by Francis Ray
The small smile slid from her face. “You won’t have to worry about that.”
“Good, because I’m a possessive kind of guy.” He said the words casually as he cut into his chicken-fried steak. He figured he might as well get it out there.
“Because of what happened?” Marlene asked, her fork poised over her broccoli.
His gaze lifted to hers. “No. It’s you. Just you. I look at you and feel…” He paused, searching for words. “Things I never felt before.”
“Oh.”
His gaze dropped to her mouth. He hungered for her. When he lifted his eyes to meet hers, he knew she’d see the raw need and he didn’t try to mask it. He wanted her to know how much he desired her.
She picked up her glass with an unsteady hand. “Perhaps we should discuss something else.”
“Sorry if you’re embarrassed, but as I said, I believe in frankness.” He took a bite of mashed potatoes. “The guys working with me said this place had the best home cooking in the city. Both recommended the chicken-fried steak. What do you think?”
“That you’re a patient man,” she said, the smile that warmed him and turned him on returning.
He breathed easier. “Comes with the territory. It can take weeks, months, to investigate an account.”
“How are things going?” she asked.
He frowned. “Dillon is right. I can’t put my finger on it yet, but I will.”
“You’re as self-assured as Dillon.”
Roman shrugged. “If you don’t believe in yourself, you can’t expect anyone else to. But I figure you know that already.”
She placed her fork and knife on her plate. “Life offers a lot of challenges.”
“And rewards,” he said, his meaning clear. “Has Dillon told you how we met?”
“He said you worked for Carson’s family.”
“Carson’s father and I graduated from MIT together. Our families have known each other for three generations.”
Interest sparkled in her eyes. “Three generations. How wonderful.”
“Coffee and your dessert.” The waitress placed the cobblers and their coffee on the table and left.
“An understatement. My father and Nathan’s father met while working in basic training for the air force.” Roman picked up his spoon. “Both came from poor parents. Both were the first to finish college. My younger sister is married to Nathan.”
Surprised delight flittered across Marlene’s face. “Dillon never mentioned you were related to the Rowlands. I’ve met Tess. She’s a beautiful woman on the inside and out, and unpretentious as they come. She and Nathan have always made Dillon feel welcome when he went to visit them. One weekend here when Dillon and Carson were freshmen was enough for Carson.” Marlene smiled. “He enjoyed my cooking, but not the quiet life.”
“To think I could have met you long ago.”
“Perhaps. Please go on.”
In other words, Roman thought, she would have brushed him off. “There are five of us children. I’m the oldest. Blessedly, my parents are still alive. All of us live in Dallas since my youngest brother recently relocated from Charleston. He’s also the only one still single. Our families were always close. My divorce changed that for my children.” His hand clenched on the spoon. He sat back in his chair.
“I can forgive my ex for cheating, but not for disrupting the lives of my children. They live in D.C., apart from both of us because their mother makes them feel guilty if they show a preference for me.”
Her hand covered his. “I’m sorry.”
He’d barely felt the warmth before her hand moved. “You’re lucky Dillon is around.”
“We almost grew up together.”
“It’s still difficult to believe that you’re his mother.” Roman smiled. “I guess you know he talks about you. He’s proud of you.”
“There were times—” Shaking her head, she picked up her spoon but didn’t eat. “It wasn’t always easy.”
“Yet, you did it, just like you run the garage. Like I said, you’re a remarkable woman, Marlene. It’s going to be a pleasure getting to know you better.”
“So this isn’t our first and last date?” she asked with a bit of a twinkle in her eyes.
“Not by a long shot.” He leaned across the table. “This is just the beginning.”
* * *
The movie had been a romantic suspense and one she had wanted to see. She liked both the male and female leads. The movie should have kept her attention. It hadn’t.
Marlene kept thinking about when he’d take her home and the good-night kiss. The torrid love scene between the leads had only made her more aware of the man sitting beside her, his male scent, the strong arm around her shoulders …
Now, walking to her door, she couldn’t stop shivering. She could no longer deny the reason. Anticipation, not fear.
