by Nola Cross
“Dad?”
Ben jumped back, breaking the kiss, as Spencer tugged on his sleeve.
“H–hi, buddy.”
“Why are you kissing Jasmine’s mom?”
Because it feels great.
Because she’s sexy as hell.
Because I’m tired of being sad.
“I was just thanking her for taking care of you today. And for making this nice supper. Are you hungry?”
It was a lame explanation, but Spencer seemed satisfied.
“I’m starving. I’ll go get Jasmine.” He ran from the room.
Alone with her again, he looked toward Sunny. She was leaning back against the counter with her fingers to her lips, eyes still wide.
“Sorry. I forgot about the kids there for a minute,” he said.
“That’s all right. I did too. No harm done.”
He took a step toward her. “That was sure fun while it lasted.”
She nodded, a tempting smile playing at her lips.
“I’d like to try it again when we have more time and some privacy.”
“Okay.” Her cheeks had an appealing rose tint to them as she turned back to the stove and recovered the spoon.
He watched her take bowls from a nearby cupboard and ladle in the steaming stew. As she worked, his gaze traveled over the generous curves of her hips, which were sweetly accented by the white bow of the apron and the full red skirt she wore. Below that, her calves were muscular but graceful, ending in slim ankles and small, bare feet. His cock twitched as he imagined coming up behind her and slipping his arms around her waist, nuzzling her soft neck. Was she the type of woman who would melt back into his arms with a sigh of contentment?
And what about if he were to cup her breasts? Play with her nipples? Would she like that too?
God, I really want to make love to this woman.
His erection pulsed at the idea, his body coming fully, joyfully to life again. At the same time, he was aware of the children’s voices in the next room and the unknown quantity of Sunny’s receptiveness. Would she be interested in taking things to the next level? Something in her kiss made him think so.
He either needed to call a halt to these fantasies, or he needed to act on them.
And he damn sure knew which way he was leaning.
Chapter 6
“More coffee, Ben?” Sunny started to rise from her chair but he waved her back down. As she resettled, his gaze swept once more over the smooth brown skin of her shoulders and the hint of cleavage revealed by the modest décolletage of her dress. She glowed in the candlelight, her dark gold eyes sparkling as she looked across the table at him.
“I’ve had plenty, thanks. If I have another cup I’ll be up until two. Besides, I’d have to have another piece of pie to go with it. You know how that goes.” He rubbed his stomach in exaggerated circles. “But it certainly was delicious. I never expected peach pie in December.”
She laughed softly. “I cheat, you know. I buy fresh peaches on sale in August and slice them up and freeze them, just so we can have the taste of summer all year round.”
Of course you do. In the past hour he’d discovered that she was a sorceress in the kitchen. The stew had had a depth of flavor that nearly brought tears to his eyes, and the cornbread was so sweet and tender it was like eating cake. After that, the pie à la mode was almost too much to bear. And she had pulled it off as if it took no effort at all.
This past year, he’d grown used to eating fast food, and the occasional processed, rehashed meals at his parents’ table. Before that, Corrine had certainly tried, but none of her efforts came close to the feast Sunny had so blithely just prepared. He felt an uncomfortable pinch of disloyalty at the thought. Corrine had been a wonderful wife. So what if her cooking was only adequate? They had gotten along just fine on it.
Damn it! Why was he experiencing this continuing urge to compare Sunny to Corrine? Now he noticed for the first time that the color of Sunny’s dress was similar to the one Corrine wore in the portrait. But where the woman in the photo was stiff and garish, the one across the table from him exuded a welcoming warmth. She was all curves and grace and sexy bare feet, completely at home at her table, in her kitchen.
Oh, she was very much alive.
And Corrine was not.
Scowling, he took his napkin from his lap and tossed it down next to his plate.
It wasn’t fair! He’d been doing fine, hadn’t he? He’d so enjoyed Sunny’s company at Mr. Toad’s and Peacock Lane, and even more yesterday at the tree farm. He’d begun to feel hopeful again, as if he and Spencer might make it okay out of the dark tunnel of the past year. And then Stan and Kathy had shown up with that damned portrait last night and ruined everything.
