“Audrey Ferguson.” She glanced toward Bennett. “Why don’t you take him over to see the toys?”
They’d talked about this. She wanted to explain things out of Jeff’s hearing. It was important the teacher know what he’d been through and her relationship to the family, but relating it in front of Jeff would be extremely insensitive.
“Hey … I see trucks,” Bennett said. He steered his son out of hearing range.
Audrey watched to see that they were busy before facing the teacher again.
“I see you love him,” Mrs. Werthe remarked.
“Jeff’s a sweet boy.”
A knowing look settled on the teacher’s face. “Not to pry, but I was talking about his father.”
Audrey started, all her preplanned words scattering in the wind.
“And I didn’t mean to throw you off,” Mrs. Werthe continued, “but I’ve been doing this a long time and have seen many kinds of families. I have the feeling that yours isn’t what people expect. Just the same, the love you share is clear, and that will help Jeff when he comes to class.”
“I … I mean, we … Bennett and I …” Audrey stumbled to respond.
Mrs. Werthe chuckled. “It’s okay, sweetheart. Whatever you both have going, it looks good on you, and you have my sincere promise that the boy’s in good hands.”
Audrey swallowed around the lump in her throat. “J-Jeff,” she stuttered. “His mom died, and he’s … he’s …”
“Afraid. But he has you and his dad, and school will be good for him.”
“I … said that,” Audrey replied. “But I feel so nervous.”
Mrs. Werthe gave no reply, but her compassionate expression did much to help Audrey’s confidence. She motioned toward Bennett and Jeff. “Let’s include them in the conversation.”
Later, that night, after the children had gone to bed, Audrey sought out Bennett. They’d left school in good spirits, distracting Jeff with talk about spending time with her dad. When they’d arrived at her parents’ place, it’d felt odd to be discussing kindergarten. But even odder was the knowledge, at the forefront of her mind, that she and Bennett had grown so close.
That sobered her as the afternoon progressed. There hadn’t been any time for her and Bennett to talk, and now one thing in particular prodded her mind.
Audrey rounded the bottom of the stairs and spotted Bennett reclined on the couch, the TV remote on his chest. Crossing the distance, she took a seat on the coffee table, directly in his view. His gaze raked her, as it did a lot, weighted on intimate places, and hers fell to where his fingers curved over the cushion.
“Mrs. Werthe knew all about us without me having to say anything … about me and you, and what Jeff was feeling.” She forced her gaze upward. “Bennett, I shouldn’t ask, but is there a ‘me and you’?”
He gazed back unblinking, then sat up. Reaching for her, he pulled her into his lap. “I said there was. You doubt it now?”
“What you’ve given me …” she replied. “Cale …”
“Was a fool. I told you that.”
She inhaled. “Yes, but … I’m messing this up. I honestly didn’t come here to disrupt your lives.”
“You haven’t.”
Audrey bit the inside of her lip, kneading the tender flesh, then released it. “My point is, that wasn’t my intent. I had noble ideals, to help June, to stand on my own two feet, and chemistry set aside …”
“Hard to set that aside.”
She offered him a weak smile. “I promise to pick it back up again, but let me get this out.”
He waved her on, and she gathered her courage.
“I’ve never tried to take your wife’s place.”
“I haven’t complained about that. Have I?”
She shook her head. “No, but I don’t want to take her place. I want my own place, if it’s as Jeff and June’s nanny, then I need to know. I caved to Cale all the time. He’d demand something, and I’d give in, always wondering afterward if I meant anything to him at all. I can’t go through that anymore. I remember what you said, that you weren’t trying to replace her and, honestly, I’m not jealous of that at all. I guess what I want to know is if there’s room for me and her … here, in this house, with your children, with you. And if there’s room for August in the midst of all that. I see you with him. I heard him call you ‘dad’.”
“He was imitating Jeff.”
She nodded. “I know that, but …”
Bennett laid a finger on her lips. “Let me make this very clear. When we met, I was a wreck. I admit I was confused, struggling between memories of Beth and images of you. I got up that first night when June cried and ran to her room, only to stand there and watch you hold her …”
Audrey’s cheeks warmed.
