Kids Is A 4-Letter Word by Stephanie Bond Page B

remembered the firm name from his business card. “Yes, that’s right.”
    “Whirlwind courtship?”
    Jo laughed nervously. “You could say that.”
    Mrs. Patterson’s eyes narrowed slightly. “He must be a very persuasive man.”
    “I PICKED UP LUNCH on the way home,” John said, holding the basket high. “It’s such a warm day, I thought we’d go to Forsythe Park and have a picnic.”
    Jamie and Claire cheered, and Billy chimed in.
    “Jo, too, Daddy?” Jamie asked, his eyes shining.
    John turned his gaze on Jo. “I hope so.”
    Jo tingled under his stare. She was still reeling from her morning of pretending to be Mrs. John Sterling, mother of three. The merry slant of his eyes tempted her. She could think of worse ways to while away the afternoon than sharing a sunny picnic with John Sterling. But her anticipation scared her. Two days ago she didn’t even know the Sterlings—in analarmingly short time, she’d become tangled in their lives. “I really can’t,” she said. “I need to get my notes together so we can talk about the contract.”
    “There’ll be plenty of time to talk at the park,” John said.
    A very persuasive man.
    “Please, Jo?” Jamie hugged her waist and pulled at her hands, his eyes soft and expectant.
    “Well…” She wavered and her stomach growled audibly.
    John must have heard it. “Fried chicken,” he prompted, angling his head and lifting one side of the basket to allow a wonderful spicy aroma to escape.
    What could it hurt? she wondered, other than her cholesterol count. It would give her a chance to review her notes with him. Alan would understand—it was strictly business. It had nothing to do with the fact she found John breathtaking in jeans and a pale blue sweatshirt. And how intimate could it be with three children along?
    “Maybe just for a little while,” she agreed softly, but added, “I’ll drive my car in case I need to leave early.”
    Jamie and Billy clapped their hands. Claire looked at Jo, her tiny green eyes neither friendly nor adversarial, just questioning. For an instant, Jo wondered how much the girl might have picked up on this morning at the day-care center. “Want to ride with me, Claire, and keep me company?”
    The little girl nodded listlessly, and everyone piled into the cars. When they were under way, Claire remained quiet, sitting forward in her seat, engrossed in the passing landscape. At last, she seemed to relax, and settled back in her seat.
    “Were you smart in school?” Claire asked, fingering a loose thread on the seam of her pants.
    Surprised by this odd, lone question, Jo nodded cautiously. “I guess so.”
    “Did you wear glasses?”
    Jo smiled. “As a matter of fact, I did. I switched to contact lenses when I started high school.”
    Claire pondered this bit of information for a few seconds.“Did you have a boyfriend before you…you know—” she stabbed at her glasses “—started high school?”
    Another heart tug. These kids had a knack for causing tugs. Apparently, Claire had heard the old “boys don’t make passes at girls who wear glasses” saying. Jo fastened her teeth on her lower lip. But nine years old was a little young to be interested in boys…wasn’t it? She glanced at Claire’s troubled eyes. “Well,” she began, keenly aware of the girl’s fragile confidence, “David Knickerbocker followed me around trying to carry my books, so I guess you could call him my boyfriend.”
    Claire giggled, a tinkling sound. “Was that his real name?”
    Jo nodded, grinning. “He was shorter than I was and his ears were as big as dinner plates.”
    They both laughed, then Claire asked, “What happened to him?”
    “I gave him a black eye in the sixth grade on the playground and he didn’t talk to me again until we were sixteen. By that time he’d grown into his ears and was very, very cute.”
    Riveted, Claire murmured, “What did he say when he talked to you again?”
    Jo leaned toward her