by Shirley Jump
Lunch time.
Dalton hadn’t dreaded a meal like this in…forever. He’d have skipped lunch altogether, if Ellie hadn’t gone and made chili, unwittingly concocting his all-time favorite meal. He’d caught a whiff of the spicy concoction from his office, and been unable to resist the lure of both the beef dish and his rumbling stomach.
She sat at the table, the baby cradled in one arm, a bottle propped in its mouth. A bowl of chili sat before Ellie, steam curling upward. A second sat at his place, flanked by two pieces of cornbread.
Cornbread, too? Oh, he was a goner. There’d be no resisting now for sure. “You treat me too well.”
She smiled, and the sun seemed to rise on her face. If there was one trait about Ellie that he liked, it was that she forgave easily. The tension from last night was gone, and she was back to her usual happy self. “Actually, I should be thanking you. With the time off from work, I finally have the opportunity to indulge one of my passions.”
The word brought back the memory of nearly kissing her. And the urge to finish the job. “Oh, yeah? What’s that?” he asked, hoping she’d mention the very thing he was thinking of.
“Cooking. I love to cook. I never get time because when I get home from work, I’ve got to feed Sabrina, give her a bath, get her ready for bed, and by then I’m exhausted. Plus, what’s the point when…” Her voice trailed off.
“When what?”
She shrugged. “When I’m only cooking for one?”
“Well, anytime you get the urge to indulge—” he wanted to say any of your passions, but he stopped himself “—your need to cook, you know where I live, and you know I probably ate junk food all day. My stomach is yours, milady.”
She smiled again, and his heart skipped a beat. For just a second, Dalton couldn’t remember why he had ever thought getting involved with Ellie Miller was a bad idea.
Then his gaze dropped to the baby in her lap, sucking greedily at the bottle, and he remembered why. Her reality. One he didn’t want or need to be a part of.
He dipped into the chili, and swallowed the bite. “This is terrific. You should have been a chef.”
“My mother taught me to cook. It was how we spent our Saturdays.”
“Is your mother still alive?”
Ellie shook her head. “My dad lives in Florida, but Mom died a few years ago. Where are your parents?”
“Living a comfortable, and might I add, well deserved retirement, in Arizona. Three of my sisters are there, too, with their expansive brood of children, so my parents are surrounded by grandchildren.”
This was easy conversation, the kind he could handle. Not that Dalton, of course, regularly talked about his family, or heck, much of anything with anyone. It just went to show him how hermit-like his life had become. Ever since he’d sold his first book ten years ago, he’d retreated more and more into that writer show, withdrawing from social life under the guise of deadlines and brainstorming.
Now, though, sitting with Ellie, discussing the most basic of things—where he came from—was as enjoyable as the chili.
“And the rest of your siblings?” Ellie asked.
“One sister is unmarried and traveling the globe, backpacking in the Sierras and tackling world peace one country at a time. One of my brothers is just finishing up his PhD, then he’s supposed to get married at the end of the year. Peter, the oldest and the one who settled down first, lives here in Boston with his wife and three kids.” Dalton thought for a second, doing the mental math on who he’d left out. “I’ve got another brother who lives in California with his wife, and they’re expecting their first kid sometime in the next month. Two sisters married guys who are best friends and they all live on a cul-de-sac in New Jersey. It’s like a little suburban soap opera. And my two youngest sisters, both of them are in an engineering or electrical or some such technical kind of job, are not married yet, but my mother drops hints on a daily basis and has sent out the word among the retirement community, looking for any eligible grandsons.”
Ellie laughed. “That’s a lot to keep track of. I’ve never been so glad to be an only child.”
“You should try it at Christmas. When all of us are together, it’s a zoo. And I mean that literally.”
“Must be fun.”
He found himself smiling. For all the chaos, all the insanity, his family had a lot of plusses. “It was. Don’t tell my brothers and sisters, but I miss them when they’re not around.”
“Are you all pretty close?”
