Substitute Father

“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.

“Luke!” Troy called, skidding to a near stop.

Luke glanced fondly at the youngest Baker child. “Having fun?”