Working on a Full House

by Alyssa Kress

  He would notice, wouldn't he? It probably was a lot of bedrooms for a woman who lived alone. The sad fact was she'd bought the house after meeting Peter. She'd thought she'd finally met a man who returned her affection. She'd thought she might actually start the big family she'd always wanted.

  She'd had a lot of delusions in those days.

  Not that she was sorry about owning the house now. She loved the place, and enjoyed filling it with all the things she thought made a house a home.

  "Actually," she told Roy, determined not to act defensive about this, "it's even bigger than you think. There's a guest suite downstairs."

  He raised his eyebrows. "A guest suite," he repeated dryly.

  Oh. Well, yes, she was, in fact, all set up for out-of-town guests. Valerie struggled not to flush. But that didn't mean she had to invite Roy to stay overnight. In fact, the sooner they got this house tour over with, the better. He could take his gorgeous self and get out of here. "Would you like to see the other bedroom?" she asked, forgetting she'd wanted to skip the rest of the upstairs.

  "Sure." He moved past her. "Right after I check out this bathroom."

  God. Did he have to look at everything?

  Apparently, he did. He conducted a close survey of the upstairs bathroom with its frog theme: rubber frog pads on the floor of the bathtub, frog ceramic holders for toothbrushes, and a frog-shaped vase that held dried flowers.

  The funny little smile kicked up the corners of his mouth again.

  He went through the second bedroom, after which he sauntered through her own bedroom, and then made so free as to venture into her oversize bathroom. All along the way he had to touch everything.

  Following, with her arms crossed over her chest and her lips pursed tightly together, Valerie told herself she was not embarrassed by his close perusal. She was not apprehensive about his judgment regarding its suitability for his child.

  She told herself this, but it wasn't true. As he tapped the lace spread on her king size bed, as he picked up the My Fair Lady toothbrush holder, she felt another layer of privacy being pulled aside, another veil of her soul being scratched raw.

  The last straw was when he picked up the Victorian doll camouflaging an extra toilet paper roll, and his smile broke into a laugh.

  "What?" she demanded, her tone clipped.

  His gaze shot toward her. "Excuse me?"

  She nodded toward the Victorian camouflager. "That," she said. "You're laughing."

  "Laughing?" He seemed genuinely surprised. Carefully, he replaced the doll. "I'm not laughing. I'm..." He appeared to search for the right word. "...gloating."

  "Gloating?" That sounded even worse.

  "Yeah." He tapped the doll lightly on her topknot. "When I was a kid I'd see this kind of stuff at other people's houses. All the little details that made a place seem...I don't know...right."

  Valerie stilled. "You're saying you like the little details?" Peter had detested the doll, along with most of her decorative touches. He'd called her hopelessly middle class. Even tacky.

  "Oh, yeah." Roy drew his hand away from the doll. "I miss them."

  Valerie felt knocked flat. He missed them?

  Roy glanced at her. "They were always at other people's houses, never at my own."

  This incredible piece of information transfixed Valerie. Never, in all their phone conversations, had he revealed this much about his background.

  As discreetly as possible, she cleared her throat. "I see. So, then, what was your house like?"

  Roy chuckled. "Strictly utilitarian. It would never in a million years have occurred to me or my dad how to create a little touch like this, or what it might do for us."

  What it might do for them? Carefully, Valerie asked, "You lived with your dad?"

  "Yeah. My mother died when I was two." Roy smiled briefly at Valerie. "No expressions of condolence necessary. I don't even remember her."

  Perhaps he didn't, but when Roy reached out to finger the cheek of the little doll, Valerie was pretty sure he'd still missed her.

  Oh, boy. She lifted her shoulders, unwilling to feel drawn in. Even worse, she didn't want to believe there was anything she could do about Roy's wants or needs. He was a rough and tough bad boy gambler, while she was a stodgy little professional.

  She opened her mouth to say goodbye, to explain it was time for him to go and find somewhere else to spend the night. To take his dangerous self away from her.

  But then he lowered his hand from the doll, slowly, reluctantly — one might almost say reverently.