“Enough that they can tell me how to run my life.” A sardonic grin filled his face.
Ellie let out a little laugh. “Believe me, it doesn’t matter what size your family is, someone always has an opinion. My dad gives me advice all the time. He thinks…”
When she didn’t finish, he waved her on. “He thinks what?”
“He thinks I should move on.” She picked at her food, then sat back against the chair. “That it’s been long enough, and I should think about a life for me. A love life, specifically.”
“And what do you think about that advice?”
“I think if my dad wants to give me a live-in nanny for Christmas, then I’ll take his advice.” She grinned.
But beneath the smile, Dalton could see—
What could he see? At first, he thought he saw resistance, a stubbornness, the same recalcitrant streak that ran through him, that made him want to run the other way whenever anyone tried to tell him what to do. But no, it was more than that. It was—
Longing.
And as he peeled back the layers and unearthed that emotion, he heard the stirrings of the same feeling in his own heart, too. He rose, grabbing his bowl, even though it was still half-full, and headed for the stove. Staying busy topping off the chili, and grabbing more cornbread kept him from connecting with Ellie.
From letting her see the reflection of her emotions in his eyes.
“This is great chili.”
She grinned. “You already said that. Are you avoiding the conversation, Dalton Scott?” Ellie flipped the baby onto her shoulder, and started patting her back.
“Of course not. Just had to tell you how good the food is on the second helping. Actually, twice as good.”
“Uh-huh.” Sabrina let out a burp. “Apparently, the formula is not too bad around here, either.” She glanced over at her daughter, and the soft smile—the one reserved solely for the baby—stole slowly across Ellie’s face.
Dalton’s gut clenched. He stopped eating, and just watched Ellie, as transfixed as if he had been glued to his chair. She leaned over, pressed a soft kiss to Sabrina’s nearly bald forehead, then inched out of her chair and put her down inside the portable playpen.
“Wait,” Dalton whispered.
Ellie pivoted. “Why?”
“Maybe we should set that up in the spare bedroom. She’ll probably sleep better in there. Less distractions. You know, while we’re getting the dishes done and everything.”
She grinned. “You do dishes?” she said, her voice also at a whisper.
Dalton crossed to her, still mesmerized by the softness in her face, the way her smile seemed to light every feature, brighten the green in her eyes. His heart hammered in his chest, lungs holding every breath hostage.
“I’m pretty handy around a house,” he said quietly, so close he could have kissed her without any effort.
“That’s…that’s good to know,” she whispered, turning her face toward his, which brought her lips just under his, a whisper from kissing. Ellie’s breath caught, her chest heaving.
His gaze fixed on her pulse ticking in her throat, the heat emanating between them. Then he reached out, his hand straying to her waist, lingering for one long second. Desire beat a steady drum in Dalton’s veins. How he wanted to haul her to him, to quench this thirst. To kiss Ellie until neither one of them had anything left.
“You wanted to know something last night,” he said.
“I did?”
“How I felt.�
� He watched her mouth open, then close, then open again, lips parted slightly, just enough to tease and tempt him. “This is how I feel, Ellie, every time I look at you.” With a groan, Dalton leaned in and kissed her, drawing in the sweet, floral notes of her perfume as he did.
She melted into his arms, as if she, too, had lost the battle against willpower. Dalton’s fingers tangled in Ellie’s hair, urging her closer, wanting her to fill the holes inside him, holes that ran so deep, so dark, he couldn’t see his way to the bottom.
Ellie tasted like Dalton had always imagined goodness would taste. Sweet, almost like homemade cookies. So wonderful, so soft and perfect, desire ran through him at a breakneck pace, urging him to take this another step, to do more, to take this beyond a kitchen and a kiss. Then the baby stirred, bringing Dalton back to reality, and away from Ellie. “We should get that set up, so the kid can nap.”