Were they right? Should he be spending this holiday season continuing to mourn his dead wife? Was it sinful to want to move on, to want to be happy again? They’d no doubt be outraged if they knew how much fun he and Spencer had had yesterday at the tree farm. And that kiss in the kitchen this evening would probably have given them both the heart attacks they were so afraid of.
“Is everything okay, Ben?”
Sunny’s face was a study in concern. For a moment he considered blurting it all out. She was so damned wonderful, of course she’d understand. She’d probably encourage him to talk his feelings out, would listen patiently, then wisely absolve him of his guilt. Sure, it was easy for her. She didn’t have to live with Plastic Corrine gazing down from the wall and the threat of Stan and Kathy descending on him willy-nilly.
Which just pissed him off even more.
“Just tired I guess. It was brutal at the mall.”
“Was Santa there?” Spencer asked.
Sunny gave an almost imperceptible shake of her head.
“No, buddy. I didn’t see him,” Ben said. What the hell? Why would Santa be verboten? “Come on, Spencer, finish up. It’s time to get going. It’s almost your bedtime.”
“But Dad! I don’t have school tomorrow. Can’t I stay longer?”
“You’ve been here all day, buddy. It’s time to go home. Tomorrow we can decorate our own tree.”
“Can Jasmine and her mom come over and help?”
“I’m sure Jasmine and her mom have their own things to do tomorrow.”
“No we don’t,” Jasmine piped up.
“We have shopping to finish,” Sunny interjected, patting her daughter’s arm. Then she smiled at Ben. “But perhaps you’d let Spencer come with us to the Christmas party at the senior center Thursday night. The folks there would love to meet both of the children who decorated the cookies.”
For a moment Ben turned the question over in his mind. Yesterday afternoon he would have said yes without hesitation. Now he was forced to wonder if he was making it too easy for his son to forget his mother. The boy had already failed to recognize her picture. As he remembered Spencer’s innocent misstep, a raw flare of anguish tightened the back of his throat. The little guy would never realize how much his mother had loved him or the extent of her pain at leaving him.
But then again, maybe Spencer’s ignorance was a good thing, because the reality of their loss was much too big and dark and sad for a small boy to carry.
He noticed now that Sunny was signaling him to lean close. As he did so, he caught a whiff of her perfume and an unobscured peek down the front of her dress. His cheeks burned. She didn’t seem to notice.
She placed her hand in front of her mouth. “Santa will be at the party Thursday night,” she whispered. Her breath tickled his ear, raising all the hairs on his arms. He did his best to ignore her effect on him.
Great, he mouthed back. If there was one thing he was sure of, it was that Corrine would want Spencer to have friends and go to parties and have a magical Christmas. His son’s joy didn’t have to mean he was being disloyal to Corrine’s memory.
Only his own joy meant that.
As he stood up, he could feel the weight of grief settle on his shoulders again.
&nbs
p; “Sure. He can go. When should I bring him by?”
Both children let out deafening whoops.
Sunny grinned. “Why don’t we just pick him up on our way? The party starts at seven. We’ll come by a few minutes before then.”
* * * *
On Thursday evening Sunny stepped out of the shower and toweled herself dry, ignoring as usual her naked reflection in the full-length mirror on the back of the door. But as she propped her leg up on the toilet seat and began rubbing her favorite lotion into her skin, the motion drew her attention. She stopped and turned, gazing into her own eyes.
What’s going on in there?
For the longest time, all she’d been able to see about herself were her shortcomings. She’d been looking at herself as she believed Charles saw her—dumpy, saggy, aging. But when she viewed herself today, she found herself imagining what Ben Stillman might have seen the other night when he’d kissed her in the kitchen.
Delicious shivers skittered over her skin as she straightened and turned to face the mirror. Maybe he was one of those men who liked curvy women. He had certainly seemed to want to kiss her. Her cheeks heated as she remembered the way his tongue had probed her mouth, setting off a heavenly cascade of sensations in her body. And did he think she couldn’t feel the hardened ridge of his erection beneath his coat?
