The You I've Come To Know (A Mother's Love Book 1)

by Alison Kent

  He gave a one-shouldered, casual shrug and glanced across the deck at Leigh who was totally absorbed with Gordy. “We’re talking about it now.”

  “Are we? Sounds to me like we’re talking around it.” But the subject was out in the open and she was glad. Innuendoes and evasions had been going on too long. Silly when they were both adults.

  And when the attraction each felt for the other might not have been voiced but had most definitely been heard. Heard in the rush of blood like water over rock. In the beat of a heart like a pounding rain. In thoughts building like rapids roaring toward an inevitable fall.

  “That’s the beauty of the dance, Willa.” Joel closed his eyes slowly, took a deep breath, and opened them again. “You gotta have the music before you take the first step.”

  His fingers waltzed along the back of her hand and whisked away her breath. “Do you hear it?”

  What she heard was Joel. Oh, how she heard Joel. With her eyes, with her heart, with her busy, busy analytical mind. With her skin.

  His touch was music, masterfully played. One finger then the next plucked the strings of her palm. His thumb added another layer to the song, pressing down hard with a deep bass resonance that she felt in the bones of her wrist.

  It was a song of seduction, a song of man to woman. A melody sweet and hypnotic that delivered her to the verge of an emotion far beyond tears. Her body could do nothing but follow the rhythm he set, accompany him through the first movement, then the next.

  The thought was sobering, that a man she knew in a most casual way had the potential to be her Pied Piper. But the very thought that left her unsettled soothed her at the same time. For it was Joel’s touch she wanted, no other man’s.

  Pushing up the cuff of her flannel, he moved to her wrist, holding the back of her hand in his palm. The circles he thumbed on her forearm scraped with a delicious tickle and Willa shivered.

  “I like that you’re listening. I want you to hear. This”—he paused, drawing the circles back toward her wrist, then tracing the design farther up her arm—“is the sound of foreplay.”

  She whimpered. Her body quickened. She wanted Joel to touch her in intimate places, to make her body sing. To relieve the tension that was humming like a live wire just beneath her skin.

  Her eyes were closed when he shifted in his seat and leaned forward. The air around her heated with the warmth of his body, the temperature of her own.

  She sensed his hands near her throat, knew she’d sensed correctly when the placket of her unbuttoned flannel skated over her ribbed white tank, slid down to her elbows where it bound her arms at her sides.

  When the night breeze passed in a whisper, gooseflesh pebbled her skin. And when she felt Joel’s mouth in the barest touch, felt him hum low in his throat, heard the call of his music, the whole of her body burst into song.

  He feathered kisses along her collarbone. Her breasts swelled, her nipples drew taut, and by Joel’s sharp intake of breath, she knew he was visually aware of the effect of his touch.

  His hair brushed her jaw as his mouth moved into the hollow of her throat. His tongue darted out to tickle and tease and leave wet circles on her skin.

  It wasn’t enough and it was too much and if she didn’t get her hands on him soon she was going to come apart.

  Her fingers spread in her lap, her hands reached toward him, unable to move for the bonds at her elbows—bonds from which he refused to release her when she made a negligible move against his hold.

  “No. Not yet,” he said, his words warm where his breath brushed her neck. His fists, holding her shirt, knuckled up beneath her breasts, pressing into the pliant undersides. “The dance, remember?”

  She nodded. Imperceptibly. That was all she could do with his hands where they were. Finally where they were. “Does this dance have steps?”

  “Those we make up as we go along,” he answered with a Big Bad Wolf grin.

  His steps, she thought to herself, and said, “I see,” though she didn’t see at all because her eyes were closed while she waited for him to take a bite. “This step... Would it be called... The better to eat you with, my dear?”

  “My pleasure.”

  He moved up and caught her whispered words. His lips touched hers. Briefly. Barely. Only long enough for her to feel the lightest texture of the mouth she’d had her eyes on all day.

  A wolf with the touch of a lamb, soft and gentle. She’d expected no less though she’d had no real expectations. She remained unmoving while he drew on her lower lip. He tasted of the night air and smelled of the same, woodsy and earthy and darkly seductive.

