In a Heartbeat

by Janice Kay Johnson

  Her hand resting on the table balled into a tight fist, then loosened. Slowly, so slowly, she lifted it and reached for him. Relief punched hard. He had to make an effort to tug her up gently, give her time to withdraw.

  But she was gutsy enough not to. She rose, her fingers returning his clasp, her gaze never leaving his. Nate kept pulling, until mere inches separated them. And then he lifted his free hand and touched her face.

  She had baby-fine skin, her cheek a softness his own lacked. He rubbed her lips with his thumb, feeling the moistness of her breath when they parted slightly. Damn, his heart was about to pound its way out of his chest. You could want something too much.

  He freed her hand and cupped her face, savoring the chance to study her closely. All her worries were in her eyes, but so was temptation. Wanting. Nate bent his head slowly, bumped her nose with his deliberately before, smiling, he brushed his mouth over hers.

  She made a little sound. Suddenly, the distance between them had been erased. One or both of them had moved, swayed forward. He groaned, gripped her nape and kissed her with all the passion he’d buried for six damn months.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  IN FAR TOO many waking and sleeping dreams, Anna had kissed Nate. Now that it was actually happening, she couldn’t seem to think. All she could do was soak up sensation—and kiss him back with a desperate desire she hadn’t known she had in her.

  Her arms found their way around his neck even as one of his big hands gripped her buttock, lifting and pulling her tight against him. When he all but consumed her with teeth, tongue and lips, she gave back the same. Need, coiled low in her belly, was almost pain. Her fingers tangled in his hair, and she rubbed her breasts against his broad chest.

  “Mo-ommy!” The outraged, tearful screech was just about the only thing that could have snapped her back from this mindless physical hunger. She knew her children’s voices even in a gym crowded with other kids. Those voices were a deeply embedded trigger.

  With a gasp, Anna wrenched herself back. The heated gleam in Nate’s eyes told her how aroused he was, even if she hadn’t already been so aware of other evidence.

  At her retreat, he gave his head a bewildered shake. “What...?”

  The thunder of feet gave him an answer before she could.

  “Josh is mean!” Jenna cast herself at her mother, wrapping her arms around Anna’s leg. “He hit me!”

  “I did not!” Josh was there to glare at his sister. Eyes wide, Molly hovered behind him. “It was an accident.”

  Anna’s brain didn’t want to work. She tried to pull herself together, but felt as if she was swimming through molasses, thick and sticky. Still, she looked down at her youngest, weeping against her hip.

  “Where do you hurt?”

  “My head,” Jenna said through hitched breaths. Shielding herself behind her mother, she lifted a hand. “I have a bump!”

  “Oh, no.” Anna knelt, praying she didn’t have red burns on her face from Nate’s evening stubble. And what did her hair look like? She’d felt his fingers in it. Surely the kids were too young to guess what mommy had been doing. She said, “Let me see,” and cradled Jenna’s face in her hands.

  “She’s just being a baby!” Josh yelled.

  A bump was definitely rising above Jenna’s temple.

  “Ice,” Anna said.

  “I’ll get it.” Nate’s deep voice. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him rest a hand on Josh’s shoulder. “You need to back off. Your mother will hear your side in a minute. Come on, sit down. You, too, Molly.”

  These sibling disputes were everyday reality. Having someone else to step in, that was something she hadn’t had in a long time. Maybe ever. Kyle would have rushed for the ice, but he also would have tried to make everyone laugh. She missed his laughter and good humor, but his refusal to take anything seriously had been at the root of most of their troubles.

  Anna picked up Jenna and sat, cuddling her in an easy chair in the living room, facing her mutinous son and Nate’s anxious daughter. When he handed her an ice pack wrapped in a dish towel, she laid it gently against the bump. Jenna squealed and jumped.

  He crouched in front of them, smiling at Jenna. “Cold, huh?”

  “Yes!”

  Then his eyes, still heavy lidded, met Anna’s. “Do we need to make an ER run?”

