They were drinking wine in the living room when I came down. Stuart stood up as soon as he saw me, a sign of impeccable manners. He was in his late thirties, I guessed, which meant he was somewhat younger than my mom, but not enough of an age gap for it to seem like she was in the market for a boy toy. Plus, he wasn't the type, physically: medium height, thinning dark hair, average features with a bony build. He also wore gla.s.ses and he seemed really anxious about his tie. By the look of him, I guessed he had Chinese heritage.

"Nice to meet you." I offered a hand for him to shake.

"Likewise." His palms were sweaty, which meant he was nervous. "I'm Stuart Lee."

I extrapolated that he cared about making a good impression. Since my mom liked him, it was enough for me to give him a fair shot. She hovered until I caught her eye and smiled; she relaxed visibly and hustled us both into the kitchen, where she had chicken stew simmering on low. I helped her dish it up and then she rescued the bread. As we were using the fine dishes, I was glad I'd swiped on some makeup.

We ate a few bites in awkward silence before Stuart waded in with his game face on. "Miriam tells me you're starting at a new college this summer."

"Yeah." Through the main course, I explained my plans, trying to sound friendly and welcoming, even when the answers to his questions were obvious.

"I hear computer science is a great field to get into," he said. "Lots of growth."

"So I hear. How's the insurance game?"

"Steady. Auto insurance is required by law, and the older people get, the more they worry about death benefits."

Depressing dinner conversation, but his words had the ring of truth. "I can imagine."

"When you add in home owners, renters and those who need flood insurance, I have a pretty steady stream of customers." He was trying to sound jovial. "And I get a lot of referrals, too. Once you build a rapport with people, they tell their friends about you."

My mom wore a frozen, slightly desperate look, as if she'd noticed that the conversation was a beached and dying whale but she didn't know how to shove the unwieldy thing back into the ocean. "But there's more to life than work, am I right? My favorite thing about Stuart is his incredible Frank Sinatra voice."

That was interesting. "You sing?"

He blushed a little, and I saw what drew my mom to him; there was the sweetness she'd mentioned. "Not professionally."

Mom put in, "We met at karaoke. Stuart was on stage when I came in, and I just kind of...forgot to sit down."

He smiled at her, softness in his eyes. "I thought she was giving me a standing ovation, so I went over to talk to her."

She put her hand briefly over Stuart's and said, "Well, I was, indirectly. I never heard a more beautiful rendition of 'I've Got You Under My Skin.'" Turning to me, she added, "He sang three more times that night, and he'd just quietly walk on stage, perch on a stool and then just own the room. Everyone shuts up the minute Stuart opens his mouth."

He laughed. "That doesn't necessarily sound like a good thing, Miri."

So cute. I like them together.

"It is, you know it is. Lauren, you have to come with us some night. I'm terrible, but we can sing the Spice Girls or Destiny's Child together."

"Who?" I teased, like I hadn't heard her blasting them before. My mom and I shared a mutual penchant for popular music. Hers was just...older than mine. "Let me know what night you want to go. Wait, since when does Sharon have a karaoke bar?" I considered the nightlife options around here and drew a blank.

"We don't. I drove over to Edison."

I smiled at Stuart. "Seems like it was a good move. Is that where you're from?"

"Not originally. I grew up in Peoria."

"Did you go to college in Illinois?"

The question opened up a barrel of interesting conversation. Apparently Stuart graduated from Illinois State University in Normal, and then got his first job offer. He worked in Illinois until they transferred him to the office in Edison. I had to suppress a smile when he earnestly a.s.sured me he'd held the same job for seventeen years, he was thirty-nine and he owned his own home. In addition, he enjoyed cla.s.sic movies, big band music, going to antique shops with my mom and, of course, karaoke. Thankfully, these revelations carried us through the chocolate cake she'd made for dessert and I avoided having more questions aimed my way. It wasn't that I minded chatting with him, more that most people would judge my life a mess at the moment and I didn't want advice from a guy I hardly knew.

As I stood up to clear the table, I patted him lightly on the shoulder. "You can relax now. I approve and support you two."

He pretended to blot his brow with a napkin. "Whew. Miri said if I didn't pa.s.s muster tonight, I'd be kicked to the curb."

"I never did," she protested.

"Why don't you guys go watch a movie? I'll wash up."

"Are you sure?" But it was obvious Mom wanted some Stuart time, so I made shooing motion and tidied up the kitchen.

