It was another morning in corporate paradise as she walked John through the daily meet. Today, however, would be different. In a little over two hours’ time, Ryan expected her to show up downtown at the museum with her boss in tow.

And she hadn’t come up with a plan yet for how to make that happen.

John was finishing up a simple hello when Jen honed in on Monica Corbet as she approached from the periphery of those milling about. Dammit. The woman was getting on her nerves.

“Mr. Lloyd,” Monica bleated.

Bleated was Jen’s new favorite word. It covered a lot of ground and not in a warm and fuzzy way.

“Good morning,” Monica continued.

Jen’s jaw clenched, and she stopped walking so John could go through the formalities with the obnoxious marketing executive. For a second, she considered putting her foot out in the hopes that the pushy professional face planted on the cold marble floor.

She felt John’s gaze, and without looking his way, she murmured what he needed to know.

“Monica Corbet. Marketing.”

That was all she said, but when she looked at him, her boss’s raised brow let her know she’d used a less-than-friendly tone.

She gave John mad props for reading the signal because he frostily responded with a terse, “Ms. Corbet,” and nothing else.

Feeling a great deal of satisfaction, she watched Monica’s face freeze when he summarily dismissed her attempt to jockey into a one-on-one position with the boss of all the other bosses.

Atta boy, she thought as John fixed the prowling woman with a cold stare.

No need to prod John further because he ended the awkward encounter by doing what he did best. Without another word or gesture, he simply turned and walked away.

Jen shrugged at Monica as if to say, “What can ya do?” and scurried after him.

“Nicely done, John,” she muttered when she caught up.

“You don’t like her,” he grumbled. “Why?”

When she took a moment too long to reply, he came back with an uncharacteristic snarl.

“Don’t manage me, Jen.”

He stopped walking. She stumbled to a halt and eyed him questioningly.

“Is that how I come off? Like all this is”—she waved her hand—“managing you?”

He frowned. “No. That’s not what I meant.” John sighed heavily and checked the button on his impeccable suit to stall.

“Then what did you mean?”

His expression reminded her of Ryan—minus the smirk—when he turned thoughtful. She wondered if their father had the same trait.

“You hesitated when I asked why you didn’t like that woman. I know you’re not a puppet master, but at that second, it felt like you weren’t going to be truthful with me.”

Jen broke into a smirky smile and assured her boss with a genuine chuckle that he was actually quite perceptive.

“Oh, John.” She laughed. “That wasn’t an employee managing her boss. I did hesitate and high five for picking it up!”

She offered her hand at shoulder level. John shook his head but laughed and tapped her palm with half-ass effort.

“My reaction was one hundred percent the result of a female talking to a male and nothing more. I was simply parsing my words to suit the situation.”

Watching him translate her words was quite amusing. She compared John’s thought process to a ladder. Straight lines leading up or down with side-to-side bullet points along the way. She was trying to get him comfortable with the occasional squiggle or curvy line he’d need to handle in a relationship outside the boardroom.

But lord almighty, it wasn’t easy.

“You were going to deflect with a business assessment when I asked something personal? Do I have that right?”

She smiled and winked. He looked shocked for half a second and then offered a practiced smile.

“Nail on the head, boss.”

Taking a step away as she continued their morning walk, Jen stopped and looked back when he didn’t follow.

“What?”

“Aren’t you going to finish that thought?” he asked. “Pointing out that I read the signals correctly isn’t answering the question. Why don’t you like whatever her name was?”

He wasn’t going to budge until he got an answer, so she stepped close and kept her voice low.

“She’s prowling.”

He made a grunting sound and urged her to continue.

“Yeah,” she said over the clearing of her throat. “And she’s not fussy.”

“Define fussy.”

“Maybe exclusive is a better word,” she grumbled. “You, Ryan ...” She shrugged. “Monica isn’t picky about whose monogram is on the wallet.”

John’s gaze swung behind them where Monica continued to admire herself by manipulating whoever’s poor soul was nearest.

“Has she met my mother?” he snarled.