  Something about the action went straight through Valerie's chest. With her mouth still open to kick him out the door, she said instead, "Since you're here anyway and it's around that time, you might as well stay for dinner."

  His head came up quickly. He stared at her.

  Valerie felt like staring at herself. Had she really done that, invited him to stay longer? For goodness' sake, why?

  But as she watched, his face moved into a big, happy smile. "Sure," he said, and his smile went eager. "In fact, I've got my Beat Progesterone Poisoning cookbook in the car."

  Hiding her own chaotic emotions, Valerie lifted her eyebrows. "Planning ahead?"

  He had the grace to look sheepish. "This whole trip was a gamble, but the expected value of a positive result was high enough to roll the dice."

  "Whatever that means."

  Roy grinned. "It means I hoped for the best."

  Valerie sucked in her lips. "I'm only offering dinner."

  "Yeah." His grin expanded. "And that's already one hundred and fifty percent more than I expected."

  Valerie couldn't help laughing. For a moment, just an instant, it felt as comfortable as it did when they spoke on the telephone. Almost safe.

  Then Roy reached out and took her hand. It was a gesture uncomfortably reminiscent of the way he'd touched the doll. "Thank you, Val." He gave her fingers a squeeze. "I'll go get the cookbook."

  Valerie could feel the touch of his fingers, the nearly reverent touch, long after he'd pulled his hand away.

  Safe? Oh, no. This was not safe at all.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Roy felt like he was walking two feet above the ground. Yes, at least two feet above the quiet neighborhood street he crossed to get to his car.

  She'd invited him to dinner. He was halfway there.

  Roy jiggled his keys in his pocket, the first set of keys he'd ever needed to own, and stuck them in the door of his car. He could have afforded something a lot fancier than the used Cadillac, but old habits died hard. He didn't want the responsibility of worrying about a fancy car.

  Not to mention he wasn't ready for Valerie to find out how much he was worth.

  He'd have to make it clear he wasn't bumming off of her by wanting to stay at her house, of course, but the full thirty-five million didn't need to be revealed.

  On the other hand, it appeared he was going to be driving out here on a regular basis. He needed a car.

  Roy smiled widely as he unlocked the cream colored door of the car. Vegas was necessary for playing poker, but Valerie's house... Roy closed his eyes as a wave of contentment washed over him.

  Valerie's house was everything he'd been looking for via the realtors in Vegas. Real. Domestic. Warm. He'd realized, walking through it, seeing all her little touches, that his search in Las Vegas had been necessarily fruitless.

  It took a person to make a home. Yep, it took a person who knew what she was doing.

  And Valerie sure as hell knew what she was doing.

  Roy opened his eyes and threw a wistful glance toward his overnight bag, then leaned over to dig under his map for the morning-sickness cookbook.

  One thing at a time, he cautioned himself. He was on a slow play here and he'd spook the other side if he raised the stakes too soon. But if he played it right...then Kenny would be on his own tonight — assuming he hadn't managed to wangle his own overnight invitation from the nurse practitioner.

