Right Next Door by Debbie Macomber Page A

I’ve enjoyed doing it on my own. It’s coming along well.”
    She nodded and a second later realized he couldn’t see her action. “It sounds lovely.”
    â€œAre there any other questions you’d like to ask me?” His voice was low and teasing.
    â€œOf course not,” she denied immediately.
    â€œThen would you be willing to admit you enjoy it when I kiss you? A high seven? Really? I think Jeff’s right—we need more practice.”
    â€œUh…” Robin didn’t know how to answer that.
    â€œI’m willing,” he said, and she could almost hear him smile.
    Robin lifted the hair from her forehead with one hand. “I can’t believe we’re having this discussion.”
    â€œWould it help if I told you how much I enjoy kissing you?”
    â€œPlease…don’t,” she whispered. She didn’t want him to tell her that. Every time he kissed her, it confused her more. Despite the sheltered feeling she experienced in his arms, something deep and fundamental inside her was afraid of loving again. No, terrified. She was terrified of falling in love with Cole. Terrified of what the future might hold.
    â€œThe first time shook me more than I care to admit,” he said. “Remember that Friday night we rented the movie?”
    â€œI remember.”
    â€œI tried to stay away from you afterward. For an entire week I avoided you.”
    Robin didn’t answer. She couldn’t. Lying back against the pillows, she stared at the ceiling as a sense of warmth enveloped her. A feeling of comfort…of happiness.
    There was a short silence, and in an effort to bring their discussion back to a less intimate—less risky—level, she said, “Thank you for dinner. Jeff had the time of his life.” She had, too, but she couldn’t find the courage to acknowledge it.
    â€œYou’re welcome.”
    â€œAre you going away this weekend to work on the property?”
    She had no right to ask him that, and was shocked at how easily the question emerged.
    â€œI don’t think so.” After another brief pause, he murmured, “When’s the last time you went on a picnic and flew a kite?”
    â€œI don’t recall.”
    â€œWould you consider going with me on Saturday afternoon? You and Jeff. The three of us together.”
    â€œYes…Jeff would love it.”
    â€œHow about you? Would you love it?”
    â€œYes,” she whispered.
    There didn’t seem to be anything more to say, and Robin ended the conversation. “I’ll tell Jeff in the morning. He’ll be thrilled. Thank you.”
    â€œI’ll talk to you tomorrow, then.”
    â€œYes. Tomorrow.”
    â€œGood night, Robin.”
    She smiled softly. He said her name the way she’d always dreamed a man would, softly, with a mixture of excitement and need. “Good night, Cole.”
    For a long time after they’d hung up Robin lay staring at her bedroom walls. When she did flick off her light, she fell asleep as quickly as Jeff seemed to have. She woke about midnight, surprised to find the sheets all twisted as if she’d tossed and turned frantically. The bedspread had slipped onto the floor, and the top sheet was wound around her legs, trapping her.
    Sitting up, she untangled her legs and brushed the curls from her face, wondering what had caused her restlessness. She didn’t usually wake abruptly like this.
    She slid off the bed, found her slippers and went downstairs for a glass of milk.
    It was while she was sitting at the table that it came to her. Her hand stilled. Her heartbeat accelerated. The couple in the Chinese restaurant. Robin had overheard them and she was certain Cole had, too.
    Their little boy. A family.
    Cole had lost a son. From the little Robin had learned, Cole’s son had been about the same age Jeff was now when he’d died. First divorce, and then death.
    Suddenly it all made