Sunny cupped her breasts, lifting their weight. The dusky tips peaked, excited by the mere thought of Ben’s hands touching them. For a moment the other night, as she’d stirred the stew, she’d had a wild fantasy playing through her head. She’d clearly imagined him pressing up behind her, his fingers reaching around to seek her nipples. As she thought about it now, an unmistakable heat curled in her pussy. To her surprise, she felt herself grow damp. Her breathing went shallow and quick, and her expanding pupils turned her eyes almost black.
She had so wanted to see where things would go with Ben.
But the man simply seemed unable to make up his mind. For as sweet and passionate as he’d been when he returned Monday night from his shopping trip—and through most of dinner—at some point after dessert he’d retreated into a glacial silence. Just like when he’d given her that hot little kiss in the hallway after the day at the tree farm, and the next morning acted like it had never happened.
Did he want her or not?
More importantly, did she want to take things further with a man who was so emotionally unpredictable? She had thought he was dependable, but the greatest chemistry in the world couldn’t make up for those aloof silences. And Jasmine was the one who would pay the price if she let her daughter get more attached to Spencer and Ben, only to have to break things off. It was a big question, and one she considered thoroughly as she dressed in a slimming black pantsuit with silver sequin trim, and dabbed on her favorite scent.
Half an hour later, Sunny cut a sheet of plastic wrap and secured it around the tray of cookies. By some miracle, the majority of the goodies she and the children had baked and decorated Monday night had survived the past three days intact. The folks at the senior center would go nuts for the cookies with their colorful sprinkles and haphazard daubs of red and green icing. Anything made by children was regarded as special and precious.
Monday had been a special day.
Usually, she and Jasmine did the baking alone. This time, with Spencer sharing the project, his boundless enthusiasm had made it all the more fun. The decorated treats had turned out looking even more festive than last year’s.
It seemed like the children were practically inseparable. Not only that, they always got along great. Sunny had yet to witness even a minor squabble. Her experience as a teacher had taught her how rarely that occurred. The two had spent the balance of the day hanging ornaments on the bottom half of the tree while she got dinner started, and then watched a Christmas cartoon together.
During which Ben had arrived…and kissed her.
Suddenly flustered again by the arousing memory, Sunny quickly rounded up Jasmine, helped her into her bright red coat, and herded her out to the car. As she drove the ten or so blocks to the Stillman home, it occurred to her for the first time that Ben and Spencer didn’t have to be a package deal. Why couldn’t the children continue to be friends, even if she put some distance between herself and the changeable Mr. Stillman? That way she really didn’t need to worry about how attached Jasmine might get to Ben.
The more she thought about it, the more it appealed to her. She and Jasmine and Spencer could be like the Three Musketeers! She could offer Ben’s boy some much-needed motherly attention, Jasmine could keep her new best friend, and she didn’t have to care whether Ben wanted to kiss her again or not.
A sense of relief flooded her as she pulled up in front of Ben’s neatly landscaped Cap Cod. It was an excellent plan! And that niggling sense of disappointment, as if she might be missing out on something really wonderful in the romance department? It was a small sacrifice to make to keep her daughter from getting hurt again.
“Wait here, sweetie. I’ll be right back.”
Sunny hopped out and started up the dark walkway. Flanking the brick porch and front steps, twin arborvitaes were closely strung with nets of colorful lights. A large evergreen wreath graced the door itself, which suddenly banged open. Spencer shot down the walk toward her, passed her by, and kept going until he reached her car. Jasmine already had the door open for him.
“You could say he’s a tad anxious,” Ben said, laughing.
She turned to find him just a few feet behind her on the walkway, a huge smile lighting his face. Why was he dressed in his coat? And what was with the big pink bakery box under his arm?
His eyes followed her glance. “Thought I’d bring my own contribution. They won’t be as wonderful as the kids’ homemade cookies, but I’m sure they’ll get eaten eventually.”
“Oh. Yes. Of course. That’s nice of you.” So much for the Three Musketeers approach.
“You don’t mind if I tag along, do you?”