Jen chuckled and motioned him to keep moving. “Constance Lloyd would filet that bitch for lunch and use the bones to pick her teeth.”

He came to a complete halt, crossed an arm, and put his other hand over his mouth. He looked deep in thought, but Jen could see he was covering up a laugh.

She consulted her iPad and bit her lip to stop from joining his chuckle. “Making a note to put that little gem in the company newsletter.”

John whirled around and faced the wall as his shoulders shook with laughter. She’d hit his funny bone without trying!

When he recovered and turned around, she smiled innocently as he adjusted his tie and gave her a dirty look.

Their zig-zagging walk across the executive floor continued. As they approached the reception desk in the middle of everything, she sensed his mood lift.

Then the lifting stalled when someone who wasn’t Samantha Matthews stood to greet them. She felt bad for the temp whose face turned ashen when the Lloyd CEO barked at her.

“Where’s Ms. Matthews?”

Jen put her hand on John’s arm. He glanced her way just long enough for her to issue a stern warning with her eyes.

“This is Allie Chen. She’s covering for Samantha today.”

“Why?” he barked.

The temp grew even paler, and Jen sighed. Fine time for him to ignore the basics of polite interaction.

“A scheduled day off,” she informed him with a suggestion of reprimand evident in her tone.

Luckily, he was paying attention.

“Good morning,” he grumbled to the panicked receptionist. Then to her, he said, “My office, Ms. Carlton.”

She arched a brow at his imperious tone and use of her formal name but didn’t react further.

The door to the executive suite had barely closed before he launched into an unglued tirade.

“Where’s Samantha? Why didn’t you tell me she wouldn’t be here? Is she all right?”

His free-falling and completely charming panic provided Jen with the perfect way to handle how to get him to the museum at the appointed time.

He was pacing in front of the window wall like an expectant father in a hospital waiting room.

“John,” she began. “Relax.”

He stopped pacing and searched her face. Once she had his full attention, she explained.

“School calendar. Chelsea has a day off. No big deal, okay?”

Thinking that nothing much shocked her these days, Jen was nonetheless flabbergasted when he told her to add the days off in the school calendar to his schedule.

He checked his watch after this stunning pronouncement, and she shot a cupid arrow and wondered how he’d respond.

“Seventy-two hours.”

His eyes focused on hers.

“Seventy-two hours until she’s back at the front desk.”

They stared at each other for a good minute.

“Oh,” he finally griped.

She let the weight of those seventy-two hours work on his last nerve before lining up a bull’s-eye shot.

“Or ...” she calmly replied.

He picked up the suggestive note in her voice and asked what she hoped he’d ask.

“Or?”

“You can join me in two hours for a little outing. There won’t be any problem clearing your schedule.”

“Why would I do that?” he asked.

“Because your brother has arranged a docent tour at the museum for Chelsea.” She lifted her wrist and noted the time. “Wouldn’t it be lovely if we caught up with them?

“At the museum?”

For a smart guy, he was sometimes unbelievably thick.

“Yes, John. At the museum. If you want to see Samantha, that’s where she’ll be. With Chelsea.”

His eyes darted around the office as he considered her offer. Jen was curious about his reaction to Samantha’s mothering role and whether he’d balk at the prospect of spending time with a seven-year-old.

Gently reminding him that he’d met the girl, Jen started dropping a bread crumb trail.

“Chelsea took second place in her age category at the company bowling tournament. You handed out the trophy, remember?”

She was nothing but proud of him when he scowled. “Yes. She wore a Lloyd t-shirt, and Samantha took a million pictures. Instagram mostly.”

Jen’s brows shot up. Was he saying he followed Samantha on Instagram? Holy fried bologna! This was huger than huge. John Lloyd and social media did not have any sort of relationship. He only had an Instagram account because his aunt forced the issue so he could stay in the loop with what his cousins were up to.

John’s interest in Samantha was obvious, but he was such a social mess that Jen worried it’d take forever to get him on the right page. But this thing was further along with him than she realized, and suddenly, church bells clanged in her head!

Oh, the possibilities! John and Samantha were perfect for each other.

