Yours, Mine & Ours (5 page)

“Okay.”

“He's still ripped about the divorce. Sometimes I think it's because he never saw his mother and I
argue. We never did, not in front of him. I thought that was how you were supposed to behave, but now—crazy as it sounds—I think it's part of the problem. He's got it in his head that Nancy left because of not wanting him, that he was somehow at fault. What Nancy pulled was a downright turkey move. But I can't change that or fix it. All I can do is try to settle my kid into the happiest, most stable life I can. To put it in blunt terms—”

“Do,” she encouraged him.

“I've given up sex forever. Now it has occurred to me, in the past couple of days, that ‘forever' might not be a precisely achievable goal. But through this summer, I really need to do the celibate thing. No entanglements. No distractions. My world has to be my kid.”

“Whew!”
She let out a long breath, tossed him a smile—not that glassy, classy smile but one so real it jammed the air in his lungs. It was that sexy. That natural. “You have no idea how glad I am to hear you say that. Mike—I'm in exactly the same boat.”

“Yeah?”

“We're on the same page. I just made the no-sex vow the same way.” She laughed, inviting him to. “The best thing about the divorce was figuring out how many wrong roads I'd been taking. I had every advantage a girl could have, was pampered and spoiled from the get-go, fell for the whole fairy tale
that I was something special. I could have had a sign on my forehead that said Me-Me-Me.”

“That sounds pretty harsh.”

“It's the total truth. I thought my ex was the Prince Charming in the story. Never once looked further than the surface—until it all crashed. So…I'll likely look for a job in the fall. I don't know what kind. I'll work that out after Molly starts preschool. But I'm determined that this summer be about her. I want her to be about everything that I'm not. More self-reliant. More capable. I want her to take more pleasure in accomplishments than in material things. Which means…”

“Somehow I sense the punch line is coming.”

“Yes. No men for me. Indefinitely probably—but definitely not this summer. I need to figure out the stuff I was doing wrong. Change. Change into being more of the person I want to be. Oh, God, it's so boring hearing someone talk about this kind of thing, isn't it? I'm sorry. I just wanted to be clear—”

“Amanda.”

“Yes.” He'd leaned forward, with such a serious expression, that she leaned forward, too.

“It's pretty obvious we've been worried about the same thing, don't you think? Both of us have these…life plans. About not getting involved with anyone right now. About needing to concentrate on nothing but parenting for a stretch. So we both agree…it'd be
a real pain in the keester if you and I…” He motioned with his hands.

She nodded vigorously. “It would just be completely awkward.”

He filled in more. “It'd be complicating. Unsettling. Exactly what neither of us want right now.”

“I couldn't possibly agree more!”

He nodded. “So let's get this over with, okay? We'd better find out how dangerous the problem is before figuring out how to handle it.”

G
ranted, Amanda had had almost two glasses of wine—and before dinner, besides. So she realized she was a little addled, but she was still astonished when Mike—out of the complete blue—pulled her onto his lap.

The last she knew, they'd been talking, not flirting.

The last she knew—positively—they'd been talking about celibacy. His intention to be celibate. Her intention to be celibate. Their completely agreeing with each other.

So the fire started from nothing, came from nowhere. The smolder and snap of sparks suddenly caught, and just as suddenly spread. The heat startled
her nerves, her skin, turned her senses incredibly tender. Smoke clogged her brain and fogged her vision. Sirens echoed in her ears—not sirens communicating danger, but a siren song calling mesmerizing, wicked things to her.

It was just a kiss, for Pete's sake.

She'd been kissing boys since she was fourteen. She'd been married. There wasn't a reason in the universe that this one should be so different.

But it was.

He was.

He'd kind of tumbled her onto his lap. His mouth had found hers before she'd found her balance. It was just all suddenly…there. The solid warmth of his body. The strength in his thighs and chest, the manly smell of him, the swoop of his arms creating a natural cradle.

And then there was the whole problem with his mouth. His lips were softer than butter. He offered a skim of a taste, then settled in, in a tangle of his taste and hers, the combination unexpectedly explosive.

She figured she should raise her hand and express a little outrage…but she couldn't seem to conjure any up. Objections appeared in the back of her mind, but never showed up at the front door.

This wasn't
nice
.

He didn't kiss
nice
.

He kissed as if he wanted to swallow her whole.

As if no touch, no kiss, no woman had ever ransomed his attention as she did.

Thrills shot through her blood as if she were on a roller-coaster ride.

She shifted, accidentally jamming her elbow into his ribs—but she had to look at him, had to catch her breath. His eyes were as glazed as hers. His breath coming as heavy. His frown just as dark.

But that made no sense. She went back for another kiss, to figure out what was really going on. A kiss—a few kisses—couldn't rock a girl's world. It had to be something else. Maybe some unusual kind of allergy attack. Or maybe pheromones were raining down from the sky. There had to be
something
that could be logically explained if she just studied it long enough.