  She wanted more, a deeper sampling of his flavor. She wanted to tangle her tongue with his, to feel the edges of his teeth, to press her lips hard beneath his and open her mouth.

  “Joel,” she whispered, her tongue flicking out to savor his dampness on her lower lip.

  “Willa,” he answered, nipping at her upper lip now. His fists full of flannel pressed upward until the backs of his fingers grazed nipples taut and tender.

  Desire blossomed wet and wild between her legs and this was only a kiss. A kiss that bordered on benign for all its lack of passion, yet as arousing as any she’d ever shared with a man.

  This was Joel’s music, Joel’s song, and Willa listened with skin that prickled from the feel of his beard and his breath. Listened with her tasting, teasing mouth.

  Listened with a heart that had been hopeful for a very long time, anticipating a melody that would fill the longing she had for a life partner.

  Slowly, Willa stiffened, pulled out of the kiss by the intrusive thought... and something more. That wasn’t what this was about. This was about the moment and nothing beyond.

  Together, she and Joel had the potential for great fun. They’d proved that today. And if the past eight hours had been stolen from time, she’d gladly look back and remember the diner, the fish market, the baby, and this kiss.

  But there could be nothing permanent between them, now or in the future. She opened her eyes as Joel moved away.

  “I think he’s trying to get your attention.”

  “What?” Still dazed and wary, Willa heard again what had nipped at her daydream. Gordy’s bark. One sharp yap, insistent yet patient. She glanced over her shoulder. The dog sat at the front of Leigh’s saucer seat, looking at Willa, at the baby, and back again.

  “Oh, Sweetie,” Willa said and left her chair as she should’ve done hours—was it hours?—ago. She crossed the deck to where Leigh sat in her seat, her hand reaching across the tray toward the dog, her head lolled to one side, her tiny lips parted in slumber.

  Willa lifted the baby who opened drowsy eyes and frowned. Leigh fussed her displeasure at being disturbed and guilt drove away Willa’s lingering arousal. Some help she was. Leigh needed a change not to mention a real bath and a bottle. And here Willa was dancing.

  “Hey, Scout.” Joel spoke near Willa’s ear. He reached across her shoulder to smooth the baby’s hair. “You about ready to turn in?”

  Leigh reached for her uncle then and Willa surrendered the tiny package. Once the baby was safely tucked against her uncle’s shoulder, Willa jammed her hands in the back pockets of her jeans and took a step back and away.

  “Cuttin’ out on me?” Joel asked, one brow lifted.

  “It’s late.” She couldn’t explain her withdrawal except to think of it as a safety net. These two would manage fine without her. And if she stayed... well... she’d be stepping off into dangerous territory. “I’ve got that one pup I really need to see to.”

  Joel shook his head. “Willa. You don’t have to explain.”

  “Yes. I do. I offered help. You accepted. And now...” She let the sentence drift, took another step back.

  “Call it an underhanded attempt to get you where I want you.” When she frowned, he added, “A guy thing. Don’t worry about trying to figure it out.”

  “I’ll stay. If you really want me to, I’ll stay.”

  “I wa
nt you to stay. But not to help me with Scout here. She and I did fine last night with the bath and bedtime routine.” He gently bounced the dozing baby. “If you stay, it’ll be for me. And I don’t think you’re quite ready for that.”

  He was right. As much as she was, she wasn’t. “Thank you.”

  “For what?” he asked, his mouth quirked upward.

  “For being a nice man.”

  His laugh was belly deep and full of the Big Bad Wolf. “You’d better go, Willa. Before I disprove your theory.”

  Rising up on tiptoes, she brushed her lips over his. “I’m more afraid that you’ll prove it. I have a feeling you can be nice in ways I haven’t thought of.”

  “You’ve thought of a lot, have you?”

  “The better to keep secret from you,” she said, then turned and whistled for Gordy. She was down the steps and halfway through their shared hedge when Joel’s back porch light went off.

  Moonlight bathed the yard. And the low howl that reached her ears was an eerily fitting cry.

