He gritted his teeth, holding back his pent-up desire. Her warm silk-covered body rubbed against him. While he stroked her, an image flashed through his head of him moving urgently inside her, her legs locked around him.
It wasn’t just a fantasy. It was a fleeting memory.
What had he felt? Intense desire for sure. But something else, too. Tenderness? Sort of like he felt right now. He gently caressed her head and back for what seemed like hours until finally her breathing grew slow and deep.
Matt dozed fitfully until five-thirty, at which time, he slipped his arms under Abby and carried her back to her bed. The last thing he wanted was for Tommy to find his mother sleeping in Matt’s room. He covered her and kissed her softly on the forehead.
Her lashes fluttered, and she smiled, murmuring, “Thank you.”
~~~
Matt balanced the breakfast tray on his hip and gazed down at Abby. “Okay, Tom, it’s time to wake Sleeping Beauty.”
Their son giggled, climbed up on the bed, and kissed his mother. She stretched her arms over her head and yawned. “What’s this?”
“We made you breakfast, Mommy.”
“Thank you. That was sweet.” Her gaze met Matt’s over their son’s head. “Do I dare eat it?”
“Taste and see for yourself.”
She sat up, and he set the tray over her lap, laying his hand on Tommy’s shoulder to still him. She hesitantly shoveled a forkful of scrambled eggs in her mouth and smiled. “Ummm—not bad. Maybe I owe you an apology for comparing you to Matt. You and Tommy can make breakfast from now on.”
He nudged his son. “I think we just shot ourselves in the foot.”
Tommy giggled and beamed up at him, warming his heart.
As she broke her toast in half, Matt noticed her bare ring finger and heaved a short-lived sigh of relief that caught in his throat. Her diamond winked at him on the nightstand. Had Rob intended her to have a fling with Matt in the hope she’d get over her attraction once they slept together? If so, the jackass could kiss his Man of the Year award good-bye.
Abby sipped her coffee and glanced at the clock. “I didn’t realize it was so late. If we’re going to make it to Sunday school on time, we’d better get moving.”
Matt took the tray from her lap. “Who does we include?”
“Lucy and Royce always go with us. Of course, you’re welcome to come, too, if you’d like.”
What he’d like was to send Tommy to church with Lucy and climb back into bed with Abby. But after wrestling with his fantasies all night, no one needed to repent more than he did.
~~~
Matt pulled off his tie, following Abby into the house just before noon. As much as he’d enjoyed the church service, he’d received far too many speculative glances from the congregation for comfort.
“I’m glad it’s finally stopped raining. Maybe I can get another side of the house painted this afternoon.” He removed the classified section from the Sunday newspaper and took it into the bedroom. He put on the beat-up clothes he wore to paint before stretching out on the bed to check the want ads.
A full hour passed before he finished circling the few positions that interested him. By the time he wandered out to the kitchen, Abby was pulling something out of the oven. The warm April breeze wafted through the screen door, blowing around the tantalizing aroma of chocolate. Matt pointed to the pan. “What’d you make? It smells great.”
“Brownies. They’re Rob’s favorite. Don’t worry, I’ll fix lunch in a few minutes.”
He glanced down at the diamond she’d put back on since they’d gotten home. So much for Robert being ancient history.
She still hadn’t said a word about why Rob had left the night before. Matt tipped her chin up and stared into her eyes. “Why’d you crawl into bed with me last night?”
Twin roses bloomed on her cheeks. “Because I needed to be held, and I knew you wouldn’t mind doing that for me.”
He fingered one of the golden tendrils framing her face. “You had to know that wasn’t easy for me. What if I hadn’t been able to just hold you?”
“That would’ve been okay, too,” she whispered.
“So I spent all night aching for you for nothing?”
“No. It wasn’t for nothing. I appreciate that you gave me what I needed without expecting anything in return.”
“But you would’ve let me make love to you even though you’re marrying Rob?”
