In truth, he'd been kind of concerned that his experience with other women would taint what he had with her. But that hadn't happened. She made everything new again. She made him feel new again.
She rolled a little more onto her back, bringing her arms up alongside her head, and his breath caught. Her position thrust the lush tip of one breast within inches of his mouth. His response was instantaneous, a heavy rush of hot blood to his loins. Maybe if he was extra careful not to scrape her, touched her only with his tongue and his lips, she wouldn't mind a little wake-up loving.
He opened his mouth to tongue her nipple when a muffled shuffling outside the door caught his attention. Some protective instinct caused him to pull the sheet high over Molly's form before the door opened and Tobie's head poked in. Shaken by the close call, Charlie raised a finger to his lips and waved the youngster away.
With a last rueful glance at Molly and a kiss to her forehead, he slipped from the bed and stuffed himself into his jeans. He stepped quietly into the hall, spotted Tobie using the adjacent bathroom and went to join him.
"Things are probably pretty relaxed around here when it's just you and your mom," he said, "but I know Grandma would appreciate it if you shut the door when you do that"
"Mom appreciates it, too," Tobie answered, frowning as he turned on the water and reached for the soap. Charlie was pleased to see the hand-washing habit had taken root "I was in a big hurry, Dad."
Not so big that he couldn't make that inopportune stop, Charlie reflected. He caught a glimpse of his face in the mirror. Woooof. Bristle city. Maybe it was just as well he hadn't been able to make good on his plans with Molly.
He started for the other bathroom to shave and then remembered the condition it had been left in. Molly's teddy and his underwear on the floor. He thought he'd emptied the tub, but he wasn't even sure about that. He didn't feel up to any questions his curious seven-year-old shadow might have.
Glancing around, he noticed the shaving things on the railed wooden shelf above the toilet tank. Victorian stuff. One of those china bowls with a lump of shaving soap you added a little water to and fluffed up with the brush hanging on its side. Molly had probably gotten it to go with the house, but it looked serviceable. He'd never used anything like that. Always wanted to. No time like the present, he thought, sprinkling water on the soap and swishing the brush over it.
From the corner of his eye he saw Tobie watching him, his tongue caught between his teeth. "You'll have to do this every day, before you know it. It won't seem like such fun then." He picked up the ornate razor and twisted it open. Empty.
Tobie hesitated a minute, then darted his gaze to the mirrored cabinet. "Mom hides the blades on the top shelf in there," he offered.
Charlie laughed. "Good hiding place." He opened the cupboard, found the blades and inserted one. "Does Mom know—"
"I'm not gonna touch 'em, Dad."
Slathering the soap over his face, Charlie eyed his son. "I'll let you try this in a minute, okay?"
Tobie brightened, then poked his finger in the bowl of soap and sniffed it. "Did you and Mom have a fight last night and then make up?" he asked a little too casually.
Charlie halted the sweep of the razor in midstroke and looked at the top of his son's bent head. Had Molly said something to him about that incident after the show? He wouldn't classify that as a fight, and he doubted Molly would have brought it up with Tobie anyway. "Why do you ask?"
The boy shrugged his pajama-clad shoulders. ' 'You started out in separate beds."
Charlie let his breath out through pursed lips. Stood to reason that Tobie would have checked their room first before looking for them elsewhere. It really was too early in the morning to handle questions like this. He was beginning to believe a seven-year-old was something you needed to work up to gradually, not just have dumped on you, awkward questions and all. "No, we didn't have a fight," was all he said.
"That's not to say we never will," he continued after a few moments. "Have words, I mean." He rinsed his blade and glanced at Tobie. "We're both kind of...strong-willed. You appear to be a might that way, yourself," he said with a reproving glance. He took another swipe over his jaw. "But you don't have to worry if you hear us disagree. We're not gonna call it quits." He was a little puzzled at the sullen expression that crossed his son's face until the boy spoke.
"You did once."
