Kids Is A 4-Letter Word by Stephanie Bond

down her picnic glow, then slicked a layer of bright color on her lips. Bending forward, she brushed her hair upside down, then swung back up and fluffed the layers with her fingers.
    The low whistle Alan emitted when she walked into the living room was gratifying. He drew her into his arms for a brief turn around the living-room floor to imaginary music. She fought to banish the stiffness from her body—Alan didn’t deserve to have his evening ruined just because she was feeling out of sorts.
    “You look wonderful,” he said, wagging his light eyebrows. “If I didn’t trust you so much, I’d be afraid someone might snatch you up while I’m traveling.”
    Jo forced a laugh to join his, then spun around to retrieve her purse. “Ready?” She maintained a tight smile while she slipped her arms into the coat he held for her.
    “You know, Jo,” Alan murmured as they walked to his silver roadster. “I could stay over tonight.”
    She shivered involuntarily.
    “Chilly?” He held open the passenger door of the twoseater.
    “A little,” she said, lying.
    He frowned. “It’s still so warm, I was hoping we could leave the top down.”
    “By all means,” she said hurriedly, smiling wide. “I’m not that cold, after all.”
    Alan looked perplexed, but hopeful, as he shut her door. “Are you sure?”
    She gave him a big nod, still smiling. “Absolutely.” There goes my hairdo. She opened the glove compartment to pull out the scarf she kept inside and instead withdrew a long black satiny glove.
    When he swung into his seat, he glanced over at the glove dangling from her raised fingers and shrugged good-naturedly. “Lower your eyebrows—it’s Pamela’s. She left it in here after the Chef’s Gala last month.” He inserted the key, turned over the ignition, then waited until her seat belt was fastened and her scarf tied in place before shifting into gear.
    “Did she call you?” Jo asked as they turned out of her neighborhood.
    “She called,” he confirmed, giving her a lopsided grin. “I’m just a tux for hire. Don’t you want to do something together tomorrow night?”
    “Actually, the Pattersons want to see my presentation Monday afternoon, so that’ll give me a chance to work on it tomorrow evening. Go—I don’t mind at all.”
    “If you’re sure…Pam said Daniel Gates will be there and I’ve been trying to wangle a meeting with him for months to talk about replacing his mainframe computers.”
    “Then you should definitely go.” For a moment, Jo studied Alan’s perfect profile in pure appreciation. There was no denying he was a very handsome man, with Ken-doll good looks and an enviable wardrobe. And very charismatic. His blue eyes sparkled behind tiny wire-rimmed frames, and his blond hair was cut in a trendy, precision style. He was almost as beautiful as Pamela. They probably attracted every eye in the roomwhen they went places together. Her mother had been incredulous when Jo mentioned that Alan often escorted Pamela to special events. “Are you mad?” she’d demanded. “The woman’s a man-eater.”
    Jo had laughed then and chuckled now. There were no two people on this planet less compatible than Alan, the uptight obsessive-compulsive, and Pamela, the ditzy nymphomaniac. Alan had made it clear what kind of woman he was looking for: career-minded, poised, successful and above reproach—not to mention willing to share a childless marriage. Jo had always felt fortunate that she fit the bill and shared many of Alan’s goals—she’d never relished the thought of trying to juggle a career and family.
    John Sterling and his half-pint gang galloped into her mind. T-R-O-U-B-L-E. Trouble she did not want or need. She pushed them from her thoughts, then reached over to cover Alan’s hand with hers. He lifted her hand to his mouth for a kiss, and grinned. She laughed and nodded to herself in affirmation. Alan was one of the most eligible bachelors from one of the finest families in the