Her eyes widened in horror. “No. How could you even think I’d do such a thing?”
“Did I miss something? Didn’t you just say two minutes ago it would’ve been all right if I’d done more than hold you?”
“Yes, but that’s only because I’m no longer engaged.”
He picked up her hand with the ring. “So what happened between then and now? Did you have a change of heart?”
She looked down at her hand and frowned. “Oh, the ring. Rob insisted since he bought it for me, I should keep it. But I called him when we got home and told him I couldn’t. He’s coming to get it. That’s why I’m making the brownies. They’re an inadequate attempt to thank him for wasting a year and a half of his life on me.”
“Stop casting yourself as the villain, Abby. Rob was free to cash in any time he felt he wasn’t getting enough return on his investment.”
“Which is exactly what he did last night. I’ve strung him along for eighteen months, letting him think our relationship would pay off if he was patient. Believe me, I have a lot to apologize to him for.”
“No, you don’t,” Rob said from the opposite side of the screen door. “Mac is right. You didn’t do a damn thing wrong.” He stepped inside, letting the door spring closed behind him. “You never kept it a secret you were still in love with your husband’s ghost. I just thought I could help you forget him. But that was a pipe dream. You canonized Matthew Foster when he died.”
“I did no such thing.” She huffed.
“Oh, really? Say something negative about him.”
Matt suppressed a smile. This he wanted to hear. If Rob was right about Abby bestowing sainthood on him, it proved he’d made the right decision in maintaining his anonymity.
She nibbled on her lip while her gaze darted from Robert to him and back again. “Matt was—uhhh....”
Rob flipped his hand toward her. “See. You can’t do it.”
“Wait. I just thought of something. Matt was helpless in the kitchen. He couldn’t tell a soup ladle from a spatula.”
Well, she got that right.
“And he always smelled of smoke from his cigarettes,” she added. “Sometimes, I felt like I was kissing an ashtray.”
Robert arched his eyebrows. “Face facts, Abby. If Matt had lived to come home, he would’ve been killed a short time later, falling off the fifty-foot pedestal you placed him on.”
And Matt thought being ten feet up on a ladder made him uneasy. If he listened to Rob much longer, he’d develop a severe case of acrophobia and never finish painting.
Abby spun her back on Rob. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. You didn’t know Matt.”
Rob twisted her around to face him. “Maybe not, but I do know no man is as perfect as you’ve made him in your mind. You lived as husband and wife for a measly two weeks.” Robert curled his lip. “You never had a real marriage. All you had was a romantic honeymoon that never had a chance to end.”
“If you believed all that, why did you propose to me?”
Rob’s face crumpled. “Because I love you. But despite how much you’re still obsessing over your husband....” He glanced toward Matt, and his voice cracked. “Mac, here, could get a response from you while I never could.”
The pain on Rob’s face made Matt bleed for him. He could imagine how inadequate the other man felt, and how demoralizing it must have been to admit defeat to his rival. Rob and Abby’s break-up would become an even greater tragedy if it turned out Matt and she had no marriage to salvage after all.
She slipped
the ring off her finger and handed it to Rob. “I hope we’ll still be friends.” She handed him the brownies she’d wrapped for him. “Maybe you can come for dinner some night.”
“Sure.” He pulled open the screen door. “Just let me know when.”
Matt couldn’t let the man go away feeling so deficient. He dashed out the back door and followed the dentist around to the driveway. “Rob, can we talk for a sec?”
Robert placed the brownies on the hood of his car and spun around, crossing his arms over his chest. “What? Do you want to do a victory lap around me?”
“No, just the opposite. I’d like to share something with you that might ease the sting a little. But you have to swear you won’t say a word to Abby. Can I trust you?”
“Will you, even if I say yes?”
“Yeah.” Matt nodded. “You and I didn’t hit it off for obvious reasons. But in the last day, I’ve learned you’re a decent guy.”