Charlie put the razor down and rested his fists on the sink cabinet. He was unsure how much Tobie understood about that period in their lives, if anything. What had Molly explained to him other than if his father knew him, he would love him? "That's...complicated," he said, the words sounding lame even to his own ears.
"That's what she said," Tobie answered, rolling his eyes toward the bedroom where Molly still rested.
For the first time since he'd met his son, Charlie felt prickles of irritation with him. He was criticizing Molly, albeit indirectly, and Charlie didn't like it. He found himself girding for her defense, something he'd never thought he'd do over this issue.
He straightened and rinsed the rest of the soap from his face, then grabbed a towel from the rack and wiped his jaw. "Come here," he said to Tobie and lifted him onto the cabinet in front of the mirror. He picked up the soap bowl, added a little more water and gave the brush to the youngster. "Slather."
The boy swished foam all over his face, snorting when he got some up his nose. Charlie took the blade out of the razor, put it back on the high shelf and handed the razor to Tobie. "Here. Let's see how you do."
Tobie slid the instrument over his cheek and it skipped in a few places.
"Okay, there, let me show you," Charlie said, circling Tobie's shoulders with his arms and placing his hands over his son's. "You have to stretch the skin taut, or the blade will skip and you'll get nicked."
They watched each other, father and son, in the mirror, sizing each other up. The one wondering how much he should trust, and the other how much he should reveal.
"This spot, especially, can be tricky," Charlie continued, tilting Tobie's chin up and touching a finger to his Adam's apple. The boy made a few swipes over the area. "It gets bigger as you get older. You're gonna get hung up on it a couple times, I guarantee, before you remember it's there."
Charlie looked into his son's eyes in the mirror. They were identical to his own, yet so different. Tobie talked with his eyes, the way Molly did, while he tried to keep his feelings hidden. Did a pretty good job of it, too, if the past was any indication. She hadn't known what she meant to him.
He handed Tobie the towel and then settled his hands on his shoulders. "I'm going to tell you something about your momma," he said. He held the boy's gaze in the reflection. "There was never a time, not a minute, from the moment she knew you were on the way, that you didn't come first with her. She never made a decision without thinking what was best for you. I won't listen to you say a word against her."
Tobie's gaze faltered and he frowned down at the towel in his hands. "You didn't want me?"
Charlie exhaled a tight breath. "I didn't know about you." He put the towel aside and closed his hands over Tobie's. "There was never a time when I wouldn't have wanted you, but there might have been a time when she didn't know that."
Tobie sagged back against his father's chest and turned his head from the mirror as if impatient with reflections and images. He looked directly into Charlie's eyes, his own tolerating no evasion. "Do you love her?"
Well, that came in on his blind side. Took him back a bit.
His first impulse was to conceal his feelings, to make light of it. But one look at his son's face stopped him. The time for such shenanigans was long past. Tobie was asking an important question and he deserved an honest answer.
Charlie was reminded of something his father had said years ago, during one of those lectures that had proved more influential than he would ever have guessed. The best thing a man could do for his children was love their mother and let them know it. Both his heart and h
is mind were in agreement on this one.
"Yes, I do," he said simply.
Tobie gave a firm nod of what appeared to be satisfaction, picked up the razor and rinsed the rest of the soap off of it. Hearing a floorboard creak, Charlie glanced back over his shoulder and saw Molly, clad in his black T-shirt and a bed-sheet, skittering down the hall to their room. He set his shoulders across the doorway, blocking Tobie's view. But the sight brought to mind a further concern.
"One other thing we have to talk about, Tobie." He helped the boy scramble off the sink top and watched him replace the shaving things on the shelf. "If you need me or your momma during the night...you don't feel well, or you're worried about something...you can come wake us." He paused and licked his lips. "But you have to knock, okay? Before you open the door, you have to knock—hard. Understand?"
Tobie appeared to digest those words for some moments, then settled his hands on his hips and gave his father a level, indulgent look. "I'd like a brother," he said.