So she studied a long, deep, eyes-closed kiss on him. The experiment failed. It seemed… Well, it seemed that she couldn't argue with a tsunami. She wrapped her arms around him, held on and just hoped she didn't drown—or if she was stuck drowning, that he was going down with her.

She felt his fingers tangling in her hair, holding her still, felt the sudden hard tumescence against her thigh, heard the shuddering breath coming out of him as he lifted his head…then dove back for more of that tsunami business.

A few hours later, she lifted her head.

Conceivably only a few minutes had passed, but
definitely long enough for her to feel both exhausted and energized. Exhausted, as if she craved a nap. Energized, as if the only thing she could think of was jumping him.

He had dark brown eyes. Liquid brown. The badboy disreputable attitude was gone. Now, she suspected that attitude thing was just a defense. This man, the Mike so close she could see every line and bone on his face, was as serious about life as she was.

Maybe even as vulnerable.

“I think,” he said slowly, “that we just both found out how big the problem is.” He helped her off his lap. They were both standing against each other for a millisecond, but Mike swiftly retreated to the side of the deck rail.

“A major uh-oh,” she echoed, trying to make her voice sound light and easy. She didn't want him realizing how wild she'd felt in his arms. How crazy. How totally unlike herself.

“I wasn't trying to start trouble, I swear.”

“I wasn't, either.”

“But I did think…there was chemistry. That we'd both likely feel easier with each other once we figured out what was what. We'd already tried being honest with each other—about where we were in our lives.”

“I'm always happier with honesty. No pretending. Not for me. No faking, no denying, none of
that nonsense.” She meant it. She'd lived the Prince Charming/princess fantasy her entire life. She was through with it.

He caught his breath. Or most of it. “Amanda. I'd appreciate a friend. I mean it. It'd be good for Ted to be around another woman besides his mother. I'd appreciate hearing how you think he's doing, from another single parent's perspective.”

“And I'd appreciate a friend just as much. You've already proven to be a friend, Mike. And it sounds as if we're both going through a lot of the same problems. Grandparent issues. Ex issues. The same culture shock of moving to the suburbs. There are things we could laugh about. Talk through.”

“As long as we don't let sex get in the way.” Again, those fierce brown eyes met hers.

Again, she saw a different man than the rascal she'd first met. The sharp lines on his brow hadn't come from a devil-may-care type of guy. “Then we won't,” she said firmly.

“We're agreed?”

“Completely, totally agreed,” she said. “You know the lasagna I promised you?”

“Yup.”

She motioned to the rough wood table on his deck. “Let's try it tomorrow. All of us. Give me a chance to spend a little time with your Teddy. For you to see my daughter. Let's see if they can be friends together, as well.”

“Good idea,” he said.

She thought so, too. Until she woke that night in the darkness, her whole body turned on by a wildly romantic dream. He was her prince. She was his princess. They were in a wild, erotic, exotic lovemaking fest, chasing each other through the sky, mating in sunlight, then moonlight, then snuggling together on a tuft of clouds.

Oh, no, she thought, too exasperated to sleep now. She got up, got a glass of water, checked on Molly, prowled the perimeter of the house. That kind of dream was not for her. Ever again.

 

“Okay. Now here's the deal.” It was all Mike could do to subdue his excited son. Teddy had already run outside naked this morning, completely forgetting his clothes. He'd been conned into dressing—at least putting on a pj top and shorts—before galloping back out again.

They were digging the water garden—alias frog pond—today. The parts that appealed to Teddy, in order, were mud, shovels, water and frogs.

Mike had set up the design as simple as he could. “So…this is how we're going to do it. We're both going to dig inside this triangle area.
Nowhere
else. The dirt we're going to put in those wheelbarrows.” He pointed to the two wheelbarrows. “
Nowhere
else.”

“Got it, Dad. Can I dig now?”

“In a minute. When the hole's deep enough, I'm going to put in a liner. You can help me. And then we're going to set out rocks as a border, kind of make a triangle-shaped place to sit, where we can watch the frogs.”

“Ok. Can I dig now?”

“There'll be a motor. To keep the water aerated and clean.”

“Yeah. Can I—?”

“Yes.”
Mike gave up and let him loose.

He heard voices from next door, figured out immediately that Amanda and her daughter had yard work on their Saturday-morning agenda, too.

Their setup was slightly different from his.

For one thing, Molly wore a pink tutu, and had a pink crown on her head, and she did a lot of twirling. On his side of the driveway, Teddy was covered in mud and water inside of three minutes, and had managed to throw dirt everywhere but in the wheelbarrow.

The same sing-song refrain echoed from both yards, all variations of “Look at me, Dad!” or “Look at me, Mommy!”

Her yard had a pitcher with ice cubes and lemonade and cups and napkins.

He used a hose, both to get himself and Teddy clean enough to drink, and then to drink from.

