by Beth Andrews
She should take a lesson from his book.
Because now she was hot, sweaty and a cluster of nerves. Flustered beyond anything she could recall in recent memory.
Stepping back again, this time trying to make the move as casual as possible, she linked her hands together at her waist. “Uh...yes. Those were...that was...”
Bizarre. Disconcerting. And very, very confusing.
Not that Eddie seemed bothered in the least. Oh, no, he was just fine, thank you very much, watching her in that careful, assessing way of his. As if he hadn’t shared words that had the power to turn her safe, settled world upside down.
Well, she wouldn’t let them. Wouldn’t let Eddie change anything about her, about her life. Including how she dealt with him.
“Kids,” she called, sounding desperate to her own ears. Okay, so maybe she would let him change how she dealt with him. A woman had to be smart, had to protect herself, didn’t she? And if there was one thing Harper was, it was smart. She forced a smile when Cass and Max looked up. “Why don’t you come inside? We’ll have milk and cookies.”
“Cookies!” Cass cried, doing a decent imitation of Sesame Street’s Cookie Monster as she clambered to her feet. She tugged on the slower-moving Max’s arm. “Come on, Max! Come on.”
“I’ll just clean up here,” Eddie said.
Was that humor she heard in his voice? Figured, the first time she’d seen him amused it was at her expense.
“Sure. Fine.” She put her hands on her hips as Cass and Max raced between them and into the house. Dropped them back to her sides. Felt like wringing her hands but that seemed a bit overly dramatic. “Come on in when you’re done. We’ll be in the kitchen. And...uh...thanks again. For fixing the door.”
No matter what anybody said, Harper did not bolt as if her rear was on fire. She walked, rather sedately if you asked her, her head held high, her arms loose and swinging naturally. If she so happened to slam the door shut with more force than necessary, it was only because she wasn’t used to it swinging into place so easily.
“Cassidy,” Harper said on a groan when she stepped into the kitchen and caught her baby sitting on her knees on the counter. “What have I told you about climbing onto the counter?”
Happy as you please, Cass bit into a chocolate chip cookie, leaving a smear of chocolate on her chin. “I not ’posed to.”
“Exactly. You’re not supposed to. So why are you?”
Cass widened her big blue eyes and held out a cookie. “Want a cookie, Mommy?”
Harper sent a pleading look to the heavens. Both Cass and Max looked up as well as if to see what the heck she was looking at.
“No, I do not want a cookie. But thank you for asking and trying to distract me from you breaking the rules.”
“You welcome.”
Some days Harper wondered why she bothered. She set Cass on the floor.
“Let’s go into the bathroom and wash your hands.”
Cass wrapped her arms around Max’s waist, squeezed him so hard, Harper was surprised his eyes didn’t pop out of his head. “I want Max to wash them.”
“Max has to wash his own hands.”
“I can help her,” he said. “If you want.”
“That’s very nice of you, Max, but you don’t have to.”
“It’s okay. I want to.”
Harper shouldn’t let him. God knew Cassidy didn’t need to get her way all the time—and she didn’t. But Harper wouldn’t mind a few minutes alone to gather her thoughts. Get herself back on steady ground.
“That would be great. Thank you. Let me get the water going so it’s not too hot for her.”
After leaving them in the bathroom, both of them sudsing up their hands, she poured milk into plastic cups, put a sippy lid on Cass’s. She plated some chocolate chip cookies and laid them on the table, then took a deep breath. Shut her eyes and cleared her mind. Exhaled. There. Much better.
I used to dream about your mouth.
Her eyes flew open and she glanced around, but Eddie hadn’t appeared in the kitchen. His words, that particular statement, however, kept playing over and over in her head.
I used to dream about your mouth.
Oh, jeez. Oh, God. That was...that meant...
Her mouth dried. Her palms grew damp. She lifted the gallon of milk, drank deep straight from the container. She lowered it and wiped the back of her trembling hand over her mouth. No. No. It couldn’t mean what she was thinking.