“Uh…yeah.” Ellie turned away, and picked up the baby. Dalton gathered up the playpen. As he did, he caught the scent of Ellie’s perfume, the sweet floral and fruity notes lingering in the air of his house as if she’d put her personal stamp on every wall.
A day ago, two days, he’d have been annoyed. But today, well, he didn’t feel as upset by that thought.
The problem?
Just the fact that he was getting used to the idea of a woman in his house—a woman with a baby—was a clear sign he was in too deep. He needed to remember his priorities. Remember that he wasn’t the kind of guy cut out for settling down and making families.
And if anyone was looking for a father to complete her perfect little image, it was Ellie Miller.
Once Sabrina was settled and asleep, Ellie headed back to the kitchen, sure Dalton would be gone. She expected him to hole back up in his office—promise to do dishes or no promise.
But no, he was waiting. He had the chili already put away, and was in the process of wrapping the cornbread in plastic wrap. The earlier sexual tension had diffused with the time apart. Ellie told herself she was glad, but a part of her wished they could rewind the clock and finish what they had started with that kiss, so she could finally quiet this constant ache.
“It’s about time,” Dalton said with a grin. “I thought you abandoned me.”
“It took a while to get Sabrina to settle down. She woke up when I put her down, so I had to pat her back until she fell asleep again. I wasn’t going to miss out on that afternoon nap.” Ellie picked up the dishes from the kitchen table and loaded them into the sink.
“You go sit. I’ll get it. Between work and the kid, it’s pretty clear your day is hard enough. And, you cooked lunch.” He gestured toward the machine under the counter. “Not to mention, I have a dishwasher that will do that job.”
“I don’t mind doing dishes. It relaxes me.”
He shook his head. “There is something inherently wrong with that statement. Especially when modern technology is here to take away the burden.”
She grinned. “Taking the easy way out? I thought you said you do dishes.”
“I do.” He popped open the dishwasher. “In here.”
“Wimpy, wimpy. A real man would wash them, with me.”
“A real man, huh? Is that a challenge I hear in your voice?”
“Are you taking me up on it?”
He put the chili and cornbread in the refrigerator, then shut the door and pivoted back to Ellie. Dalton considered her, a grin swinging across his face, lighting up his eyes. The stir of desire awakened anew in Ellie’s gut—heck, who was she kidding, it had never died down from earlier when he’d kissed her.
“A pretty woman daring me to wash dishes,” Dalton said, pushing off from the fridge to join her at the sink. “Now what man in his right mind would turn that down?”
She handed him a dish towel, and wondered if she really wanted help with the dishes, or if she just wanted to open up a whole new can of worms. “Not one who wants another meal, that’s for sure.”
He chuckled. “I have to work for my supper, is that it?”
“It certainly helps you to get on my good side. Especially with dinner just a few hours around the corner.”
“And what’s for dinner?”
“Depends on how good of a job you do here.”
“Oh, I’ll do a good job, Ellie. You can count on that.” Temptation and anticipation coiled tight in Ellie’s gut as Dalton slid in on the left of her. She was playing with fire, and not just a couple of matches and some kindling, either, but a full-out four-alarmer. What was she thinking?
That was the trouble. She wasn’t thinking.
She filled the sink with hot soapy water. As she did, Dalton leaned against the counter, seeming to exude sex appeal. Ellie had to remember to breathe. To keep her eyes on the job at hand so she didn’t crack a glass or shatter a bowl. She ran a sponge around the rim of a bowl, then rinsed it, before handing the dish to Dalton. “Make yourself useful,” she teased.
“Yes, ma’am.” He dried the bowl, then moved behind her, so close he nearly brushed up against her. “Uh, excuse me, but this goes right into this cabinet. Right here.”
The temptation fire blazed out of control. And Ellie wasn’t doing a thing to get it back under control. She just kept washing dishes, and handing them to Dalton. Enjoying every second of this game.
What would it be like if she lived with Dalton? If they did this every night? If he…
Touched her? Took her in his arms and did more than just kiss her? If, after all this, he took her upstairs and made love to her?
