Free 01_The Best Gift by Irene Hannon

“Sorry. Guess I hit a nerve.”
    “I don’t use that name.”
    “Why not?”
    “It’s…weird.”
    “No, it isn’t. It’s very popular.”
    “It wasn’t when I was a kid.”
    She eyed him thoughtfully. “When I was a kid, there was a little girl in our class named Maude. She got teased a lot. Is that what happened to you?”
    “Worse. Boys aren’t that nice.”
    “Surely your friends stood up for you?”
    He looked at her for a moment, as if silently debating how to respond, but in the end ignored her comment. “Blake is my mother’s maiden name—and my middle name. I’ve been using it since I was twelve. Now, do you think I could come in? It’s a little drafty out here.”
    “Of course.” She stepped back, instantly contrite, and ushered him in. “Let me take your coat.”
    He shrugged out of his leather jacket and handed it to her.
    “Make yourself comfortable. I’ll be right back.”
    She disappeared down a hall, and Blake took a moment to look over the tiny apartment. He didn’t live extravagantly, but her living room, dining area and kitchen could easily fit into his great room, with space left over. And her decor—eclectic was probably the kindest word to describe it. Nothing seemed to match. Yet, oddly enough, it all blended. There was a slight Middle Eastern feel to the room, but he couldn’t say exactly why. Maybe it was the artwork that hung on the walls, or the patterns in the fabrics. But he had to admit it was pleasant. And comfortable. And homey—which was not a word he could use for his own house. It might be bigger, and the furniture might match, but even after two years it didn’t feel like a home.
    A wife and children might help. And they were certainly in his plans. Had been for some time, in fact. He just hadn’t met the right woman yet. But he knew exactly who he was looking for. June Cleaver. He wanted a homemaker—in the best sense of the word. A woman who made her family a priority, who might work outside the home but never forgot that home was what counted most. Someone who understood the importance of settling down, building a life in one place, becoming part of a community. He was not interested in returning to the vagabond, gypsy lifestyle he’d once known.
    “Can I offer you something to drink?”
    Blake turned as A.J. reentered the room. Speaking of gypsies, she kind of looked like one tonight. She was wearing something…different. So what else was new? he thought wryly. The full-length garment was made of a shimmery, patterned fabric in shades of green, purple and royal blue. It was nipped in at the waist with a wide belt, and swirled gracefully around her legs as she walked. It wasn’t exactly his idea of dine-at-home attire. But it did look…festive. And suddenly he felt under-dressed.
    “I didn’t have time to change,” he said, half-apologetic, half-defensive.
    She gazed at him. He’d obviously come directly from the shop, though it was clear he’d taken time to freshen up. His clean-shaven jaw showed no evidence of afternoon shadow.
    A.J. shrugged. “No need. It’s just a casual evening.”
    “You don’t look casual.”
    She grinned. “I probably look weird to you.”
    He felt his neck grow warm. “I didn’t say that.”
    “You didn’t have to. I’ve worked with you practically every day for almost two months, Blake.” He noted that she was careful to use his preferred name. “I quickly realized that you’re a pretty conventional guy.”
    “You mean stuffy.”
    “I didn’t say that,” she parroted his words back to him.
    “I’ve worked with you for almost two months, too. I think I have a pretty good idea what your opinion is of me,” he countered.
    “Really? You might be surprised.”
    “I don’t think so.”
    “No? Okay, try this on for size. I think you are an extraordinarily capable and bright guy. I have no doubt Aunt Jo would have been in bankruptcy long ago without your help. Your attention to detail is fantastic, and