“If you’re willing to trust me, then I guess I’ll have to prove myself worthy. What don’t you want Abby to know?”
Glancing behind him to make sure she hadn’t come outside, he lowered his voice. “I’m Matt Foster.”
Rob’s mouth dropped open. “No way. I’ve seen his picture.”
Matt told him the whole story from the minute he woke up in the dank cement cell until that very moment. “I didn’t believe it myself when I saw my induction photo, but my fingerprints match.”
“Damn. You could sell your story to some television network to turn it into the movie of the week.”
“If I don’t find a job soon, I may have to resort to that.”
Rob grabbed his arm. “Wait a minute. Yesterday, Abby got a phone call from someone asking for you.”
“Why didn’t she tell me about it?”
“No, you don’t understand. They asked for Matthew Foster.”
Matt pursed his mouth thoughtfully. “It might’ve been one of the employment agencies. Thanks for telling me.”
“No, thank you.” Rob slapped Matt’s back. “My ego feels better knowing you’re the same guy Abby wanted all those years ago.”
“Imagine what it does for mine.”
“I’m glad she’s got you back. She’ll be happy now.”
“Yeah. At first.” Matt shrugged one shoulder. “But for how long? Everything you said inside is true. I’m not looking forward to that fifty-foot nosedive. I’m not the same man I was when she knew me.”
Rob pursed his lips. “Well, if it doesn’t work out, let me know. Maybe after you take that plunge....”
“You’ll be the first one I’ll call.” Matt rubbed his arms. “It’s getting cold again. I thought I’d finally squeeze in some more painting today.”
Rob held up his wristwatch. “It’s almost three-thirty.”
Matt did a double take. Whoa. For two guys who were ready to beat the shit out of each other the day before, they’d spent an awfully long time talking.
~~~
For the twentieth time in two hours, Abby left her sewing machine and peeked out the front window to where Mac and Rob were chatting—if one could call it that. The way they kept glancing over their shoulders, it looked more like they were conspiring. What could two men who disliked each other so much possibly have to discuss for that long?
“Mom,” Tommy called from the piano, “can you help me?”
She wandered over and sat next to him on the bench. “What’s the problem, pumpkin?”
“I can’t remember the difference between the notes.”
“What difference? You mean which notes are which?”
“No, the timing. The whole notes and half notes and them.”
“Oh.” She put her finger to her chin and studied the page. “Well, let me see.”
The sheet music looked like Greek. Actually worse. Greek at least used letters. The notes seemed more like hieroglyphics. “Uhhh—hmmm. I think it has something to do with the little tails on them.”
He let out an exasperated huff. “I already knooow that.” Tommy waved his hand. “Forget it. You’re no good at this.”
Now they were even. He’d told her something she already knew. Feelings of inadequacy washed over her in a tidal wave, smashing her illusions. For the first time in her child’s life, she couldn’t provide the answers.
“Where’s my dad?” Tommy sighed. “He knows about them.”
Abby hated the effect the piano was having on her child. In honesty, she had to admit she actually felt a bit jealous. Mac could teach Tommy something about which she had absolutely no comprehension and couldn’t even begin to share with him.
It seemed as if her son had spent every waking moment in front of the instrument since he’d discovered it. Royce had called for him twice this afternoon, and Abby had forced Tommy outdoors only to have him sneak back in twenty minutes later to continue playing.
Since Mac started teaching Tommy the fundamentals of playing two days before, her son hadn’t asked her to play a game, read a book, or do a single puzzle with him. He’d even stopped nagging her for snacks or to watch television.
It wasn’t just the time he spent at the piano she resented. Mac had Tommy picking out his own clothes, handling his own showers, and even helping to fix his breakfast. She felt completely superfluous in her son’s life.
At the sound of the back door closing, Tommy’s face brightened. “Good, here he comes. Dad!”
On the way to the kitchen, Abby passed Mac and muttered snidely, “I believe you’re being paged, Maestro.”