  His lips were fuller than usual, too, she saw, which meant hers also were. Josh was staring at her, but she thought mostly he was mad.

  “Let’s wait and see,” she said to Nate. She peeked beneath the ice. “They’ve both had major goose eggs before. This doesn’t look that bad so far.”

  “Okay.” He rose and went to sit on the couch between Josh and Molly. Molly immediately scooted over to lean against him, and his arm went around her. But he also ruffled Josh’s hair.

  The small act seemed to relieve some of Josh’s quivering tension.

  “Okay,” she said. “Josh, you go first. What happened?” When Jenna protested, Anna shook her head. “You go next.”

  “We were playing, that’s all!” he burst out. “I was swinging my Nerf baseball bat. Just to hit wadded-up paper balls. Jenna jumped up on the couch behind me and—I don’t know what she was doing. But I hit her on the backswing, and she fell off the couch and bumped her head on the coffee table. It wasn’t my fault.”

  It was true that, able to use only one hand on the bat, Josh’s swings were likely to be wilder.

  “Jenna? Is that how it went?”

  Her daughter’s lower lip stuck out. Way out, which usually meant a guilty conscience. She gave a sniff for good measure. “Kind of. Except he was hogging the bat! It was my turn.”

  He glared at her. “It wasn’t! It was Molly’s turn next.”

  Nate didn’t smile, but the crinkling beside his gray eyes told her he was suppressing one. “Molly?” he said.

  She squirmed, but finally mumbled, “He said it was his bat and he didn’t want to give anyone else a turn—”

  “I would have!”

  “But he didn’t mean to hurt Jenna,” she finished in a rush.

  “Jenna, you should know better than to be that close to someone swinging any kind of bat.” The lower lip didn’t retreat, but Jenna also didn’t protest. “Josh, you were being selfish. If you’re playing with someone else, they should be having a good time, too. I’ll bet you could tell Jenna and Molly weren’t.”

  He hung his head. “I was just teasing them. I would have let them have turns if they weren’t being so whiny.”

  “Well, I’m going to call the end of playtime tonight.” Grateful for an excuse to run away herself, she kept her eyes on her son. “You need to go get ready for bed. You can read, but that’s all.”

  He jumped up and stormed out.

  Molly wriggled closer yet to Nate.

  Anna lifted the ice again and verified that the swelling hadn’t increased. “I think you’ll survive, sweetie.” She kissed the top of her daughter’s head. “Let’s go get you ready for bed, too.”

  “Okay.”

  Anna left the now-soggy ice pack in the sink and took the dish towel to drop in the laundry basket when they passed the utility room. She stole one look at Nate, who had risen to his feet and watched her unreadably.

  “Good night. We’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Right.” His voice hit an even lower register than usual. “Don’t forget our outing.”

  “Our—oh.” Bowling. It was a good idea. So she told herself as she endured Jenna’s demands to know whether they were going to a water park or a trampoline park or... All the way upstairs.

  * * *

  THESE PAST MONTHS had taught Nate a lot about having a family. He didn’t regret most of it. He’d surprised himself by the fun he’d had with the kids. However much he had loved Molly from the moment she was handed, squalling, into his arms, h
e hadn’t believed he’d be patient enough to spend a lot of time playing games geared to five-year-olds or kicking a soccer ball gently enough for younger children—or refereeing childish disputes. On his job, patience was a real challenge for him. His mind moved at high-speed, and he didn’t relish waiting for others to catch up.

  Turned out he’d been wrong, though. If he hadn’t been so frustrated sexually, he would have said he’d never been as happy in his life as these past six months.

  In all that time, though, he’d never once asked himself how he planned to separate Anna from the kids. All the kids. Especially now that she was working full-time, too, albeit not the extra hours he did. Even a date wouldn’t solve the problem, unless they wanted to find a deserted road and give the Lexus a workout. Unless and until Anna was willing to move into his house, kids and all, they’d have to plan sex. Take Jenna to day care. He boggled at the obstacles.

