“She wouldn’t like anyone who she perceived as taking her daughter’s place,” Andrew told her.
She understood that—she just wished the other woman felt differently. After all, she was Maura’s grandmother, and since Rachel was hoping to spend a lot of time with the little girl, she didn’t want to be in constant conflict with the older woman.
“But I like you,” he said, and wrapped his arms around her. “And I missed you.” He brushed his lips against hers. “Did you miss me?”
“Maura kept me so busy, I didn’t even realize you were gone,” she teased.
His mouth skimmed over her jaw.
“You didn’t miss me—”
Down her throat.
“—even a little?”
She swallowed. “Maybe...a little.”
He nibbled on her collarbone.
“Maybe—” her breath caught “—a lot.”
“Maybe’s not good enough,” he reminded her.
“Maybe I’ll show you how much I missed you after Maura’s asleep.”
“That’s a maybe I’ll take.”
* * *
After Maura was asleep and Rachel had very thoroughly assured Andrew that he’d been missed, she slid out of his bed and began gathering her clothes.
“I wish you’d stay,” he said, although he knew she wouldn’t be persuaded.
“I wish I could,” she admitted. “But I need to get home.”
“You’ve slept here the past two nights,” he reminded her.
“That’s different.”
“Why?”
She leaned over the bed to kiss him. “Because you weren’t here.”
He caught her hand as she reached to put something on the bedside table. “What’s that?”
“Your key.”
He folded her fingers around it again. “Keep it.”
She hesitated. The gesture had been impulsive, but they both knew it wasn’t meaningless. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah. In case you’re ever overcome with lust and want to crawl into my bed in the middle of the night.”
“Or in case you don’t want to get out of your nice comfy bed to lock the door behind me when I sneak out in the middle of the night,” she teased.
“That works, too,” he said, but he got out of bed to say goodbye to her at the door, anyway.
* * *
“You gave her a key?”
“Yes, I gave her a key,” Andrew repeated, mentally chastising himself for somehow letting that fact slip into a conversation with his brother. “Not a diamond.”
“It’s practically the same thing,” Nate insisted.
“Hardly,” he denied. “Although I did spend some time looking at engagement rings when I was in Maryland.”
“Wow. You really are in love with her, aren’t you?”
“She’s the one,” he confirmed.
Maybe he’d panicked when Maura had first started talking about wanting a new mommy, but the more time he spent with Rachel, the more he realized that she was exactly what both he and his daughter needed. She was the final piece of the puzzle to make them a family again.
His brother shook his head, and Andrew braced himself for some more of the usual ribbing. Instead, Nate said, “How is it that you’ve managed to fall in love not once but twice, and I’ve never even lost my footing?”
He was surprised by the almost-wistful tone in his brother’s voice. “Either you’ve always been careful to watch your step or you’ve just never met the right woman.”
“That’s what I used to say—but lately I’ve been wondering if I was so determined to keep things light and carefree that maybe I did meet her—maybe I met a lot of women, any one of whom might have been the right woman—but I refused to see it.”
“What’s put you in such a philosophical mood?”
He shrugged. “I guess I’ve just been thinking about some things since I broke up with Mallory.”
“Since she dumped you, you mean?” He couldn’t resist teasing.
“Yeah,” Nate admitted.
Andrew frowned, surprised by the flatness of his brother’s tone. “Were you in love with her?”
“No, but I thought we were building a relationship. It was a bit of a shock to realize that she only wanted no-strings sex.”
“Isn’t that your ideal woman?”
“Maybe a few years ago. But lately...I kind of like the idea of sharing more than just my bed with a woman.”
Andrew’s gaze narrowed. “Who are you and what have you done with my brother?”
Nate chuckled. “Is that really so unbelievable?”
“Coming from the guy who taught my daughter the expression ‘ball and chain,’ yes, it is.”
* * *
As much as she loved Maura and enjoyed being with her, Rachel couldn’t deny that she was looking forward to the weekend and some time alone with Andrew. Unfortunately, she had the late shift at Buds & Blooms on Saturday, so while she got to sleep in a little and wake up in Andrew’s arms, her fantasy of staying in bed with him all day had to be put on hold.
But when she got back to his house Saturday afternoon and tracked him down in his workshop, she was treated to a different fantasy in the form of a slightly sweaty, intensely focused and very sexy carpenter. She didn’t know what he was doing, but he was wearing an old pair of jeans that had gone white at the stress points and a T-shirt that clung to the delicious muscles of his shoulders and chest. The smell of sawdust filled the air and classic rock pounded in the background as he moved some kind of instrument in long, firm strokes over the surface of the wood. Watching him work, she couldn’t help but think about how those same hands now stroking the wood had stroked her body.
She stood in the doorway for several long minutes, mesmerized by the image he presented, enthralled by the bunch and flex of the muscles in his arms, aroused by the bold confidence of his movements.
