At last he had to release her breasts and grasp her
hips. He held onto her as he pumped in and out. She
half raised off the bed. Her head dropped back as
one massive contraction clenched around him...and
he was lost.
His release exploded in a vortex of heat that
forced the air out of his body. He pushed in deeper,
wanting her to take all of him. Her dampness con
tinued to convulse around him, drawing out the bliss
until there was nothing left for either of them but to
fall together in a tangle of arms and legs.
Stephanie woke with a sense of contentment. She rolled onto her back and smiled. Last night had been
amazing. More amazing than usual, which was say
ing something. But her feeling of happiness didn't
just come from a night of great lovemaking. It also
came from the recent changes in her life.
She liked Nash. Okay, she liked him a lot. She
liked being around him and talking to him. She liked
his parents and his brothers and their families. She liked the impact he'd made on her world. She liked
how he was with her sons. Man, oh man, did she
have it bad. Because liking him wasn't the problem.
She wanted more.
Stephanie sat up and tossed off the covers.
"Don't be ridiculous," she said aloud. "There is no
`more' in this situation. You knew that when you
started the affair."
But knowing and believing were two different
things, at least in her world. She could list all the
reasons it would never work—distance, her reluc
tance to trust a man to act like a partner and not a
child, his emotional withdrawal from life since the
death of his wife. Those were really big problems
to get through. While they could be solved if both
of them worked at it, so far she hadn't seen any
indication that Nash wanted to change the status of
things. Nor was she going to.
In a few days, when his vacation was over, he
would leave, and she would let him. No matter what,
she wouldn't make a scene. It wasn't right to change
the rules at this late date.
Not that she wanted to, she reminded herself.
When Nash left, she would go on with her life and
she would do just fine. Sure she would miss him,
but she would get over it... wouldn't she?
Stephanie didn't want to think about any of that.
She stretched and swung around to put her feet on
the floor. As she did so she glanced at the clock.
And actually screamed.
It was eight-thirty. In the morning. Her alarm had been set for six-thirty. What had happened?
Even as she fumbled for the switch and realized
she'd forgotten to turn it on, adrenaline rushed
through her body, galvanizing her into action. She
raced into the bathroom where she quickly washed
her face and brushed her teeth. A shower was going
to have to wait. She had guests to feed.
In less than six minutes she was relatively
groomed, dressed and racing down the stairs. The
boys were already up—their doors were standing open—and she could hear voices from downstairs.
Wincing at what Nash's parents must think of her,
she jogged toward the kitchen and burst inside.
“Hey, Mom," Brett said from the table.
“Mommy!" the twins said together.
They were also at the table. They were eating
breakfast. Pancakes and bacon from the looks of it. She stared around the room and saw Nash standing
at the stove. The man was cooking!
“Morning," he said with a smile.
While it wasn't as unbelievable as having aliens
land on her roof, it was darned close. Helping out
was one thing, but cooking? Marty had always acted
as if she were threatening to cut off his right arm if
she ever suggested he prepare a meal himself.
She felt numb with shock. "I, ah, overslept," she
said. "I forgot to set my alarm."
Nash's expression didn't change, but his eyes
brightened with amusement. "You probably had
other things on your mind."
That was true. She'd been so concerned about set
ting her travel clock so that she could get back to
her own bed that she'd forgotten about her regular
alarm.
“My folks are in the dining room," he continued.
"They have coffee, fruit and the newspaper. How
ard wanted oatmeal which I've already fixed. Mom is raving about your scones and complaining about
the weight she's going to put on. I have another
batch in the oven."
He nodded at the stove. "I was fixing some eggs
for myself. Do you want any?" She'd slipped into an alternative universe. "Um, thanks."
“
Okay. Oh, when I took the uncooked scones out of the freezer, I didn't know which to use, so I took
a bag off the top shelf. I hope that's okay."
“
It's fine."
“Brett told me what oven temperature to use." She glanced at her oldest. "Thanks, honey."
He shrugged. "Nash said you were tired and we
should let you sleep."
She could feel her cheeks getting hot. Nash was
the reason she needed her rest.
“Coffee?" the man in question asked.
She nodded. He poured her a cup, then added
milk and sugar, just the way she liked it.
Her throat was tight and her eyes burned. She had
a bad feeling she was way too close to tears for
comfort. Which made no sense. So he'd been nice—
was that a reason to cry? Sense or not, Nash's actions touched her in a way
nothing had for years. Maybe ever. He'd taken care
of her. Just like that, with no expectation of getting
something back. She hadn't known that men like
him existed. He made her feel she could count on
him.
