She mentally kicked herself. All of Charlene's infatuations started this way. She'd pick one good thing about a guy and then blow it out of proportion.

And her fantasies always wanted to go in one direction. She'd revisited the quiet moments she'd spent with Mike and Rainbow on Thursday evening. She wanted to recapture them tonight. In truth, she wanted to have moments like that for the rest of her life.

She longed for a family.

But it wasn't going to happen with Mike. Mike wanted to return to Vegas for a poker tournament. He might have bonded with Rainbow, but that didn't make him a family man. Just the favorite uncle.

So she mentally backed off. She would make this evening about the bet, and nothing more. "Come on in, supper is ready."

Charlene's apartment mirrored Martha Spalding's place. But while the layout was similar, the decor could not have been more different. Charlene's condo was contemporary, with just enough clutter to give her home a lived-in feeling. It was comfortable, and tonight it was filled with the aroma of good home cooking.

Everything about Charlene's home was perfect. She would make a terrific minister's wife. He could see her entertaining the ladies of the Altar Guild in a place like this. Of course, when she married Timmy, she'd have to move into the parish house. He made a mental note to check the place out. But even if the parish house was horrible, he had confidence that Charlene could turn it into a home.

Everything seemed to be going according to plan.

And once Rainbow turned her nose up at whatever broccoli dish Charlene had made, Mike could put a check after phase one. Phase two would require Mike to get Timmy to actually commit to partic.i.p.ating in the auction, but he'd already planted those seeds. And phase three would be finding a solution to the cat situation.

His stomach rumbled. He'd burned a lot of calories today out at the Edisto Country Club swimming and building sand castles. He'd spent a golden day with Timmy. They had avoided all discussion of their parents and focused on Rainbow.

And now Mike realized that he might actually have a place to go on Thanksgiving and Christmas. Even if he gave up the role of father, he could still be an uncle.

"Was that a rumble I heard?" Charlene said as she gave him a frank and incredibly s.e.xy smile. d.a.m.n.

His future sister-in-law ought to be matronly and maternal, not s.e.xy. His future plans for Thanksgiving and Christmas might turn awkward if he didn't find some way to turn off his libido.

"Uh, yeah, you know how it goes when you're on a steady pizza diet. By the way, what is that delicious smell?"

She grinned. "Homemade fried chicken."

"Wow. Obviously you're not worried about saturated fat, huh?"

"Nope," she said with an exaggerated head shake, "I'm not. I'm here to win a bet. And as I recall, there was no rule about any ingredients besides the broccoli."

It suddenly occurred to him that he might actually lose this bet. What if Rainbow liked whatever Charlene cooked? d.a.m.n. Rainbow had probably never had a home-cooked meal. As a kid, Angie certainly never had. Her diet had been limited to the school breakfast and lunch program and whatever Mike had been able to scrounge in the evening, usually mac and cheese or ramen noodles.

Thinking about Angie immediately soured his stomach.

Charlene's smile faded into a wide-eyed, compa.s.sionate look. Was she a mind reader, too? "What is it?" she asked.

He went into poker mode. "Nothing. Just hungry." Although that was suddenly a big lie. The acid in his stomach had gone into overdrive.

His stomach almost throbbed by the time they sat down to dinner at Charlene's small dining table. Charlene had gone all in with good china and cloth napkins and candlelight. Not to mention the family-style food presentation with a big bowl of fried chicken, a basket of biscuits wrapped up in a checkered cloth, and two side dishes with serving spoons. One of those dishes looked like broccoli smothered in cheese.

He turned toward Rainbow. The candlelight gleamed in her amber eyes, which looked as if they might bug right out of her face as she gazed at the cornucopia of food on the table. Oh, boy, he had seriously miscalculated.

And then, just before Mike dug into the bowl of chicken, Rainbow pressed her little hands together and bowed her head, obviously waiting for someone to say grace. No doubt the counselors at summer camp were responsible for this behavior.

The village of Last Chance had begun the process of taming the wild child, hadn't it?

Charlene didn't miss a beat either, being the sweet, wholesome girl next door. She bowed her head and said, "Lord, make us truly grateful for what we're about to receive."

Rainbow chimed in with a big "amen."

Wow! Had he fallen into an episode of Touched by an Angel or something? The whole scene was perfect in every way, except that he didn't exactly fit here. And, besides, l.u.s.t almost overwhelmed him every time he looked at Charlene wearing that little pink dress that exposed her shoulders. Charlene fixed Rainbow's plate with a chicken wing, a biscuit, some rice and beans, and a big helping of the broccoli and cheese dish. And the kid said "thank you." And then she picked up the chicken leg and took a ferocious bite.

