The Sweetheart Rules

by Shirley Jump

  He scowled. “I’m not leaving a mess. God, Mom, get off my case.”

  “Jackson—”

  “I’m not having this conversation. All I wanted was a friggin’ muffin, not a lecture.” He got to his feet and stomped out of the lanai. The door slammed shut behind him.

  Diana drew in a deep breath and swallowed her temper. She wanted to follow her son and read him the riot act, but lately every interaction with Jackson escalated out of control, like he was a volcano waiting to blow at the slightest provocation. She really didn’t relish another I hate you moment, so she let it go and vowed to talk to him later, when they were both calmer. “I’m sorry. He’s not usually so—”

  “Fifteen?” Mike smiled. “I was a teenager once, too, and had… issues with my stepfather. I know what it’s like. If you want, I can go talk to him, give him the old you-must-respect-your-elders speech.”

  Judging by the scars on Mike’s back, issues didn’t begin to define the childhood he’d had. He’d come out of that past, though, as a strong, capable, successful man. Maybe he could help Jackson see that respecting his mother and picking up crumbs off the floor was a small thing in the scheme of life.

  Lord knew Jackson needed a strong, dependable male influence in his life. One who was a good role model, a steady source of wisdom and answers for all the things her teenage son was facing—the very things he would rather die than talk to his mother about. She knew there were girls and peer pressures, but Jackson kept it all bottled up inside. And Sean…

  Well, Sean had never been around long enough to discuss dinner options, never mind puberty.

  Mike wasn’t going to be around for long, either. What was with her and picking men who had all the sticking power of wet tape?

  “He seems to listen to me,” Mike said. “Let me talk to him.”

  Diana worried her bottom lip. “I should be the one talking to him. That’s my job.”

  Mike got to his feet and put a hand on her shoulder. “Just because it’s your job doesn’t mean you always have to do all the work alone. Even a superhero needs a little help once in a while.”

  The tender words made tears well in her eyes; tears she cursed because they showed the very weaknesses she tried to keep hidden. She had to be strong—she was doing all the work of two parents, plus running a thriving practice and trying to continue her mother’s legacy. There was no room in those expectations for her to waver. But oh how she wanted to just rely on someone else for a while, to let another carry part of the burdens. She gave Mike a watery smile. “That’s not fair, you know, calling me a superhero.”

  “All single moms are superheroes. Didn’t you know that?” He grinned, then gestured toward the bag of pastries. “Have some muffins and coffee and enjoy the day. I’ll go talk to Jackson.”

  Before she could protest, Mike was gone, and Diana was left on the lanai, while the birds chirped and the sun’s muted rays danced a golden wash across the lanai’s floor. The pool filter gurgled softly, and geckos chased each other up and down the panels of the screen. It was relaxing and peaceful, and after a moment, Diana sat back in the chair, closed her eyes—

  And fell asleep.

  Seventeen

  Angelic.

  Mike stood back and watched Diana sleep. A slight smile played on her lips and her hair flowed loose around her shoulders, soft and tempting, whispering slightly in the breeze from the ceiling fan. Her chest rose and fell in a slow, even wave of slumber. He’d always thought she had a kind of classic beauty—like Grace Kelly, with defined features, light blond hair and a wide, easy smile—but when she slept, she had the look of an angel.

  Damn. He was getting soft, or sentimental, or something. Since when had he ever looked at a woman and thought she looked like an angel?

  He was falling for her all over again. Back in January, he’d tumbled hard and fast into a relationship with Diana, and it had taken the better part of the last six months for him to stop thinking about her every five seconds. Now he was back in Rescue Bay and finding every possible excuse to be around her. Those old feelings had roared back to life, stronger, deeper.

  And that was a problem. A big one.

  She stirred, then turned her head, and blinked awake. “Oh gosh, I fell asleep. I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay. You probably needed the nap.”

  She sat up, brushed the hair away from her face, and took a sip of coffee, then made a face because the brew had gone cold. “Where’s Jackson?”