  Feeling as
if he were a true master of self-control, Roy took only the cookbook out of the car, not his overnight bag, and started back for the house.

  ~~~

  Twenty minutes later while trying to cook dinner, Roy was feeling far less satisfied and far more frustrated as he maneuvered around Valerie in her pretty little kitchen.

  She was so damn tempting. He wanted to hold her, to kiss her...to do much more than that with her. Yep. Sex was definitely on his mind.

  Slow play, slow play, he reminded himself, standing by the tiled counter and tapping the open page of his recipe book. That was the necessary strategy here. Otherwise he was likely to blow the whole thing. Besides, he didn't know if she was still attracted to him. It was impossible to tell as she stood by the counter next to him.

  "Um, now where did you say the sugar is?" he asked.

  "Are you sure you don't want me to do this?" Valerie gave Roy the smile women give to men they suspect don't know how to cook.

  Roy did know how to cook, though. He hadn't done it in a while, but when you grew up with an unimaginative father and no female in the house, you learned.

  "Positive," Roy told her. "But if you want to take a look at the recipe and get out the ingredients, that'd be helpful." It would also keep her out of arm's reach.

  He eased back as she came closer to squint into his recipe book. Her smell, her body heat... He itched to put his arms around her. He knew just how she would feel — delicate bones under lithe, giving flesh.

  Meanwhile, looking down into the book, Valerie raised her eyebrows. "I have to admit, this looks... Well, I won't go so far as to say appealing. Nothing is appealing. But...acceptable."

  She was talking about her digestive system, and the possibility of upchucking, yet Roy felt hit by a fresh blast of sexual desire. Her digestive system was in such an uproar because of him, and what he'd done to her in that bed at the Paris Hotel.

  He wanted to put his hands over her belly, where evidence of that passion-filled night was growing. Then he wanted to smell the delicate scent he remembered was just below her ears, and brush his lips against the soft skin of her neck...

  Slow down, boy. W-a-a-a-y down. Roy took in a deep, quiet breath. If he had any hope of staying here the night — which would guarantee his being able to stay here on all future nights he planned to come — he had to keep his wits about him. His wits said to cool it.

  Cool it, let her draw her calm, rational — if misguided — conclusion he was no sexual threat, and then Roy could drop a quiet call to Kenny telling him he'd have to fend for himself tonight. Considering Kenny's cheerleading for Roy's marriage, he wouldn't complain. As for Roy...well, if he could manage an overnight invitation, he'd be halfway to heaven.

  Completely unaware of Roy's ardent thoughts, Valerie put her finger in the recipe book. "Sugar, cinnamon, salt. Got it." She whirled and stalked off toward another part of the kitchen.

  Roy let out his in-drawn breath. He measured the oatmeal already sitting in front of him and considered the sudden and savage strength of his physical desire. Over the past few weeks while simply talking on the phone, the sexual aspect of things had fallen into the background. It sure as hell was back now.

  But that was just fine. It made sense. In fact, it was even laudable for him to be sexually interested in her. The idea was for them to stay married, right? For him to live with her and the baby? Well. Neither one of them planned to lead celibate lives, did they? It was a good thing he wanted to sleep with her.

  Although he still didn't know: was she attracted to him?

  "Sugar, cinnamon, salt," Valerie announced, coming up to set the named ingredients beside Roy.

  While she leaned closer to look at the recipe again, he looked at her. If she wasn't now, could she become attracted to him...again?

  "Butter, milk, eggs," Valerie read. "Wait a minute, eggs?"

  At the distressed look on her face, Roy had to laugh. "They'll be cooked into the muffins. You won't notice them."

  She shot him a dramatically suspicious glance.

  Roy held up a hand. "Swear to God."

  Her face relaxed into a smile and their eyes met. His own desire hit him like a sledgehammer then.

  Valerie froze.

  Uh oh. Had he slipped up, let his desperate want for her show?

  "I, uh..." Her gaze shifted and she took a step back from the counter. "I guess I'll get you those eggs." She swiveled and started for the refrigerator. "If you promise, cross your heart, hope to die, I won't be able to taste them."

  Roy turned to keep her in view. Her silky, dark hair swung as she opened the refrigerator door. She was acting nervous. But he was pretty sure he hadn't slipped up. She hadn't seen his thoughts. "Cross my heart, hope to die," he told her.

  "Well. Okay, then." Grimacing as she turned around with the eggs, she made sure not to make direct eye contact with Roy before setting them next to the other ingredients. "What else? Oh yes, the butter and the milk. Silly me." With a high laugh, she went back to the refrigerator.

  O-kay, Roy thought. She was very nervous. Was it because she'd felt something in that moment, too? He wasn't quite sure...yet.

  Valerie came back with a stick of butter and a carton of milk. She smiled brightly at Roy as she set them on the counter. But her gaze only brushed his and then flitted off. "Now I'll get out of your way and...set the table."

  "Setting the table would be nice," Roy agreed. As a test, he tapped her hand with his. "Let's eat in here, huh, rather than the dining room?"

  She moved her hand from under his casually — but maybe too casually? No, definitely too casually. She was aware of him, all right, but doing her best to disguise it.

  Ha! Inside, he heard an inner chorus of hurrahs. She was attracted. But wary. And also, for some reason, not wanting him to know.

  "Sure, we can eat in here." She stepped back. "Now, don't take it personally if I don't end up eating much of this, okay?"

  "Okay." Roy smiled, but he was thinking. He was thinking furiously. She didn't want him to know, didn't want to act on her attraction.

  The question was: why?

  And then, of course: what was he going to do about it?

