Dear Cupid (12 page)

“I’m not attractive.” Linda pouted. “I’m fat.”

“You are not fat!” Kate growled. “You’re pregnant with his child, and that makes you the most beautiful woman in the world to him.”

“Then why won’t he make love to me?”

“You said it yourself. He’s worried about hurting the baby. So, what you need to do is reassure him that sex can be very healthy for the baby. In fact, every time you have an orgasm, it makes your uterus contract and gives the baby a massage. If you think about it, it really is incumbent upon him—as a caring father—to give you as many orgasms as possible. For the good of the baby, of course.”

Linda gave a short, surprised laugh. “You’re making that up.”

“No, really, it’s true. And what’s more”—Kate wiggled her eyebrows—“the more your uterus expands to make room for the baby, the stronger your orgasms will be.”

“Kate!” Linda moaned. “That’s not the kind of thing to tell a horny woman who’s gone without sex for two months.”

“Maybe not, but Jim has gone without for just as long, so he’s just as miserable as you are.”

“You think so?”

“I know so.” She tweaked Linda’s nose. “In fact, that’s probably why he can’t keep his mind on his work. He’s so hot for you he can’t think straight. So, what you need to do is wait until Dylan goes to bed tonight. Then find something loose but sexy to wear. Put on some perfume, and offer to give Jim a back rub.”

“Which will promptly put the man to sleep.”

“Not a chance.” Kate straightened her friend’s bangs. “You are way too sexy to put any man to sleep. Especially one who loves you as much as Jim does.”

“Oh, Kate.” Linda leaned forward and gave her a tight hug. “Thanks. You always know the right thing to say.”

“That’s my job.” Kate returned the hug. “Although if you wanted to repay me, there is something you could do.”

“Oh?” Linda leaned back.

Kate lowered her eyes, uncomfortable with the sudden role reversal. Giving help was so much easier than asking for it. “Could you ask Jim to talk to Dylan tonight? You know, have him ask Dylan how everything’s going at school and such?”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know.” Kate made a restless gesture with her hand. “I think something’s wrong. Only, Dylan won’t talk to me. Maybe he’d open up more to a man.”

“I’ll be happy to ask Jim to talk to him, on one condition.” Linda ducked her head to meet  Kate’s eyes. “That you quit worrying so much. You are a wonderful mother, Kate. I mean that. I only hope I’m half as good. But sometimes, not always”—she held up her hands—“sometimes, you do get the tiniest bit overprotective.”

“I know, but it’s so hard not to with Dylan. He’s so small and awkward, I’m afraid the other boys pick on him at school.”

Linda’s brows snapped together. “Just because someone’s small, doesn’t mean they’re helpless. And the more people try to protect them, the more they’re going to resent it.”

Kate blinked in surprise, then grinned in understanding. “Are we talking about Dylan here, or you?”

Linda blushed just as the doorbell rang.

“I’ll get it!” Dylan hollered from the other room.

Kate jumped to her feet. “Oh, my goodness, he’s here already? Linda, go stall him while I do something with my hair.”

“Dylan can handle Mike.” Linda laughed. “I’d much rather stay here and watch Cupid be nervous over a first date,”

“I told you. It’s not a date.”

“Right.” Linda smiled.

~ ~ ~

Dylan grabbed the door with both hands and swung it open. He expected to find Jim ready to take him to the big house up the hill where he and Miss Linda lived. Tonight, he was going to get to sleep over, so they wouldn’t have to wait up for his mom to come home. And Jim had promised Dylan he could help out in the workshop again. They were building a crib for the baby, but it was a big secret, just between them, ‘cause they were both men, and men shared things that women didn’t know about. Boy, he couldn’t wait to see Miss Linda’s face when they finished the crib. It was really cool.

Except, instead of Jim standing on the front porch, he found the man who had upset his mother yesterday. His shoulders slumped with disappointment.

“Hey there, Dylan.” The man smiled. He looked really stupid standing there holding a bunch of dorky flowers.