Charlie laughed, flabbergasted. "Well, we'll see what we can do."
He'd barely recovered his cool when he saw Molly leave the bedroom and approach them, setting him back on his rear again. She was wrapped in a deep green robe—velour, he thought—that looked as soft as she felt. She'd done the best she could with her hair, he supposed, but he hoped she'd give it some more attention before they had to face his folks. Despite that, she looked a lot more rested than she had any right to be after the night they'd shared.
"How are my men this morning?" she asked, smiling widely. Tobie grinned back and stuck out his chin. "O-o-o, smooth," she murmured, caressing his soft cheek.
Watching, Charlie found himself tempted to stick out his jaw like some pathetic mutt, tongue lolling, begging for her touch. With an effort he tore his gaze from her and addressed Tobie. "What would you like for breakfast?"
"Grampa promised to make buckwheat cakes," Tobie answered. "I've never had those, Dad," he continued, looking a little doubtful. "Is he any good at it?"
With those words, Charlie saw the morning take a decided turn for the better. He was going to be able to cadge some more time with Molly after all. He wouldn't be surprised if the old matchmaker had planned this all along. "Your grampa makes the best buckwheat cakes this side of the Rockies. He'll let you help, too, and not just set the table. Why don't you go find him?" He winked at Molly. "Tell him we'll be down in a bit."
Tobie took off down the hall toward the staircase. "Don't wake your grandfather if he's not up," Molly called after him.
"He'll be up," Charlie assured her. "Runs in the family."
She turned back to him and they faced each other, the air between them charged with memory and anticipation. Molly moved first, raising her hand to his cheek and stroking gently.
"Smooth," she whispered, and Charlie suspected that she didn't mean his jaw. He pulled her further into the bathroom and shut the door behind her, locking it. Her eyes darted around the space and then settled on him. "Have you showered yet?" she asked, confronting him with the mixture of boldness and innocence he hoped she'd never lose.
His own gaze quickly took in the room. This bath was as small as the other was large. Probably had been a linen closet before it was converted. The shower stall, especially, captured his attention. It would hold one person comfortably if he didn't try to turn around. He caught Molly eyeing it and glanced again at the tiny square footage, just rife with possibilities. "No," he said in answer to her question.
Mustering her courage, she took a deep breath and put her hands to his belt buckle, undoing it. Moments later she inhaled even more sharply. "Oh, Charlie! No underwear at all," she said with a tsk.
"I was in a big hurry, Moll," he muttered, stealing Tobie's excuse. He dropped his hands to the zipper to assist her where the going got tricky. "Careful, there," he began, but then Molly opened her robe and words failed him.
He was feeling as loose as a well-oiled hinge. If he were an engine, he would purr. If he were a kettle, he would whistle. If he were a clock, he would chime.
And if he didn't pay more attention to this checkers game, he was going to get his clock cleaned. By a seven-year-old.
It was difficult, though, keeping his mind on the game, what with Molly flitting around the kitchen, fixing him a second grilled cheese, then waltzing back to the table, spatula in hand, to offer her two cents worth.
His folks had left for Wheeling earlier that morning. They'd planned to stay a week, but his mother said she feared she was coming down with a summer cold and didn't want to risk exposing Tobie, so they'd left after only three days. Charlie secretly suspected that his parents had wanted to give this newly formed family some private time to bond. Much as he enjoyed their company, he wouldn't give them any argument on that score.
Molly sashayed back to the table and slid the grilled cheese from the spatula to his plate, then remained standing behind his chair, massaging his neck. He bent his head and rolled his shoulders, giving her better access. She'd been doing this more and more over the past several days. Finding excuses to touch him. To brush her breast against his arm in passing. To stroke his shoulder. To meet his eyes for just a moment and then touch him everywhere with hers.
This was apart from the bedroom touches. Those were enough to steal his breath just thinking about them. They'd even gotten a little bit fancy the past couple of days. More than a little bit. He didn't think he'd be suffering unduly anymore, those times when she was indisposed.