He probably meant it in an innocent way. Kissing or...or...
She rolled her eyes. Or what? He’d been a teenage boy. Who knew what sort of things they thought about, what with their rampant hormones and wet dreams and all.
Had he fantasized about them? Him and...and...her?
She sagged against the table. The mere idea of something so intimate, so raw and basic between them, between her and another man, a man who wasn’t her husband, should send her running, screaming in terror. In offense. And mortification.
It did. Of course it did. She was a nice girl and a nice girl did not think about even the possibility of oral sex with the father of one of her students. Not while their children were splashing in the sink in the next room, their giggles high-pitched and infectious.
Unless that nice girl also happened to be a grown woman. A woman who’d been married for years and had a child. A woman who enjoyed sex very much.
Very, very much.
A sudden image slammed into her, a familiar fantasy, one she’d had often of Beau, one they’d lived out many times. She, on her knees in front of him, his hands tangled in her loose hair, his head thrown back as she took him into her mouth.
It was so clear, so intense and erotic, she bit her lower lip to stop a whimper. Lust pooled in her stomach, swept through her veins even as tears stung her eyes.
Because this time, it wasn’t Beau she was pleasuring.
It was Eddie.
She slid onto a chair, grabbed a cookie and viciously bit into it.
Joan would say she was transferring what she really wanted into a desire for chocolate.
So be it. Chocolate may add a few more pounds to her hips—and was already to be blamed for the extra ten she carried there—but at least she didn’t worry about what it would do to her reputation. And having sexy Eddie Montesano at her house, telling her things he had no right telling her was messing with her brain. And her willpower.
It was putting ideas into her head. Enticing, highly-charged, lust-filled thoughts that had no right being there.
Only because she hadn’t had sex—real, live sex with a real, live man—in almost a year. Because she was a woman in her prime. Not because she was attracted to Eddie.
She ate another cookie. Yes, he was attractive with that shy grin, his golden eyes. More so than she may have realized until now. Much, much more than she would have liked.
The kids came in, their feet pounding on the wood floor. Thank God. Without a distraction, she didn’t trust herself not to create other dangerous, pornographic scenarios starring her and Eddie.
“Have a seat,” she said, pulling a chair out for Max. “Help yourself.”
He sat and Cass immediately shoved a chair next to his and climbed up.
“You my boyfriend,” she told him in the same no-nonsense tone most people used when informing someone that the sky was, indeed, blue.
Max, in the act of reaching for a cookie, froze, complete terror crossing his face. His panicked gaze flew to Cass and then to Harper. “Uh...”
“How about if Max is your friend who happens to be a boy?” Harper asked Cass.
Cass frowned, looking so much like her father, Harper’s heart broke just a little. “No. He’s my boyfriend.” She turned to Max, hands on her hips. “You my boyfriend.”
“I thought Hunter and Travis at daycare were your boyfriends?” Harper said. “And Nate? Nate’s the paperboy,” she explained to Max.
“They my boyfriends, too.”
Harper winked at M
ax. “She’s fickle. Pretty much every boy under the age of twenty is her boyfriend.” She added air quotes around the last word.
“Oh. I get it.” He sent Harper a small smile at their shared secret. “I’ll be your boyfriend,” he said to Cass.
She looked at him as if she never doubted he’d come around. And how she got chocolate on her eyebrow, Harper had no idea.
But at least she’d picked a winner for her latest conquest. Max was such a sweet kid, always the first to offer comfort when one of his classmates got hurt—physically or emotionally. He didn’t say much. There were days she didn’t think he said anything at all, but he’d sit next to an injured child just to...be there. Though he had his troubles focusing, she’d noticed he was very quick to pick things up, read situations and people clearly.
Like father like son.
“Me and Mommy made cookies,” Cass told him. She drank some milk, slammed the cup down like a cowboy at a saloon. “I stirred them. I the best stirrer.”