  Chapter Nine

  WILLA SLEPT WELL, BUT NOT long. She wasn’t sure if it was the whimper of the Dalmatian pup that woke her or the memory of Joel’s seductive call.

  She knew why he’d done it, why he’d howled into the dark of the night. The sound had been one of frustration, a letting-off of built-up steam. She understood the feeling.

  Although the evening had held the warmth of the early spring day, she’d been shivering when she reached her back door, wondering what she’d walked away from, what would have happened had she stayed behind.

  Instead of a long low howl at the moon, she’d had to make do with a long relaxing bubble bath. The relaxing part hadn’t been easy to get to. By the time she had, the hour had been late and she had been pruned.

  She’d wanted to be ready this morning when Joel called, so she’d set her alarm accordingly and allowed herself enough time to see to the dogs. She hadn’t even slept as long as she’d planned because that lone mournful cry had pulled her from sleep. Once fully awake, she knew that what she’d heard had been the Dalmatian. Joel’s song was all in her mind.

  The pup had been hungry enough to venture from the corner of the pen where he’d cowered since yesterday morning. He’d eaten well enough to suit Willa and the light in his eyes reassured her that his recovery wouldn’t be forever in coming. After a little extra attention and coddling, she’d moved on.

  Her other boarders, stuck spending spring break in a kennel, had patiently waited for their turns—then demanded 100 percent of her energy and attention. Tic Toc had been especially eager to stretch his legs and Willa could hardly say no to a paying customer.

  So, as anxious as she was to start her day with Joel—and she was anxious; why kid herself?—she first saw to the animals’ needs. After a short game of fetch with Loverboy and an extra five minutes of scratching Mickey’s ears, she’d changed into running shoes and sweats and done her good doggy deed for the day. Tic Toc had thanked her with a wide slobbery smile.

  By the time she heard Joel’s back door open and close, heard his uneven step on the stairs leading down from his deck, heard him open the door to his truck, she’d already showered, dressed for the third time that morning and was ready for the day.

  Living out as far as they did, hearing those sounds from Joel’s place had been easy—even if she wasn’t listening. Which, admittedly, she was. But she knew he’d wanted to get an early start. And she didn’t want to keep him waiting.

  She brushed off the knees of her jeans, then the seat, wished she had a more casual, less roughneck wardrobe, came to her senses, and grabbed up the chambray shirt she’d left on the workbench in the kennel area.

  After pulling the long-sleeved cover-up over her goldenrod tank top, she told Gordy to stay and cut through the hedge for Joel’s. She found him checking the security of the baby seat. A mug of coffee steamed from the ledge of the truck bed.

  “Good morning,” she said, directing the words over his shoulder.

  He pulled the last strap tight and glanced back before exiting the cab. “You’re up and about early.”

  His smile was sleepy, as were his eyes, and Willa felt her heart flip then flop. “It’s not so early. Not when I have a kennel full of children who want to play the minute the sun’s up.”

  A guilty flush crept up Joel’s neck. “Well, Scout and I decided to sleep in for a while. We spent a late night watching Lethal Weapon.”

  “The first one?”

  “And the second. I thought about the third, but it was already past one. And by then the munchkin’d had her fill of Mel.” Grinning, he reached for his coffee.

  And while he sipped, Willa studied. His jeans were well-worn as was his single brown leather cowboy boot with its scuffed toe and sloped heel. His belt buckle was silver, inlaid with nuggets of turquoise. And his T-shirt—of course a T-shirt—was obviously new and dark, dark black.

  “You want a cup?”

  “What?” Willa shook off what she could of her daze. Why did he look so good this morning? He was the same man who’d been her neighbor for a year, the same man who waved at her across their shared hedge, who said hello and asked about her day when they met at the mailbox.

  The same man who’d kissed her tenderly on his deck last night.

  He lifted his mug. “Coffee? Caffeine?” He frowned. “You sure you’re awake? You’re looking a little glassy-eyed.”

  She was surprised her eyes were even open because she was sure she’d just been dreaming, remembering that kiss. She touched her lower lip, which trembled. “Sure. Coffee sounds great.”