He looked so primitive and male, and every female part of her instinctively responded. And maybe her pheromones did call to his, because suddenly his head came up and his lips curved in a slow and sexy smile. He wiped the light sheen of perspiration off his brow with the back of his hand as he glanced at the clock. “I thought you had to work until five.”
“Trish said that she would stay.” She looked around. “Why didn’t I get to see this—” she didn’t know what it was—a garage or workshop or a combination of both “—when you gave me the grand tour?”
He wiped his hands on a rag. “I didn’t think you’d be interested.”
And if he’d asked, she probably would have said she wasn’t. But seeing him here, clearly in his milieu, had definitely changed her mind.
“What are you doing?”
“Planing a door for a multimedia cabinet.”
“Your own design?”
He nodded. “A lot of furniture design is done by computer today, but I still like to build a prototype from the plans, to ensure no steps or materials were missed. And I like to work with my hands.”
“Now I understand the calluses.”
He winced. “I sometimes forget how rough my hands are.”
“Don’t apologize. I love how they feel on me.”
He settled those strong, work-roughened hands on her hips. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” He smelled of sawdust and sweat—a surprisingly arousing combination. She lifted her hands to link them behind his head and brought his mouth down to hers for a long kiss.
“I picked up Chinese food for dinner,” she said, easing away from him. “It’s in the oven, keeping warm for whenever you’re ready.”
He pulled her back into his arms. “I’m always ready.”
The sexy promise in his smile made her heart knock against her ribs.
“I meant for dinner,” she clarified. “I don’t want to interrupt your work.”
“I can’t imagine a better interruption,” he said, pushing her skirt up over her hips and lifting her onto the workbench.
“Andrew.” She’d intended to protest, but his name came out on a breathy sigh that sounded more like a plea.
“Rachel,” he responded, a teasing glint in his eyes.
Her breath caught in her throat as he worked her panties over her hips and down her legs.
Then he caught her bottom lip between his teeth and tugged gently. “I want you,” he told her. “It doesn’t seem to matter how often I have you—it’s never enough.”
She understood what he was saying. She wanted him, too. It didn’t take much—a lingering kiss...a casual touch...sometimes just a heated look—to make her heart race and start her blood pounding. Even now, she could tell by the throbbing between her thighs that she was ready for him.
He continued to nibble on her mouth while she tugged his T-shirt out of his pants, sliding her hands beneath it to trace the rippled contours of his abdomen. His fingertips skimmed up her thighs, teasingly close to her center. She unfastened his belt, then popped the button at the front of his pants and reached inside. Her fingers wrapped around the long, hard length of him, stroked him slowly.
He groaned in appreciation. “We should go inside. Up to the bedroom.”
She shook her head. “Here. Take me here. Now.”
His hands gripped the wooden edge of the bench as he fought for control. “I don’t keep a stash of condoms in my toolbox.”
She grabbed the handle of her purse and tugged it toward her, then dumped the contents onto the bench and rifled through them. Wallet, gum, loose change. She finally located the square packet and held it up triumphantly.
“I’m impressed.”
She grinned as she tore open the packet. He caught her mouth again in a slow, deep kiss as she unrolled the latex over him. Then he was lifting her off the bench, and easing into her, filling and fulfilling her. She hooked her legs around his waist, anchoring him to her.
“Are you okay?”
The bench was hard and cold and she would probably end up with splinters in her butt, but right now she wasn’t thinking about any of that. She wasn’t thinking about anything but how good it felt to have him buried deep inside of her. “I’m okay,” she assured him.
He began to move as her eyes closed on a sigh of pure pleasure and her fingers dug into his shoulders. She didn’t know if it was the angle of their bodies or the novelty of doing it in his workroom, but the pleasure was almost more than she could bear.
As he continued to thrust, harder and deeper, her head fell back and rapped against the pegboard wall covered with instruments and tools of various descriptions. Something fell off and clattered to the ground. Then several other somethings. Crash. Clatter. Clang.
Andrew didn’t seem to notice—or maybe he didn’t care. Even she registered the sound as if it was faraway. The only thing that mattered in the here and now was Andrew and the indescribable pleasure he gave her whenever she was in his arms.
She’d never experienced anything like this. It wasn’t just primitive—it was a little rough and a lot wild, and the orgasm that racked her body left her completely breathless and spent.
Her hand slid off his shoulder to his chest, and she could feel the thunderous pounding of his heart beneath her palm, its rhythm as hard and fast as her own.
He reached up and sifted his fingers through her hair, looking for a bump. “How’s the head?”
She laughed softly. “I think I’ll live. And if not, I’ll die with a smile on my face.”
He was smiling, too, when he touched his lips to hers. “I don’t know that this bench is tested to withstand that kind of vigorous activity, but I’d be happy to write a product recommendation.”
Her head dropped forward to settle against his shoulder as she tried to catch her breath. “You know what you said about not keeping condoms in your toolbox?”
“Yeah.”
“You might want to reconsider.”
He chuckled. “Let’s go get that Chinese food.”
Chapter Fourteen
Maura couldn’t sleep.
