“If you add ‘kind to widows’ in there, I'm leaving.”
“Why?”
“I’m no saint. I leave my socks in the oddest places.”
Tara chuckled. “That's your only fault?”
“As a housekeeper about the only one, as a saint the fact that I very much would like to take you to bed I don't think I'll be getting any calls from the pope soon.”
Tara couldn't see his face, she was glad of that fact. Her mouth went dry and she surely blushed like a virgin. Finally, Jake appeared and she was alone on a date in her own house. A date who just said . . .
“Eat up,” he added, handing her glass of wine back to her.
Tara couldn't keep from grinning. “Why do I keep getting images of movies where the hero gets the heroine drunk by filling her glass again and again?”
Jake sank on the sofa as he smiled a slow smile and got a look in his eyes that melted her heart. “I have much more fun seducing a sober woman, there's no challenge if she's drunk. The restaurant gave me a bottle of wine for Christmas.”
“I'll know not to fall in love with you as I get drunk then. I won't get anywhere.”
His eyes sparkled with laughter as he smirked. “Or just don't get drunk and give me a run for my money.”
Tara froze with her first bite almost to her mouth. “You don't have any family to spend the holidays with?” She sputtered trying to change the subject. He had that look in his eyes again, the one Brian had before he took her to bed and she tried to hide the blush by drinking quickly.
“Parents did the Arizona thing. With filling in for the Nutcracker it didn't leave me time to really take off this year and head down. I grew up here, but everyone else has moved away.”
Tara cut into her meat without responding about family back. She'd dumped more on him on accident than any man should have to listen to. But the first bite in her mouth gave her something else to say. “Where do you work? I've had this before.”
“Basilleo on Summit Avenue.”
“We ate there all the time before. . .” She stopped herself just in time. “It's my favorite restaurant, three million people living in the area and you're chef at my favorite restaurant.”
“Owner, I bought it 4 years ago.”
With a smile, Tara held up her wine glass in a half toast. It was safer not talking, just eating, if she looked at him she imagined all sorts of things. Real or not didn't matter, her mind wouldn't let them go. He was being sweet, generous, and understanding, and when he smiled that smile.
“I'll leave if you wish.”
Tara's eyes flew up. He had no smile, no grin. She couldn't stand to have him looking at her with such a look. He thought he knew what the problem was and it was the furthest thing from the truth. How could she even say it? She took a big gulp of air. “All I know is that you have the same look in your eyes as Brian did before he took me to bed.”
“The man had very good taste. I can see you as an Asian temptress in an old black and white movie, all classy and seduction.”
Again, he did the unexpected and took all but empty plates back to the kitchen. Tara could even hear him rinsing them off and putting them in the dishwasher.
“I brought dessert.”
“Not now. I had eaten some at my mother's house earlier.” Then she realized what she was saying. Dinner was over. Tara took a long drink of her wine. She couldn't play games, her life was too fragile after everything fell apart. One tiny falter and it would all fall again. “Why are you here? Don't say ‘tis the season. I don't need charity.”
“The tickets might have been that—coming here . . .” he started shaking his head as he came into view from the kitchen. “I wanted to know more about you.”
“I hardly have a life other than Meg. What is there to get to know?”
Jake walked over, stopping only when he leaned over caging her in by his arms. “My mother was one of the first generation Russian knitters, my sister could dance every part. I never wanted to dance even, they were missing a male role when I was six and my mother couldn't comprehend the idea so she put down the money. She never asked, most of the mothers there never have, but you sat there because it was what Megan wants even if you can hardly afford it. That woman I would like to get to know. That woman I could be friends with.”
For months, Brian being gone had left a hole in her heart, in her life, but when sanity returned and life got hectic, it was arms around her that she missed most. She missed a friend. But hell, no man looked at her like that . . . “Just friends?” She forced out as her heart pounded in her chest.
His mouth drew too near her ear. The stubble on his cheeks rasped against her own, sending a shiver down her spine. “On our first date? How will you ever respect me in the morning?”