“Of course not. You’re more than welcome.” She turned and started back toward her car, her heart thudding in her ears.
Chapter 7
The small brick building that housed the South Burlingame Senior Center was festively decorated from one end to the other. Colored lights, paper chains and snowflakes, strings of popcorn, and glass ornaments had been applied to every available surface. Or so it seemed to Ben when he followed Sunny and the children through the front door.
“Sunny! Jasmine!” A chorus of voices greeted them as they entered the main room.
Perhaps a dozen elderly people sat around the periphery of the room in an odd collection of old recliners and rocking chairs. Another dozen or so occupied seats in little groups at rickety card tables. Several of them gave cheery waves or saluted the new arrivals with their paper cups.
At the long refreshment table near the back of the room, a couple of ladies in bright sweaters were arranging red and green paper plates and napkins near a huge punch bowl. As Sunny went toward them, one of the ladies rushed forward and took the tray of cookies. The other snatched the pink box from under his arm.
“Oh, lovely. Just look at these beautiful cookies! Did you children make these for us?”
Jasmine and Spencer nodded.
“And we washed our hands first,” Spencer said.
Everyone within earshot laughed.
Sunny motioned toward the lady with the pink box. “Ben, this is our neighbor I told you about, Peggy Smith. Peggy, this is my friend Ben Stillman, Spencer’s dad.”
“Pleased to meet you.”
The older woman leaned close to Sunny. “Hubba-hubba,” she said loudly, waggling her sparse, white eyebrows.
Sunny giggled, an appealing blush climbing her cheeks.
Ben grinned. “Uh…thank you?”
Now both the older ladies tittered behind their hands.
“Sit down. Sit down,” Peggy said. “Mr. Pittendorf is about to play some carols on the piano so we can all sing along.”
> Ben helped Spencer out of his coat as Sunny did the same for Jasmine.
“I see Grant and Jonas.” Sunny pointed Jasmine toward two young boys just entering the room. “Why don’t you and Spencer go say hi?”
They watched as their two children made their way across the room. In a minute all four kids headed toward the corner where a fluffy pine tree was all decked out in red bows and tiny white twinkle lights.
“Can I take your coat, Sunny?”
As she shrugged out of it, he stood close behind her, sneaking in several sniffs of her perfume and admiring her bare neck. For the first time since he’d known her, she had pulled her dark wavy hair up into a sophisticated twist, leaving sexy little wisps at her ears and nape. Sparkly earrings dangled from her lobes, winking in the light when she moved her head. It was all he could do not to grab her and plant a kiss on her, right in front of all the seniors.
He felt a hand on his sleeve and looked down to see Peggy regarding him with a knowing smile. “The mistletoe is right over there in the archway.”
Ben took a quick step back as prickly heat crept up his neck. Had he been so obvious?
“Thanks,” he murmured, then headed for the coat rack.
About that time he heard the first tinkling notes from the old upright piano. An ancient fellow in a knit vest sat hunched over the keys, and after a rather rocky start, launched into a perfectly credible version of Oh Little Town of Bethlehem. The seniors began to sing along in their quavery voices.
Someone dimmed the lights, and Ben saw now that there were red candles in glass jars burning on each table. The room took on a soft glow, blurring the age lines on all the old faces. Over near the tree, the children had gathered in a group on an oval rug. Ben could make out Spencer’s little face, shining with joy as he attempted to sing along.
I’m glad I came.
He hadn’t intended to come. The dark mood that had descended on him Monday night had hung on unmercifully since then, casting a pall over their holiday preparations and even affecting his ability to finish the design project he’d brought home to work on. Spencer had pretty much been relegated to watching cartoons while he worked at his home office computer. On Tuesday they had decorated the tree together, but that had taken all of two hours, so more cartoons had filled the afternoon. Yesterday morning Ben resorted to letting him unwrap one of his Christmas presents early. The Legos had been a big hit and kept the boy busy on and off all day. Today they had gone out to lunch, clear downtown to Mr. Toad’s, where they ate waffle pizzas again and Ben watched while Spencer played in the tunnels.