“What? Um. Yes.” She blinked at him, still openmouthed, still enticing as all hell. Not that it mattered. She managed to wrangle herself back into the schoolmarm zone within seconds. “There are a few things to fill out and go over before you take him home. I’ll grab your schedule and your first day instructions so we can get started. You and Emily can stay here with Cooper—I mean, um, Jeeves.”

“Von Hinklebottom,” Ford supplied.

“I’m not saying that part.”

“The Third.”

“Or that.”

“Uh-oh.” He tsked, unable to help himself. Granted, it would have been so much better to be the suave man in a tuxedo, to take the princess into his arms and plant a masterful kiss on her lips, but he could only work with what he was given. “Sounds like someone is turning into a fun sponge.”

She stiffened as if she hadn’t been arguing for that not ten minutes ago. “I beg your pardon.”

“The void of happiness.”

“I’m no such thing.”

“The black hole of delight.” He waited only until she opened her mouth to retaliate before bestowing a liberal wink. “Don’t worry. Holes of delight happen to be one of my specialties.”

With a gasp and a blush, Lila turned on her heel and stalked out. He watched her go with a combination of admiration and regret. Admiration, because there was no doubt in his mind that Lila Vasquez was a woman worth getting to know. Regret, because knowing women—in the literal sense, in the Biblical sense, in any sense that mattered—was something he’d done without since the day his ex-wife had left, determined that one of them, at least, should make something of their life.

She’d done it, too, her professional accolades gathering by the dozen. It made his own accomplishments look paltry by comparison. Ford Ford might be able to make the young, unmarried ladies laugh, but that was only because he wasn’t in a place to offer them anything else.

And that, unfortunately, was his real specialty these days.

Chapter 3

“Knock, knock!”

No sooner had Ford pulled his trusty, if ancient, minivan into his driveway than a singsong voice hailed him from behind a snow berm. The problem with winters in Spokane wasn’t the cold weather or the heavy snowfall, both of which he liked, but the fact that those giant mounds of plowed snow were the perfect hiding places. Not only did they conceal little girls who had a love of snowball fights while he was trying to unload groceries, but they also made it impossible for him to see women like Helen Griswold until they were practically on top of him.

“It’s freezing out here!” She laughed as she knocked again—this time with her glove-covered knuckles on the driver’s-side window. She also made a liberal rolling motion with her hand.