She could hear Grandpa Ed snoring across the hall, but she knew that wasn’t why she was awake. She couldn’t sleep because her tummy hurt deep inside and she wanted to go home to Daddy.
He’d called to talk to her after dinner, like he always did. She didn’t talk to Rachel, but she knew she was there, because she said “hi” in the background.
Grandma wasn’t happy when Maura told her that Rachel was at home with her daddy. She didn’t say that she wasn’t happy, but Maura could tell because her face got that pinched look.
Before bed, Maura wanted to read Harry Potter but Grandma said it wasn’t an appropriate story for a child her age. Instead, she got out a book of fairy tales and read her the story of Cinderella—as if she hadn’t heard that enough times since kindergarten.
But listening to Grandma read it, Maura picked up on some details she hadn’t before—like the fact that Cinderella’s stepmother was nice to her own children but not to Cinderella. She was a stepmonster, like the woman who married Kristy’s dad, and it made Maura wonder if Rachel would get mean, too, if she married Daddy.
Then there was the story about Snow White. She was sent away by the evil queen who married her daddy. And Hansel and Gretel’s stepmother told their daddy to abandon them in the woods. Maura knew the stories weren’t any more real than Harry Potter, but she wasn’t going to take any chances.
She wasn’t going to let Rachel marry her daddy.
* * *
Sunday morning, Andrew was lured into the kitchen by the tantalizing scents of cooked bacon, fresh coffee and cinnamon. What he saw in the kitchen was even more tempting than what he smelled. Rachel was standing at the stove, dressed in one of his shirts. The sleeves were rolled up past her elbows and the tail fell just past the delectable curve of her bottom.
She was humming quietly to herself as she fried bread in a pan.
“I sometimes wonder if you’re with me for my body or my appliances,” he said.
She turned to him with a smile. “I assure you I’m appreciative of both.”
He took a mug from the cupboard and filled it from the coffeepot.
“I was going to bring you breakfast in bed,” she told him.
“And what did I do to deserve that special treatment?”
“Me,” she said cheekily.
He chuckled and drew her close for a kiss. “Anytime,” he assured her. “In fact—”
“No.” She stepped out of his arms. “I’m not going to ruin this French toast.”
He looked in the pan. “That doesn’t look like normal French toast.”
“It’s banana cinnamon French toast—I’m expanding your culinary horizons.”
“Looks...interesting.”
“You’ll like it,” she promised.
And he did.
But what he liked most was getting creative with the leftover maple syrup, drizzling it over select parts of her body and slowly licking it off. By the time he was done, they were both sticky, so he carried her up to his shower and soaped up every inch of her body. And he really liked that she returned the favor.
* * *
Rachel was torn between relief and regret when she went back to her own apartment Sunday night. Every minute that she’d spent with Andrew over the weekend had been incredible, but she knew that she was falling deeper and deeper in love each day. And not just with Andrew, but with his daughter, too.
She’d expected her life to follow a traditional path wherein she’d meet someone special, they’d fall in love, get married and raise a family together. An
drew had already done that whole routine, and, for the past three years, he’d been raising his daughter on his own. He had help from his family, of course, and from Maura’s maternal grandparents, but he had ultimate responsibility and made all decisions with respect to this little girl.
Rachel didn’t have a problem with that, but she found herself wondering what her role in Maura’s life would be if she and Andrew ever took their relationship to the next level. Blended families were almost the norm now, but that didn’t mean they weren’t fraught with difficulties.
She felt fortunate that Andrew’s daughter was so accepting and affectionate, but she knew there would eventually be conflicts. It was simply the nature of human relationships.
She didn’t anticipate that their first conflict would come the very next weekend—or that it would have such far-reaching repercussions.
* * *
When Rachel asked Andrew and Maura if they wanted to join Scott, Trent and herself for a picnic in the park and then a game of mini-golf, his daughter immediately responded with an enthusiastic yes. But when Rachel showed up with her nephews on Saturday, Maura refused to come out of her room.
“I don’t want to go mini-putting,” Maura decided.
“Yesterday you said you did,” Andrew reminded her.
“I changed my mind.”
“Well, you can’t stay here by yourself.”
“You can stay with me, Daddy.”
“No, I can’t,” he told her. “Because I made plans with Rachel and Scott and Trent.”
Her little brow furrowed. “But you’re my daddy. You have to be with me.”
“I made a commitment to Rachel,” he reminded her. “So if you don’t want to come, I’ll call Auntie Jordyn to see if she’s available to stay with you.”
Technically, Jordyn was Maura’s second cousin not her aunt, but when Maura was little, she couldn’t understand why Nathan and Daniel were her uncles and Braden, Justin and Ryan were her cousins. So she started calling them uncle and, by extension, his female cousins, Jordyn, Tristyn and Lauryn, became her aunts.
And although Maura was usually happy to spend time with any one of her aunts or uncles, she crossed her arms over her chest now. “I don’t want Auntie Jordyn. I want you.”
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