  Of course, that was assuming Anna was ready to jump into bed with him at all. Having her avoid his gaze and flee with her kids told him one passionate kiss qualified as a foot in the door, but that’s all. And she might well back off, insist it had been a mistake.

  Would he be able to get her away from the kids tomorrow long enough to have a necessary talk? He gave a grunt that wasn’t quite a laugh. They talked all the time. That wasn’t what he had in mind.

  Thoughts of Anna weren’t all that ate at him while he supervised Molly’s bedtime routine and tucked her in. He needed to talk to her about her mother, too.

  Before he could launch in, Molly asked whether he had been a brat like Josh when he was eight, and he had to admit he definitely had been.

  Smiling, he said, “Your uncle Adam and I didn’t have a sister, but we did a lot of damage to each other. When I climbed that tree? It was his idea.”

  “Did you tell on him?”

  “Nope. We kept each other’s secrets.” Sobering, he said, “Your mom called right before dinner with good news. She’s going back into treatment for her drinking problem.”

  Molly tugged her covers higher. In a small voice, she said, “I didn’t like visiting her there.”

  “I know.” He shifted on the bed so he could smooth her hair back from her face. “Quitting drinking made your mom sick.”

  “She was mad, too.” This was almost a whisper.

  “Yeah, that too. But this time she chose to go into treatment, instead of me making her. I hope it’ll be different.”

  She nodded, not saying anything. Nate waited.

  Suddenly, she lunged toward him. He got his arms around her and lifted her onto his lap. “What is it, punkin?”

  Molly raised a wet face to him. “I was scared when she got drunk. Every night, I was scared.”

  His own eyes burned. “I wish you could have told me.”

  “I wanted to!” she wailed. “But...but...”

  “She’s your mom,” he whispered.

  Still crying, she nodded. “I didn’t know I could live with you.”

  His fault. “It’s hard to figure out what to do when someone you love and trust changes like that. I wish I’d told you that anytime you needed me, I’d be there.”

  She rubbed her cheek against his chest, dampening his T-shirt. “You did come.”

  “Yeah. Always.” He smiled crookedly. “Even when you’re fifty years old and I’m white-haired and use a cane, I’ll come hobbling to your rescue if you need me. Cross my heart.”

  Her giggle was soggy.

  “Molly, something I’ve been wondering.” Maybe this wasn’t the right thing to do, but it had been eating at him. “The day you sneaked away to go down to the river by yourself.”

  She went completely still, becoming a small statue in his arms.

  “Was your mom drinking? Is that why she didn’t see where you went?”

  Molly sagged a little, as if in relief. “Nuh-uh. She was doing something on her phone. Like it was really important.”

  Not boozing. He closed his eyes momentarily. Thank God. “Talking?”

  Seeming to ponder, Molly shook her head. “Maybe texting?”

  Hearing her uncertainty, he gave her a big squeeze. “Stuff on the phone does seem awfully important to grown-ups, even when it really isn’t.”

  She sniffed.

  “Are you okay?” he asked.

  A nod. “Do I have to visit her at that place?”

  “Yes, I think so. She’ll be really lonely, and thinking about you. We need to support her when she’s doing something that hard.”

  He watched as she thought about it. She gave a solemn little nod. “Okay. Only...does this mean she won’t ever get like that again?”

  “Drunk?” Seeing that’s what she meant, Nate could only say, “I hope so.”

  They talked a little more before, with another kiss, he left her, the door cracked open and the hall light on until he went to bed.

  Then he went downstairs, where he failed to settle to work or a book. He was too antsy. He walked out onto the terrace for a few minutes, but unless he wanted to get wet, that was as far as he could go. And, damn, it was chilly.

  What was Anna doing? Contentedly curled up on her sofa reading a good book? Watching TV with the sound low? Baking, if she felt restless? He wanted to tell her about his talk with Molly.

  Suddenly resolved, he went in, propping open the door at the foot of the stairs to the apartment before mounting them. He couldn’t hear a sound from inside. What if she’d gone to bed, too?

