To Be a Family (Harlequin Superromance) by Joan Kilby Page A

reader they’d worked from that he was
supposed to go over again with Tuti tonight. “May I come in? There’s something
important we need to talk about.”
    John set the reader on the hall table and lined up Tuti’s
carelessly discarded shoes neatly next to his spit-polished black leather shoes.
“I’ll just go turn down the stove. Come through to the kitchen.”
    Katie had never been inside John’s town house but she
recognized his collection of boomerangs and Aboriginal throwing sticks mounted
on one wall of the small foyer. The collection had grown since she’d last seen
it in the house he’d shared with Riley in their early twenties. She’d
practically lived there herself, coming and going as if it were her second home.
She missed those days with a sudden pang—the carefree lifestyle, their
still-sunny-looking future, the love and the laughter. Now she was a formal
visitor, a service provider, the atmosphere constrained.
    Remembering how he liked to keep shoes off in the house, Katie
slipped out of her pumps and followed him to the kitchen, where exotic spices
wafted from a pot bubbling on the stove. In the doorway she leaned against the
jamb and watched him lift the lid and give the contents a stir, a small frown
putting creases between his eyes.
    “Hard day?”
    “The usual.” He replaced the lid and turned down the gas
burner.
    “Tuti had a tough day, too.” Katie glanced over her shoulder.
The girl wasn’t in sight but just in case, she kept her voice low. “The other
kids laughed at her, made her cry.”
    John had been about to take a sip of beer. Instead he set the
bottle on the granite counter. “What happened?”
    “Her pigtails. I’m sorry but they looked ridiculous. It was
really embarrassing for poor Tuti.”
    “Don’t kids have anything better to worry about than another
child’s hairstyle?”
    “Sure they do, like who has the newest video game, or who let
out a fart in class. These are kids, John. They can be unbelievably sweet. And
they can be unthinkingly cruel.”
    “But you fixed it, right? Her hair looks fine now.”
    “Yes, but I can’t ask Miranda to do her hair every day.”
    Wearily he scrubbed a hand across the back of his neck. “What
do you suggest?”
    “I’m going to teach you to make a proper pigtail and also to
braid.” She smiled. “Tuti’s a trendsetter now. After today, any little girl who
doesn’t show up to grade one without two tiny braids in her hair is going to
suffer.”
    “You want me to learn to braid hair.” He spoke as if she’d
asked him to put on a tutu and dance ballet.
    “You’re a single dad. It’s part of what you do. Don’t worry,
anyone can learn.”
    Half an hour later, she was beginning to wonder if that was
true. Tuti sat on a tall stool in front of the bathroom mirror, eating an
ice-cream bar. John, who could splice rope and tie complicated sailor’s knots,
was all thumbs when it came to braiding Tuti’s hair.
    “It’s so slippery.” His blue police shirt was damp beneath his
arms and he frowned in concentration, his tongue tucked in a corner of his
mouth.
    Katie was feeling less than cool herself, crammed into the
small bathroom so close to John their elbows bumped. She could feel his body
heat and smell the long day in his clothes. If she didn’t care about him, why
was she so aware of him physically, or notice how he kept glancing at her
instead of watching what he was doing?
    “You’ve almost got it. Don’t let go of the strands. You’re
doing well.” She had to hand it to him, once he’d accepted that hairdos were an
integral part of childrearing he’d stuck to it. “Now, gather the braid and the
clump of hair. No, don’t just bunch it into the elastic, you have to brush it
first so it’s smooth.”
    He fumbled and half the pigtail fell through his fingers.
Keeping a tight hold on the rest of the hair, he glanced to her for help. Her
arm brushed his and their fingers touched as she gathered up the lock of