Date Next Door

“Nic?”

He was looking at her oddly, and she forced her attention away from his pecs and abs. “Sorry. I guess I’m not completely awake yet. What did you say?”

“I asked if you need anything. Soap, shampoo and towels are all laid out for you in there, but if there’s anything else…”

“No, I’ve got everything. Thanks.”

Nodding, he moved toward his bedroom. A moment later he looked inquiringly over his shoulder. “Problem?”

Starting, she shook her head and ducked into the bathroom, closing the door a bit too sharply behind her. She really hoped he had believed her lame excuse about still being sleep-addled. She would hate to think he suspected she’d been watching him walk away and wondering if those pants concealed an equally impressive physique.

It must be something in the Alabama air, she thought as she plunged beneath the showerhead into water that was just warm enough to be tolerable. She hadn’t been acting quite like herself ever since she and Joel had arrived here.

Showered, blow-dried, made-up and dressed in a cropped denim jacket over a lace-trimmed camisole and boot-cut jeans with short brown leather boots, Nic decided she was as presentable as she was going to be to start this second day of Joel’s reunion. She had given more attention to her appearance than she usually did, even running a bit of styling gel through her somewhat shaggily layered dark blond hair. She was wearing eyeliner, for Pete’s sake.

She told herself that she had taken such care with her grooming because it was only courteous to look her best for a gathering of Joel’s old friends. Her hostess was obviously into that sort of thing, judging by Elaine’s meticulous hairstyle and makeup, and Nic wouldn’t want to look grubby in Joel’s mother’s eyes.

Not that she was competing with anyone, she assured herself as she started down the stairs. Not with Elaine or Heidi—and cer

tainly not with anyone’s memory of a beautiful redhead.

She had expected to find Joel downstairs with his parents. Instead the living room and dining room were empty. Following a few muted sounds into the kitchen, Nic found Elaine pouring batter into a waffle iron.

Elaine smiled brightly when Nic entered. “Good morning. I’m making Belgian waffles with fresh-sliced strawberries and whipped cream. But if you’d rather have eggs or oatmeal…”

“I love Belgian waffles,” Nic assured her. “But you shouldn’t have gone to so much trouble for my sake.”

Shaking her head, which didn’t ruffle a hair of her perfectly curled and firmly sprayed coif, Elaine took a carafe of orange juice—fresh-squeezed, no doubt—from the refrigerator and set it on the counter. “It’s no trouble at all. Joel loves waffles, so I always make them when he’s home. Not that he comes home all that often,” she added with a little frown.

“He stays really busy in Cabot,” Nic said, feeling a need to come to Joel’s defense. “He works ten hours a day, five days a week, and usually puts in a couple of hours on Saturdays and Sundays. And he makes himself available to his patients even when he isn’t working, voluntarily staying on call almost 24-7.”

Rather than appeasing Joel’s mother about his reasons for not visiting more often, Nic’s comments seemed to only worry her more. “I worry about him working that hard. He’s going to burn out. Or get sick.”

“He seems to enjoy it,” Nic offered weakly. “He loves the kids.”

Elaine sighed heavily as she stacked perfectly browned waffles on a serving platter. “He always has loved children. He and Heather planned to have several of their own.”

“Is there anything I can do to help you, Mrs. Brannon?” Nic asked, hoping to change the subject.

Rousing herself from her melancholy memories, Elaine motioned toward the juice pitcher. “You can set that on the table in the breakfast nook if you’d like. I’m almost finished here.”

Nic carried the pitcher around the bar that separated the well-appointed kitchen from the breakfast nook set into a bay window that overlooked the sizable, neatly landscaped backyard. Spotting movement at the back of the yard, Nic noticed that Joel and his father were walking the perimeter, apparently examining the redwood fence that surrounded the property.

“Are you having problems with your fence?” she asked Elaine more to make small talk than because she was particularly interested.

Elaine shook her head in exasperation. “Lou is obsessed with termites. He’s convinced they’re going to attack at any moment, even though we have regular inspections by professionals. Nearly every time one of the boys comes over, he makes them help him look for signs of termite invasion.”

Nic found that amusing, though she noticed that Joel seemed to be taking the task very seriously. She watched as he bent to brush a few dried leaves away from the bottom of the fence, and her attention lingered for a moment on the way the morning sun brought out the gold highlights in his light brown hair.

Elaine set the platter of waffles on the round cherry table with a thump that might have been a bit more forceful than necessary. “Do you drink coffee, Nicole?” she asked, bringing Nic’s attention back inside.

Nic couldn’t help but wonder if that had been Elaine’s intention.

Chapter Six

Telling herself she was reading hidden agendas into perfectly innocent actions, Nic turned away from the window and smiled at Joel’s mother. “Yes, I drink coffee. Cops tend to pretty much live on caffeine and fast food.”

Elaine had already returned to the kitchen, where she poured steaming coffee into a delicate flowered cup. “It must be difficult being a woman in such a traditionally male occupation.”