Thankfully, the first try unlocked the door. Reaching inside, she switched on the light, wondering if she should invite him in. Dillon had said he’d make himself scarce, but … She turned and found herself where she had wanted to be all night, wrapped in Roman’s strong arms. She sighed with the rightness of it. His hand slid into her hair, angling her head up.
“I can’t wait any longer.” His mouth brushed against hers, warming her lips, heating her body. It seemed an eternity before his lips settled firmly against hers, his tongue gliding inside her mouth. She was incredibly aware of his lean body pressed against hers. She felt cherished. She’d never felt that way with a man. Her knees trembled. Her hold tightened as she sank more deeply against him.
He tore his mouth away, his breathing harsh, then pulled her to him. “You…”
Trembling, Marlene just held on as her heart tried to settle. “I might be too old for this,” she mumbled, then stiffened as she realized she’d said the words aloud. Mortified, she shut her eyes. She might have joked about a senior moment earlier, but she hadn’t just had a kiss that made her ache and burn.
She heard a muffled sound and realized it was laughter. Seconds later, her laughter joined Roman’s.
“I’m older and I say we’re definitely not too old.” He straightened, brushed her hair away from her face. “You’re so beautiful.”
“Would you like to come in?” she asked. She was going to reach out for what she wanted.
“I’d like nothing better, but I don’t think I’m that strong. How about a game of putt-putt tomorrow night?” he asked.
Marlene unhappily accepted that he was right. She’d prefer Dillon not catch her on the sofa. “I’ve never played.”
His thumb played with her ear, sending shivers in its wake. “It will be my pleasure to teach you. Six thirty all right?”
She’d miss cooking dinner for Dillon again. “Yes.”
“That’s my girl.” Roman took her in his arms again and made her world tilt, her body burn.
When she could think clearly again, she said, “I wish you didn’t have to drive back tonight.”
“Don’t worry. I’m used to night driving,” he told her, his arms around her waist. “Listening to my tapes, I’ll be home before I know it.”
“All right. Why don’t you come by for breakfast in the morning?” she asked.
“I don’t want you going to the trouble of having to get up earlier because of me,” he told her.
“I’d already planned to cook Dillon a good breakfast to make up for not cooking for him tonight, and it now looks like tomorrow night.” Few people besides Dillon had ever worried about her.
“Then I’ll see you at seven-thirty.” He kissed her again then gently pushed her inside. “Night.”
“Night,” Marlene breathed the word. A smile on her face, she turned and saw the light on in the kitchen. She glanced at her watch. Ten fifty-three. Heat flushed her face. It wasn’t unusual for Dillon to make raids on the kitchen even after a full meal.
She could go to her room or … Tossing her handbag on the sofa as she passed, she went to the kitchen. Dillon, his back to her,
was at the stove.
“Hi, Dillon,” she greeted him.
“Hi. You have fun?”
He hadn’t turned. He’d seen her all right, clinging around Roman like plastic wrap. She tried to remember where Roman’s hands were and couldn’t, only that they had felt good on her body.
She went to the stove. The sunny-side-up eggs were just beginning to bubble around the edges. Taking his arms, she turned him to her. “Dillon.”
He looked at her, then down. “I was on my way to the kitchen. The Burger Joint hamburger was as bad as I remember. The light came on and I … I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” She turned to grab a metal spatula and turned over the eggs. “I’m your mother. It’s difficult to see me as just a woman on a date.”
“I guess.” He grabbed a plate.
Marlene slid the eggs onto the plate and went to the refrigerator for the loaf of bread. She put four slices in the toaster, then placed strawberry preserves on the table. When the toast was ready, she placed them on his plate.
“Dillon, if you’re going to be this embarrassed if you see me kissing Roman, perhaps I shouldn’t see him anymore.”