Tara willed herself to calm down, she throbbed between her legs, and her heart beating out of her chest as if she'd never had sex before in her life. Too long without, ugh! “Do you dance with friends or is that saved for someone that's more than that? I haven't been dancing in a long time.” She knew he knew that wasn't what was on her mind, but he only looked over his shoulder at the record player. She felt set adrift without an anchor when he moved from her side. The man certainly had presence and a nice ass, and a glorious chest and if those tights held any indication one very fine. . .
A 1960's soul record broke the silence and his hand was there for her to take. Tara bit her lip as she stood and put her hand in his. Despite the small space, the tree took up much of the normally spacious living room, they danced. Not the barely standing still hardly moving thing, actually danced with turns and all.
The song changed to something slower. Something seductive, not the thing she needed to slow things down. Tara closed the gap between them. Her daughter was asleep in the house. He was all but a stranger, but falling into his arms was so easy. Close enough she could feel his every muscle move as she rested her chin on his shoulder.
Her breathing grew slower with the very thought of another man. Brian wasn't coming to mind anymore, not right then anyway. “Am I going to wake up in the morning like Clara did and find this is all a dream?” Tara forced herself to breathe. “All I can think of. . .”
His mouth on her neck made her gasp. “You only have to ask,” Jake whispered. Tara pulled her head back bringing them eye to eye. Bed eyes or not, he offered friendship first, but slow? Not a chance. That was what worried her.
“Ask for what, a one night fling? Are you going to sneak in after Meg's gone to bed, leave before she wakes up? A roll in the hay and then what? I won't do that to her. If I don't see a man worth meeting her then what's the point. It's not just me.” Tara froze as warm fingers caressed beneath her shirt. The material of her bra was too much of a barrier as his thumbs found nipples to play with. She craved his touch against her bare skin.
“If I wanted a one night stand most every waitress at the restaurant would give me one with more certainty than showing up here. I don't get many nights at home and I expected nothing more when I knocked on the door than sitting in front of a fireplace in a real home with a new friend.” His voice lowered, husky with want. “But if you want to get back to living as more than Megan's mother, it's Christmas. You can ask for whatever you would like, naughty or nice. Tomorrow you can decide to put me through the wringer for a year, if that's what it takes for you to decide I'm worthy to be a part of Megan's life, but tonight…” Under her shirt her bra straps slipped off her shoulders. A thigh-spreading grin grew at his lips as he found bare flesh at any rate. Nipples, hard and sensitive, gave away her secrets even if her words claimed she wanted to slow down. “is a gift if you want it.”
Her heart beat in her chest before her knees buckled and Tara leaned against him. Every inch of her screamed that a year was too long never to be touched. As if hands of another she had no control over she watched herself unbuttoning his shirt. “Jake . . .” Her words faded from her head as the fabric fell from his shoulders. One whole shoulder was covered in the tattoo she
had seen part of earlier, like a cape from his neck to his middle upper arm, sinuous and sensual swirls covered all. Tara explored every hard curve and his eyes closed. “I think I could use dessert now. Was that Café Mocha I saw?”
“Lime tart from the restaurant. I noticed you didn't take chocolate the other night in chocolate heaven.”
“Real filling or flavored whipped cream.”
Jake started smiling. “Tough customer, aren't you? As real as true key lime pie.”
“Then I'll take two pieces.”
“Are you stalling?” Jake whispered.
“Maybe a little, maybe I . . . want to make you work for it.”
He opened his eyes slowly seeing everything inside her. “Is Meg down for the night?”
The clock on the mantel said it was near 11, and she shook her head. “If she's going to wake up it's usually by midnight. Then she sleeps through, but it ruins an evening out pretty effectively.”
Jake headed over to the kitchen, cut a quarter of the tart, and put it on a plate for her. “Big enough for you?”
“You mean to satisfy me? It will have to do for now, I suppose.”