  “We talked for a little bit, then he went to a friend’s house. Uh”—Mike searched his memory banks—“Eric’s, he said.”

  Relief glowed in her features. “Eric’s a good kid.”

  Mike didn’t know Diana or Jackson very well, but he knew worry when he saw it. She had that look a lot of boaters had just before the rescue swimmer dropped into the water. Their eyes would be round and dark with terror, as the ocean snarled and whipped around them, like an angry mistress out for blood. Then, as the swimmer arrived with salvation, their eyes would fill with relief that help had arrived before the dark, frigid, murky water won the battle.

  Diana was worried about her son, that much was clear. Maybe she was just overprotective. Or overly sensitive to normal teenage attitude and rebellion. Or maybe Jackson had given her reason to worry. Whichever it was, Mike didn’t ask, because asking meant getting involved.

  If he stepped in now, he’d be like a swimmer without a waiting helo, a helper who could only ease the boater’s fear, because in the end, he’d have to leave the drowning man in the ocean. It would be a temporary salve, not a long-term solution. Besides, he had been a terrible father thus far to his own kids. What made him think he could be any better with someone else’s child?

  “So, the renovations,” he began. “We need to do a priority list so that the most important things get done first, and the less important, cosmetic things, move to the end of the list.”

  “The kennels for sure. We need those repaired first,” she said. “There are also a couple of private rooms for people to interact with their chosen pet, and it’d be handy to have more of those available during big events like we just had.”

  He tugged a piece of paper out of his pocket and wrote down her comments. “Anything else?”

  “The storage room needs a new door. And the back door doesn’t lock right. We have it propped shut for now.” She put a finger to her lip as she thought.

  And he lost his entire train of thought. Watching her lips move against that finger derailed his thoughts from the renovations—the whole reason he was here, after all, was for the meeting they’d had planned for today—and straight down a single path.

  They were alone.

  In her house.

  A short hallway trip from her bedroom.

  A route he remembered well from January.

  Very, very well. Damn.

  His brain kept running images of that night, of the way the moon had kissed Diana’s skin and washed it with a silky glow, of how she felt against him, perfect, warm, right, of how for a little while, he had forgotten the whole world outside of Diana’s bed.

  “Mike? Did you hear what I just said?”

  “Yes.” He let out a low curse. “No.”

  She laughed, a merry, light sound that filled the darkness in his chest. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “That I know I came over here to talk about the repairs to the shelter,” he said, the words barreling from his Man Brain to his mouth faster than he could think about whether any of this was a good idea, “but the only damned thing I can think about is taking you back to that bed and making love to you again. And taking a nice, long, sweet time doing so.”

  “Mike, I… I can’t… uh…” Her green eyes widened. She opened her mouth, closed it again, then that tempting flush filled her cheeks, and peeked above the V-neck of her shirt. Her dogs snoozed in the corner, unaware of the tension in the small screened area, a tension that had existed between Mike and Diana from day one and had n
ever dissipated.

  He’d been fooling himself to think he had forgotten her. That he’d gotten over that night, over her. If anything, he craved her more now than he had then, because he knew how amazing she was, how incredible one night could be.

  He approached her chair, and hauled her to her feet. Her hands were delicate, warm in his, but his Man Brain could only think about how it had felt when she’d wrapped her hand around his cock.

  Oh, hell. Why did he keep fighting this attraction to Diana? He wasn’t going to forget her, wasn’t going to get her out of his system, not for a good long while. “I can’t do this, either.”

  “You can’t?”

  He shook his head. “I can’t pretend that we’re here talking about building repairs and puppy dogs or hell, the damned weather, when all I really want”—he let go of her hands and settled his palms on her hourglass waist—“is you.”

  “We can change the subject.” She flashed him a flirty grin. “To something boring like the space program—”

  “Sorry, makes me think of the way you looked, lying in your bed, naked, with only the light of the moon on your skin.” The heat of her body curled toward him, beckoning, welcoming.