He finally looked at her, down at his plate, then back up at her. “I did promise I’d make myself scarce.”
“Yes, you did, but this is your home as well.”
He glanced around the stainless-steel kitchen with custom cabinetry. “We’ve come a long way, haven’t we?”
“And we did it together, and by being honest with and loving each other.”
“I don’t guess you’ll scar me at my age,” he said lightly, and picked up his fork.
“No more than your wild antics while you were growing up scared me.”
Chuckling, he dug into his eggs. “Thanks for the food.”
“That’s what mothers are for.” Leaning down, she touched her head to his. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Mama?”
Stopping at the door, she looked back over her shoulder. “Yes.”
“I love you. I’m glad you’re going out with Roman. He’s a good man.”
“Thank you, Dillon. I think he is too.” Smiling, Marlene continued out of the room.
* * *
Dillon didn’t wake up in the best of moods. Sexual depravation would do that to you. And he wasn’t likely to be satisfied anytime soon, he thought as he stepped from the shower. He didn’t believe in using women. Sam was the only woman he wanted, and she had put up a huge NO TRESPASSING sign.
He could probably work on changing her mind this weekend while they were in Vegas. But he didn’t want to seduce her. He wanted her willing and eager in his bed, and just as eager and wild after the dawn came. He didn’t want regrets and recrimination.
Dressed, he left his bedroom on the other side of the house. He smelled breakfast, heard male laughter. Roman. Dillon admitted what he hadn’t wanted to last night. He’d been embarrassed seeing his mother kissing Roman, but he’d also been a bit jealous that he was having so much trouble with Sam.
He stood in the doorway a few seconds before they saw him: his mother, wearing a pretty pink dress instead of her usual slacks, making French toast; Roman, standing close, drinking coffee.
“Good morning.”
Both turned with easy smiles to greet him. “Good morning, Dillon.”
Three was definitely a crowd. He crossed to his mother, kissed her then grabbed his keys off the hook. “I’m not hungry. See you both later.”
His mother dropped the bread into the egg mixture and came to him. “You feel all right?”
“Sure. Guess I’m still full from eating last night,” he said.
“Since when?” she asked. “You can eat two hours after a huge meal.”
He touched her shoulder. He didn’t want her worried about him. “Probably thinking about the designs for the intercooler. I’m putting it in Carson’s BMW this weekend. See you.” He went out the back door, but the door opened behind him before he reached his truck.
“Dillon.” Roman caught up with him. “Marlene is in the kitchen with her head down. She got up early to cook you breakfast because she didn’t cook for you last night. There’s an enchilada casserole in the refrigerator because we were going out tonight. If it’s me, I’ll leave. I won’t come between you. She loves you more than anything.”
Muttering, Dillon shoved his hand over his hair. “It’s not you. It’s…” He eyed Roman. “Honk when you pull up next time.” Then he brushed past Roman and went back inside.
As Roman had said, Marlene sat at the kitchen table with her head down. Dillon could have kicked his own butt. He knelt and took her unsteady hands. “I forgot the house rules. Hungry or full.”
“If—”
“It’s not you,” he repeated. He’d never discussed his women with his mother. Never had a problem with one that he couldn’t solve on his own.
“Should I leave?” Roman asked.
Dillon saw the longing in his mother’s eyes. Yet she didn’t say one word for him to stay. She’d let the man she cared for walk away. She’d always put Dillon first. He could do no less, even if he had to bare his soul. “Sam and I are having a bit of personal problems. I guess I’m not taking it very well.”
Happiness crossed his mother’s face. “Oh, Dillon. I never thought this day would happen.”
“Whoa. It’s just a passing thing.”
“Hmmm.”
He didn’t like the sound of that. “I mean it. We both have different goals in life.”