  Joel slammed the truck door, placed his free hand on the small of her back and guided her toward the deck. “I’ve got sugar, but I’m not sure about milk.” He chuckled. “Unless you want to give Scout’s formula a shot.”

  “Funny. And just sugar is fine.” She walked up the stairs ahead of him, turned to wait and realized he was leaning heavily on the railing as he made his way up. “What happened to your cane?”

  He shook his head, stepped onto the deck, limped toward her. “Nothing. It’s in the house. I thought after falling on my face in the fish market yesterday I’d give it a rest.”

  “Makes sense. This way when you fall on your face you can fall on your face.” Men.

  “Yeah, well. I’m getting tired of relying on the damn thing,” he said, opening the back door. “It’s not like I don’t have two legs.”

  Like she’d said, men. Willa entered the kitchen, inhaled the fresh-brewed coffee, and headed for the pot. She pulled a mug down from the cupboard above and poured.

  “Being up at the crack of dawn, I guess you’ve eaten breakfast?”

  Eyes closed as she sipped, Willa nodded. Then she glanced at Joel whose cup was empty, whose eyes were slowly waking and whose stomach loudly growled. She grinned. “I had a zucchini bran muffin and an apple.”

  “So you haven’t eaten.” Joel’s arched brow made a powerful argument in his favor.

  Of course, to the Big Bad Wolf, fruit and fiber did not a breakfast make. “I ate. But since then I’ve played fetch and Florence Nightingale. I could eat again.”

  “Good, because I haven’t eaten a thing since last night.” Joel’s early-morning sleepy grin slowly took over his face and Willa felt her hold on her mug and her composure begin to slip.

  “So? What’s on the menu?” She set the mug on the counter, pulled open the fridge, peered inside then raised a questioning brow. “Beef and beer?”

  “Bachelor grub. I warned you.”

  “And after all that shopping we did yesterday.”

  “We bought diapers and formula and veggies and fish,” Joel said, moving into Willa’s space to refill his coffee, brushing up against her—subtly—when he reached for the pot.

  Knowing she wouldn’t find anything but the breathing room and the distraction she desperately needed, Willa leaned down to peer in the crisper drawers. Seemed she was wrong. “Aha. Bacon. Unopened. Unexpired. I t
hink we’re in business.”

  “We would be. If I had eggs.”

  “As luck would have it, I do have eggs.” She glanced back over her shoulder and up into his eyes. It was hard to think clearly when he looked at her that way, like he wanted more than bacon and eggs for breakfast. “Give me five minutes?”

  “I have coffee. I should be able to stave off starvation until you get back.” A demanding baby cried from the living room and Joel brought his mug up in salute. “Or until the munchkin wakes.”

  Willa left the bacon on the center shelf and closed the fridge. “Do you want me to see to her?”

  Joel shook his head, placed his mug in the sink. “I’d rather you see to my eggs. If that’s not too caveman for you.”

  “I think I can do caveman,” Willa said and gave her best grunt.

  Joel laughed. “I knew I liked you, Willa Darling. Now, go, woman. Get eggs. Cook breakfast. Feed man.”

  And she went, rolling her eyes as she did so, figuring once in a while a little caveman never hurt anyone.

  JOEL WAS GETTING WAY too used to having Willa around—and she’d only been around for one day. This was not a good thing. He told himself that his enjoyment of her company had to do with the help she’d given him with Leigh. This was a lie.

  Because right now Willa wasn’t helping with the munchkin at all. She had her back to him, in fact, and he’d never enjoyed her company more.

  Scout sat on his knee as he fed her cereal and bananas. After taking one look at the day-old white dress, he’d tied a dish towel around the baby’s neck and over her pajamas, figuring at her age she could get away with staying in her night clothes all day.

  And now that Willa was here and ready, they could pick up the rest of the things they needed from Jen’s. Not that he was going to rush Willa with breakfast. It was nice watching a woman cook and he wasn’t through with his very tame foray into voyeurism.

  Only a handful of women had cooked in this kitchen. His mother and Jen had both pulled KP when he’d come home from the hospital. And he seemed to remember the wife of a buddy or two making use of the stove. But none of those women had been worth watching the way Willa was worth watching.