Jake narrowed his eyes. “And you said there was nothing to get to know about you. You're a little tart yourself aren't you?”
Tara shrugged her shoulders as she took a bite. She couldn't keep the grin from growing before she turned to go back to the living room.
The room plunged dim as the tree was unplugged leaving only the fire burning low until Jake threw more wood on it. Pine pitch crackling was the only sound to break the silence as Jake pulled her down settling her between his legs, she couldn't see his face, but with his mouth near her ear, the lightest breath tortured her neck. She felt him hard against her back, living up to the promise of the bulge in his tights.
“We moved past yawning to get your hand on my boob awfully quick?” Tara teased as she puckered slightly after another bite.
“Never even tried that lame move when I was fifteen.”
“Oh right, all the girls thought you were effeminate, then.”
“Even effeminate men don't call them boobs. Impressive ones like yours we called tatas. Eat your tart.”
Tara tried not to giggle, she was too old to giggle, but the sound that escaped couldn't even be called a chuckle. It was a decided giggle until a soft moan escaped as Jake trailed his mouth over her neck. Warm, gentle, wonderful.
“For making me work for it you aren't trying to resist very hard.”
“Guess you’re good.”
“You're supposed to say that after I've done something. Say it now and I might get an ego.” His thumb caressed her cheek before traveling down her neck and the buttons of her shirt seemed to pop open with the slightest touch. The front clasp bra fell open giving him full access to her breasts. His touch burned as he cupped them gently and her head fell back giving him even greater access. He picked up Tara's forgotten fork and put a bite in her mouth.
“Do you make this yourself? I might keep you around if you do.” Tara just about dropped the plate when he took each nipple in his fingers and pulled gently and Tara was unable to hold back a whimper of longing.
“I do, I came up with the recipe in cooking school which got me an A, but are you going to talk about food when there's only one thing I can think of eating right now.”
At that thought, Tara gasped as her insides contracted, throbbed.
“You like that idea.” Hard strong fingers found her heat after he unzipped her jeans, slipped inside with a groan of pleasure of his own. His fingers pumped in and out of her slowly, spreading her juices up and over her clit.
Pure torture when she heard Megan cry out. “Mommy!”
Jake's hand pulled out quickly as if his mother might have walked in on him when he was fourteen. He wasn't used to being disturbed.
“Go back to sleep babe. I'm right here.” Tara ordered.
“It's too dark, I'm scared of the dark,” Megan called.
“Go,” Jake whispered, but Tara only shook her head.
“Santa will never come if you keep getting up. He needs it dark so no one sees him coming down the chimney.”
A tiny squeak was all that came from the other room and silence.
“She's not scared of the dark. Dreams I deal with, just being stubborn I don't.” When Tara turned her head to say more, his mouth covered hers. No attack, slow, certainly seductive, certainly deadly to any misgivings she might have gained at hearing Megan. He held her head against his shoulder, there was no escape, no wish too.
“Have you made me work for it enough? Or do I get to torture you some more.” With her senses reeling she hardly felt his hand as it trailed down before cupping her over her jeans and even that touch through her clothing was exquisite.
“I'm savoring, it's been a while.”
Jake took the plate from her hands and pulled her shirt and bra off. “In that case…”
Tara watched in fascination as her nipples ran through the tart’s filling. He growled in her ear before slipping out from behind her. Tara fell into the sofa oddly, but Jake pulled her flat beneath him soon enough. He worked his mouth down her throat to the top of her breasts. Her back arched the moment his tongue caressed a nipple. Tara bit down on her lip in an attempt to contain a moan. She grabbed her shirt and shoved it in her mouth as a cry forced its way out with the next caress. She needed to get laid more often. She hated that Roseanne was right. She hated . . . his mouth latched on and pleasure shot through her. Every inch of her cried out for more as he broke off, only to give the other tender loving attention.
