“But I like thinking about you with Dad."
“
You can keep thinking about that. I didn't leave him, honey. He died. We mourned him and we still
love him. That's the right thing to do. But it's also
right to live our lives and be happy. Don't you think
your dad would have wanted that for all of us?"
Stephanie knew that Marty would have loved the
idea of being mourned endlessly by his wife and
children, but she wasn't about to lay that guilt on
her twelve-year-old.
Brett nodded slowly. "But you're not going out
with Nash."
“
I'm not."
“Promise?"
“
Nash and I will not go out of this house on a date." She made an X over her heart. "But that's
as much as my life as you get to dictate, young man. And should I decide to go out with someone, you're going to have to accept the idea. Agreed?"
“
Yeah. No problem."
“Good."
She kissed his forehead, then released him. After
he scrambled under the covers, she tucked them in around him, said good-night and walked out into the
hallway. After closing the door, she moved down
the stairs.
She wondered when Brett had started to consider
Nash a threat. Was there something in his behavior,
or was her son able to subconsciously pick up on
her strong attraction? Not that it mattered. She'd been very comfortable agreeing to no dates with Nash. Somehow she couldn't see him offering to
take her to dinner and a movie. He wasn't a "dinner
and a movie" kind of guy. Nash was more late-night walks along the river and hot, passionate kisses up
against the crumbling stone wall of the ancient
castle.
Stephanie smiled. At least he was in
her
imagi
nation. As there was neither a river nor a castle
nearby, she was probably safe. Not that she wanted
to be.
She reached the main floor and turned toward the
kitchen, then stopped when a slight movement
caught her attention. As she spun around, she saw Nash pacing restlessly across the living-room rug.
He glanced up and saw her, came to a stop and
shrugged.
“
I'm
a little wound from the dinner," he said.
"I'm
not ready to go up to bed. Am I bothering
you?"
Not in the way he meant. "Of course not. I have
to make cookies for the twins to take to school to
morrow. There are few things less interesting than watching someone bake. You want to come into the
kitchen and be bored for a while? It will probably
help you sleep."
“Sure."
As soon as he agreed, she wanted to stop and
bang her head against a nearby wall. Watching her
might be boring for him, but having him near was
wildly exciting for her. She really didn't need to spend more time with him. Hanging around with
Nash only seemed to encourage her overactive
imagination. Before their dinner tonight she'd
thought he was sexy and roguishly charming. After
their dinner, she was starting to like him.
She'd enjoyed watching him interact with his
family. He'd been caring and understanding with the dozens of kids running around, attentive and inter
ested in his brothers. She'd been stunned to find out
what he did for a living. So much for her theory that
he was a professor or sold shoes. Instead he inhab
ited a dark and dangerous world, which only made
him more physically appealing.
Stephanie told herself that she had to stop imag
ining Nash as the bare-chested caveman whisking
her off into the wilderness. The poor guy had signed
on to be her guest, not the star of her erotic fantasies.
If he knew what she was thinking, he would be
forced to run screaming into the night.
She collected ingredients for chocolate chip cook
ies and set them on the counter. Nash took a seat at
the kitchen table, then half rose.
“Can I help?"
She shook her head. "I've done this so many
times, I don't have to look at a recipe. But if you
behave, I'll let you have a sample fresh from the
oven."
“Deal."
She grabbed a couple of eggs and put them next
to the canister of flour. "So what did you think of
tonight?" she asked.
“It went well. I'm not sure I can keep everyone straight."
“
I wouldn't want to try," she admitted. "The
name tags were a great idea." She measured brown
sugar. "Where in
Chicago
do you live?"
“
I have a condo by the lake. I can walk to a lot
of great restaurants. There's a good jogging trail
nearby."
“
I've never been, but I can't imagine you do
much jogging in the winter."
“
True. Then I hit the gym."
And he had the body to prove it. Although she doubted Nash worked out to be buff. No doubt it
was required for his job. She tried not to sigh at the
image of him in a ratty T-shirt and shorts, lifting
heavy weights. Instead she channeled her energy
into vigorously whipping her eggs.
“
I grew up with one brother and my mom," he
said quietly. "I've never had any experience with a
large family."
“
The Hayneses will take some getting used to,"
she said. "But they'll be worth the effort."
He nodded. "What about you? Are you one of
seven?"
“
Not exactly." She opened the bottle of vanilla
and picked up her measuring spoons. "I was an only child. My parents were artists. Very focused on their work and each other." She gave him a slight smile.