His frown took her by surprise. “Why is Ryan involved? Is there something I should know?”

The ah-ha moment as she picked apart his weird mood shift was quite the eye-opener. He was jealous of his brother. Best that she take all the air out of that worry.

“He’s not interested in her, John. You know how Ryan is. A friendly conversation uncovered a shared passion. Chelsea is crazy into science and stuff like that, and he has a connection in every dusty library and exhibit coast to coast.”

He accepted her explanation and explicitly added, “I think his interest lies elsewhere.”

Her eyes lifted. What was he referring to? For the briefest moment, she suspected he was messing with her, but John wasn’t socially skillful enough for something like that. Or was he?

She ignored the fact he was studying her like a microscope slide and got down to it. Next Wednesday couldn’t get here soon enough. Two important meetings and a critical conference call would force her into work at the start of the week, but then she had ten days of glorious, uninterrupted vacation time lined up.

Loving her job and caring about John were admirable qualities, but she was human too and needed some goddamn downtime.

On or off? John wondered as he checked his reflection in the bathroom mirror. Leaving his tie on felt stuffy, but it felt weird to take it off during a workday.

What did someone wear to a day at the museum? Was he overdressed?

Didn’t matter. Pfft. It wasn’t like he owned a pair of jeans. Plus, all his work clothes were standard power suits. Casual wasn’t his thing.

“No tie it is then,” he murmured to his reflection.

Back at his desk, he spun toward the windows in his big leather chair, brought up a search window on his phone, and typed, ‘What interests a seven-year-old?’

Most of the search results focused on gift giving, but he found one about child development with the information he was hoping for. Presumably, a kid Chelsea’s age was curious, had a long attention span, good language skills, and enjoyed creative pursuits. All things considered, it seemed to him like a day at the museum was tailor-made for a second grader.

My god, he was nervous.

By expecting Samantha to be at work, he found a surprising truth inside his disappointment. He just didn’t liked things to be the same every day—where Samantha Matthews was concerned, he had a more personal interest and corresponding letdown to her absence.

He liked her.

A lot.

Why else was he so eager to ditch work on a Friday and prowl around a museum with a kid? A kid who might not like him.

“Are we ready?” Jen asked when she snuck up on him.

“This is a bad idea,” he grumbled.

“No, it’s not,” she replied.

John almost chuckled. Her answer was standard. She’d never ask why. Not when he was being a complaining jerk. That approach wasn’t her style. In a lot of ways, Jen was the anti warm and fuzzy person. She didn’t care much for nonsense and wouldn’t cater to it.

“Come on,” she snapped. Making one of those ‘get moving’ hand gestures, she prodded him toward the door.

Was it weird that he obeyed?

Oh, most definitely.

Was it even weirder that he displayed a case of the sulks as he moped his way to the elevator?

Absolutely.

He waited till they were alone in the elevator to say anything.

“What if the kid doesn’t like me?”

“John, she’s seven. Hardly a menace.”

“You’re missing the point.”

Jen examined her reflection on the shiny elevator wall and wiped a finger on her teeth. “No, I’m not.”

Her nonchalance exasperated him. He was trying to focus on the heart of the matter, and her refusal to let him bellyache cut him off at the knees. She also wouldn’t argue the point.

Great.

In the limo, she chatted with his driver and made a bunch of sports references that flew over his head. He kept touching the buttons near his collar, wishing he’d left the tie on.

His cell phone rang, and he pulled it out of his pocket, but she snatched it from him before he could answer. She looked at the screen.

“Who’s Arthur?”

“My dentist.”

She turned the phone all the way off and handed it back.

“Rule number one.”

He blinked and held his breath.

“When you spend time with a woman—”

“Samantha,” he cut in. “Not any woman. Samantha.”

Jen nodded and appeared to manage a smile. “Yes, Samantha. When you spend time with Samantha, you don’t multitask. Understand?”

“No phone?” he asked.

“Now see,” she replied with a bit of a bite. “That’s such a guy response. Right away, you made it about you. And the phone.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Yes, I know,” she drawled. “Which is why you must pay attention, John. It’s not about you or your damn phone. It’s about Samantha. If she’s a priority, then you have to treat your time with her accordingly.”

