Carla Cassidy - In a Heartbeat

“Mr. Brown, you promised me you’d have somebody come over and look at this sink a month ago.” Erica held the phone in one hand and frantically removed the full pan of water from beneath the leaking pipe, quickly exchanging it for an empty pan.

What she wanted to do was reach through the phone wire and throttle Mr. Stanley Brown, her cheapskate landlord.

Unfortunately, even if she could reach across the line, she’d only manage to grasp thin air, since she wasn’t talking to an actual person. Instead, she was babbling, as usual, into his answering machine. “Please call me as soon as you can,” she finished, trying desperately to hang on to her composure.

She slammed down the phone, picked up the wrench and crawled beneath the sink. Shoving the pot aside, she connected the wrench to the elbow joint and tried to tighten the ring. It wouldn’t budge.

She strained again, feeling her face growing red with her effort. “Whew,” she said, and gave up. She simply didn’t have the strength required to get it to turn.

“Hello? Anybody home?”

The deep male voice at her back door startled her. She jumped, banging her head on one of the pipes. “Who’s there?” she yelled irritably, rubbing her forehead as she tried to wiggle out from beneath the cabinet.

The door opened and Caleb McMann stepped inside. In his hand he held a donut box that emitted the most delicious aromas Erica had ever smelled.

“Looks like you could use some help,” he said, stating the obvious. He set the box on the table and held out a hand to help her up.

She hesitated a moment. Her first inclination was to send him packing. She didn’t like his friendly smile and she’d always believed it was best to be wary of men bearing donuts.

But the rational part of her recognized she could use his help. The job required more strength than she possessed, and Caleb’s forearms and bulging biceps, displayed to perfection by his white T-shirt, looked more than adequate.

She placed her hand in his and allowed him to pull her to a standing position. “I…it’s leaking and I don’t have the strength to tighten it enough.”

“Mind if I give it a try?” He held out his hand for the wrench she still held.

She shrugged. Why not? “Be my guest.” She handed it to him and watched as he got down on the floor on his back and worked his torso into the cabinet.

It seemed impossible that his broad shoulders would fit, but he somehow managed to wedge himself beneath the pipes.

As he worked, it was also impossible for Erica not to notice the half of his body that remained in view. His abdomen was sinfully flat, his hips beneath his tight-fitting jeans were lean and his legs seemed to stretch forever. Erica’s grandmother would have called him a tall drink of water…a very nicely built drink of water, Erica thought.

She suddenly became conscious that she’d pulled on her ugliest T-shirt that morning and that the jeans she wore, which had once fit her so well, now hung on her like a layer of skin she was attempting to shed. She couldn’t even remember if she’d brushed her hair yet this morning. Irritation followed on the heels of these thoughts.

She didn’t care what she looked like. She wasn’t trying to impress anyone…especially a neighbor who apparently intended to be more neighborly than she wanted.

Hannah entered the kitchen clad in her pajamas. Peaches followed close behind. “Mr. Man!” she squealed in delight as she spied him beneath the cabinet. Peaches emitted a sharp yip.

Caleb jumped in surprise, clunking his head as Erica had done only moments before. “Ouch,” he exclaimed and dropped the wrench.

“Are you all right?” Erica asked worriedly. This was all she needed, for him to get hurt and sue her. Sure, he could sue her for half her bills, she thought wryly.

“Fine…I think I got it tightened well enough.” With a grunt, he squirmed out from beneath the sink, one hand rubbing his forehead.

“Did you get a boo-boo?” Hannah asked, her little face radiating sympathy.

“Only a small one,” Caleb replied as he stood. He smiled at Hannah.

“I had a big boo-boo, but it’s all well now,” Hannah said.

“Hannah, go get dressed,” Erica instructed briskly. The last thing she wanted was for Hannah to discuss her heart operation with a virtual stranger. Erica didn’t believe in sharing her business with anyone.

Hannah hesitated a moment and sniffed the air. “I smell something yummy.”

Caleb smiled at the little girl. “Donuts.” He looked at Erica. “I thought maybe your mommy could make some coffee and we could all have a visit while we eat the donuts I brought.”

“Oh, boy!” Hannah clapped her hands together. “I love donuts. They’re one of the most bestest foods.”

“Then go change your clothes and wash your face and hands,” Erica said, fighting a renewed burst of irritation. She didn’t want to make him coffee and she didn’t want to “have a visit” with him over donuts.

Still, she supposed it would be boorish of her to toss him out now, and a cup of coffee seemed a small price to pay for a sink that no longer leaked.

“Please, have a seat.” She gestured toward the table. “It will just take me a minute to get the coffee going.”

On any other day, it would have already been made, but the first thing she’d seen upon entering the kitchen that morning had been a stream of water running out from her sink cabinet. So brewing coffee had been forgotten amid the cleanup and the futile attempt to get in touch with Stanley Brown.

Caleb eased down into one of the wooden chairs as Erica began to prepare the coffee. Peaches took her usual position, lying down beneath the table, waiting for any crumbs that might drop over the sides.