  But he couldn’t imagine that. It wasn’t even nine o’clock. After the briefest hesitation, he rapped lightly on her door.

  It opened quickly, Anna appearing in the opening, still dressed. “Is something wrong?”

  Trust her to leap to the conclusion Molly was bleeding to death.

  “No. I mean, Molly and I had a talk.” He shrugged awkwardly, feeling like a gawky sixteen-year-old. “I always want to tell you things.”

  “Oh,” she said softly. “Well, I guess you could come in, but we’d have to be quiet. Josh sleeps like a log, but Jenna wakes up if there’s any noise.”

  She meant talking. Wasn’t that what he wanted? But maybe not, because Nate was thinking that making out, done right, wasn’t a silent activity, either.

  “Why don’t you block open the door and join me in the kitchen?” he suggested. “Even Jenna is old enough to come looking for you.”

  She thought about it for long enough to make him think she was going to say no. Obviously cautious, she nodded at last. “I’ll have to find something to hold it open.”

  Several minutes later, she returned with a bright blue baking pan—he thought—that seemed to be flexible. Folded, it squeezed beneath the door and held firm. What the hell?

  “Silicone,” she said, voice still hushed. “You don’t have to grease a bread pan like this.”

  Strange.

  He descended first, hearing her soft footsteps behind him.

  * * *

  SILICONE? REALLY? HE’D chased her up the stairs to find out what kind of bread pans she used?

  Embarrassed, Anna stopped in the kitchen a safe distance from him, hands clasped in front of her. Ms. Sophisticated, whose cheeks were warm and who was breathing fast because they were alone. “I take it you want to talk?”

  “I think maybe I lied,” he said raggedly. His eyes were a charcoal so dark they were almost black. “I was thinking about this.”

  The distance wasn’t so safe after all. Nate covered it in a long stride and gathered her into his arms. Excitement thrummed to life as if she’d only been waiting for his knock on the door. She flung her arms around his neck and melted into him.

  The kiss started out clumsy, her fault. Earlier, she’d reacted; this time, her brain hadn’t turned off. He was sophisticated. How many lovers had he had? Why would he want her, anyway?

  Ann
a wasn’t so sure she knew how to do this.

  But their tongues slid together, tangled in an urgency that made her strain against him. It was as if every cell in her body had found due north. She had the fleeting thought that if she couldn’t merge her body with his, she might die.

  His hips rocked, and somehow he’d squeezed a hand between them to cover her breast. He momentarily lifted his head. Even as she gasped for air, she prayed he wasn’t stopping. No, his lips covered hers again, and this time his tongue established a driving rhythm. She hooked a leg around his, instinct telling her to climb him.

  Abruptly his body became rigid and he lifted his head again. What? Why? Then she heard the sound, too, but not from upstairs. It was the faint growl of a car engine, a neighbor returning home.

  Her head cleared just enough. What if it hadn’t been a car? What if the sound had been footsteps on the stairs?

  Nate relaxed and bent his head again, but she pulled her arms from around his neck and planted her hands on his broad chest.

  “We can’t do this.” She sounded like a die-away Gothic heroine and felt shaky. Weak. Not something she wanted to be. She stepped back.

  The sight of him was enough to make her melt again. His dark hair stuck up in unruly chunks—because her fingers had raked through it. Her hands tingled with the memory of the texture, like coarse silk. A muscle jumped in his jaw, and his dark eyes were lit with a fire somewhere inside. His mouth...

  No, no. Anna backed up a couple more steps. “Any of the kids could walk in without us hearing them coming.”

  “Molly doesn’t come downstairs at night.” He didn’t sound like himself, any more than she did.

  “I told you. Jenna sleeps lightly, and she has a headache. I gave her some acetaminophen, but that doesn’t mean she won’t feel miserable and come looking for me. And you can’t tell me Molly never has nightmares.”

  Nate groaned. “She’s woken me up a few times.”

  “What if one of them saw us?”

  He narrowed his eyes, obviously not liking her panic. “Would it be that bad?”