Page 5 of The Playboy and the Widow
A few minutes later, Cliff climbed out from under the sink. “I’m afraid I’m going to need some parts to get this fixed.”
“If you’ll write down what’s necessary, I can pick them up tomorrow and—”
“You don’t want to go without a sink that long. I’ll run and get what you need now.” He wiped his hands dry on a dish towel and headed toward the front door.
“Just a minute,” Diana cried, running after him. “I’ll give you some cash.”
“No need,” he said with a lazy grin. “I’ll pay for it and you can reimburse me.”
“Okay,” she returned weakly. The last time she’d looked, her checkbook balance had hovered around ten dollars, give or take a dime or two.
Cliff took Mikey Holiday with him, but not because he was keen on having the youth’s company. His reasons were purely selfish. He wanted to grill the lad on what he knew about his neighbor with the sad eyes and the pert nose.
“You buckled up?” he asked the eight-year-old.
Mikey’s baseball cap bobbed up and down.
“Say, kid, what can you tell me about the lady with the leaky sink?”
“Mrs. Collins?”
“Yeah.” Cliff had to admit he was being less than subtle, but he often preferred the direct approach.
“She’s real nice.”
That much Cliff had guessed. “What happened to her husband?”
“He died.”
Cliff decided his chances of getting any real information from the kid were nil, and he experienced a twinge of regret. He’d met far more attractive women, but this one got to him. Her appeal, he suspected, was that wide streak of independence and that stiff upper lip. He admired that.
It had been a while since he’d been this curious about any woman, and whatever it was about her that attracted him was potent. A smile came and went as he thought about her dealing with the problem sink. It was all too obvious she didn’t know a thing about plumbing. Then he recalled the pair of puzzled brown eyes looking up at him and how she’d sensibly announced that he wasn’t George.
He laughed softly to himself.
The knock on the front door got an immediate response from Diana. “You’re back,” she said, rubbing her palms together. She seemed to have a flair for stating the obvious.
Cliff grinned. “I shouldn’t have any problem fixing that sink now.”
“Good.”
The house was quiet as she led him back into the kitchen. Diana hadn’t been this agitated by a man since... she couldn’t remember. The whole thing was silly. A strange man was causing her heart to pound like a locomotive. And Diana didn’t like it one bit. Her life was too complicated for her to be attracted to a man. Besides, he was probably married, even though he didn’t wear a wedding band. If Cliff was George’s friend, and if he was single, it was a sure bet that Shirley would have mentioned him. And if Cliff was available, which she sincerely doubted, then he was the type to have plenty of women interested in him. And Diana had no intention of becoming a groupie.
“I really appreciate your doing this,” she said after a long moment.
“No problem. What happened to the kids?”
“They’re upstairs playing video games,” she explained, and hesitated. “I thought you might work better with a little peace and quiet.”
“I could have worked around the racket.”
Diana nervously wiped her hands on her thighs. Then, irritated with herself, she folded them as though she were about to pray. Not a bad idea under the circumstances. This man was so virile. He was the first one since Stan to cause her to remember that she was still a woman. Five minutes in the kitchen with Cliff Howard and she was thinking about satin sheets and lacy underwear. Whoa, girl! She reined in her thoughts.
“Could you hand me the wrench?” he asked.
“Sure.” Diana was glad to do anything but stand there staring at the dusting of hairs above his belly button.
“I don’t think I caught your first name,” he said next.
