Ordinary Girl, Millionaire Tycoon

An explanation, she thought.

Tell him.

Her stomach rolled and pitched, a reaction she vaguely remembered from high school when faced with the cutest boy in school. She swallowed—and chickened out.

“Tony’s home. I thought I’d grill some steaks to welcome him.”

She never grilled steaks. She specialized in pasta dishes and could do wonders with chicken. She hazily remembered that they had a grill but wasn’t sure where it was.

“I have some top sirloin on sale.” He gestured to the cuts of marbled steak underneath the glass counter while she mentally called herself a coward. “Or if you want something fancier, you could go with New York strip. Or maybe the—”

“Why are you avoiding me?” she blurted out.

He blinked, frowned. “Excuse me?”

Her heart raced and her stomach churned. What was it about this man that made her feel so gauche and unsure of herself? She’d been married and widowed. She’d worked in restaurants, where she was used to handling men with ease and humor. With Art, she had trouble forming a sentence.

“At the store last week, you turned down another aisle when you saw me coming. And at the post office the week before that, you couldn’t leave fast enough when I got there.”

His soft eyes slid away, then back. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

She swallowed again but the action did nothing to get rid of the lump in her throat. “I had a nice time when we went out. I thought you did, too.”

“I did,” he confirmed in that same maddeningly calm voice.

She ignored the butterflies that fluttered unhappily in her gut. “Then why haven’t you called me?”

His Adam’s apple bobbed. “I’ve been busy.”

The universal cop-out line of men everywhere. All the breath left her lungs. She’d been so sure an explanation existed for his sudden chill and now one occurred to her. He didn’t want to date her again.

“I’ve been busy, too.” The corners of her mouth felt weighted by lead, but she forced herself to smile.

A customer—somebody else she didn’t recognize; thank goodness—got into line behind her. Art glanced over her shoulder, then met her eyes, but barely.

“How about those steaks?” Art said. “Can I pick you out two nice top sirloins?”

Sofia willed her lips not to tremble. “You know what, I’ve changed my mind. I think I’ll make Tony a nice lasagna instead.”

His eyebrows drew together, and his expression appeared pained. She waited, hoping he’d say something to stop her from leaving.

“I’ll see you around then, Sofia,” he said.

She nodded, turned and walked blindly down a mercifully empty aisle for the exit. If there’d been a bed in sight, she’d have thrown herself down on it and cried.

“Mrs. Donatelli.” A petite woman with salt-and-pepper hair appeared from an adjacent aisle, flagging her down before she reached the exit. Sofia recognized her as a teacher at the local high school. “I’m Mary Winters. I taught English to Tony years ago.”

Not trusting her voice not to wobble, Sofia said nothing.

“I’m heading up a charity drive to fight illiteracy, and I was wondering if you could—”

“I’m sorry, but I can’t do this right now,” Sofia said and banged through the door to the street.

Everybody wanted something from her, it seemed, except the one man to whom she’d gladly give her heart.

CHAPTER FIVE

KAYLEE MOVED around the cute little two-bedroom, one-bath house as though in a trance. And maybe she was, because she’d been with Tony for half the morning and had yet to come clean about why she was in McIntosh.

“You can move in tomorrow if you like it. All I’d need is first and last months’ rent plus a security deposit,” the owner offered. He was a kindly, white-haired gentleman named Mr. Stanton who reminded her of her maternal grandfather, who used to slip her five-dollar bills on the sly. She needed a whole lot more than five dollars now.

“What do you think, Kaylee?” Tony prompted.

She thought matters had quickly spiraled out of control. She was inside a house she couldn’t afford with a man who didn’t know she’d come to McIntosh to meet his stepmother.

After confirming the relationship by consulting the phone book Kaylee found in a dresser drawer in her motel room last night, she’d dialed the listed number, intending to invent an excuse for why she couldn’t meet him. An operator’s recorded voice had come over the line, informing her that the number had been changed and was now unlisted.

Resigned to meeting Tony this morning as planned, she’d spent a restless night during which she’d decided to immediately tell him she suspected she could be his stepsister.

Except he’d been waiting for them in the driveway, and the moment of truth had been easy to put off. Worse, she hadn’t been able to resist asking him about his childhood.

He’d soon gotten around to telling her about Sofia, although he hadn’t mentioned the lottery. Tony said Sofia had constantly surprised him when he was growing up. Presenting him with a congratulatory balloon for making the honor roll. Driving him to Cincinnati to see a ball game on his birthday. Baking him a chocolate cake for no good reason.

His friends, he said, used to wish she was their mother. Even with a full-time job, she’d been a tireless volunteer: room mother, religious-education teacher, team mom.

The more he talked, the more she’d ached for her fantasy of having Sofia for a mother to become reality.

“Kaylee?” Tony’s voice again. He repeated, “What do you think?”

She could tell what Tony thought. Joey’s impression wasn’t hard to figure, either. He was swinging from an old tire that hung from the sturdy branch of a grand oak tree around back.

“I need to think about it,” she told him, then addressed Mr. Stanton. “Can I get your phone number so I can contact you later?”

“Don’t think too long. The classified ad will be in the newspaper tomorrow, and I figure I’ll get plenty of interest,” he said before shuffling off in search of pen and paper.

Tony regarded her closely. “If you’re worried about the upfront cost, we could ask Mr. Stanton if he’d be willing to waive the security deposit.”

Kaylee felt her face heat. She’d taken another look at her finances before they’d started their search and the rent she could afford to pay was distressingly low.

The reality was that she’d let her heart rule her head. Again. She’d rushed to McIntosh, which was no more affordable than Fort Lauderdale. Not on a waitress’s salary with child-care costs thrown into the mix.

She needed to relocate to a bigger city where better-paying jobs and housing choices were more plentiful. Even then, she’d probably have to advertise for a roommate to share expenses.

“Kaylee, how does that sound?”

She bit her bottom lip while she resigned herself to confiding in him about her financial problems. If she didn’t, he’d keep on showing her places she had no prayer of renting.

“That won’t help.” Kaylee squared her shoulders but couldn’t meet his eyes. “I can’t afford to live here.”