“You’re going to need those sink pipes replaced fairly quickly,” he said. “They’re pretty old and corroded.”

“I know.” Erica released a deep sigh. “My landlord has been promising for months to get a plumber over here to look at them.” She turned and smiled at him tightly. “He’s also promised painters, the possibility of a central-air-conditioning unit and a dozen other things as well. That’s Stanley Brown for you…he’s big on promises but not so hot on following through. I’ve tried everything I can think of to get him to comply, but nothing has worked so far.”

“Take him to court,” Caleb suggested. “Nothing like a legal petition to make a landlord comply. Sometimes even the threat itself is enough to get them motivated.”

Erica shook her head. “It’s not worth the hassle. I mean, it’s not as if Stanley is a slumlord. The place just needs a few odds and ends taken care of.” She turned back to the cabinets to get out cups and saucers.

She wasn’t about to tell him that this house was the best thing that had ever happened to Hannah and her. Although not in the greatest shape, the house was their first real home after a long string of apartments. Stanley, knowing the financial burden Erica struggled beneath because of medical bills and the inability to hold a full-time job, had agreed to a monthly rent that was far below market value.

“I’m back,” Hannah announced as she reentered the kitchen. She was clad in a pair of denim shorts and a coral-colored T-shirt and her cheeks were pink from the obvious scrubbing she’d given her face.

She sat on the chair next to Caleb and eyed the red-and-white pastry box. “What kind of donuts did you bring us, Mr. Man?”

Caleb leaned toward Hannah, a gentle smile curving his lips. “I wasn’t sure whether you’d like chocolate, or maybe cinnamon buns, or just plain glazed, so I brought a combination of all kinds.” He opened the box to display the sweets.

“You may have two,” Erica told her daughter as she set a cup of coffee in front of Caleb and a glass of milk before Hannah.

“Two?” Hannah echoed in dismay. She eyed the various kinds and after careful deliberation finally chose a chocolate-covered cake donut.

“Doesn’t Mrs. McMann object to you bringing donuts to neighbors?” Erica asked as she joined them at the table.

“The only Mrs. McMann I know is my mother, and she hates donuts.”

So he’s single, Erica thought. Not that it mattered one whit to her. She wasn’t sure why he was here, why he had brought donuts, but if he was looking for anything remotely resembling romance, he was definitely searching in the wrong place.

“So is there a Mr. Clemmons?” he asked.

“No.” Erica offered no further information. She sipped her coffee and eyed him surreptitiously as he and Hannah launched into a conversation about the joy of donuts.

There was no denying the man’s physical attractiveness. Erica guessed him to be around her age, either late twenties or early thirties. He had bold, well-defined features…a straight nose, a square chin and high cheekbones that accentuated his sensual mouth.

His face was tanned, as if he was accustomed to working outside, and when he smiled, tiny lines radiated from his eyes, starbursts of wrinkles that only added to his overall appeal.

His hair was black, lustrous and shiny, but it was his eyes that were so arresting. They reminded her of distant stars, blue with just a touch of sparkling silver.

She blushed as she realized at that moment they were focused directly at her. “The real-estate agent told me this is a pretty quiet neighborhood.”

“It is,” she agreed, diverting her own gaze down to her coffee cup. Now, if she could just figure out a way to divert the smell of him…a clean, masculine scent that Erica had almost forgotten existed in the world. “Mostly retired people and professionals without children. Hannah and I are sort of the odd ducks.”

“Quack, quack, I’m a duck!” Hannah scooted off her chair. “Look, Mr. Man, I can walk like a duck.” She proceeded to give him her best imitation of a waddling, quacking duck.

Caleb laughed again and the pleasant, utterly male sound sent a small shiver of warmth through Erica. Yet, following the rivulet of warmth came the chill of alarm.

She didn’t want to find this man…or any man…appealing on any level. She didn’t want or need the complications and heartbreak that relationships inevitably brought.

More than that, she refused to allow anyone to break Hannah’s heart. Her daughter had been through enough with her health problems, she didn’t need broken promises and dashed hopes to burden the heart that now pumped in her chest.

“Hannah, get back up here and finish eating,” she said more tersely than she intended. “Even ducks need breakfast,” she added with a smile to take the sting from her sharpness.

“Okay,” Hannah agreed easily and gave Erica one of the sunshine smiles that always made her heart swell with love.

“You aren’t eating,” Caleb observed. He shoved the pastry box toward her.

“I’m not a morning eater,” she replied.

“But she eats a lot at dinnertime,” Hannah quipped.

Caleb laughed, and despite Erica’s embarrassment, she laughed as well. “Dinner is my favorite meal,” she confessed. “My mornings are usually filled with work,” she said pointedly, hoping to hurry him out. He obviously didn’t get the hint. She sighed in frustration as he reached for another donut, apparently in no rush to go.

Caleb got the hint that she was ready for him to leave, but he studiously pretended to be obtuse. He wasn’t prepared to go back to his empty, silent house yet.

Besides, at that moment Hannah launched into a tale about the garden she was attempting to grow in the backyard, a childish litany much like the ones Katie had often entertained him with.