  ~~~

  "Nuh uh uh," Roy said as Valerie reached for his empty plate. "Don't get up."

  "But you made the meal. I'll do the dishes."

  Roy made a no-no motion with his finger and then smiled as he started to pile dishes.

  Valerie sighed and leaned back in her seat. She had to admit, she was almost relaxed. As they'd eaten their odd supper of oatmeal muffins and potato soup, they'd ended up talking and joking with each other almost the way they did over the telephone.

  The operative word being 'almost.'

  Every so often there was a click, a buzz. Sometimes it was in the way their eyes met. Sometimes it was in a hand or a finger Roy would place on hers as he made some verbal point. That's when she would feel...an awareness.

  Not that he'd be easy to ignore, in any case.

  "Now, I'll bet you didn't realize I slipped some celery into the soup." Roy tapped her shoulder before reaching down to take her soup bowl.

  "Uh, no. I'd never have guessed." Was this just the way he was, she wondered? A touchy kind of person?

  "This book is full of ways to fool your taste buds into letting the right nutrients into your body." With his hands full of dishes, Roy started back toward the kitchen. "Guess it works."

  Valerie turned to watch as he sauntered with his burden toward the kitchen sink. Having set the dishes down, he lifted the flowered teakettle and gave it a little shake. Apparently deciding there wasn't enough water inside, he turned to fill the kettle at the sink. Everything seemed so domestic.

  But when he turned to look at her and their eyes met, it became another one of those electric, buzzing moments.

  As she fake-calmly looked away, Valerie wondered if he was deliberately creating the electricity. Was he...coming on to her?

  The mere idea pushed a flash of excitement t
hrough her. But Valerie slid a finger along the wood grain in her breakfast nook table and ordered herself to stay grounded. It was far more possible all the electrical buzzes were coming from herself alone. She was so darn attracted to him.

  On the other hand...

  He came back to the table holding a box of tea bags. "I actually found them all by myself," he said proudly, and held the box down to her. "Take your pick."

  The nearness of his body made Valerie feel too warm, but she looked down into the box of tea bags and determinedly quelled the sensation. "Uh...how about Vanilla Dreams?"

  "You want sugar? Cream?"

  "Just plain, thanks."

  "Just plain it is." He took the tea bag from her and sauntered back to the stove.

  Valerie sucked in her lips and allowed herself to wonder about the other hand. Could Roy have a thing for her? He'd driven out here, hadn't he? He'd been thrilled to stay for dinner. He called her every night. Couldn't that mean he was into her?

  Valerie's lips twisted as she watched Roy set up the tea. It sure sounded good — but, so what? Peter had practically moved in, but it hadn't fazed him one bit to move out again. Actions didn't always speak louder than words.

  Unaware of her private musings, Roy came back with her tea. Sliding into the seat opposite hers, he folded his forearms on the table. "So...this wasn't so bad, huh?"

  Valerie cocked her head. "You mean having you over, sharing a meal?"

  "That's right." His expression turned mildly challenging. "It wasn't so bad."

  "No," she had to admit. "It wasn't so bad." It had been good, actually. Maybe too good.

  His head tilted. "Then I'm invited back tomorrow?"

  "Tomorrow?" she laughed, but felt excited that he wished to return. "How long were you planning to stay in town?"

  His lashes lowered partway. "I'm going back to Vegas tomorrow evening."

  "Oh." Valerie's excitement turned quickly to disappointment. He'd only planned to stay one day?

  One night?

  Her disappointment expanded. Dismayingly. Had she already started to count on him? They were barely even friends.

  Meanwhile, her pride produced a smile. "Okay, then. So you're only staying in Palmwood overnight."