“You are tops when it comes to stirring,” Harper said.
Cass climbed down and ran around to the other side of Max’s chair. “Let’s play. I be the mommy and you the daddy.”
Max was only halfway finished with his second cookie. “Why don’t you get out some of your puzzles instead?” Harper suggested to Cass. “You and Max can put them together in here on the floor.”
“Okay, but I still the mommy.”
“More milk?” Harper asked Max after Cass ran out of the room.
He shook his head and she stood to put it in the fridge.
“I make cookies with my nonna.” His voice was soft, as if confessing a crime. “She lets me turn on the mixer. And crack the eggs.”
“I bet she loves having you help her.” Though Mrs. Montesano must have a few tricks up her sleeve to keep Max engaged in an activity that wasn’t computer or video game related. Harper had found he lost focus if she didn’t repeat what she wanted him to do calmly and patiently, and checked on him often to make sure he was on task. “What kind of cookies do you make?”
He shrugged. Guessed they were back to his father’s way of communicating—shrugs, nods and the occasional grunt. But then he lifted his head and met her eyes. “All kinds. But chocolate chip are my favorite.”
“Mine, too.”
She wished celery sticks were her favorite but you couldn’t have everything in life.
He broke a piece of cookie off, mashed it into his paper napkin. “My mom doesn’t make cookies.”
“No?” she asked, super casually. This was the first time Max had ever mentioned his mother to her. She needed to be careful. “Well, not all moms like to bake cookies. But some dads do.”
“My dad never makes cookies. He builds stuff.” Max finished his drink then lowered his glass to reveal a thick milk mustache. “My mom’s too busy to make them. She works all the time.”
She knew from Max’s records that his mother lived in Chicago. He obviously didn’t have much to do with her. She wasn’t even listed as an emergency contact for him. Instead, Eddie had put down his parents and then his sister, Maddie.
Harper retook her seat. “Do you miss her?”
He shrugged. But his expression said he did miss her. Or at least, he missed having a mother in his life. “She called me the other night.”
“So you get to talk to her on the phone a lot? What about video chatting? You know, like what we did when Hannah was sick?” Hannah had missed two weeks of school with a severe case of strep throat so her parents and Harper had set up a video chat between her and the class to cheer her up.
“We used to,” Max said. “But Mom stopped.” He broke his cookie in half. Then in half again. “Dad told me you said I hafta stay after school every day,” he blurted.
She heard the front door open followed by Cass’s voice, Eddie’s low response. “Didn’t your dad explain why I want you to stay after?”
He shook his head. “Is it ’cause I was bad the other day? I’ll be good. I promise.”
Eddie, you numbskull. What did you tell this boy?
“I appreciate your apology but you’re not in trouble.”
“I’m not?”
“No. The reason I want you to stay after school is so I can give you extra help with your schoolwork.”
He swung his leg, his foot brushing against the floor. Swish...swish...swish... “Oh.”
“It’ll be fun,” she said.
His look said, you have got to be kidding.
She laughed. Reached over and squeezed his forearm. “Really. I promise I’ll do my best to make it as painless as possible.”
“You ready to go, Max?” Eddie asked from the doorway.
Just having him in the same room after what he’d said, what she’d imagined, was enough to give her heart palpitations. She wanted him gone so she could give her brain a mental scrubbing, rid her thoughts of him.
But he couldn’t leave. Not quite yet.
“Max,” she said, getting to her feet, “why don’t you go in the living room with Cass while I pack up some cookies for you to take home?”
“Okay.”
At the same time Eddie spoke. “We don’t need any cookies.”
“That’s crazy,” Harper said as Max ran off. “A seven-year-old boy definitely needs cookies. Besides, I was hoping you and I could have a little chat.”
He raised his eyebrows until they disappeared under the brim of his ball cap. “Another one?”