A good hour passed, maybe two. The sun poured down, a hot liquid light. The pond got dug. All it
cost were four Band-Aids, heaps of sunscreen, two or three pulled muscles in Mike's back, several buckets of sweat and a few torn clothes. The water garden was going to be darned nice when it was done, but Mike already knew it'd take eons more hours—after Teddy was in bed.

He stood up, gauging how much more he could get done before lunch, when he suddenly heard…silence. He glanced up, and saw the two redheads standing at the border of their yard. The one in the tutu had her hands on her hips and was staring at him with both disgust and fascination. Molly's mom looked as delectably dangerous as she had last night—only, last night she'd come undone in his arms. Today, she was wearing white shorts to garden, which he couldn't believe. And the pretty little bed of day lilies she'd planted looked ready for a garden show.

“We like your water garden,” she called over.

“Your mommy is never going to let you in the house,” Molly informed Mike, which seemed a fair indication he was wearing half the dirt in the yard.

“Molly—” Amanda started to address her daughter, but suddenly the miniature redhead shrieked.

“Mommy! Teddy's going pee pee outside! I can see it!”

Aw, well. Teddy undoubtedly hadn't wanted to waste time going all the way in the house to the bathroom when they were having so much fun. It likely never occurred to him that squirting on the back fence
might not be the best idea. Mike rubbed a hand over his face, trying to figure out what to say or do, accidentally got a piece of dirt in his eye.

Then the barking started. Slugger had been outside with them, but pretty much he'd just been basking in the sunlight and snoozing—that was, until the Sissy Dog somehow escaped a tether on their back porch and came prancing over, a diamond-studded leash trailing behind her.

Slugger could move fast. It just wasn't usually his choice.

The girls took off after “Darling.” Mike took off after Slugger. How her dog knew about dog doors, he had no idea, but the little squirt shot into his house, followed immediately by his lovesick hound. Molly tried to crawl through the dog door. Then Teddy showed up and the kids tangled in the doorway.

Normally Mike would have let Amanda through before him, but just then he figured that chivalry was less important than preventing the dogs from having an inappropriate hookup. He might have wished he'd had a fresh shower. That his house looked a little less like a tornado site. That the path wasn't littered with shoes and toys. Cat screeched from the top of the mantel at the hullabaloo.

The kids were circling, calling for the dogs—at least, until her Molly got sidetracked by a toy. Naturally Teddy stopped to explain the toy to her, and that
left only the two adults searching high and low for the dogs—who'd suddenly turned quiet.

“Not a good sign,” Mike admitted to her.

The canines weren't in the laundry room—which had wash heaped to the ceiling. Clean wash, not dirty wash. All the same, Mike so far hadn't thought of a reason why it had to be folded or put away when they could both just take stuff off the pile when they needed clean clothes. Amanda shot him a look.

“What? What?”

“Someday your son's going to get married. Which means you'll have a daughter-in-law. And she'll blame you if your son expects her to pick up after him.”

“Huh?”

He pushed into his bedroom first—worried what she'd see—but it was fairly picked up. Just an unmade king-size bed, the sunlight hitting on the steel-gray sheets and striped blanket. “No dogs,” he said when he spotted a jockstrap on the master-bathroom floor, and closed the door as he ushered her out.

There was no sign of the dogs in Teddy's room, either, but she got a good look. “You decorated to beat the band in here,” she noted.

“I wouldn't call it decorating.”

“I'm just saying—you went to a lot of trouble. And it shows. What a great room for a boy.”

Maybe so, but that wasn't solving their dog-disappearance problem. Mike shut the bedroom door to close off another potential egress—or
exit—depending on which the dogs tried for next. “There's nothing upstairs but a big loft—it's the playroom,” he told her, and then stopped talking, because he heard sounds. Odd sounds. Very odd, yowly, canine sounds.

“Stay here,” he told the kids, which had all the effect of a whisper on a flood. He took the steps two at a time, but the kids still beat him to the top.

Molly, who could outrun a quarterback, even in her tutu, let out a scream that could have shattered glass. “Mommy! Slugger's hurting Darling! He's being mean! Make him stop it!”

“He
isn't
being mean,” Teddy told her, and tugged hard on Mike's arm. “Dad, I don't get it. What's Slugger doing?”

The loft was divided into father and son spaces. On Mike's side, there was a computer and desk, battered couch, pool table, wall-mounted TV. On Teddy's side, there was a town of trucks, a train set, a washing-machine box with doors and windows cut out, shelves with games and books.

Slugger and Darling were pretty much on the line between spaces, getting it on with abandon. Well, maybe not abandon. Darling looked fairly bored. Slugger looked more animated than Mike had ever seen him.

Amanda looked at them—then him—with horror.

“You didn't tell me she was in heat,” Mike said.

“I didn't think she was. There was no sign. And I thought she was too young!”

“Um. It'd appear she's definitely old enough.” Mike struggled to find a positive. “At least she wasn't a thoroughbred.”