“You are a good mother. You saved my daughter; you rescued my little boy. But you, Audrey Ferguson, are a wonderful woman. Had you asked me that night if there was room for you, I would have said no. Now, I know there is.”
“Am I the nanny, Bennett?”
He stared at her for the longest time, unspeaking, then stood from the couch, hauling her up at his side. Taking her hand, he folded their fingers together and led her to the stairs. She trailed behind, climbing immediately on his heels, and followed him across the landing and down the hallway to her room.
Inside, he shut the door and moved them to the bed. He halted there, removing his shirt. Then lying down, he dragged her to his side. She folded against him on his left, her cheek on his chest, her legs tangled with his, and wrapped one arm across.
They warmed and their breaths evened; contentment pulled at her eyelids. But at the edge of sleep, he tipped her mouth to his. His kiss was sweet, his tongue tugging hers into a sensuous embrace.
“Not the nanny,” he whispered, tucking her against him.
Bennett remembered what it felt like to fall in love with Beth and found himself thinking of that often as time passed. Though this with Audrey was different, he was older and far more experienced, after all, he had that same heady rush and a need to be near her.
He couldn’t sleep alone any longer and took to sharing her space, always waiting until the kids were asleep and the house quiet to make his way to her room. June slept longer now, not waking to nurse until close to dawn, so he could escape then, take a shower and appear reasonably normal when the kids got up.
It worked until the first day of school. Jeff, nervous the night before, rose well before June, and crept into the master bedroom. Finding it empty, he called out, and Bennett, hastily dressing, slipped through the Jack-and-Jill bath to emerge out June’s nursery door.
“What’s the matter?” he asked, his voice husky.
Jeff spun in place, his eyes widened in surprise. “You weren’t there.”
Bennett’s throat thick, he coughed, covering his mouth with a curled fist. “I’m here now. You nervous?”
Jeff nodded.
“It’s going to be fine. I’ll take you to class, and Audrey will pick you up like we talked.”
“Bennett?” Audrey exited her room, her hair mussed, her cheeks reddened.
“It’s okay,” he said. “Jeff was worried about school. But we’re talking about it. Go lie down.”
She stood in place for a moment then returned to her room, the door clicking shut. Jeff stared up at his dad.
“Since we’re both up early,” Bennett said, distracting him, “you want some pancakes?”
At his son’s nod, he took his hand and they made their way downstairs. The predawn sky glowed bluish gray through the window, early morning dew moistening the panes.
“You can help me stir,” Bennett said, gathering a bowl and ingredients. From an upper cabinet, he dug out measuring cups and, from a drawer, a long-handled spoon.
Jeff climbed on a stool, leaning over the counter, propped on his elbows.
Bennett turned the pancake mix box toward the light, reading the instructions. Measuring the amount of mix suggested in the guide, he added the
correct amount of water and slid the bowl to Jeff, poking the spoon into the middle. “Stir that up, and I’ll heat the pan.”
He slid a nonstick pan onto the glass burner and turned on the stove. “What do you say we make shapes? We can make one for everybody. What shape would you like?”
Pancake batter splashed out of the bowl onto the counter, and Bennett reached for the spoon, gripping it briefly. “Stir slower, son. We want to have something left to cook.” He transferred his hands back to the frying pan, spraying the surface with cooking spray.
“A rabbit,” Jeff said.
“One pancake rabbit coming up.”
“An’ make August a mouse.”
Again, Bennett agreed. “One mouse for August. What about Audrey? Should we make her something?”
“A flower.”
The heated pan in his grip, Bennett paused, his gaze on his son’s face. “I can do that,” he said softly. “Hey, listen …” He captured the bowl from Jeff. “That’s stirred perfectly. Why don’t you go in Daddy’s office and get a notepad and a pen. You can draw Audrey a nice picture.”