Her hands palmed his face. “There has never been an obstacle or challenge in your life that you haven’t met head-on and conquered. Different isn’t always bad.” She glanced over at Roman, then pushed against Dillon’s shoulders so she could stand. “I’ll finish the French toast. Please get the juice. Roman, help yourself to more coffee. We can eat in a minute and Dillon can tell us about the race this weekend.”
Dillon rose and went to the glass-front cabinets for the juice glasses. Thank goodness he hadn’t ruined his mother’s day with Roman because Sam had shut him down.
His mother had brought up a good point. Sam was different from the other women he’d dated. She challenged him, resisted him so naturally when he’d tried to make her submit. The old Sam might have given in, the new emerging Sam was learning to stand her ground and push back. Oddly, he preferred the new Sam, but that didn’t mean he’d let her or any woman get the better of him. “Where’re you two headed tonight?”
“Putt-putt,” his mother said, laughing. She smiled at Roman. “I’ll probably embarrass us.”
“Not a chance.” Roman sipped his coffee and watched Marlene with an intensity that was almost tangible. “But even if we have a terrible score, we’ll have fun and be together.”
Dillon was sure that if he weren’t there, they’d be in each other’s arms. To make up for his bad behavior, he’d eat and then leave so they could have a few minutes alone. He had work to do. First, he needed to get his mind exclusively on finishing the intercooler. Second, he had to try to forget how good Sam felt in his arms.
* * *
Samantha got what she wanted. Dillon stayed away from her the rest of the week at work.
Where she was, he wasn’t. And if they did happen to be in the same place, he quickly excused himself. Knowing he was working against the clock to finish the intercooler before Friday didn’t make her feel any better.
Wednesday, he’d come to their office—which he never used anymore—to disclose their travel plans to leave Friday morning and return early Monday morning. Practice was Friday, qualifying runs against the clock Saturday, with the actual race on Sunday at noon.
“You can come down on Sunday morning,” he’d suggested in front of her desk. “I can talk to Mark, explain the intercooler, introduce him to the Rowland Racing Team, and make sure he has a good time.”
He’d made the statement in a businesslike manner. There’d been no hint of jealousy. Clearly, he’d relegated her to the past and moved o
n. It had hurt, but she hadn’t let it show. She’d sign over her half of Collins mansion to her uncle before she’d let him know. Just because they didn’t have a personal relationship didn’t mean that they couldn’t have a harmonious working one.
“I’d rather go with you on Friday,” she’d said just as formally. “I want to learn as much as possible about vintage cars, especially if there is a market there for the intercooler. I’ll make hotel reservations.”
“Already made.” He’d gone to the door. “I requested separate floors.”
So he planned to be with another woman. “Thank you.”
She’d gone back to work before the door closed, wishing there were some way to turn off her feelings for a man who obviously no longer cared. There wasn’t. He was it for her.
Her door opened moments later. Her uncle came in, grinning. He’d have a fit if she entered his office without permission. “Did you forget to knock?”
He paused as if he hadn’t expected the reprimand, then his smile returned as he continued to the seat in front of her desk. “Things aren’t going so well between you and Dillon, I’ve noticed.”
“Was there something you wanted, Uncle Evan?”
Lines raced across his forehead as he studied her. She held his gaze. She wasn’t the same woman, eager to please and keep everyone happy. Being stronger hadn’t come without a price, however.
“Sign papers that at the end of the five-year period your half of Collins is mine, and I’ll help you,” he told her, his hands laced together over his trim stomach in a tan tailored suit. She didn’t think she’d ever seen him wearing the same suit or tie.
Samantha arched a brow. “How?”
“I have my ways,” he came back, his smile growing.
Samantha doubted that. He might arrive at work on time, but he still went home promptly at five. In between that time, she’d never seen any indication that he did anything productive behind his closed door. “Have you talked to any accounts or tried to acquire any lately?”
Disbelief widened his eyes as he shot to his feet. “Are you checking up on me?”
She asked a question of her own. “How can you help the company when you aren’t doing anything since we lost Granddad to help the bottom line?”