“You okay?" he asked.
She nodded again, knowing it was impossible to
speak.
Just then she heard the sound of several cars pull
ing up.
“
What's that?" Jason asked and got down from
his seat. He ran toward the front of the house. "They're all here," he called.
“
Who?" Adam asked as he, too, left the kitchen.
Brett was on his heels.
“
Right on time," Nash said, glancing at the
clock.
“
On time for what?" she asked, her voice only a
little scratchy.
Nash grinned. "You'll see."
Howard came through the swinging door. "Seems
that the gang has all arrived. Ready to assign
chores?"
“Sure."
Nash slid the scrambled eggs onto a plate, along
with a couple of pieces of bacon. "Eat up," he said.
“
You're going to need your strength. I'll be right
back." He walked out of the kitchen, heading toward the
front door. Howard followed. Stephanie glanced
from the plate to the door, and decided to see what
was going on.
What she found stunned her nearly as much as
seeing Nash cooking. Most of the Haynes clan had
descended. All the brothers were there, along with
Austin and several of the wives. There weren't as
many children as usual. Instead of carrying food or drinks, this time everyone had gallons of paint, tool
boxes, ladders and other building supplies. They
gathered by the gatehouse, as if waiting for instruc
tions. Nash stood in the center of the group.
As she approached, she saw that he held a list in
his hand and was assigning tasks.
“
Upstairs in the master, there's some ugly wall
paper in the bathroom. Did anyone bring the
steamer?"
“Sure." Kyle patted the machine he'd set on the
driveway. "I'll have that off by noon. Then we can
put up the new paper."
“
We'll do that,"
Elizabeth
said as she put her
arm around Hannah. "It's a floral pattern and we're
going to care more about getting it right."
Travis groaned. "Any of us could do just as good
a job."
“Sure you
could,
but do you want to?" He kissed her. "Not on a bet."
Several people laughed. Stephanie felt as if her
feet were nailed to the grass. She couldn't move,
couldn't speak, couldn't protest what was happen
ing. She watched as everyone trooped into her gate
house and began to work. Nash finally noticed her
and walked over.
“
You okay?" he asked.
“
No. What are you doing?"
He stood facing her. "You'd ordered the paint
and wallpaper already," he said. “I didn't pick it
out."
“I know, but why are they here?"
“
They're helping out because I asked. I know
you've been working on the gatehouse for a long
time. You want to move in there so you can get the
rest of the house renovated. I want to help. I'm leav
ing in a few days and I would like the gatehouse
done before I go. I guess I want to know that you're
going to be okay."
He spoke the last bit defiantly, as if he expected
her to be furious. She supposed she should be—he'd been high-handed in arranging all this. But the truth
was, she was even closer to crying than before.
No one had ever wanted to take care of her be
fore. No one had ever worried about her. They all
assumed she was so damn competent that she didn't
have doubts, didn't get tired, didn't sweat that it was going to come out right.
She ached down to her bones. Not just because
he was being so sweet and nice and making her want
to beg him to never leave, but because what he was
doing was proof that he
was
leaving. If he'd con
sidered changing his mind and staying, he wouldn't
want to have the gatehouse finished.
“You mad?" he asked.
She shook her head because she couldn't speak.
"Is it okay that I'm doing this?" She managed a slightly strangled, "Yes."
“Will you be okay if I go help out?"
“Sure."
He touched her cheek, then walked toward the gatehouse.
Stephanie stood alone on her lawn and listened to
the sound of people working and talking and laugh
ing. She knew that she had to help out the others.
It wasn't fair to leave everything to them. But first
she had to get herself under control.
In that moment, when she'd realized what he was
doing, something inside her had given way. It was
as if some protective wall had crumbled to dust,
leaving her exposed and vulnerable.
How could she help loving him? He wasn't even
everything she'd ever wanted—he was more. A partner, a friend, a warm, caring lover who was as solid
as a rock. He was her hero. A one-in-a-million kind
of man.
A man who was leaving. And she didn't have a
single right to ask him to stay.
By midafternoon, most of the rooms had been
painted. Stephanie walked through the downstairs
carrying cans of soda and bottles of water. The twins were circulating with granola bars and cookies.
The transformation of the dark old house into
something bright and charming amazed her, as did
everyone's friendliness. These people might be a
part of Nash's family, but they made her feel wel
come.