Free Kids Is A 4-Letter Word by Stephanie Bond

but she wasn’t married yet. He felt certain he’d seen desire in her eyes more than once this morning. And if she could evoke such a powerful response from him helping him get dressed, she’d put him in another galaxy helping him get undressed.
    She’d looked interested. And interesting. Life was good. He turned up the radio and sang along badly with the tune, daydreaming about Mrs. Jo Montgomery Sterling.
    With a start, John realized he’d driven four miles past his exit. He frowned and banged his hand on the steering wheel. A large sign announced the next exit lay a half mile down the interstate, so he settled back in his leather seat. Suddenly, the engine light blinked and the car slowed. He maneuvered to the shoulder, pressing on the gas but receiving no response. He glanced at the gas gauge and cursed. Completely empty, much like his befuddled brain.
    The steering wheel received a harder whack this time. Then he released the trunk latch, got out and locked his door, retrieved the well-used gasoline container and began walking toward the exit.
    Oh, well, the walk would give him time to think of a wayto get close to Jo Montgomery. He’d be an idiot to pass up this chance—even a fool could see she was a natural with kids.
    “W HAT THE HECK is ‘time-out’?” Jo asked Claire, flinching at Billy’s increasingly hysterical wails. He fell to the floor, his little body stiff with anger. Rolling side to side, he wallowed in the remains of a building-block high-rise which had been rendered to scattered debris with one sweep of Jamie’s arm.
    Claire sighed, rolling her eyes mightily as though Jo were as dense as a tree. “Time-out is when Daddy makes Jamie sit in a room by himself for a few minutes until he can control himself.”
    “Until who can control himself—your dad, or Jamie?”
    “Jamie,” Claire said, clearly trying to be patient.
    “I’m Peter!” Jamie screeched, attempting to pull away from the firm hold Jo had on his shirttail.
    “Anyway,” Claire continued in a calm voice, “you should put him in time-out now for wrecking Billy’s house.”
    “It was an accident,” Jamie howled, straining to gain freedom.
    “Good,” Jo said. She reined him in a few inches and tipped his chin up with her cupped hand to force him to look at her. God, he was a carbon copy of his father. Every feature—from the shape of his eyebrows to the set of his stubborn little mouth—mirrored John’s, only smaller and softer. Her heart tripped double time. “Since it was an accident, you’ll sit down and rebuild it with Billy, okay?”
    While Jamie turned over this option in his mind, Jo realized she couldn’t make the boy do it, so what if he refused? Kids today baffled her. She’d seen plenty of preschoolers talk back to their parents, turning adults into quivering masses, pleading with their children to behave.
    She bent down to his level, still holding his chin gently but firmly. “Okay, mister?”
    Jamie worked his mouth, then gave her a lopsided frown. “Okay,” he grumbled.
    Jo smiled and nodded. “I knew I could count on you.” Shegave him a pat on the shoulder as he turned toward his quaking brother. Billy quieted and sat up when Jamie began sorting the blocks in preparation for construction. Within a couple of minutes, they were playing together quietly.
    Claire poked at her glasses, her mouth set in a straight line. “Daddy would have put him in time-out.”
    Jo eyed her carefully. This one would not be won over easily. “Come on, I’ll help you clean up your kitchen.” She was careful to give ownership of the domain to the little girl.
    “Mrs. Harris will be here in a few minutes—she always cleans it up.”
    “Then let’s tidy it a bit,” Jo cajoled. “I need the table to spread out my decorating books and I could use your help coming up with a color scheme for all the rooms.”
    Claire squinted while she thought it over. Then she looked at Jo and asked, “How much?”
    Jo blinked.