With a Little T.L.C. by Teresa Southwick Page B

have had opportunity and motive because she’s expecting her second child in a few weeks.”
    Christina laughed ruefully. “That’s going to make it darn near impossible to pry open that window of opportunity again.”
    â€œThat’s what uncles are for.”
    â€œAnd I think we’ll stop there. Our time is up for tonight,” Liz said, looking at her watch. “Good night, ladies. See you next time. Thanks, Joe. Your advice was basic but sound. I think we forget how important touching and holding are.”
    A murmur of thanks came from the women gathering up babies, bags and belongings before they filed out.
    â€œThat’s high praise from a tough taskmaster like you.” He looked down at her.
    â€œI mean every word.” She smiled and headed for the doorway. “See you around. Good night.”
    â€œâ€™Night,” he said to her back.
    He liked talking to her and had hoped she’d stickaround. But why should he care when she didn’t? She’d seen the downside of commitment and he’d stopped believing.
    Maybe it was for the best. Definitely for the best.
    Â 
    Liz had put in an hour catching up on paperwork and was just on her way out the door when she heard her name paged. The nearest phone was at the volunteer sign-in desk. Unfortunately, so was Joe Marchetti. She was having a tough time fighting off thoughts of him that kept creeping into her head. Double whammy. An intimate conversation under the stars where his deep voice had mesmerized her. And then he hadn’t kissed her. That was a combination difficult for a cynic like her to resist. Difficult because it had become her habit to believe the worst first and ask questions later. The question was why hadn’t he made a move on her?
    Was it because his family was only a few feet away inside the house? He didn’t find her attractive? Or was he telling the truth and just wasn’t interested in a serious relationship?
    He finished signing out, then looked up. When he spotted her, a wide grin turned up the corners of his mouth. “Hi,” he said. “Didn’t they just page you?”
    â€œYes,” she answered, lifting the receiver on the desk beside him. Her hand shook and she turned her back so he wouldn’t see. “Liz Anderson,” she said into the phone.
    â€œThis is Ernie from the Office Supplies Warehouse.”
    â€œPlease tell me my computer desk is all together in one large, attractive and ever so functional piece,” she pleaded.
    â€œWish I could. But because of the sale and employees out with the flu we’re backlogged two to three weeks.”
    â€œThree weeks?” she cried. “My computer is scattered all over a card table and begging for a home.”
    â€œSorry. We’d be happy to refund your money if you’d like to look somewhere else.”
    â€œNo. I love that desk. It’s perfect for my decor at home. And the price is too good.” She sighed. “I’ve waited this long, I suppose another three weeks isn’t so bad.” She felt a tap on her shoulder and turned around.
    â€œMay I be of assistance?” Joe waited expectantly.
    â€œHold on, Ernie,” she said into the phone. Liz stared at Joe. “What?” she asked.
    â€œI couldn’t help overhearing. You bought a desk on sale. You’re disappointed because the assembly is delayed for three weeks. I’m volunteering to put it together.”
    â€œI couldn’t ask you to do that.”
    He frowned. “You don’t trust me?”
    â€œI didn’t say that.”
    â€œI listen between the lines,” he said.
    â€œIt’s a major imposition,” she countered.
    â€œHow do you know? I’m pretty handy.”
    She couldn’t help glancing at his wide, strong forearms, revealed because he’d rolled up his shirt sleeves. Beneath his white shirt, she could almost see the muscles in his upper arms, the