Jeff, without comment, hopped down from his stool and dashed out the far doorway. He returned minutes later, a yellow notepad in hand, and remounting the stool, poked a pen to the page. Bennett cooked the pancakes, one eye on his son’s intent face.
His gaze downward, the pen tight in his grip, Jeff made long strokes, his tongue working at the corner of his mouth.
The steaming pancakes lined up on the counter, minutes later, Bennett shut the stove off and made his way around behind his son. Leaning over the boy’s shoulder, he eyed the image Jeff had drawn, his throat tight. “Who’s that?” he asked, nodding at the drawing.
Jeff, his feet tucked beneath his bottom, tapped one finger on the image. “That’s you an’ me an’ August, an’ that’s Audrey an’ June.”
He’d drawn Bennett as the tallest person, holding Jeff’s hand on one side and August’s on the other. Audrey stood to their left, the baby, two small swirling circles, crosswise on her chest.
“And who’s that?” he asked, nodding at a sixth figure drawn above the others.
“That’s Mommy,” Jeff said. “She’s happy because we have Audrey.”
Bennett couldn’t speak. His eyes moist, he bent down and kissed his son’s head.
He was happy because they had Audrey. The best day of his life, following Beth’s passing, was the day he drove to the library. He swallowed the knot in his throat. “Let’s put that on the refrigerator, so she’ll see it. Then we’ll find the syrup.”
“I know where it is,” Jeff said. Dropping the pen, once more, he hopped down from the stool.
Audrey climbed over Bennett’s legs to a seat at his side on the bed, conscious of his gaze on her breasts. The thin fabric of her t-shirt didn’t hide anything, but, she’d figured, what was the point? He’d seen most of her already. Besides, being truthful, she liked the heightened interest on his face.
Unlike Cale, who’d only shown his attraction at the start and not been very adept at giving compliments.
“My face is up here,” she said.
Bennett grinned and tilted his chin upward. “They are marvelous.”
Audrey’s smile expanded. “So I’m told, but I’m asking you to concentrate.”
“I am …” he replied, “on those.”
Laughter spread between them, and she fell down at his side, tucking herself beneath his arm, her cheek to his chest. “Jeff knows you’re in here,” she said.
Bennett exhaled. “Yeah, he does.”
“It bothers you?”
He didn’t respond for a minute. “Yes and no, but neither one has anything to do with you.”
That was like him, to relieve her of any guilt. Or to try. Though they hadn’t talked about it, his moving into her bedroom she understood entirely. His was too full of Beth, and he wanted what she and he had to be free of his memories. They crept in anyhow. Like tonight.
“I should talk to him about it.”
“And say what?” She twisted her face to glimpse his. “If he has questions, he’ll ask them. Besides, he’s full of talk about school.”
School was going really well. He’d blossomed under Mrs. Werthe’s care, was always a chatterbox when he came home. He’d made several friends, but one boy in particular had become close.
“He wants to invite Bobby over,” she said. “I told him he had to ask you.”
“He asked. I said it was all right, maybe this weekend. I’m sure the kid’s parents will want to meet us and talk first.”
Us. They’d become an us. She and Bennett a pair, the kids, their children.
He was the best dad. He included August in everything. What he did for Jeff and June, he never left her son out. In fact, in August’s eyes, he was “dad”. She worried about that only a little because of Cale, who, almost six months into living here, hadn’t paid a dime of his child support.
“Hopefully, they won’t have a problem with …” She silenced, unwilling to finish her thought.
But Bennett appeared to know what she’d almost said. “Our living situation is for us to deal with. I would hope people would be fair-minded. My girlfriend deserves an award, not judgment.”
The word spiked sharp in her mind, and Audrey rose over him. “Did you just call me that?”
He smiled. “I did, and I have a mind to prove it.”
He snatched at her top, but she scooted backwards out-of-reach. He chased after her, catching hold before she could fully escape. His hands around her waist, he rolled her over and pinned her to the mattress, one hand on either side. Breaths heaving, laughter in her throat, Audrey gazed upward.
“You’re going to torment me again, aren’t you?” she asked.
