Friday's Child by Kylie Brant Page A

like seafood, Masterson’s Wharf is great.”
    Kate blinked at him, trying to still the foolish leap of her heart that his words had elicited. Michael Friday moved in a world that was totally outside of her experience. The man hadthe wealth and power to be a player in corporate takeovers and multimillion-dollar contracts. He emanated energy and confidence. He was also, undoubtedly, the most mind-numbingly, knee-shakingly sexy man she’d ever had occasion to meet. Have dinner with him?
    â€œNo,” she heard herself say, as if from a distance, “I can’t have dinner with you, Mr. Friday.”
    â€œ Mr. Friday,” he repeated, his voice husky. “Have I been demoted? A few minutes ago I was Michael.”
    Feeling a blush heat her cheeks, Kate persisted. “I don’t need any repayment. I helped because I wanted to.”
    â€œI don’t want you to think of the dinner as repayment, Kate,” he chided. “It would hardly do justice for all you’ve done for us, at any rate. But you’re right, I would like to at least thank you.”
    She shook her head again with finality, fighting off an absurd sense of disappointment. It had been surprisingly difficult to work here almost daily for the last couple of weeks with him around. He’d had a habit of showing up to check on her and Chloe’s progress unexpectedly, sending her pulse scampering. Now that she was finished with the help she’d promised the little girl, there should be very little reason for the two of them to see each other.
    Just then an earsplitting shriek sounded and the front door slammed. Michael winced and sent her a crooked smile. “Speak of the sweet little devil…” He began to talk rapidly as Chloe’s footsteps came closer. “I promised to take Chloe to the movie tonight, and tomorrow I have to work all day. She’ll be at her mother’s after school. I could pick you up at six-thirty, I’ll get reservations for seven. We’ll be two adults having a quiet, uninterrupted meal. C’mon, Kate, how about it?” He finished the sentences in a rush, just as Chloe slid to a halt beside them, her voice still raised with excitement.
    â€œDad, Dad, Miss Rose, guess what? I taught Rosy to eat sugar cubes right out of my hand, and it doesn’t hurt at all, it kinda tickles, and know what I’m going to teach her next? Guess! Guess what?”
    Michael fixed her with a look of polite interest. “To roll over?”
    Chloe rolled her eyes. “Da-a-d! I’m going to teach her to come when I whistle, that’s what. Hank is teaching me to whistle, and listen to this.” She screwed up her face, stuck a finger in both sides of her mouth and blew. The sound that emerged was reminiscent of a screech from a set of bagpipes. Michael winced again, and Kate recoiled a little.
    After a moment, Chloe took her fingers from her mouth and looked from one to the other of them eagerly. “Well, what do you think?”
    â€œYou’re a very…enthusiastic whistler,” Kate said gravely.
    â€œI can tell you’ve been practicing.”
    The little girl nodded. “Uh-huh, and Hank says if I keep on practicing day and night, I’ll be so good Rosy will know my whistle and come to me.”
    â€œNot in the house, okay, small fry?” her dad said. “Do your practicing outside, all right?”
    â€œBut, Dad!” Chloe wailed. “Hank says day and night. And Miss Rose always says if we want to be good at something we have to practice, right, Miss Rose?”
    Kate smiled gently and said, “I think it’s time for me to go.” She headed toward the door, pausing to retrieve her coat from the front closet.
    â€œAre you in a hurry, Kate?” Michael inquired, trailing after her with his hands shoved in his jeans pocket. Chloe chose that moment to try another whistle, and a pained look settled on his face.
    â€œLots to