“Why are you calling my home?”
There came a pause before he said, “I just wanted to tell you that I liked what you were wearing yesterday. I didn’t realize you had such great legs.”
“Goodbye.” Justine hung up, unable to believe the man was flirting with her over the telephone. Even if she’d found the man attractive, which she didn’t, she still wouldn’t have entertained his overtures. Most of the hospital staff members were aware that she was a widow who had refused to take off her wedding ring. That had become a signal for the singlemen to keep their distance, but it was apparent Norman Robinson hadn’t been one of them.
Seconds later, the phone rang again. When she picked up the receiver, she wasn’t given the opportunity to announce herself when she heard Norman’s voice again. This time when she disconnected the call, she left the receiver off the hook.
“Idiot,” Justine said under her breath as she went into the spare bedroom to begin typing.
She’d lost track of time when the chiming of the doorbell shattered her concentration. Smothering a groan, she got up to see who was ringing her bell. If it wasn’t the telephone, then it was the doorbell. It was as if disruptions had conspired against her because she didn’t have Kenny to interrupt her when she least expected.
She peered through the security eye on the door, and the person looking back at her was someone she hadn’t expected to see for another month. Justine opened the door and forced a smile. “I wasn’t expecting to see you for a while.”
“I would’ve called to tell you I was coming over, but I kept getting a busy signal.”
She opened the door wider. “That’s because I didn’t want to talk to someone who was annoying me. Please come in, Francis.”
The man she called Francis looked like the consummate businessman in a navy-blue pin-striped suit, white shirt, dark blue tie, and highly polished black wing tips. She waited until he walked in to close the door, then led him into the living room, where she hung up the phone.
Frankie Delano removed his sunglasses, his gaze taking in everything about the woman who unknowingly had occupied his thoughts since meeting her for the first time a week ago. He tried recalling everything about her and failed. A few strands had escaped the loose bun she’d secured on the top ofher head, and he tried imagining what her hair would look like spread over his pillow after he made love to her.
He shook his head, banishing his traitorous thoughts when she continued to stare at him with a pair of large dark eyes. “I came to bring back the dish you gave me with the pie.” He handed her a small shopping bag.
“You didn’t have to come all this way to bring it back. You could’ve waited until it was time to pick Kenny up for his cooking lesson.”
Frank smiled. “It’s not only the dish, but I also wanted to bring you something else.”
“What are you talking about?” Justine asked.
“Wait here, and I’ll be back. Don’t lock the door. I have to get something from my car.”
It took Frank less than five minutes to remove a box from the trunk of his car parked outside the apartment building and carry it up two flights to the Russell apartment. When he’d made the purchase, he wasn’t certain if Justine would accept his gift, but hopefully he thought she would. And it wasn’t as if she didn’t need it.
He knew he’d shocked Justine when he walked in, closed and locked the door behind him, and set the box on the floor. Frank held up a hand when she opened her mouth. “Please, Justine, don’t tell me you don’t want it.”
Justine placed a hand over her mouth at the same time that tears filled her eyes. “I … I,” she stuttered, blinking back tears. “Why, Francis?” she finally asked when recovering her voice.
“Why, Justine? Didn’t you say you could type a lot faster if you had an electric typewriter?”
“Yes, but not because I wanted you to buy one for me. Let me know how much you paid for it, and I’ll give you the money.”
Frank met the large eyes shimmering with unshed tears. “I don’t want your money. Think of it as a gift.”
“A gift for what?”
A hint of a smile lifted a corner of his mouth. “For your birthday. Didn’t you just have a birthday in March?”
Justine nodded. “Yes, but how do you know that?”
“My nephew and your son are good friends, so it made it a lot easier for me to find out.”
“Do you buy gifts for all the mothers of your nephew’s friends?”
Frank slowly shook his head. “No. Just the special ones.”
Justine sat on the sofa; her eyes were fixed on Francis as he sat on a matching chair. She was beginning to feel uncomfortable with the man who’d not only come to her home unannounced, but with a gift she hadn’t asked for but sorely needed. Then, there was her limited interaction with men. She hadn’t had a boyfriend in high school, and after what she’d experienced with Dennis Boone, she wanted nothing to do with the opposite sex, other than her son. She just wanted to raise Kenny to become a productive, independent adult.
“What makes me special, Francis?”
