For the Love of Pete by Sherryl Woods

me. The prepared stuff suits me just fine."
    He grinned. "Nice to know there are some principles you're willing to compromise."
    "Not the important ones."
    She watched as he expertly wound some of the angel hair onto his fork, then took his first bite of the homemade sauce that was one of her Italian father's specialties. He'd insisted all his daughters learn the recipe. "It's a family tradition," Max D'Angelo had told them. "I won't have it dying out with me, so no matter what else you learn to cook, you'll learn this sauce."
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    Maggie was the only one who'd inherited his love of cooking, but the rest of them at least had this one dish they could use to impress guests. Pete was no exception. He regarded her with an expression bordering on awe.
    "I think I love you," he said after his first bite.
    Jo's pulse jumped, but she ignored it. "That's the sauce talking," she assured him.. .and herself. "I'll send some home with you. You can freeze it and try it out on your son next time he visits."
    "If you think I'm sharing this with a kid who eats peanut butter and mayo sandwiches, you're nuts. It would be wasted on him."
    "I'm sharing it with a man who likes spaghetti from a can," she reminded him.
    "Not anymore," he said fervently. "I'll be here once a week for spaghetti. I'm writing that clause into whatever terms we set up for working together."
    They ate for a while in silence, but Jo finally worked up the courage to bring up the one topic they'd avoided from the moment Pete had turned up on her doorstep. She figured he'd opened the door by mentioning his son's love of spaghetti.
    She swallowed hard, then asked hesitantly, "Tell me about your son."
    Pete's eyes lit up at once. "He's something. Sometimes I look at him and marvel that I had anything to do with creating such a great kid."
    She swallowed the envy crawling up the back of her throat. "Does he look like you?"
    "He looks a lot like I did when I was his age, the same dark hair, dark eyes and the exact same stubborn chin."
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    Jo smiled, thinking about the handful of pictures she'd once seen of Pete as a kid. He'd had a snaggle-toothed smile and a dimple that wouldn't quit. She hoped there was no trace of the sadness she was feeling in her eyes when she asked, "'Do you have a picture of him?"
    "Sure." He pulled his wallet out of his pocket and flipped it open, then handed it to her. "That's his school picture. He's in first grade. Believe me, he's not normally that neat. I'm sure five seconds after they took it, his shirt was tugged out of his pants and probably torn. He reminds me of that kid in the Peanuts comic strip, the one who's always going around in a cloud of dust. That's Davey. Five minutes out of the tub and he looks like he's gone ten rounds in the mud."
    "He sounds wonderful," Jo said wistfully.
    So many times over the past seven years she'd wondered about Pete's child. A part of her had respected his refusal to turn his back on the boy's mother, even though it had hurt like hell. So many times her heart had ached at knowing that they would never have the children they'd talked about together.
    Now, looking into that gaping, six-year-old smile, she couldn't seem to stop the tide of emotions that washed over her?sorrow, envy and even an undeniable trace of anger that she'd been deprived all of this.
    "Jo?"
    Pete's voice cut through the anguish.
    She forced a smile. "I'm sorry," she said, handing him back his wallet.
    "No, I'm the one who's sorry," he said, his expres-
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    sion filled with regret. "I shouldn't have gotten into this with you."
    "I asked," she reminded him.
    "Still, I am sorry. It should never have been this way."
    "No," she said softly, "it shouldn't have been." A lingering trace of anger crept into her voice. "Why was it, Pete? Why did it happen?"
    He regarded her with a gaze filled with misery. "I wish I could tell you that it was all Kelsey's fault, that she set out to seduce me and trap me