Then I tiptoed behind the couch and up the stairs. There was no question he was better for her than my dad, but their happiness made me feel a little melancholy. I mean, I didn't begrudge her some companionship, but before, it was Mom and me, against the world. Now it was Miriam and Stuart. After I closed my door, I could still hear the rumble of their voices, so I stuck in my earbuds and curled up on the bed. Weirdly, I'd much rather be at Rob's house, even though his kitchen was jacked up, and he only had one room that wasn't a work in progress.

Maybe that was because I was a work in progress.

With a wistful sigh, I opened my computer to check email. No surprise, there was nothing new from Max since I hadn't answered him. Both Nadia and Angus had written. Nadia sounded down, though she was obviously trying to hide it. The breakup must still be bothering her; she had been absolutely nuts about Mr. Hot Ginger. I'd never known a guy to make her skip work or blow off obligations. I'd answered her questions from before, so that meant she took it as clearance to ask new ones.

So you're applying to University of Nebraska? It'd be pretty awesome not to have to get up for cla.s.ses. You can join lectures in your pajamas. Unless, will there be video? That could be awkward. Things here are suckish without you but there has been drunkenness. That's the college deal, right? Work isn't bad lately, but the practic.u.m sucks. Do you miss us at all? Update me on the job situation! And oh, my G.o.d, you must be so bored if you're hanging out with my brother. Don't tell him he's a c.r.a.ppy subst.i.tute for me! It would break his widdle heart.

I laughed, then said out loud, "Oh, dude. I love you, Nadia, but no. Just...no."

Angus's email was deliciously gossipy with details about some ongoing scandal related to Courtney, my replacement housemate, who apparently had both a druggie roommate in the dorms and a crazy ex. I replied to that, feeling like I was missing an awesome soap opera. Okay, maybe I did miss some things about Michigan. Sometimes I wanted to curl up with Angus and watch Project Runway so bad that my stomach hurt.

The next day, Rob showed up right on time, as promised. I had changed my outfit four times before settling on a black pencil skirt, white blouse and red jacket. With my hair up, I looked like I should be giving tours of the UN, but Rob actually stared. His eyes dropped, traveling slowly up my body like he'd never seen me before.

"I wouldn't hire you looking like that," he said.

"What? Why not?"

"None of the guys in the office would get anything done for checking you out."

I grinned as he scooped me up to put me in the truck, just like he always did, but this time his hands lingered at my waist, and he didn't step back immediately. A crackle of heat went through me as I opened my knees an inch wider, as much as the pencil skirt allowed, so the rough denim of his jeans brushed my legs, s.e.xy even through my tights.

"You realize that's discrimination."

Gently, he tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. A shiver ran through me when I registered the rough pads of his fingertips against the tender skin of my neck. My lips parted; I'd never been so close to him in quite this way before. I wanted to curl my fingers into his belt loops and pull him all the way in, delve under his jacket and find out if his abs were as nice as I suspected. Rob, shirtless and sweaty, had fueled a lot of my private time over the years.

"I was trying to boost your confidence. Apparently I'm not very good at it."

"No, it was great. I'll take 'too hot to hire' over 'sadly unqualified' as the reason I don't get the job."

"But you will," he said. "They'd be crazy not to want someone so smart and capable handling their front desk."

"Thanks." Before I could think better of it, I put my hand to his unshaven jaw and leaned in to kiss his cheek.

Rob surprised me by taking the kiss on the mouth. So warm, sweetly chapped and rough against mine, and it took all of my self-restraint not to nip his lower lip, begging for more. In the end, it only amounted to a peck, but my heart raced like I'd run half a mile and my cheeks felt hot.

He was smiling when he pulled back, his breath misting against my skin. "For luck."

Oh. My. G.o.d.

My imagination went nuts, and I spent the drive envisioning what a real kiss from Rob would be like. Just the little touches were driving me crazy, teases that I never expected to bear fruit. My knees were still jellied when we arrived at the car dealership fifteen minutes later.

Rob aimed a stern look my way. "Don't move." He ran around the truck and lifted me down. "Those shoes are s.e.xy as f.u.c.k, but you'll turn your ankle getting out."

They were chunky-heeled retro-pinup shoes, similar to Fluevog, but less expensive. As he wrapped his arms around me to lift me down, he was definitely checking them out, along with the curves of my calves. Unless it was wishful thinking, he was more physical than he had been before breaking up with Avery. I had no idea what was going on, but...h.e.l.ls, yeah. More, please. Breathing him in, I fought the urge to press closer. It would be a wonder if I could answer any questions inside.

"Don't worry, Lauren. You've got this."

"Thanks. See you soon."

Picking a careful path across the car lot, I stepped into the gla.s.s-fronted s.p.a.ce and wiped my feet on the mat. The showroom was enormous with a couple of brand-new cars inside. A woman smiled at me from the front desk, and I headed her way.