  “—or, uh, planting a fall garden—”

  “Makes me remember how sexy and beautiful you looked at Luke’s barbecue when you were standing by the flowers.” His hands shifted over her tight, pert ass, then back up to her waist before going higher still, to the valley beneath her breasts. His fingers outlined those two perfect shapes, his thumbs resting against the nipples. They stiffened at his touch, and everything in him went rock-hard in response.

  “Or…” her face flushed a deeper red and the smiled widened, “well, I really can’t think of any other boring topics right now. I’m feeling a little… uh… distracted.”

  “Me too.” His gaze dropped to her chest, the rise, the fall of those magnificent breasts. “God, Diana, I want you,” he said again, knowing the words were crappy words that didn’t begin to capture the raging river of desire deep inside him. But if he searched for another phrase, if he tried to find words that could match what he was feeling, he knew he would be opening a door that he had kept shut for a long, long time.

  She raised her hands to his chest, closed her eyes for a second, and when she opened them again, he saw the dark stirrings of desire reflected in those green depths. “Oh, Mike, I want you, too.”

  That was all the invitation he needed. As Mike lowered his head to hers and captured Diana’s mouth with his own, he told himself this was just sex, nothing more, an answer to a need, but deep down inside a little voice whispered that making love to Diana was taking him down a path of no return.

  • • •

  If there was one thing Mike could do, and do well, it was deliver on a promise.

  He kissed her sweet and slow this time, tangling his fingers in her hair, dancing his thumbs along the sensitive edges of her jaw. She sighed into him and thought she could stay here forever.

  When he finally pulled back, he met her gaze with a question in his blue eyes. She nodded, and Mike scooped her into his arms and carried her out of the lanai, down the hall and into her bedroom.

  The blinds were closed, but the sun peeked around the white panels and cast the room in a dim light. There was no letting the cover of night hide the cellulite and extra weight most all moms carried around their middles. With other guys, Diana had felt self-conscious, worried about every bump and ripple. But when Mike looked at her, she felt beautiful.

  That was what kept overriding her objections. The way he looked at her, with such intention, as if the only thing on his mind right now was her, as if she mesmerized and captivated him.

  As if she were the only woman in the world.

  He kicked off his shoes, then lay beside her on the bed. “I want to see you.” His fingers lingered along the hem of her shirt. “I was in too much of a rush the last time and I have regretted that for a long, long time.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you are a woman who deserves to be savored.”

  When he said things like that, he made her feel like the queen of sex. She raised her arms over her head and gave him a flirty smile. “Then savor me, Mike.”

  He lifted the hem of her shirt, inch by inch. The breeze from the ceiling fan chased a delicious shiver across her belly. Mike leaned down and followed the same route with his mouth, nipping, kissing, licking. She arched against him, tangled her fingers in his hair. He pushed her shirt over her head, then kissed a trail from her belly to the lacy edge of her bra. She arched, wanting, wanting, wanting his hot mouth on her nipples, on her, in everything.

  Mike peeled back one lacy cup and whispered a breath across the bare skin of her breast. “Perfect,” he whispered. Then just as she was about to tell him to skip the talking, he took her nipple in his mouth and five flat seconds later, an orgasm rushed through her like the tide on a stormy day.

  Then she came back to earth and reality rushed to fill the spaces in her brain. She was in bed. With Mike Stark.

  Jumping his bones. And worse, letting her heart get caught in the moment.

  The last time she got swept away by Mike’s touch, she had whispered that she loved him. Insane, risky—two things Diana tried never to be. Leaping before looking had gotten her nowhere but nursing a broken heart in a cold, empty bed. No more. She was done making foolish choices when it came to men.

  When he shifted to kiss her mouth, she put her hands on his chest. “This is a mistake.”

  He drew back. “Mistake? But I thought you just—”

  “That’s not what I’m talking about. This”—she drew an invisible line between them—“is a mistake that we keep making. We’re old enough to not be ruled by our hormones.”

  “Is that all you think this is? Me getting my rocks off?”

  “Are you telling me it’s more?”

  He held her gaze for a long time. Her breath held in that space where hope resided, then Mike shook his head and rolled off her to sit on the edge of the bed. “No, it’s not.”