Truth to tell, he was a happy man. He had a wife he loved like crazy who not only welcomed, but sought, his embrace. He had a son who could give lessons in courage and fortitude. Yep, he was as content as he could ever remember being. Except for this checkers game.
God, he hated to lose, and he was really taking a beating here. It didn't seem natural for a kid Tobie's age to be planning four moves ahead, but that's what he was doing.
Even as he held the thought, Charlie was swamped by an overwhelming sense of deja vu. He'd been beaten this way before. He had a sudden acute recollection of bumping bony knees with another seven-year-old under another kitchen table. Molly'd never been any great shakes at poker, but checkers was another story entirely.
He lifted his gaze from the board in time to see Tobie sneaking a peek at something above and behind him. He glanced over his shoulder and, sure enough, there was Molly, talking with her eyes.
"Aw, hey!" he groused good-naturedly. "No kibitzing. He doesn't need any help." He caught her hand as she started to move away. "I'll play with you later."
She did the eye-roll thing, indicating Tobie, but the comment seemed to slide right past the boy. With a final gentle squeeze to Charlie's neck, Molly picked up the used dishes and strolled off toward the sink. "Watch him, Tobie," she said, laughing the laugh that turned Charlie inside out. "This is where he accidentally upsets the board."
Charlie gave a beleaguered snort and made a move.
"Uh-uh, Dad. You have to jump me."
Now, this was a rule he'd never understood. He could see as well as the next guy what was going to happen when he made that jump. It was a lot like asking the condemned man to sharpen the guillotine blade. He made the jump.
Thwack, thwack, thwack. "Crown me."
"Don't tempt me," Charlie said, laughing with his gleeful son. "I don't suppose you know how to get a man out of a double corner," he offered hopefully, surveying the wreckage.
Tobie's answer was an ear-to-ear grin, but Charlie scurried for the corner anyway.
"It's not quite the same," Molly gasped, coming up from drowning waves of sensation.
"No?" Charlie murmured. He bestowed a last lingering lick to her nipple before raising his head.
"Well, it's very nice," she breathed, arching to him involuntarily, even in the aftermath of her fulfillment.
Charlie winced. "Honey, I thought we'd come to an understanding about the use of that word with regard to my lovemaking."
She huffed, her breathing still erratic. "I
mean it's very, very, very nice." She put a hand to his cheek, touched by the tenderness in his expression the lamplight revealed. Charlie liked to make love with the light on and she found that now, she did, too. "But it's not the same."
"You appeared to be having a good time."
She covered her mouth with the back of her hand to muffle her laughter. "How could you see?"
His black eyes flashed devilment "I was reading your body language."
She laughed again, softer this time, feeling the heavy languor that always followed his loving settle into her limbs. A pleasant drowsiness was overtaking her, but she couldn't give in to it just yet. She was getting better at reading body language herself, and Charlie's was communicating his needs loud and clear.
"How was it different?" he whispered between the kisses and nips he dropped on her shoulder.
She shrugged the shoulder he was nuzzling and turned her face into his cheek. The stubble of his beard rasped her lips as she spoke, causing them to tingle. "I can't explain exactly. Just...different. Less..." She trailed her tongue around the curve of his ear and was rewarded with a muffled groan. "Intense. More...all over. Let me show you." She pushed against his chest, seeking his nipple.
He grabbed her hand and laughed into the pillow. "It won't work, Moll. I'm about as primed as I can be, but, trust me, it won't work."
"No?" Her fingers strayed into his hair, still short, but growing in thick and luxuriant. She loved touching him there. At that thought, she smiled to herself. She loved touching him everywhere. She loved him.
"No. You women have got us guys beat in the 'all over' department. With us, it's a lot more..." He lifted his head, gazing at her with mischief-filled eyes. "Focused."
He was giving her the same look he had when they were children and he'd tempted her into some silly monkeyshines. Only now his temptations were adult in nature. Love play. And she was as powerless to deny him as she had been then.
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