"May I help you?"

"I have an interview with Mick Davies." Checking the time, I added, "In ten minutes. I'm a bit early."

"He'll appreciate that. I think he's in a meeting with the sales team at the moment. You can sit over there if you like." There was a round table with magazines on it, probably used by the salesmen when chatting with prospective customers. "Would you like some coffee? Water?"

"Water, please."

She brought me a paper cup and I sat down with it, pretending I wasn't supernervous. In my life, I'd had two jobs-one as a cashier at Teriyaki King and the other as a receptionist in the fine arts department. I worked at TK for two years, more like three months in reception, so in this market, they probably had people a lot more qualified sending resumes. Sipping my water, I paged through a car magazine and tried not to sweat.

At promptly one o'clock, the salesmen returned to the floor and a supertan guy came out behind them. He looked like the proverbial used-car salesman, down to the shiny suit and poor quality hair plugs. His white teeth probably glowed purple in UV lighting, and his skin made my spray tan look natural. I kept my smile in place. Dealing with the public was easy; though I hated people socially, professionally, it was easier to pretend. Because y'know, money. Not that I saw myself doing this forever. Once I got my computer science degree, I'd be done with retail-type employment forever.

"Miss Barrett? Thanks for coming."

When Mr. Davies elevator-eyed me, it was fairly horrible. I pretended I didn't notice.

"My pleasure. I'm looking forward to hearing more about the job." I almost said position, but pervdar hinted he was the kind of guy who would leap on even a mild double entendre.

Yeah, somebody more qualified probably wouldn't take this job.

"Excellent. Let's go to my office and talk. Sh.e.l.ly, hold my calls."

"Of course." I caught an eye-roll from Sh.e.l.ly on the way past. Uh-oh. In a burst of foreboding, I wondered why she'd given notice. Hopefully not because of Davies.

Let it be a better job offer.

The manager's office was a shrine to lost youth, a combination of old sports trophies, sales plaques and pictures of hot women. I suspected he wasn't dating any of them currently, as they were obviously old photos. But they still lined his walls in a testament to what he valued, and that was apparently T&A.

"The dealership is open from ten to eight, Monday through Sat.u.r.day, and twelve to five on Sunday. We're looking to replace Sh.e.l.ly, though Lord knows it'll be tough. The girl's a peach."

Girl. Since Sh.e.l.ly was thirty if she was a day, I was offended on her behalf. But I didn't show it. "I understand. What hours would the successful candidate be working?"

"Nine-thirty to five, Monday through Friday. My niece fills in for nights and weekends."

"That would be fantastic."

"I saw on your resume that you've completed some college. Will you be going back?"

"Not in a way you have to worry about. I plan to take online cla.s.ses and I can do that at night and on the weekends."

He smiled at me. "Sounds like we're made for each other."

Oh, G.o.d, no.

Somehow I managed not to show my distaste. "This job could work out very well. What are the primary responsibilities?"

Davies ran through the list of requirements, mostly first-customer contact, heavy phone work, support the sales team as needed, light clerical work, some scheduling. It didn't sound like anything I couldn't handle, so I relaxed a little. He asked me the usual questions and I gave my best answers. The pay was nine bucks an hour-not amazing, but decent for a town like Sharon. Cost of living wasn't bad here, and I'd be at my mom's house as long as she didn't get sick of me and demand I move out.

In the end, he shook my hand, then escorted me back to the front desk. "We have a few more applicants to interview. I plan to call the lucky girl next week."

Not the "successful applicant," I noted. His tone pretty much guaranteed that if a guy applied, he was out of luck.

"Thanks, I'll be looking forward to it." Too much? From his grin, apparently not.

Exhaling a long breath, I hurried out to the parking lot, where Rob was waiting. He hopped out and installed me on the pa.s.senger side, then ran back around.

"How did it go?"

"Well. I think. I won't know for sure until the phone rings."

"It will."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because I can't imagine any guy not calling you when he has the chance."

A flood of warmth washed through me because I was 90 percent sure he wasn't just talking about the job. If I wasn't crazy, this was subtle, low-key Rob flirting. "And why's that?"

He paused for a long moment, his gaze steady on mine, and he seemed to weigh his words before coming to some conclusion that made him smile wryly. "Because I think about it all the time."

CHAPTER EIGHT.

"Calling me?" I felt like it was wise to confirm.

Rob started the truck and pulled out of the parking lot before answering. "Yeah. The urge usually kicks in late at night."

"I'm not sure if you know this about me, but I definitely have an impulse control problem. What's your number?"