He frowned and worked on the meaning of her words.

“You wouldn’t order a steak dinner in the middle of a business deal.”

“Oh,” he confessed with an apologetic face. “I get it. Thank you.”

“My pleasure, Mr. Lloyd. Now, let’s discuss Chelsea.”

His heart did a crazy rumba in his chest. The kid made him nervous.

“Rule number two. The kid knows more than you do. Accept it and make the most of the situation. And above all, don’t forget that if you want her on your side, how you treat her mother is key.”

“She’s never had a father,” he murmured.

“No,” Jen replied.

“And they’re very close.”

His comment required no answer.

They continued in silence while he took everything he knew, squished it together with what he didn’t know, and tried to find his way. His goose would be cooked without Jen.

The traffic around the museum was a nightmare. The driver explained it was always a mess when the schools had a day off. He never thought about stuff like that and realized how rarefied his life was when they pulled up to the V.I.P. entrance with no problem.

His brain flooded with a million questions. Did Samantha have a car, or was she a subway and bus rider? Where did she live? And how about childcare for Chelsea? He helped raise funds for an after-school program last year and remembered the stories of families with working parents who jumped through all sorts of hoops to accommodate school schedules and care arrangements. He’d set up a sponsorship to support the program’s stretched budget.

The idea that Samantha might struggle bothered him greatly. She was mother and father to her daughter and worked a full-time job with hours that extended beyond the normal school day. She was such a happy, vibrant people person with more responsibility than many. How did she do it?

As they entered the building and he reached for his non-existent tie for the tenth time, Jen stuck close to his side and told him what she was doing when her phone came out and she started texting.

“Let me find out where they are so we don’t wander aimlessly.”

He kept her in his line of vision but moved to a digital screen with a video presentation of the museum’s current exhibits. Seeing that the Gregory Lloyd Foundation sponsored one of the permanent displays surprised John, though he knew his mom and aunt were active in philanthropy. What better way to do good and spend a fortune of their husbands’ money?

“Okay. Second floor. Behind the rainforest adventure.”

He was a nervous wreck by the time they found the rainforest and started searching in earnest.

Ryan was the first to come into view. He looked up as they approached, and John noted the warm smile he gave Jen.

“Over here,” he called out.

A woman nearby with long, wavy hair turned when Ryan spoke. It was Samantha—only a version of the woman he’d never seen before.

Nearly stumbling over his own feet, John was sure his face froze in shock when he got a good look at her.

At the office, she was always neat as a pin and looking exactly as you’d expect someone who worked on the executive floor. Hell, until now, he hadn’t even known how long her hair was. Even at the casual business events they took part in, she was in control of her situation. The woman in front of him gaping with flabbergasted shock was another thing entirely.

Dressed in jeans that threatened his sanity and a clingy t-shirt, he didn’t know where to look and not end up getting his face slapped because the curves that usually left him hot and bothered now robbed his brain of polite activity.

Her boobs in the plain white shirt gave off an in-your-face vibe that scrambled his thoughts. And holy god. Those hips. That ass.

John gritted his teeth. How long had it been since he got laid? A year? Two? He couldn’t remember. No stranger to sexual impulses, he simply prioritized his sexual needs rather far down on the list, preferring the uncomplicated and straightforward relationship he had with his hand. Right this second, though, that option held little appeal. Not when a veritable goddess was right in front of him.

“Oh, Mr. Lloyd,” she stammered. Biting her lip, she blushed and curved some hair behind her ear. “This is a surprise.”

Feeling awkward and tongue-tied when it hit home that she wasn’t expecting him, Jen slid in with an enthusiastic comeback and saved him from twisting in the wind.

“A good one, I hope! The foundation is thinking about funding an educational program. John and I stopped by to get a sense of the current exhibits. Imagine our surprise when Ryan texted to say he was here.”

His assistant stepped back as if she’d just delivered her lines in a play and pushed him forward with nothing but a look. It was his turn at bat.

