Best Kept Secret Read Online Free PDF Page A

week at a couple of different offices to keep us afloat, then went back to school to get her degree. She’s had her own practice for over ten years now.”
    “Do you get along?”
    I picked up my fork, toying with the cold remains of my fettuccine. “For the most part. But Jess and I spent a lot of time with babysitters when we were growing up. And she’s so busy with her practice now I barely see her. I’m not sure how well I really
know
her.” It surprised me to feel the muscles in my throat tighten as I spoke that last sentence. I feigned a cough.
    Martin didn’t seem to notice the change in my voice. “Babysitters, huh? She didn’t have family around to help her out?”
    I shook my head. “Her parents divorced when she was twelve and her mom died not too long after that. She was pretty much on her own. It’s what she knows how to do.”
    He nodded. “Sounds like my mom, too. Both my parents’ families are back in Germany. I’ve never even met them.”
    “How did she support you after your dad passed away?” I paused, then added, “If you don’t mind me asking.”
    “It’s fine. She actually bought the bakery where she’d been working. My dad was a planner like that. He knew his job was risky, so he made sure to have good accidental death coverage.”
    “You had babysitters, too, then, I take it? With her owning a business?”
    “Sort of. I just went to the shop with her. A gaggle of German bakerwomen took care of me. Fed me bits of cake to keep me from crying.”
    “Hmm . . . a whole gaggle, huh?”
    He lifted one shoulder up and forward a bit. “What can I say? My mother ran the place. It was in their job description.”
    “Of course it was. Does she still work?”
    “Nope. Sold it a few months ago. She’s retired now, and focused on finding me a wife.”
    I attempted to appear nonplussed as the butterflies in my stomach went nuts. “Uh-huh. So, do you bake? That might work in your favor.”
    “No, no baking.” One corner of his mouth bent upward. “But Icould calculate a couple logarithmic functions that would make your toes curl.”
    “Ew. Math. Do you have any other annoying habits I should know about?” I winked at him and smiled.
    He sat forward, crossed his forearms, and leaned on the table. “Hmm . . . let’s see. I keep track of pretty much everything in my life on a spreadsheet. Does organization qualify as a bad habit?”
    “Only if you expect the same kind of freakish compulsion from me.”
    To my relief, he threw his head back and laughed.
    For a first date,
I thought,
this is going extremely well.
    I called my sister the minute I got home. “I really, really like him,” I said. “He’s smart, he’s funny, and I’m pretty sure he thinks I’m smart and funny, too. He took my smart-ass commentary like a pro.”
    “Did he kiss you?”
    “Oh yeah.”
    “And . . . ?”
    “And everything south of the border pretty much melted.”
    It didn’t take long for Martin and me to begin spending almost every evening together. His linear brain served our lovemaking well. He possessed a scientist’s determination to understand what pleasured me most.
    “Hmm,” he’d murmur, running his fingertips up and down the curve of my waist to the generous swell of my hips. “What happens when I do
this
?”
    My eyes would close and I’d shudder as goose bumps popped up across my skin.
    He’d smile, then move his fingers a little lower. “What about
this
?”
    Afterward, he didn’t want to sleep. He wanted to talk. Our conversations went on for hours. He thought my burgeoning career as a journalist was fascinating; I admired how he spent his days teaching young minds how to navigate complex mathematical theory. Thoughhe struggled with how little money he was making as a teacher, he said that seeing students suddenly grasp a concept that had previously eluded them more than made up for the lack of financial reward.
    A few weeks into dating, things felt solid enough between us that