"They didn't believe in paying attention to the out
side world. Things like electric bills and empty
kitchen cupboards didn't faze them. I grew up pretty
quickly. Someone had to be the responsible one and
it turned out to be me."
His dark gaze settled on her face. "Was that
tough?"
“
Sometimes." When she wanted to be a kid, like
her friends. "But I learned a lot, too. I was really
prepared for the real world when I left for college."
“Did you want a big family?"
“
Sure. While I was growing up, I thought it
would be terrific. I had it all planned, from my hus
band to our five kids to our assortment of dogs, cats
and small rodents."
She'd thought the same when she'd married
Marty. But by the time she'd figured out she'd made
a horrible mistake and discovered she was pregnant
in the same week, her plans had changed. She'd re
signed herself to having one child. The twins had
been an accident. A blessing, but an unplanned one.
If only, she thought. If only Marty had been more
willing to be a grown-up instead of an overgrown
child. If only she'd seen the truth earlier. Except
then she wouldn't have her boys, and she loved
them more than anything.
“Stephanie?"
“
Huh?" She glanced up and saw him watching
her.
“
Are you all right? You got pretty quiet.”
“Sorry. Just thinking."
He rose and crossed to the island. "About your
late husband?"
“
Yes, but not in the way you think." She didn't
want Nash to worry that he'd made her miss Marty.
“Was it being out with me? The whole 'meet the family' circus?"
“
No. That was great. I really enjoyed tonight."
She tried to smile, but he was standing only a couple
of feet of counter space away and his intense, dark stare took her breath away. She cleared her throat.
"I don't get out that much."
“
With three boys and your own business, you
probably don't have time to date much."
“
Date?" She laughed. "Like that ever happens."
''Why doesn't it?"
“Good question."
She dumped the dry ingredients into the batter
and began to stir. As the mixture thickened, she had
to really push to get the wooden spoon through.
“
I'll do that," he said, stepping around the island
and moving next to her.
Before she realized what was happening, he'd taken the spoon from her and was making quick
work of the mixing. She blinked in surprise.
“Why do you do that?" she asked. "Why are you always so happy to help?"
“Why not?"
She didn't have an answer she was willing to
share. Telling him she'd long ago learned not to de
pend on anyone made her sound pathetic.
“
Do these go in next?" he asked, nodding toward
the open bag of chocolate chips.
“
Yes." She dumped the chips into the batter.
"So why don't you date?"
She stared at the swirling mixture, rather than risk looking at him. Dangerous, dangerous question. "I
just...there aren't many men interested and I don't
seem to meet any."
“Interested men?"
“Any men."
“So it's not that
you're
not interested."
“
I—" The questions were going from bad to
worse. Interested? Was she? Not in love. She'd
learned that lesson in spades. But in a good man? Someone who would be fun and funny and caring?
Someone who would hold her and ease the trem
bling ache deep inside?
“
I could be interested," she admitted softly. "Good."
He dropped the wooden spoon into the bowl and turned toward her. Before she realized what was happening, before she could catch her breath or even consider if this was as crazy as it seemed, he’d
pulled her into his arms. Just like that. She was
pressed up against his hard, masculine body and then his face was getting closer and she knew he
was going to kiss her.
Stephanie's last rational thought was that it had
been twelve years since a man other than Marty had
kissed her and that there was a more than even
chance she'd completely forgotten what to do.
Then Nash claimed her mouth in a warm, tender,
erotic kiss that made her heart freeze in midbeat and
her brain completely shut down. There wasn't any thinking, there was only feeling. Feeling and doing.
He pressed his lips against hers with just enough pressure to make her want more. Strong, large hands
settled on her back. She felt his fingers, the heat of
his palms, the brush of his thighs against her own.
His scent surrounded her, enticed her, made her legs
weak and her muscles slack. She had to wrap her
arms around his neck to stay standing.
Then his mouth moved against her. Slowly, discovering, teasing. He brushed his tongue against her lower lip. She had no will and parted instantly. Ex
citement raced through her. The sound of her
breathing filled her head. She wanted with a des
peration that should have terrified her, but instead
only made her reckless. She wanted deep, hot kisses
and wild abandon. She wanted his hands every
where. She wanted to touch and be touched, to be
wet, to be filled. She wanted to lose herself in an
orgasm that would shake the very fabric of the
space-time continuum.