He took a deep breath and hoped he wasn’t making a mistake. “Samantha, how nice. Please, call me John.” The sound of Jen’s reminder to smile exploded in his head, so he tried for something suave, but the look on Ryan’s face suggested he hadn’t even gotten close.

Goddammit. He ran a global company. People quaked in their shoes when he took over a deal. A simple, human conversation shouldn’t be that hard. What the hell was wrong with him?

“Um, where’s Chelsea? She’s here too, right?”

Thinking he was clever lasted two seconds, and then Samantha’s face froze. She arched a brow at Jen, and then gave Ryan a withering stare.

Okay. Shit. Where was the miscalculation? John rewound every word and looked for the blunder. When he found it, his inner narrator scoffed at his stupidity. How the hell would he know Chelsea was at the museum too if this was a surprise encounter?

Ryan took over and acted like nothing was amiss.

“She’s in front of the green screen right now so the digital techs can drop her into a video showing her running from dinosaurs. Not enough room for all of us, so we’re waiting here.”

“Dinosaurs?” Jen laughed. “Do they have a video for grown-ups? Maybe running from an overflowing laundry basket?”

Samantha laughed, and the amusing comment broke the ice. But he wasn’t fooled. For now, he was there on sufferance.

He knew this drill. When Jen looked at him and fiddled with her earring, he was supposed to make conversation.

“Does Chelsea’s school take field trips? Has she been here before?”

The hallelujah chorus rang out in John’s heart when Samantha lost her aggravation at being so obviously ambushed and offered a genuine smile.

“I’m on the field trip committee! It’s our job to find stuff the kids will enjoy while they learn too. We went to the pretzel factory at the start of the school year and twisted our own knots. The rainforest exhibit here is so popular that large groups have to book far in advance.”

Two swinging doors flew open and a bundle of excitement came barreling toward them while a museum staffer followed.

“Mommy, Mommy! I had to run and run. Like this!”

John chuckled when the exuberant seven-year-old demonstrated running in place while she waved her arms in terror. Ryan joined and made a howling noise and pretended to be the animal chasing her. Chelsea giggled hysterically as her mother looked on with a wide, happy smile.

“I remember you,” she said to him when the giggling stopped.

Some part of him did a touchdown dance that the little girl remembered him from a company gathering.

Samantha stepped up to her daughter and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “Sweetie, this is Mr. Lloyd. He’s Mommy’s boss.”

Needing no prompting before stepping forward to shake his hand, the young child impressed John. Wow. Did kids still do that? He was glad because nothing irritated him more in business than a limp handshake and dodgy eye contact.

“Hi,” she said. “You gave me my bowling trophy. It’s on the mantle at home.”

He shook her little hand and struggled to keep a rein on his composure. Chelsea Matthews was a charming miniature of her mother. The only difference was eye color. Samantha had warm brown eyes, but her daughter had dusty blues.

“John likes to bowl too,” Ryan told her. Chelsea looked back and forth between them curiously. Ryan laughed and said, “Oh, hey! Didn’t we tell you? John is my brother.”

“That’s so cool,” she chirped with real glee, thereby causing his nervous stomach to calm.

And just like that, the kid forgot all about him and concentrated on her mom as she launched into an exuberant explanation of how a green screen works. Samantha listened attentively. The indulgent mom-smile when she swept Chelsea’s hair off her face struck John straight in his heart.

A museum employee came bustling toward them wearing a broad smile and waving something in her hand. “You’re all set!” She handed something hanging from a museum lanyard to the excited child. “This is a flash drive,” she told her. “Your dinosaur adventure is on it.”

Chelsea proudly declared she knew what a flash drive was and thanked the pleased museum worker so effusively that the woman bent over chuckling and gave the kid a hug.

When she straightened and looked at the adult squad, she made a face and drily murmured, “I wish all the kids who came through here had half her enthusiasm.”