"So you like chicken?" Charlene asked.

Rainbow nodded and spoke with her mouth full. "Miss Mary made chicken, too."

"Did she now," Mike said. "And you ate at her house?"

"Uh-huh. She was a good cook."

"So you lived nearby?"

"Uh-huh."

He leaned in Charlene's direction and whispered, "I'm still trying to solve the Miss Mary mystery. But so far, I've got more questions than answers."

Charlene nodded. Then she gave him a wicked, up-to-no-good smile. She turned toward Rainbow. "Honey, you should try the broccoli. It has lots of cheese in it, like pizza."

Rainbow eyed the vegetable. No way Rainbow would eat the broccoli. What kid liked broccoli? Mike didn't much like broccoli himself. He refrained from telling Rainbow that broccoli was yucky, though. He never cheated on a bet. Ever.

Rainbow leaned over her plate and gave the ca.s.serole a little sniff. And then she picked up her fork and tried a tiny little bit. And the moment that ca.s.serole hit the kid's tongue, her eyes practically popped from her head. "This is good," she said, and then proceeded to stuff her mouth so that she looked like a chipmunk as she chewed.

"What the h.e.l.l did you put in that?" he asked.

"You should try it, Mikey. You might like it," Charlene said with a grin.

So he tried a taste and it was incredible. He looked up from his plate and met the triumphant gleam in her dark brown eyes. d.a.m.n, d.a.m.n, d.a.m.n. This was not going according to plan.

"You know," she said lightly, "it wasn't a fair bet, because no one can resist Faye's broccoli ca.s.serole. And, Mike, I'm going to hold you to your pledge. I've got the auction sign-up forms for you to take home with you."

It occurred to him right then that he wouldn't mind partic.i.p.ating in the auction if Charlene bought him and then cooked him another dinner like this.

But he stomped on that thought the moment it crossed his mind. Charlene belonged with Timmy.

CHAPTER.

14.

I can't believe you're really going to go through with it," Charlene said as she watched Mike filling out the bachelor auction form.

"I never welsh on a bet. And besides, I figure it's a good deal. I now have your recipe for broccoli ca.s.serole."

She tried to stifle a smile and failed.

"Don't gloat, Charlene. It's considered rude."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to gloat. I'm amused by the idea of you cooking something that doesn't involve frozen food and a microwave. And besides, you have to admit that you're happy Rainbow gobbled up those vegetables. You can't fool me, Mike. I know you care about that little girl."

He finished filling out the form and looked up, his blue, blue eyes twinkling a little bit. "All right, you win. I am happy. I've been worried about her nutrition. Especially since her hair is falling out." The glint in his eye faded a bit.

"She's losing her hair?" she asked.

He nodded as he slid the paper across the table. "Every time I brush it."

"You brush her hair?"

"Uh, yeah, is there something wrong with that?"

"Oh, well, you should use a comb. And you should work from the ends in, not the scalp out. It's like the opposite of all the hair care you ever learned. And you shouldn't wash it every day."

"I shouldn't wash it every day?"

She leaned forward a little bit. "She's not a white girl. Her hair is different. It's really fine and dry. You should probably only wash it every week or maybe longer. And her scalp probably needs some jojoba or coconut oil if it's really dry."

He gaped at her. "How do you know this stuff?"

Her face flamed. She didn't want to tell Mike about Derrick. He might get the wrong idea.

She was trying to figure out a way to deflect this question when her pantry exploded.

The bifold doors unfolded, and a white mushroom cloud billowed out of the closet. A second later, the broom and mop tumbled out, bonking Mike on the head. He stood up quickly, trying to get away from the unexpected a.s.sault, only to step on something that went "eeeeeeek."

He jumped back, losing his balance, and toppled right into the pantry, knocking the shelving askew. Cans of okra tipped over, a flour sack exploded, and a jar of olives and another of pimentos crashed to the floor, both of them shattering. And from out of this chaos came a tiger-striped blur that used her claws on Mike's thigh for leverage as she launched herself out of the pantry in hot pursuit of the something that was still going "eek eek" as it scampered across the kitchen floor.

A mouse. A big, well-fed mouse.