He didn’t respond, but his eyes became miles deep, the tip of his lips forming a hard line. She couldn’t find her thoughts when he looked at her like that, couldn’t believe she held any attraction at all. Yet, his mouth pressed between her breasts, his tongue massaging her tender flesh, she fell into the moment one more time.
He was an expert lover, knew exactly how to excite her, where to place his hands, his lips. He was tender and avid and zealous, and she was pliable beneath him.
“You are glorious,” he said, shifting left.
His breath heated, his body firm, he thrust against her, and she wished for completion, yet knew he wouldn’t. His girlfriend in name, his ardor meaningful, but always held back by that one level of restraint.
She understood it, that something he’d dedicated to his wife he couldn’t quite let go of. Yet, she craved the fulfilment for herself, to belong to Bennett Adams, mind, body, and soul.
CHAPTER 9
“Bennett Adams.”
“Robert Harris.”
Bennett and the boy, Bobby’s, father shook hands, leaving Audrey to face his wife. Thin, sporting a boyish hairdo, Mrs. Harris dressed as if she’d just returned from a jog: elastic-waist shorts, a stretchy tank top, and expensive running sneakers. She appeared friendly however, if way too tanned from time outdoors.
“Audrey Ferguson,” Audrey offered. She adjusted her hold on June, turning her small face outward. “This is June.” She nodded toward her son. “That’s August.”
The names raised the woman’s brows. “You have your hands full. They look close in age.”
Which couldn’t comfortably be explained. Audrey tried not to act like it, however, smiling until she thought her face might crack. “We’re a combined family,” she replied.
Her comment drew Robert Harris’s gaze. He was the sporting type as well: baseball jersey and a ball cap, his arms thick from exercise. Between the pair of them, she felt “momish” and out-of-place.
“You have a lovely home,” Mrs. Harris said. “I have a friend who lives a block over.”
There really was nothing to say to that, so awkward silence followed, the swish of their breaths loud in the room.
“You’re a CPA,” Robert Harris practicall
y shouted. “Never was into numbers myself … unless it involves sports.”
“Him and his sports.” His wife rolled her eyes.
They shared a laugh, which ended abruptly with the stinging scent of August’s dirty diaper. Her face flaming, Audrey glanced at Bennett. “Could you take June?”
He obeyed, shifting his daughter into his arms, and she grasped August, slinging him onto one hip. “My apologies. I’ve got to … go.” Her head ducked, she dashed up the stairs.
When she descended, the Harrises were at the door.
“We’ll pick him up at four,” Robert Harris said.
“Perfect. Thanks for bringing him by. Sounds like they’re already having a good time.” Bennett glanced upstairs.
Mr. and Mrs. Harris followed his gaze, then turned and headed down the walk.
Audrey sagged, releasing a wriggling August to the floor. “Well, that went badly. We have nothing in common … nothing … and I saw their faces. ‘She’s so much younger than him.’ Why didn’t the woman just come out and say it?”
Bennett threw his voice low. “‘Look at that old guy, robbing the cradle …”
“Stop.” She frowned and spun in place.
His hand on her arm stopped her from moving. “Lighten up. No one said any of that.”
“They were thinking it.” Pulling free, Audrey trailed into the living room. August had crawled to the coffee table and seated himself on the low, bottom shelf. “Did you see how relieved she was to get out of here?”
“I was relieved to see them leave,” Bennett replied. “All he wanted to talk about was baseball, and the most I know about the game is it uses a bat and a ball.”
Audrey sighed.
“Let it go,” he said. “They’ll go home. He’ll turn on the sports channel, and she’ll gnaw on celery sticks.”
“I’ll change another diaper,” Audrey added.
Taking the TV remote from August’s grasp, she set it out of his reach, and took a seat at one end of the couch. Bennett’s commanding voice came from the foyer entrance.
“Hello. This is Bennett Adams. I’d like two dozen red roses sent to my address.”
Words From The Heart (Spring-Summer Romance Book 2) Page 8