From there, they moved from exhibit to exhibit, stopping along the way for visits to the museum’s workrooms and holding spaces. At first, Ryan kept the conversation going, but slowly, the atmosphere thawed, and before too long, they were all acting like kids. Even Jen. His surprise reminded John to stop making blanket assumptions about people. Those impressions overrode his natural curiosity and kept him from being friendlier. If he wanted to know more about his assistant or Samantha, all he had to do was be good-natured and engage in human-to-human conversation.

Decked out in protective gloves and shoe covers, they got an astonishing behind-the-scenes look at the impressive dinosaur exhibit. Chelsea’s long-drawn-out, “Wow,” was filled with wonder when they each got an opportunity to touch a real dinosaur bone, and he had to admit he had the same reaction. One simply didn’t get a chance to fondle dinosaur bones every day.

Samantha remained close to him while Jen and Ryan straggled behind. He caught himself in a stuffy, unapproachable Prince Philip moment with his hands clasped behind his back and quickly adopted a friendlier pose after detecting Jen’s polite but obvious cough. Despite some minor gaffes, he’d chatted amiably throughout the morning with everyone in their group and anybody they interacted with. He was feeling mighty good about it, too.

When he and Ryan with Chelsea in the middle approached some scaffolding around an archaeological simulation, he saw Jen and Samantha wave for their attention, point at the restrooms, and dash off.

John smiled. His mom said that women took bathroom breaks in pairs for a reason. He wasn’t sure what she meant or what the reason was, but that didn’t stop him from finding some circumstantial humor to laugh about.

The door to the ladies’ room wasn’t completely shut before Samantha pinned Jen to the spot with a blazing glare.

“What the hell, Jen!”

She didn’t hide her sigh or pretend not to know exactly what had upset Samantha.

“Are you mad? Shit. You are, aren’t you?” She answered her own question and winced. “I’m not usually so clumsy about these things, but dammit, John makes my job so hard with all his issues.”

“This is part of your job?” Samantha jeered. “Stalking employees on their days off?”

“What? No!” She suddenly laughed and pulled the confused receptionist in for a hug. “Sorry. I didn’t think about how this would look.”

“Ryan, is he in on it too?”

“Well, not to begin with,” she quickly assured the angry mom. “Even though this is a setup, it wasn’t a setup if you follow my winding logic. Ryan did a good thing for Chelsea, and I’m the one who pushed our way in uninvited.”

Samantha threw her hands up, and in an exasperated tone, she cried, “Am I missing something?”

Time for a tiny arrow, Jen thought as she searched for the easiest way to explain. John’s quirks required so much patience that it seemed only fair to bring Samantha up to speed and hope she wasn’t deploying this arrow too soon.

“Do you like John, Samantha? And I don’t mean as a boss. He’s a man. A slightly awkward, good-hearted, unaware grown-up. Does any of that float your boat?”

Samantha’s startled gaze and immediate blush was the only answer she needed. Bull’s-eye!

“Jen, come on. He’s John Lloyd, for heaven’s sake.”

“Yeah? So?”

“I don’t know what to say,” Samantha murmured.

She laughed. “Is this is where you hand me a bunch of drivel about being a single mom and how he’s out of your league?”

Samantha shrugged. “It’s true, isn’t it?”

With a drawn-out sigh, Jen lowered her voice and asked a straightforward question.

“When is the last time you went on a date?”

“I think you already know the answer,” was her terse, sad reply.

She nodded her understanding. It was just as Jen thought. After her the untimely passing of Chelsea’s father, Samantha had more than likely channeled her grief into a source of strength so she could survive a lonely delivery and an uncertain future. Being young, pregnant, and alone by no fault of her own had to have sucked, big time.

“I’m going to be honest with you, Samantha. You’re a big girl, and I think you can handle some bold truth. Am I right?”

“Go for it,” the brunette said with a smirk.

“I don’t think John Lloyd has ever been on a date. Not in the classic sense but you catch my drift, right?” She didn’t wait for a reaction and plowed ahead.

“He likes you. More than a lot. But he’s a freakin’ mess on his best day.”

Samantha sniggered, crossed her arms, and rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I’ve noticed how you coach him.”

