Rainy Day Kisses

He frowned as if he didn’t understand what she was talking about. Susannah felt it was her obligation to tell him. Apparently Nate had never been involved in office politics. “Let me give you a few examples. If a male coworker has a cluttered desk, then everyone assumes he’s a hard worker. If my desk is a mess, it’s a sign of disorganization.”

Nate looked as if he wanted to argue with her, but Susannah was just warming to her subject and she forged ahead before he had a chance to speak. “If a man in an office marries, it’s good for the company because he’ll settle down and become a more productive employee. If a woman marries, it’s almost the kiss of death because management figures she’ll get pregnant and quit. If a man leaves because he’s been offered a better job, everyone’s pleased for him because he’s taking advantage of an excellent career opportunity. But if the same position is offered to a woman and she takes it, then upper management shrugs and claims women aren’t dependable.”

When she’d finished there was a short pause. “You have very definite feelings on the subject,” he said at last.

“If you were a woman, you would, too.”

His nod of agreement was a long time coming. “You’re right, I probably would.”

Michelle seemed to find the toes of her sleeper fascinating and was examining them closely. Personally, Susannah didn’t know how anyone could be so wide-awake at this ungodly hour.

“If you turn down the lights, she might get the hint,” Nate said, doing a poor job of smothering a yawn.

“You’re beat,” said Susannah. “There’s no need for you to stay. I’ll take her.” She held out her arms to Michelle, who whimpered and clung all the more tightly to Nate. Susannah’s feelings of inadequacy were reinforced.

“Don’t worry about me. I’m comfortable like this,” Nate told her.

“But…” She could feel the warmth invading her cheeks. She lowered her eyes, regretting her outburst of a few minutes ago. She’d been standing on her soapbox again. “Listen, I’m sorry about what I said. What goes on at the office has nothing to do with our being neighbors.”

“Then we’re even.”

“Even?”

“I shouldn’t have commented on your hair and clothes.” He hesitated long enough to envelop her in his smile. “Friends?”

Despite the intolerable hour, Susannah found herself smiling back. “Friends.”

Michelle seemed to concur because she cooed loudly, kicking her feet.

Susannah stood and turned the lamp down to its lowest setting, then reached for Michelle’s blanket, covering the baby. Feeling slightly chilled herself, she fetched the brightly colored afghan at the foot of the sofa, which Emily had crocheted for her last Christmas.

The muted light created an intimate atmosphere, and suddenly self-conscious, Susannah suggested, “Maybe I’ll sing to her. That should help her go to sleep.”

“If anyone sings, it’ll be me,” he said much too quickly.

Susannah’s pride was a little dented, but remembering her limited repertoire of songs, she gestured toward him and said, “All right, Frank Sinatra, have a go.”

To Susannah’s surprise, Nate’s singing voice was soothing and melodious. Even more surprisingly, he knew exactly the right kind of songs. Not lullabies, but easy-listening songs, the kind she’d heard for years on the radio. She felt her own eyes drifting closed and battled to stay awake. His voice dropped to a mere whisper that felt like a warm caress. Much too warm. And cozy, as if the three of them belonged together, which was ridiculous since she’d only just met Nate. He was her neighbor and nothing more. There hadn’t been time for them to get to know each other, and Michelle was her niece, not her daughter.

But the domestic fantasy continued, no matter how hard she tried to dispel it. She couldn’t stop thinking about what it would be like to share her life with a husband and children—and she could barely manage to keep her eyes open for more than a second or two. Perhaps if she rested them for a moment…

* * *

The next thing Susannah knew, her neck ached. She reached up to secure her pillow, then realized she didn’t have one. Instead of being in bed, she was curled up in the chair, her head resting uncomfortably against the arm. Slowly, reluctantly, she opened her eyes and discovered Nate across from her, head tilted back, sleeping soundly. Michelle was resting peacefully in his arms.

It took Susannah a minute or so to orient herself. When she saw the sun breaking across the sky and spilling through her large windows, she closed her eyes again. It was morning. Morning! Nate had spent the night at her place.

Flustered, Susannah twisted her body into an upright position and rubbed the sleep from her face, wondering what she should do. Waking Nate was probably not the best idea. He was bound to be as unnerved as she was to discover he’d fallen asleep in her living room. To complicate matters, the afghan she’d covered herself with had somehow become twisted around her hips and legs. Muttering under her breath, Susannah yanked it about in an effort to stand.

Her activity disturbed Nate’s restful slumber. He stirred, glanced in her direction and froze for what seemed the longest moment of Susannah’s life. Then he blinked several times and glared at her as though he hoped she’d vanish into thin air.

Standing now, Susannah did her best to appear dignified, which was nearly impossible with the comforter still twisted around her.

“Where am I?” Nate asked dazedly.

“Ah…my place.”

His eyes drifted shut. “I was afraid of that.” The mournful look that came over Nate’s face would have been comical under other circumstances. Only neither of them was laughing.

“I, ah, must’ve fallen asleep,” she said, breaking the embarrassed silence. She took pains to fold the afghan, and held it against her stomach like a shield.

“Me, too, apparently,” Nate muttered.

Michelle woke and struggled into a sitting position. She looked around her and evidently didn’t like what she saw, either. Her lower lip started to tremble.

“Michelle, it’s okay,” Susannah said quickly, hoping to ward off the scream she feared was coming. “You’re staying with Auntie Susannah this weekend, remember?”

“I think she might be wet,” Nate offered when Michelle began to whimper softly. He let out a muffled curse and hastily lifted the nine-month-old from his lap. “I’m positive she’s wet. Here, take her.”

Susannah reached for her niece and a dry diaper in one smooth movement, but it didn’t help. Michelle was intent on letting them both know, in no uncertain terms, that she didn’t like her schedule altered. Nor did she appreciate waking up in a stranger’s arms. She conveyed her displeasure in loud boisterous cries.

“I think she might be hungry, too,” Nate suggested, trying to brush the dampness from his housecoat.

“Brilliant observation,” Susannah said sarcastically on her way to the bathroom, Michelle in her arms.

“My, my, you certainly get testy in the mornings,” he said.

“I need coffee.”

“Fine. I’ll make us both a cup while I’m heating a bottle for Michelle.”

“She’s supposed to eat her cereal first,” Susannah shouted. At least that was what Emily had insisted when she’d outlined her daughter’s schedule.

“I’m sure she doesn’t care. She’s hungry.”

“All right, all right,” Susannah yelled from the bathroom. “Heat her bottle first if you want.”

Yelling was a mistake, she soon discovered. Michelle clearly wasn’t any keener on mornings than Susannah was. Punching the air with her stubby legs, her niece made diapering a nearly impossible task. Susannah grew more frustrated by the minute. Finally her hair, falling forward over her shoulders, caught Michelle’s attention. She grasped it, pausing to gulp in a huge breath.

“Do you want me to get that?” she heard Nate shout.

“Get what?”

Apparently it wasn’t important because he didn’t answer her. But a moment later he was standing at the bathroom door.

“It’s for you,” he said.

“What’s for me?”