Luke announced as he returned to the room, with Hannah close behind him. “Did I miss anything?”

Kealey shook her head, unwilling to talk about what she and the children had just shared. Luke’s kindness had affected her too much and she didn’t want him to know it. Meeting Luke’s far too beguiling gaze, she realized she couldn’t make that mistake again.

LUKE SWUNG AROUND the rink, gaining speed on his in-line skates as he neared the turn. Brian, Troy and Hannah had eagerly jumped on his idea to go skating. It was something they’d done before losing their mother. And Luke wanted to inject as much normality as possible into their lives.

And he had to admit that he loved skating as well. He often took to the streets on his skates, enjoying the workout, the speed and the exhilaration. But he thought the controlled environment at the rink was safer for the children. No rough spots to cross or potholes to avoid.

Since it was Saturday afternoon, the rink was crowded. Luckily his last appointment had been just after noon. Wayne was still at the clinic, closing up. His assistant had volunteered, knowing the kids needed the excursion. A single man, Wayne was devoted to the animals in his care. He also had a huge soft spot for children.

Keeping an eye on Brian, Hannah and Troy, Luke allowed them some distance to interact with the other kids. It was important for them to make friends, to be drawn into a world other than that of adults. They’d had too many serious responsibilities lately. It was time for some fun.

Luke glanced up, surprised to see Kealey hovering near the rails. He wondered if their fun was about to end. It wasn’t that she was a bad person, she was just so uptight. If he hadn’t been accustomed to being badgered into a multitude of blind dates by Rachel, Luke would not have willingly met Kealey since she was so different from the relaxed, open women he usually dated.

Knowing it couldn’t be avoided, he skated toward Kealey, coming to a tight stop directly in front of her.

Appearing startled, she stepped back.

“Looking for us?” Luke asked, noticing that the slight flush in her cheeks was rather attractive.

She cleared her throat. “Yes. Your assistant told me where to find you.”

Rather than replying, he watched her, noting that doing so made her even more uncomfortable.

“Wh-which made it easy to find you,” she stammered.

He took pity on her. “So, what are you doing working on a fine Saturday afternoon?”

She firmed her shoulders. “Mine isn’t a nine to five, Monday through Friday job.”

“I know,” he replied mildly. “From Rachel.”

She flushed at the reminder and again he wondered what wound her up so tightly. “I need to make my week’s evaluation.”

“Got any more cases after ours?”

Kealey drew her brows together, looking confused. “No. Why?”

“No reason you can’t evaluate and have fun at the same time,” he replied. “Let’s get you some skates.”

“No, really—” she began, obviously flustered.

“Won’t kill you,” he replied. “Not just once. And the kids will love it.”

Obviously torn, she glanced toward the center of the rink where Brian, Hannah and Troy were skating along with all the other kids. “They do look like they’re enjoying it.”

“That’s what Saturdays are for.”

For a moment Kealey looked taken aback as though such a thought would never have occurred to her. Then a small smile formed on her full lips. “I suppose they are.”

Luke continued watching her, wondering why he’d never noticed how appealing her mouth was.

“I won’t intrude on your day,” she continued. “Enjoy your skating. I can do the evaluation on Monday.” With the words she started to turn away.

Uncertain why, Luke reached out to grasp her arm. “Stay.”

It was only one word. One very small word. But it echoed between them.

Kealey glanced down at his hand and it made him exceedingly aware of the flesh he touched, the soft warmth of her.

She looked up, her eyes silky green. They were filled with uncertainty, something he’d never seen in her before. “I don’t know how to skate.”

The admission did something peculiar to his insides. Who was this superprofessional, rigid woman who had never learned to skate? Who seemed embarrassed by the confession.

Disturbed by his concern, Luke reached for her briefcase. “Let’s put this in a locker.”

“But—”

“I can teach you to skate.”

“Really, you don’t need—”

“I don’t need to, Kealey. I want to.”

Again flustered, she allowed him to lead the way first to the lockers and then to rent some skates.

“Let’s sit down over here.” Luke gestured to a bench.

But as they reached it, several kids flopped down, taking most of the space.

“You sit,” Luke told Kealey. “I’ll help adjust your skates.”

Looking self-conscious, she slipped off slim calfskin shoes, revealing well-manicured feet.

He couldn’t stop a small smile when he saw the bright-red nail polish decorating her toes. She quickly pulled on the socks they’d purchased. Still self-conscious, she pushed one foot into the skates.

Luke reached for the bulky straps, smoothing them in place. He repeated the process with the other foot, but he found his hands lingering on her calf. Glancing up, he met her gaze, saw the trepidation in her expression. But it was mixed with something else, something he couldn’t define. Her eyes had darkened, the green gliding into gray. And her mouth was slightly pursed as though in question or perhaps an interest neither of them was yet willing to acknowledge.

Slowly his hands dropped away.

Kealey seemed to hold her breath as she leaned forward slightly.

Unwilling to relinquish her gaze, he stood slowly, reaching again for her hand to help her up, as well. For an elongated moment they stood together not moving, scarcely breathing.

Then one of the kids on the bench jumped up, jostling them, and sent Kealey’s untrained feet flying. Luke drew her close, steadying her.

Her face was just below his and he could see the light sprinkling of freckles on her nose, the moisture on her lips, the sooty brush of her lashes.

Kealey’s mouth opened and he angled his head a bit, wanting suddenly to know the taste of her.

Then she pulled away slightly, her feet again sliding awkwardly, her laughter strained. “I can’t seem to stay upright.”

In an instant he pictured her lounging against him, and with a silent curse, he moved back as well. “It’s just a matter of balance.”

“Oh,” she replied in a small, very small voice.

He cleared his throat. “Let’s get off this cement and onto the rink.”

She shook her head. “I don’t think I’m ready for that yet.”

Despite the effect her proximity had on him, he found himself laughing. “You won’t learn by standing here. And you’ll find it’s harder to stand still than to actually skate.”

Kealey was clearly doubtful. “That’s hard to believe.” She moved her feet a bit and started to topple.

Although she grabbed for the railing, Luke was there first, catching her. “And if you do fall, it hurts less on the wood than on cement.”

“I suppose so,” she replied, still looking skeptical.

He pointed at Hannah and Troy, who skated alongside Brian, all looking like mini professionals. “Don’t tell me you can’t keep up with kindergartners and first graders.”

“Without wheels I can do just fine,” she retorted, her feet slipping as he coaxed her nearer to the wooden floor.

“Just hang on to me. I don’t think you can pull me down.”

For a moment her face took on a satisfied bit of glee. “Don’t count out the possibility.”

“Why, Miss Fitzpatrick, I believe you’re losing your professional demeanor.”

“Think so?” she muttered, her gaze glued to her wildly skittering feet.

He laughed.

For a moment she glared at him. Then humor forced her lips upward, lifting her face into lines of laughter. In the next moment, she was veering to one side, nearly toppling again.

Still laughing, Luke caught her, and again they were face-to-face only inches apart.

Some of the laughter lingered in her eyes, he noted, while inventorying the effect of her nearness. But as he continued to hold her, it faded, replaced by a growing wariness.