“My mother isn’t ready yet,” Dylan replied sullenly. He’d known his mom was going out with the guy, which didn’t make any sense. His mother didn’t even seem to like him. So Dylan decided he didn’t like him either. “You’ll have to wait.”

“All right,” the man said. They both remained in the doorway, eyeing each other. “Mind if I come in?” the man asked.

“I guess not.” Dylan turned and led the way inside.

Raising a brow, Mike followed. He’d accepted the fact that winning Kate wouldn’t be as easy as he’d first assumed, but the last obstacle he’d expected was a seven-year-old boy. The mere fact that she had a son still had him reeling. To realize the kid didn’t like him sent him further off balance. Kids always liked him. And he liked them. This kid, however, obviously required a little more effort to win over.

Taking a seat on a small camel-back sofa, Mike tried to decide if he should hold on to the flowers or set them on the coffee table. They’d been a last-minute impulse, and one he hoped he wouldn’t regret. Across from him, the boy climbed into a wing chair by the rock fireplace. Neither of them spoke. Mike glanced about for some way to break the ice.

He wasn’t sure what he’d expected for Kate’s home, but the rustic cabin had surprised him when he’d driven up. The inside, however, suited her. Wisps of creamy gauze draped about the windows, softening the rough-hewn walls. A rug before the hearth added a homey touch, along with the colorful clutter of children’s toys.

Family photos and breakable knickknacks marched across the mantel, well out of reach of a seven-year-old’s curious hands. He squinted his eyes, trying to make out faces in the photos as he wondered at the names and stories that went with them.

“Are you gonna try to poke my mom?” Dylan asked.

“Excuse me?” Mike jerked his attention back to the boy, sure he must have heard wrong. “What did you say?”

“Are you gonna try to poke her?” Dylan scowled at him. “You know, with your binky.”

His
binky
? From his experience as an uncle, Mike knew “binky” could mean anything from a pacifier to a penis. Somehow he didn’t think Dylan referred to any of the more innocent options. “Who told you such a thing?”

“Jason,” Dylan responded gravely. “He says guys always try to poke girls when they take them out.”

“And who exactly is this Jason character?” Mike asked with mounting anger.

“Jason Haynie,” Dylan answered as if any fool knew who Jason was. “His father plays in a rock band.”

“Oh, yes, well, I can definitely see how that would make him an authority on dating.”

Dylan waited a heartbeat. “So, are you?”

Mike studied the kid, tempted to tell him it was none of his damned business what he and his mother did. That, however, wouldn’t win him any points with Kate or Dylan. And it suddenly occurred to him that, if he did manage to win Kate over, this kid would be his stepson. His stepson! Now there was a thought to unsettle a man. Even one who liked kids.

“I tell you what.” Leaning forward, he braced his forearms on his thighs and met the boy’s distrust straight on. “How about if I promise not to do anything with your mother she doesn’t want me to do?”

Dylan considered that for a long time. Mike held his breath, hoping the boy wouldn’t see the obvious loophole in the promise. Finally Dylan’s brow dimpled. “You swear?”

Releasing his breath, Mike ran his right forefinger over his chest. “Cross my heart and may my hard drive crash tomorrow if I’m lying.”

Dylan nodded. “I guess it’s okay if you take her out then.”

Mike struggled not to laugh. He’d thought fathers were a tough gauntlet to pass when picking up a date, but sons had them beat by a mile.

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” Kate said as she breezed into the room.

“No problem,” Mike answered, rising quickly on a wave of relief. “Dylan and I were just—” He froze as he turned and saw her. Good God, was it legal for a woman to look like that? Like pure desire gift-wrapped in gold silk? With her hair swept upward exposing her neck, he had an instant impulse to lean forward and sink his teeth in for a big bite.

She stopped short as well, staring at him as if equally startled. Self-consciously, he straightened the Tasmanian Devil tie he wore with a long-sleeved green shirt and black slacks. For one brief moment he almost wished he’d bought one of those damned white monkey shirts.

“You cut your hair,” she whispered.

