tried to take childrenaway from their natural fathers just couldn’t be pictured as Beaver Cleaver’s mom.
Of course, Genna thought, Simone didn’t look at Jared and see Robert Young from Father Knows Best either. Her perceptions of him would have been colored by his divorce from Elaine. And Simone had lost her only sister. It was probably natural for her to want to have Alyssa fill that void in her life.
Genna glanced back out at Jared, who was trying to push the lawn mower while the puppy bit into his sneaker and pulled in the opposite direction. Even though she hadn’t known him long and still refused to admit she liked him, she already felt an intense loyalty toward him. Simone could rot. Genna would do everything she could think of to help Jared.
Bernice was the ideal housekeeper for J. J. Hennessy. Fifty-nine, and built like the corner mailbox with a poof of red hair, her personality was just a little left of center. After spending her entire life in Brooklyn working in an underarm deodorant factory, she had retired and divorced at fifty-five and moved to Tory Hills to be near her favorite niece. Bernice was gruff and outspoken, but she had a heart of gold andmore sense than to feed a five-year-old sausage-anchovy pizza.
It took all of ten minutes for Jared to hire her. Bernice fell in love with Alyssa on sight, though she readily agreed to Jared’s terms of noninterference where his daughter was concerned. There was a token argument over salary, then Bernice said, “Okay, boss,” and padded off in her Nikes to start the laundry.
“I love that woman.” Jared beamed. “Did you hear what she called me?”
“Don’t let it go to your head, Hennessy.”
“Will you call me boss, Gen?”
“Start moving the furniture, Jared.”
Genna sat at her kitchen counter that evening, making out a grocery list while she waited for the timer to go off so she could take the double fudge brownies out of the oven and put the German chocolate cake in.
“I am not upset,” she said aloud as she tried to think of people to give the goodies to. Was that rest home bake sale this weekend?
“Perfect,” she said to herself. “Take all this food up there and then check yourself in, Genna.”
She may or may not have been upset, but one thing was clear—she was spending more on baking supplies than she was making on this so-called job. She looked over her list and tried to eliminate items.
It was all J.J.’s fault. He had her bouncing off the walls with his sexy body, sultry kisses, and outrageous behavior. He was driving her crazy. One minute she was swearing up and down she didn’t like him, the next she was exhibiting all the symptoms of malaria just because he’d looked at her a certain way. How could it be possible to want to kiss him and slap that teasing grin off his face all at the same time?
“He’s not for you, Genna,” she said. And why do you have to remind yourself if you don’t like him?
The back door banged.
“Hey, Teach, what’s cooking?”
She scowled at him over her shoulder. “Don’t you ever knock?”
“Only when I run on cheap gas.” He straddled the stool next to hers, picked three oranges out of her fruit bowl, and started juggling. “Come on, Gen, let’s go. It’s singles’ night at Fred’s Foodtown.”
“Please,” she drawled with annoyance. “I willnot go shopping for a man like I would for a—a—a leg of lamb.” She added leg of lamb to the list in front of her.
“Oh, come on. It’ll be fun. We can pretend we don’t know each other.”
“Don’t tempt me.”
He caught all the oranges and clutched them to his chest, gazing dreamily into space. “We may by chance bump into each other by the meat counter. I can see it all: I’m standing near the chicken, fondling the breasts. Then I move on to the beef, eyeing your rump roast while you gaze raptly at my tenderloins.”
“You’re perverted,” she said evenly, scribbling steak on her list.
“Who knows?”
Of course, Genna thought, Simone didn’t look at Jared and see Robert Young from Father Knows Best either. Her perceptions of him would have been colored by his divorce from Elaine. And Simone had lost her only sister. It was probably natural for her to want to have Alyssa fill that void in her life.
Genna glanced back out at Jared, who was trying to push the lawn mower while the puppy bit into his sneaker and pulled in the opposite direction. Even though she hadn’t known him long and still refused to admit she liked him, she already felt an intense loyalty toward him. Simone could rot. Genna would do everything she could think of to help Jared.
Bernice was the ideal housekeeper for J. J. Hennessy. Fifty-nine, and built like the corner mailbox with a poof of red hair, her personality was just a little left of center. After spending her entire life in Brooklyn working in an underarm deodorant factory, she had retired and divorced at fifty-five and moved to Tory Hills to be near her favorite niece. Bernice was gruff and outspoken, but she had a heart of gold andmore sense than to feed a five-year-old sausage-anchovy pizza.
It took all of ten minutes for Jared to hire her. Bernice fell in love with Alyssa on sight, though she readily agreed to Jared’s terms of noninterference where his daughter was concerned. There was a token argument over salary, then Bernice said, “Okay, boss,” and padded off in her Nikes to start the laundry.
“I love that woman.” Jared beamed. “Did you hear what she called me?”
“Don’t let it go to your head, Hennessy.”
“Will you call me boss, Gen?”
“Start moving the furniture, Jared.”
Genna sat at her kitchen counter that evening, making out a grocery list while she waited for the timer to go off so she could take the double fudge brownies out of the oven and put the German chocolate cake in.
“I am not upset,” she said aloud as she tried to think of people to give the goodies to. Was that rest home bake sale this weekend?
“Perfect,” she said to herself. “Take all this food up there and then check yourself in, Genna.”
She may or may not have been upset, but one thing was clear—she was spending more on baking supplies than she was making on this so-called job. She looked over her list and tried to eliminate items.
It was all J.J.’s fault. He had her bouncing off the walls with his sexy body, sultry kisses, and outrageous behavior. He was driving her crazy. One minute she was swearing up and down she didn’t like him, the next she was exhibiting all the symptoms of malaria just because he’d looked at her a certain way. How could it be possible to want to kiss him and slap that teasing grin off his face all at the same time?
“He’s not for you, Genna,” she said. And why do you have to remind yourself if you don’t like him?
The back door banged.
“Hey, Teach, what’s cooking?”
She scowled at him over her shoulder. “Don’t you ever knock?”
“Only when I run on cheap gas.” He straddled the stool next to hers, picked three oranges out of her fruit bowl, and started juggling. “Come on, Gen, let’s go. It’s singles’ night at Fred’s Foodtown.”
“Please,” she drawled with annoyance. “I willnot go shopping for a man like I would for a—a—a leg of lamb.” She added leg of lamb to the list in front of her.
“Oh, come on. It’ll be fun. We can pretend we don’t know each other.”
“Don’t tempt me.”
He caught all the oranges and clutched them to his chest, gazing dreamily into space. “We may by chance bump into each other by the meat counter. I can see it all: I’m standing near the chicken, fondling the breasts. Then I move on to the beef, eyeing your rump roast while you gaze raptly at my tenderloins.”
“You’re perverted,” she said evenly, scribbling steak on her list.
“Who knows?”
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