“Hmm, that dessert is better than I remember when served on porcelain skin.” Jake rumbled against her chest. Refusing to lessen his assault, Tara felt the orgasm nearing and she was still half-dressed. Too damn long, she couldn't even keep it at bay and just enjoy the build up. Tara exploded, her entire body throbbing her release. Her body bucked hard half pushing Jake off the sofa. Tara curled into a ball savoring every tingling nerve that still called out for more, willing the release to leave slowly.
Jake pulled the jet black hair away from her face looking amused. “Merry Christmas.”
“That's never happened before,” she whispered.
“You, my dear, need a good . . .”
“Don't say it, I hear it enough from Roseanne.”
“Wise woman.”
Tara made a noise of disgust. “One look when she comes to dinner and she'll know, I'll never hear the end of it.”
Jake kissed her shoulder and his hand trailed down to her feet to pull her shoes off. Her pants followed quickly leaving only very naughty red lace undies.
“Expecting a visitor.”
Tara looked down quickly. “I refuse to wear old woman underwear, turn myself old before my time. I'm a widow, I'm not an octogenarian.” She hardly had the words out of her mouth when he pressed his lips against her knee.
“Never implied such a thing.” The next kiss moved up her leg, her inner thigh under attack now. “I would be honored if a woman came to seduce me in such a little thing.” Again his mouth moved higher, closer. “Maybe I'll have to get a present after all, black to match your hair, silver to match the sparkle in your eyes and sexy to match everything else about you.”
“Sexy?” Jake nodded before kissing only inches from . . . Nipping gently, she would be on the verge again soon. “Not something I've felt for a while.” She was rambling again. “I suppose you didn't need to hear that, did you?”
“First thing I noticed about you, couldn't figure out why a woman who looked like a centerfold was sitting there surrounded by soccer moms. Took a moment to realize you were a soccer mom, one very sexy mom. The little down turned corners of your mouth just begged for kissing.”
“I could have been married?” Finally, his mouth touched her, even if it was over the undies it sent her reeling again so soon after one orgasm. Moans of pleasure tumbled from Tara's lips. Jake ran his tongue up the edge of the material, and circled her b
elly button before he took off her last piece of clothing.
“You let that bit slip almost first thing. The tickets were to be nice, showing up was to get you out of my head. You just wouldn't leave me alone. The longing for friends in your eyes that said you were as lonely as I am. Then you asked just friends. . .”
Then his mouth was there, his tongue swiped through her bare pussy setting a fire deep inside her, stopped all thought, there was nothing but pleasure. Not memories of a dead love. Not a dead end job, with not enough money. Not lonely evenings waiting for the screams of Megan's dreams. Only a gut wrenching desire for him never to stop and to let the world come crashing back to mind. His hands rounded over her ass, igniting a flame of pure lust. With the edge gone this one she savored, and Jake let it build slowly. She watched the mantel clock turn 12 and as if he'd been waiting for it, he stopped playing. Tara's panted as she fought to not scream, tasted the blood on her lip again as she bit it hard in the same fight.
Jake crawled up and kissed her forehead. “I best get going. You'll need to get some sleep, Megan will be up early.”
He was reaching for his shirt when the surprise of his words faded. Tara stood there when he straightened up. Jake stared down at her finger as she pushed him back to the sofa, yeah as if she thought he would put up a resistance. His pants bulged and he was ready to just walk out the door. “You trying to say you can't finish the job you started?”
“No.”
“You looking forward to jacking off in the car before you drive home?”
“An hour ago you were worried about how Megan would be affected.” Jake started grinning as she undid his belt. The zipper on his pants flew open as the strain was let go.
“You served the appetizer, no chef would leave before the entrée and dessert is served.”
“I said you were a tart.” His voice grew husky as she pulled down his pants and underwear, then she pushed him back on the sofa.
Tara was just finished getting his boots off when she looked up and his grin faded. “And I said if I didn't think a man was worth it I wouldn't even start something. I wouldn't sneak around just to get laid. Tonight was a gift and you intend to stick around for however long it takes or was that a lie?”
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