The Aristocrat and the Single Mom by Michelle Douglas Page A

because he didn’t know what else to do, and Kate quite clearly expected something from him, he shot out his hand towards the child. ‘I’m pleased to meet you.’
    Jesse’s eyes widened. He pressed into his mother’s side, but when she nudged him he reached out to shake Simon’s hand.
    Simon gripped the child’s hand briefly. Then let it go. Fast. Children were so small and vulnerable, so noisy and destructive. And he didn’t want anything to do with this one.
    ‘I…um…would it be all right if I took that shower now?’
    ‘Of course.’
    Kate beamed at him. It made the ache in his chest and behind his eyes thump harder.
    ‘I’ll show you your room.’
    ‘You have your own bathroom,’ Jesse said, trailing into the house after them.
    Simon glanced back at him uneasily, then rolled his shoulders. ‘Excellent,’ he managed. At least he wouldn’t run into this pint-sized pocket of energy in that particular room of the house.
    Kate opened one of the doors off the higgledy-piggledy hallway. ‘Here it is.’ She stood aside to let him enter, then pointed. ‘En suite is through that door there.’
    ‘Thank you.’
    ‘We’ll be back down that way in the kitchen or family room—’ she hitched her head in the direction they’d come ‘—when you’re finished.’
    ‘Okay.’
    ‘Oh, and I’d better grab you a towel.’
    She disappeared back down the hallway. Jesse followed her and Simon heard him ask, ‘Is he really Felice’s brother?’
    ‘He sure is.’
    ‘Cool!’
    It was Jesse who reappeared clutching a fluffy white bath towel. ‘Here you go.’ He handed it to Simon shyly.
    Simon took it. ‘Thank you.’
    ‘Do you play cricket?’
    Simon didn’t know what to say so he opted for the truth. ‘Yes.’ Then, because he didn’t know what else to do, he closed the door in the child’s face.
     
    The shower made him feel cleaner, but not back to normal. He turned the heat up as far as he could stand it before finishing with a blast of cold. For penance. Only he couldn’t remember what he was paying penance for. He dragged the towel over his hair and scrubbed until his scalp tingled. A good night’s sleep—that was all he needed. He’d feel right again tomorrow.
    He found Kate—and Jesse—in the open-plan kitchen and family room, just as she’d promised. He remembered another promise. Something about a beer in her back garden. He caught sight of her perky ponytail and anticipation inched through him.
    ‘Good shower?’ She glanced up from slicing salad vegetables.
    ‘The best,’ he said because the sight of her had his gut clenching with the desire to make her smile.
    ‘Simon plays cricket,’ Jesse announced to nobody in particular as far as Simon could tell.
    Kate set her knife down and sized Simon up with her glorious baby-blues. ‘Ah…but can he play it well? That’s the question. Can he play better than Felice?’
    ‘Uh-huh.’ Jesse nodded. ‘I bet he plays for England. You do, don’t ya, Simon?’
    Kate folded her arms, her lips twitching. ‘England, huh? C’mon, Simon,’ fess up now. Don’t be shy. Do you play for crown and country?’
    ‘Um…no.’ He shoved his hands in his pockets.
    Jesse squinted up at him. ‘Who do you play for then?’
    Jesse’s gaze had been glued to Simon’s face since Simon had entered the room, although he had done his level best to ignore it.
    ‘This is third degree time,’ Kate said kindly, scooping upfreshly sliced lettuce and cucumber into a salad bowl before dragging a bag of tomatoes towards her chopping board.
    He didn’t want to be third degreed.
    ‘Ooh, Jesse,’ she suddenly crooned, taking her knife up again, ‘you should see Simon’s car. It’s gorgeous. Sat nav and everything.’
    ‘Wow!’ Jesse gazed at Simon hopefully.
    No way. Cars weren’t toys and kids were destructive. They didn’t watch where they were going. They broke things—like satellite navigation devices. With his luck, the boy would knock the car out