She laughed too. “Actually, I’m just trying to teach him the rules of the road. He’s not a moron, Sam. He knows how to drive, but his mind is so focused on the practical stuff that he totally misses all the road signs.”

“Wow. Nobody ever calls me Sam anymore.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. It slipped out. My bad.”

“No, no. It’s okay,” she assured Jen. “I like hearing it. Sometimes we have to be so rigid and uncompromising to get ahead. The cards are stacked against us. As women, nicknames can sometimes hinder any hope of being taken seriously.”

“Truth.” Jen snorted.

Samantha leaned her hips against the vanity counter and studied her feet for a minute. “Okay. Let me see if I have this straight.”

She chortled at the pithy, dry tone Samantha used. Jen inspected her appearance in the mirror. Decked out in standard office attire, she was overdressed for a museum crawl and her feet were killing her. It was one thing to navigate a regular day in heels, and another thing altogether to tromp around a huge museum in the unsuitable footwear. She glanced sideways at Samantha and noted her stern but amused expression as she laid out the facts as she saw them.

“So John Lloyd ... THE John Lloyd ... likes me. Do I have that part right?”

“Yes, ma’am,” she replied. “More than a lot. Don’t forget that part.”

“Right,” Samantha murmured. “He likes me a lot. And he’s a bit of a Sheldon in public.”

“Sheldon?”

“Yeah. The nerdy physicist in Big Bang? The one who doesn’t do well in social settings?”

“Oh, right, right. Ah, ha-ha! That’s funny.”

“And for reasons I’ll never understand, you say he doesn’t date even though he’s easy on the eyes.”

She arched a brow and mockingly reminded Samantha that even with all his issues, John was a man. He wasn’t a man-whore—though she didn’t use that word— but he had a never-ending choice of society cougars and scheming gold diggers to meet his needs. No matter how you put it, that stuff wasn’t dating. Period.

When she was sure Samantha understood what she was saying, she gave her an important piece of information and waited for her reaction.

“We ambushed you today because when John didn’t find you at work, he became rather agitated.”

When Samantha’s expression mirrored shock and interest, Jen decided to focus on John and kept to herself that she and Ryan had conspired prior to this morning.

“And so you know, Samantha. He’s very aware of Chelsea. He was beside himself with worry on the way over here because he thought she wouldn’t like him.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really.”

“So you tracked us down when John got, um, agitated?”

Fast thinking saved the day. “Actually, I’d texted Ryan earlier to ask a question, and he volunteered the details of your outing. It was all me after that.”

“I see.”

The single mom hadn’t run screaming, and so far, she hadn’t tried to rip Jen’s face off, so she tossed out a quick couple of fact bombs to sweeten Samantha’s perspective.

“When I told him we could tag along on Ryan’s field trip, he spent ten minutes in the restroom deciding between tie or no tie.” She held up her hand and said, “Truth,” when Samantha snorted in disbelief.

“And he barely blinked when I had his secretary,Anne, push off an important lunch meeting. For John, that says a lot.”

“Oh, Jen. Dammit,” Samantha cried. “I like him too but there’s Chelsea and work and well, his mom. I’m a receptionist with a community college degree. I’ve got a seven-year-old and have never owned a new car let alone a house. I clip coupons and sold my grandmother’s fancy china to afford a trip to Disneyworld. All I see are roadblocks, and to be honest, I’m a giant coward. Love and heartache? I can write the damn book. I’m not sure I have what it takes.”

The poor woman’s voice had risen steadily until it shook with emotion. Jen was even more sure her cupid instincts were on target because from her spot in the cheap seats, John and Samantha were a perfect match.

“You need to relax,” she chided. With a sly chuckle, she asked, “Did you notice how easily John and Chelsea hit it off?” Jen elbowed Samantha teasingly. “Chelsea’s natural curiosity and John’s straightforward pragmatism found common ground in the museum.”

“That’s true,” Samantha murmured. Her voice expressed a feeble hope that made Jen’s heart sing with joy.

With no prelude, Samantha gathered her into a big hug. “Thank you. Even if this is a huge disaster, thank you for caring.”