  But he wouldn’t look at her when he said the words. He just put on his shoes and left. Diana waited until she heard the click of the door before she let her heart break again.

  The cabinet in the kitchen whispered its one sip song, but Diana curled under the blankets instead and fashioned a shoulder to cry on from a cold, lifeless pillow.

  Eighteen

  Greta put on her walking shoes and a big floppy hat and set out from Golden Years a little before four. By the time she had stopped at the corner grocery and bought some fresh-baked cupcakes, then made her way to the animal shelter and vet’s office, it was close to five. They’d be missing her for dinner service at Golden Years, but she didn’t give a fig about that. Tonight was barbecued chipped beef. Might as well be serving them Mighty Dog in a can.

  She circled around to the back half of the building and headed inside the animal shelter. Even at the end of the day, the entire place was neat and clean, and smelled partly of dog, partly of disinfectant. The lobby was painted bright cheery hues of yellow, offset nicely by the white tile and pristine white countertops.

  Olivia was working on filling out some paperwork when Greta entered the air-conditioned building. Olivia looked up and smiled wide. “Grandma! What a nice surprise to see you! Wait.” Her gaze narrowed. “Don’t tell me you walked all the way down here in this heat.”

  “I have been living in Florida all my life, and I still remember the days before God invented air conditioning. The heat hasn’t killed me yet, and it won’t kill me today.” Greta nodded, then gestured toward the refrigerator behind the front desk. “Though if you have an ice-cold bottle of something or other, I wouldn’t turn it down.”

  Olivia laughed and snagged a bottle out of the refrigerator, then handed it to Greta. “Water okay?”

  “Beer is better. But water will do.” Greta grinned, then sank into one of the white plastic chairs to take off the cap and swallow severa
l big gulps of water. Lord, this heat was getting to her. Either that or her age, both of which seemed to rise a little more each day. Nothing a little time in the shade and some cupcakes wouldn’t fix. Besides, she had too many things on her personal agenda to have time for feeling ill. “How are things going with the wedding plans?” she asked Olivia.

  “Honestly, I’ve been so busy, I haven’t had time to do much more than make a list of all the things I should be doing.” Olivia laughed. “What I need is a bossy grandma to get me to make some decisions. Know anyone like that?”

  Greta grinned and put a hand on her heart. “Why, no, I don’t. Though I do know a kind and loving grandma who would love to spend a day with her future granddaughter, picking out linens and table service.”

  “Actually, Luke and I were thinking of something much more low-key. A barbecue in the backyard or a ceremony on the beach with our closest friends. Neither one of us is much for the fancy black-tie, sit-down dinner kind of thing.”

  “That sounds perfect.” Greta liked Olivia more and more each day. Such a sweet young thing, and as unpretentious as a butterfly. Now to get her sister on board and expand this happy little family. “Maybe Diana could come with us. I’m sure she could use a day away from the barking and meowing.”

  Olivia’s face pinched. She glanced at the wall separating the shelter from the veterinarian’s office. “I don’t know. She’s been pretty busy lately. The last couple weeks, I’ve only seen her in passing.”

  “Too busy dating that young man living in Luke’s house?”

  Olivia laughed. “Grandma, you are the most obvious matchmaker I have ever known.”

  “Me? I’m not obvious at all.” Greta waved a hand in dismissal. “You should have met my mother. When I was seventeen and, oh, the horror, still unattached, she practically took out billboards advertising my availability.”

  Olivia laughed. “Is that how you met Edward?”

  Greta’s heart softened at the thought of her late husband. Momma was gone, too, for more than thirty years, and Daddy had passed fifteen years ago this summer. Too many people gone, too fast. That was the part of getting old that she liked the least. The aches and pains she could deal with, but the ache of losing a loved one… there was no medication for that kind of pain. Still, she had her memories, and some of those were the kind that warmed the depths of her heart. “My mother was friends with Edward’s mother. They worked at the same bakery, which is what I blame for my sweet tooth. My mother was always bringing home one sweet confection after another. And one day she brought home Edward.”