The Man Ban - Nicola Marsh Page 0,53

and the trip took less than fifteen minutes. She parked in front of her childhood home, a brick veneer California bungalow, and traipsed up the path, wishing she’d taken the time to check her appearance.

Nobody did the imperious head-to-toe sweep like Lydia Ryland.

While she loved her mom, growing up she’d hated the scrutiny. Lydia wouldn’t overly criticize, but Harper would feel her silent disapproval if her skirt was too short or her top too revealing. Having fabulous hair courtesy of her mom made up for it somewhat, but ever since her diagnosis, Harper had become increasingly self-conscious.

Which made her invitation for Manny to stay over in her hotel room last night all the more significant.

Not that she hadn’t been aware of the pitfalls. She’d turned out the lamp, and they’d made love twice before she woke early and slipped into the bathroom. It hadn’t been a big deal because they had to check out at nine to head to the airport, and finding her showered and dressed hadn’t fazed him.

They hadn’t been able to get seats together on the flight, which gave her time to brace for their farewell. Crazy, because he’d said he’d call, and while she had no intention of making this into anything more than it was—a fun fling—she might or might not see him again.

But that hug at the airport had almost undone her. Being in his arms felt . . . right. And he had this way of holding her that conveyed so much more than words could. Silent strength. Dependability. Security. Things she craved in a man but had never been able to find.

Until now.

She’d cursed her independence as the taxi pulled away, and had almost told the driver to stop so she could take Manny up on his offer to drive her home. But that wouldn’t have been conducive to getting her head back in the game of being home and making sensible choices, focused on building her business, so she’d managed a half-hearted wave while a tiny piece of her broke.

Harper had barely climbed the porch steps when she spotted a giant cellophane-wrapped basket in front of the door. It had a stuffed giraffe in the middle, a bottle of expensive champagne on one side, and a monster box of chocolates on the other. Her mom’s new man had good taste.

She knocked before squatting to pick up the basket, and when the door opened, she presented it to her mom.

“From your secret admirer.”

Lydia snorted. “It’s from your father. It’s his new thing.”

Harper had no idea what that meant until she entered the dining room and saw their old mahogany table covered in baskets of various sizes, filled with gourmet nibbles to glossy magazines.

“So what was so urgent you had to see me now?”

“I need you to tell him to stop all this.” Lydia swept her arm wide, her nose crinkling with distaste.

“It’s sweet,” Harper said, placing the basket on the table. Actually, she should’ve known it was her dad who sent it, considering he’d been the one to start her mom’s giraffe collection years ago.

She’d been about eight, and they’d been at Moomba, one of those rare long weekends when her dad had been home for the three days. They’d watched the Moomba parade on the Labor Day Monday then strolled through the gardens, checking out the stalls. Her parents hadn’t allowed her to go on any of the hair-raising rides, but her dad had played various arcade games to win her a prize. She’d loved her purple unicorn, but not as much as Lydia had loved the giant giraffe. Her mom had pretended to be embarrassed at first, having to cart a big stuffed toy back to the car, but she’d seen the way her parents kept looking at each other whenever the car stopped at signal lights, like they had stars in their eyes.

Ever since then, her dad would buy Lydia giraffes on every long weekend. Crystal, silver, even chocolate, and her mom kept them all.

It made Harper wonder if this one would end up in the trash.

“He loves you.” Harper flung her arms wide. “When are you going to give him a break?”

Lydia must’ve had a recent shot of Botox, because Harper glimpsed a flicker of a raised eyebrow but not much moved above it.

“Why am I the bad guy in all this?”

“Because you kicked him out.”

Anger pinched Lydia’s lips. “You don’t know anything about this—”

“Exactly, Mom, I don’t know because you’ve told me nothing, and I’m sick of