She had been alone for so long, and right now, this felt so much like being married, and the tension boiling between them was both unbearable and sweet at the same time. It had started that first day, quadrupling every time they were alone together.
He dried the glass in his hand and put it in the cabinet to the right of her, doing the same slide across, sending Ellie’s nerve endings pinging. “Maybe we should dirty more dishes.”
“How’s a seven-course dinner sound?”
“I was hoping for eight.”
Ellie laughed. Damn. It felt really, really good to laugh. To flirt with a man. To have him flirt back. She handed Dalton another bowl, a second glass. Heat ignited in the space between them, rising with each second.
A moment later, she had handed him the last pot, then pulled the drain. “That’s it.”
She turned, putting her back to the counter. Dalton moved in front of her, placing his hands on either side. Ellie drew in a breath and held it, losing herself in the deep blue of his eyes. “What are we doing here?”
“I can tell you what we’re not doing,” he said. “The dishes. We finished those.”
“You know what I mean, Dalton.” How she wanted to forget her responsibilities. Forget her life. But she was a single mother, and she might be able to pretend for a minute or two that she didn’t have a baby sleeping in the bedroom upstairs—
But that was as long as she could live that façade. A minute. Because Sabrina was upstairs, expecting her mother to be responsible, every single minute of every single day.
And being responsible meant not getting wrapped up in a man who had no intentions of making any of these kisses permanent.
“I can’t play at a relationship. I have to think of Sabrina.”
“You want it all.”
“I have a daughter, Dalton. We’re a package deal.” She smiled, knowing her life had changed in more ways than one the day Sabrina had been born.
“If you’re looking for the kind of man who can be a boyfriend to you, and a father to Sabrina, I’m sorry,” he said. “But that’s not me. Despite what we’ve been doing here for the last couple of days, I’m just not father material.” He backed up, inserting distance that became as cold as an Arctic wind. “And I don’t think I ever will be.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
SABRINA looked terrified. It had to be the purple spiked hair and the nose piercings. Three of them, to be exact.
Ellie sat in the living room of her ho
use on Wednesday night, interviewing her fourth babysitter, all of them recommended by a local college, and thought the future had never looked so bleak.
She couldn’t work with Dalton anymore. He came with too many complications. Mrs. Winterberry would be gone for an indefinite period of time. And if the last few babysitters she’d interviewed had been any indication, there wasn’t a single affordable childcare option available in the greater Boston area, at least not in the immediate future.
She could try daycare—and be left with oh, fifty-seven cents at the end of her paycheck. Or try working from home, and risk losing her job, after Lincoln noticed she hadn’t come into the office in days.
Ellie closed the door after the spike-haired girl left and dropped onto the floor beside Sabrina, who lay on her back on her blanket, blowing bubbles at the ceiling. “Well, kiddo, we have a problem.”
Sabrina turned her head at the sound of her mother’s voice and smiled, cooing gently.
“I can’t take you to work, I can’t stay home, and I can’t bring you to Dalton’s anymore. It’s just too…hard to be around him and not…well, not kiss him. It’s not that I don’t want to kiss him, because I do. All the time. That’s the problem.”
“Unh, Unh.” Sabrina rolled to her side, her little chubby fists reaching out for her mother.
Ellie picked her up and held her to her chest. Sabrina didn’t squirm, simply settled into place. Clearly, all the time Ellie had spent with her daughter lately had had a positive effect. “The trouble is, I miss him. Even though I know he’s totally the wrong man for me.” She glanced down at her little girl. “And I think you miss him, too.”
Sabrina’s big blue eyes seemed to agree.
The problem was much bigger than Ellie had thought. Because there were now two Miller girls who were falling for Dalton Scott—and he’d already made it clear that he wasn’t the right man for either one of them.
Dalton paced his office. Paced his living room. Paced his kitchen.
And still couldn’t work off the nervous energy that coiled so tight inside him, he felt like a spring ready to explode.