Mac sat with Tommy for an hour, reviewing the different notes her son had questioned her about. She heard words like treble and bass clef, staff, bar, and measure. She knew she’d learned those terms in junior high music class, but that’d been the period for passing notes and catching up on gossip.
She hovered at the edge of the room, trying to grasp what he was explaining from a distance. Without seeing what they were discussing, she only got half the picture.
Mac glanced up. “Did you want something, Sweetheart?”
She shook her head, and he turned back to Tommy, resuming their chat about tempo and meter. Abby continued watching her son happily bond with....
She didn’t know whom.
Tommy had adopted Mac as his dad, but the man had no connection to her. Acquaintance, boarder, friend, the house painter? They’d fallen into an ill-defined relationship without any particular label.
After giving Tommy a piece of sheet music to practice playing, Mac stood and rubbed his stomach. “Rob and I spent so much time talking I never ate lunch.”
“What was that little tête-à-tête all about? Yesterday you couldn’t stand being in the same room together, and today you’re like long lost friends.”
“We just stopped competing long enough to get to know each other. He’s actually a pretty great guy.”
“Do you think I would’ve agreed to marry him if he wasn’t?”
Mac ran his hand over his stomach again. “Did you and Tommy eat lunch?”
“No, Tommy just wanted some cheese and crackers.”
Her son stopped playing and turned around. “I’m hungry, too. Can we get pizza, Dad?”
Closing her eyes, she stifled her need to scream. Her son didn’t ask her for anything anymore.
Mac cocked an eyebrow. “What do you say? Do you want pizza?”
“Fine.”
He glanced at his watch. “It’s after four. Let’s make it an early supper.”
“I’ll go order a pie. The place I like doesn’t deliver, so you’ll have to take my car and pick it up. I still have some calls to make to cancel the wedding.”
No one had even gotten the invitations she’d mailed, so it made it doubly embarrassing to explain.
“Sure, I want to stop for something at the store anyway. I’ll leave now.”
What do you need? I might already have it.”
Mac stared into her eyes. “Maybe. But I can’t count on it.”
“What is it?” s
he asked, baffled by his amused expression.
“It’s a man thing, Sweetheart.”
~~~
Matt’s man-thing required a stop at the pharmacy. Ever since Abby told him she would’ve made love with him the night before, he’d been counting the seconds until the day’s end.
He selected a box of condoms, and halfway to the register did an about-face. He returned to the display and picked up a large economy pack instead. Buying a box that size might be optimistic, but it’d been a long time. And during the last three years of his captivity, he’d listened to Ben, a self-proclaimed connoisseur, ramble on ad nauseam about the art of sex. Matt never understood how his buddy could stand talking so much about something none of them thought they’d ever do again.
It was embarrassing how many nights he’d spent affirming he was still a fully functioning man and not the walking corpse Charlie had tried to make him. Now that he was home, he couldn’t wait to try a few of the techniques Ben had shared for prolonging and maximizing his partner’s pleasure.
Matt paid the cashier. Not only couldn’t he recall any specific women he’d been with, he also didn’t remember sex being so expensive. At this rate, his wallet would be empty in no time.
As he drove toward the exit of the parking lot, a police cruiser pulled behind him with its lights flashing.
Great. Now what’d he do?
Matt pulled over, rolled down the window, and waited. Glancing in the rearview mirror, he watched the policeman talking on his radio. Matt fished his wallet out of his back pocket, and a few moments later, another squad car pulled up behind the first one. Both officers got out of their vehicles, and the one in the lead unsnapped the restraint on his holster.
Whoa. They hadn’t stopped him for some ordinary traffic violation. These boys meant business.
Matt gasped for air, and a familiar constriction squeezed his chest.
The patrolman stopped just behind Matt’s doorjamb. “License, registration, and insurance card, sir.”
Reaching across the car, Matt rooted through the glove compartment. “I’m not sure the registration is in here, officer. This isn’t my car.”
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