Just Around the Corner

He was wearing the black leather jacket. And—once again—looked far too good. He stepped into her tiny foyer. “I thought I’d get a start on whatever needs doing,” he said, glancing around at the side table still holding the mail she’d brought in, the arch-way into her living room, the coatrack by the door, the picture of King’s Chapel in Boston that hung on the opposite wall.

“I just got home this morning,” she reminded him, closing the door. It was okay to have him here. To shut them in together. Because this was for him. “I haven’t had much time to get behind on things.”

“But you weren’t planning to be laid up. There might be stuff you’d been planning to do that you can’t do now.”

His hands were still in his pockets, but his gaze was direct as it met hers. He was glad to see her.

She was strangely glad to see him, too.

“I’m not really clear on what I can’t do,” she told him. Her eyes remained on his.

“Taking out the trash, for starters,” he said. He was almost smiling as he watched her. While Phyllis was generally aware of nuances that other people missed, she suspected she wasn’t the only one hearing the unspoken conversation between them.

“No heavy lifting, Dr. Mac said,” Phyllis reminded him. “Trash isn’t heavy.”

“And carrying laundry baskets.”

“My laundry isn’t heavy, either.” She refused to be the first to look away. His black eyes were almost daring her.

“Could be you have a leaky faucet.”

“My wrench isn’t heavy.”

“Maybe you need some groceries.”

Okay, carrying bags of groceries probably wasn’t a good idea, but… “I don’t. Just went shopping on the weekend.”

The tiniest hint of a grin lifted one corner of his mouth.

“How long has it been since you gassed up and washed your car?”

Though she really tried not to, Phyllis gave him a full-fledged grin. “Saturday.”

“What about preparing a nursery?”

She blinked. And turned her head. She hadn’t let herself think about that yet. There were too many other things to deal with first. Like prenatal care. Maternity clothes. Diet. Vitamins.

College funds.

It was an awful lot for one person to handle all alone. And the way to manage overwhelming tasks was to break them up into manageable portions.

Matt headed down the hall, past the living room and toward the back of the house. “I’m assuming you’re going to need some furniture moved.”

Yes, but… “Not tonight,” Phyllis said, hoping none of the panic she was fighting was evident in her voice.

He glanced at her over his shoulder. “I didn’t mean tonight. I just thought we might take a look and come up with some ideas.”

He was so damn sweet. How could she say no?

She followed him down the hall and when he was turning toward her bedroom, said, “It’s over here,” and guided him to the room Tory Sanders had used during her months staying here.

The room Phyllis had lovingly prepared for her best friend, Tory’s older sister, Christine.

“You use this only as a guest room?” Matt asked, taking in the twin beds, the dresser, the closet doors across the room.

“Now I do,” Phyllis said. “It used to be an office, but I turned it into a bedroom when a friend of mine came to stay.”

He looked over at her and then back at the room. “She stay long?”