Her mouth dried remembering their last talk. Staring at his throat—the only place she seemed capable of looking at without blushing—she nodded. “How about a beer to help you get through it? I won’t add it onto the mental list of ways you owe me.”
He glanced longingly at the doorway then gave a resigned sigh. “I’m driving. But I’ll take a soda if you have one.”
She grabbed a can from the fridge, handed it to him, careful not to let their fingers touch. “Look, I hope you don’t think I’m sticking my nose in where it doesn’t belong, but does Max get to see his mother often?”
He paused in the act of taking a drink, his body stiff, his shoulders rigid. “No.”
“Because,” she continued, though she was obviously treading on dangerous ground here, “we were talking about her and—”
“You asked about his mom?” he asked, all flinty-eyed and suspicious.
“That’s the thing.” She got a plate from the cupboard, began setting cookies on it. “Usually with Max I have to drag the words out of him to make sure his vocal cords are still working, but today he offered the information himself.”
“What did he say?”
“He said his mom didn’t make cookies. That she was too busy working.”
“Lena’s a fashion buyer for a major department store in Chicago. She works a lot of overtime and travels often.”
“He also said he spoke with her the other day.”
“She called.” Eddie stared at the soda can, rubbed his thumb up and down the side, wiping off the condensation. “She wants to see him next weekend.”
“He didn’t mention that.”
“He doesn’t know.”
“How can he not know?”
“I didn’t tell him.”
She wished she could coldcock him over his stubborn head. “Like you didn’t tell him you were the one who asked me to help him with his schoolwork? Or that the reason he needed to stay after school was for tutoring? He thought he was in trouble.”
“I never said it was punishment.”
“You never say much.” She set the plate down with a sharp crack. A cookie slid off. “Have you ever considered that’s part of the problem?”
His eyes narrowed. “Lena’s been...under the weather. I don’t want Max to get his hopes up only to have him disappointed if she has to cancel.”
Okay, so maybe he didn’t deserve a bump on the head. He was looking out for his son, trying to do what was best. Wasn’t that what all good parents did?
The best they cou
ld?
“What are you going to do if she does show up?”
“I hadn’t thought it through that far.”
Harper covered the cookies with plastic wrap. “It might not be any of my business, but I think it would do Max a lot of good if you talked to him about his mother.”
“You’re right.” He took a drink. Set the can on the table. “It’s none of your business.”
“All I’m saying is you might want to have a conversation with your son, a real conversation that includes actual words, about how he feels about his mother. He seemed very...conflicted.”
Conflicted. Confused. Hurt. He needed someone to talk to.
To talk to him.
“His mother,” Eddie said, still in that low, soft voice, “left him when he was two years old because taking care of him interfered with her career. How do you think he feels?”
Harper’s heart ached for Max. And maybe just a little bit for the hard-eyed man in front of her. “I don’t know. There’s no right or wrong way for him to feel and he needs to know that. And I think it’d do Max some good to express his feelings.”
“Max is fine. I’ll take care of it.”
“That’s your answer for everything, isn’t it? You’ll take care of it. You’ll fix it. You don’t want any help.”
“I don’t need any.”
“Must be nice. But the rest of us mortals get by with a little help from our friends.” She handed him the plate, held on when he reluctantly took it. “Oh, wait. You don’t have friends. You’re one of those lone wolf types.”
For a moment, he looked as if he would argue, but then he tugged on the plate, pulling her a step closer. Her heart picked up speed, her eyes widened. A mix of fear, horror, excitement and, yes, attraction kept her immobile.
With a sharp, and definitely wolflike, grin, Eddie leaned down. And howled.
8
HARPER STARED AT him for a moment as if he was crazy but then, as Eddie had hoped, she smiled. Kept smiling. Better yet, she hadn’t stepped back, not like when they’d been on the porch. She hadn’t run away.
Thank God. He’d been afraid he’d made a complete idiot of himself, baying that way. At least he’d done it softly so the kids couldn’t hear him.