Charlene took off her loafer and ran after the mouse herself. She hated mice, which probably made her a failure as an animal doctor. But this gray critter scampering into her living room bore no resemblance to those cute, white lab mice. This mouse was the kind who p.o.o.ped all over the place and attracted unwanted guests. Like disease and snakes.

She had no fear of snakes. But she didn't want any snakes finding their way into her pantry. Obviously she had gone too long without a cat, if the mice had moved in. Whoever had left the kittens had done her a huge favor in more ways than one.

She raced after the rodent, intent on mashing it flat with the heel of her shoe, but Tigger came out of nowhere and beat her to it. The cat pinned the unfortunate mouse with one swipe of her claws. She didn't kill the critter, of course. But she had complete control of it.

She picked the squirming mouse up in her mouth, carried it over to the kittens, and proceeded to show them how to play with it.

Tigger's presence inside her apartment surprised Charlene, but she completely approved of the lesson the cat was teaching the kittens. In her practice, Charlene cared for a great many barn cats, and Tigger clearly had the instincts of a mouser. And good mousers were a G.o.dsend.

Charlene found herself smiling at the life-and-death scene playing itself out in her living room. She'd have to take the mouse away in a minute, but not before the kittens got a little taste of what their life was supposed to be about.

Her satisfaction faded a moment later when she looked up to find Mike in the kitchen doorway, dusted in flour from his head to his toe and covered in something brown and sticky. Was that leftover mola.s.ses from the time she baked gingerbread for the Christmas bazaar?

The sight might have been humorous except that he was bleeding profusely from a cut in his scalp. As the blood dripped down his forehead and into his eye, he said, "I'm going to murder that cat."

Mike watched as the expression on Rainbow's face shattered.

"Noooooooooo!" she wailed.

Rainbow's out-of-control emotions. .h.i.t him like a punch to the gut. What had he been thinking to say such a thing? Of course he didn't want to kill the cat. Okay, he had thought about it for a nanosecond. Probably because his thigh smarted from Tigger's claws and his head pounded, thanks to the canned goods that had pummeled him.

"I didn't mean it literally," he said, as something trickled down the side of his face. He wiped at it, expecting to find more of the sticky stuff that was all over his pants and shoes.

But his hand came away b.l.o.o.d.y.

"Christ."

Rainbow stood up and raced across the living room and hit his abs like a mini linebacker. She almost knocked him sideways as she wrapped her arms around his waist. She buried her head right into the middle of his gut, getting mola.s.ses and flour and probably blood all over one of her new outfits.

He suddenly didn't know where to put his hands, so they ended up on her shoulders. His meaningless death threat against Tigger hadn't upset Rainbow, but the blood on his face probably had. She'd seen her mother shot in the head.

"I'm okay," he said, because it seemed to be the right thing to say. And because, well, she was hugging him so hard that it almost broke his heart.

"Don't move." Charlene put out her hands. "Let me get the first-aid kit."

She disappeared down the hall for a moment and came back with an industrial-strength first-aid box. She seemed to be prepared for anything. Not to mention the fact that he'd been kind of impressed by the murderous look in her eye when she'd taken off after the mouse wearing only one shoe.

She was one heck of a woman: kind, loving, a good cook, a veritable encyclopedia when it came to the care and maintenance of African-American hair, and she had a murderous, but fun, side to her. Timmy was one lucky man.

Mike gave Rainbow a little shoulder squeeze. "I'm okay, Rainbow. I fell into the shelves, and one of them hit me."

She looked up at him. No tears in her eyes, but a world of hurt and fear down in their depths. He squatted down to be on her level. The child immediately threw her arms around his neck and hung on.

"Come on, kiddo, it's okay. I tripped over a mouse. How silly is that?"

She said nothing, and she wouldn't let go. So he squatted there holding the kid. His nose buried in her nappy hair. His heart breaking. How much c.r.a.p had she seen in her short life? Too much.

He pressed a kiss into the top of her head, closed his eyes, and went all in. He'd get her a mother and father she could depend on. He'd keep her safe.

"Come on, Rainbow, it's okay," Charlene said, as she touched the girl's thin arms.

Rainbow relaxed and stepped away from him. He had no name for this ache in the pit of his stomach. It wasn't the usual heartburn. And it sure wasn't guilt.

Charlene squeezed Rainbow's shoulder. "Mike's all right, angel. I'll take care of the cut on his head. He just got between Tigger and her mouse, and I have a feeling Tigger is a determined mouse catcher, isn't she?"

Rainbow nodded solemnly. "And rats, too, sometimes," she said in a small voice. "Mama hates rats."