“What?” He stared at her, not comprehending at first. “Oh, that.” With a shaky laugh, he ran a hand through the shortened strands. Another impulse. “I figured you’d suggest it eventually, so I decided to get it over with.” Feeling awkward and a bit foolish, he lifted the flowers. “Here. I um— Here.”

“Oh.” Kate went still. Before she could guard against it, a warm tingle slipped past her defenses and lodged in her heart. He’d brought her flowers, a huge colorful explosion of flowers wrapped in tissue paper and tied with a single red ribbon.

“I didn’t know what you liked,” he said with a shrug. “So I told the girl at the flower shop to give me one of everything.”

Which was, of course, exactly what she liked, variety, color, and extravagant gestures. “Mike ...” she scolded as she took them.

“I know, I know,” he sighed. “I shouldn’t have brought you flowers because this isn’t a date. So, consider it practice—part of your job as my dating couch.”

“Oh, well then ...” Her heart softened as she inhaled their fragrance. “I suppose I could take them, for practice.” She tried to keep her face from going soft and dreamy, only she’d forgotten how nice it felt to get flowers from a man, the way it made a woman’s heart flutter. But then, she’d forgotten a great many things when it came to men. The last few years, she’d been an observer, an advisor, but never a participant in romance. She’d convinced herself that life was safer that way, less painful. But now she realized it was also less pleasurable.

“I’ll, um—” She made a vague gesture toward the kitchen. “Just put these in some water.”

As she moved toward the sink, she saw Linda come out of the bedroom, all curious eyes and friendly smiles. “You must be Mike Cameron,” she said.

“And you must be Linda Davis.” He shook the hand she offered. “I recognize you from your business card.”

“I’m surprised you can. My face wasn’t nearly so round back then. Not to mention the rest of me.” Linda laughed.

“True,” he admitted with a smile. “You are definitely ... round.”

“Which does not mean you’re fat,” Kate called from the sink as she filled a vase.

“Of course she’s not fat.” Mike frowned at her. “I didn’t mean that at all. It’s just that you women always look so ... interesting when you’re ... you know, expecting.”

“Interesting?” Kate asked, knowing she’d clobber him if he undid the pep talk she’d just given her friend.

Mike shrugged. “All glowing and maternal, like life-sized fertility goddesses.” His gaze slid from Linda to Kate and moved over her body as if imagining her in a similar state. “Definitely interesting.”

Heat fluttered low in her belly at the look in his eyes. “See?” She smiled at Linda, fighting to keep her voice from going breathy. “You’re not fat.”

Linda beamed at Mike. “I don’t suppose you’d mention that part about fertility goddesses to my husband, would you?”

“Sorry.” Mike laughed. “I’m afraid he’ll have to figure that one out for himself.”

Settling the flowers in the vase, Kate carried them to the breakfast table. Later she’d let herself get silly over them for an hour or so, arranging them, smelling them, but not now. Not in front of Mike. “Dylan, you be good for Miss Linda, now, okay?” She bent down for a hug.

“Okay.” He flung his arms around her neck.

She absorbed the feel of him pressed tight against her body, let it calm the riot of other, more complicated emotions, “I’ll miss you tonight.”

“I’ll miss you too.” For a fraction of a second, he clung a little tighter, then stepped away to glare at Mike. “Remember what you swore.”

“Scout’s honor.” Mike held up two fingers.

Kate frowned over that exchange as they left the cabin and descended to the gravel driveway. The ever-present herd of deer munched acorns under the stand of oak trees that hid the cabin from the road. The orange Corvette presented a jarring contrast to the rustic setting.

“So,” she asked as Mike handed her into the passenger side. “You want to tell me what that ‘scout’s honor’ business was about?”

“Not particularly.” Mike chuckled before he closed the door and headed around the hood.

She watched him covertly, noticing how nice he looked in his new clothes. If only he hadn’t cut his hair, she thought with an inward sigh. It looked more brown than blond with all the sun-bleached ends cut off. The longer hair had given him a rakish appeal that positively begged a woman to run her hands through it.