A Man for Mom

by Gina Ferris Wilkins

  They finally proclaimed the swing set ready for action. After giving a few last-minute safety instructions, Rachel and Seth stood back and let the children have at it. Seth looped a casual arm around Rachel’s shoulders as they watched the kids play. “I think they like it,” he said.

  “I think you’re right,” she replied. She knew she should step away, was determined not to send him any mixed signals, but his arm felt so nice around her, his body so warm and strong against her side. Just for a moment, she allowed herself to relax and enjoy.

  A man cleared his throat behind them. “Looks like I’m a little late to help with the swing set,” Cody said.

  Rachel stepped quickly away from Seth, feeling absurdly guilty at being caught with his arm around her. She turned to her brother with a frown. “Yes, you are. What on earth happened?”

  “Plumbing problems,” Cody answered morosely. “The bathrooms flooded, and it was spreading fast when I got there. Jake and I have been working our butts off trying to get everything cleaned up in time for opening tonight. I promised him I’d be back by seven, so I can’t stay long, but I wanted to give Aaron his present. I’m sorry, Rachel.”

  Rachel could hardly reprimand Cody for being called away by problems with his business. That was one responsibility she understood all too well. “Don’t be silly. Did you get everything cleaned up?” she asked in concern. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

  He shook his head and smiled. “Thanks, but everything’s under control.” He turned to Seth. “And thank you, buddy. This couldn’t have been easy to put together alone.”

  “I didn’t do it alone,” Seth returned. “Rachel and I worked together on it.”

  “I see.” Cody looked at them in a way that had Rachel’s cheeks warming again.

  “Have you had anything to eat, Cody?” she asked quickly. “I was just about to offer Seth a sandwich.” She glanced a bit shyly at Seth. “You must have missed lunch. I’m sure you’re starving.”

  “As a matter of fact, I am,” he confessed. “A sandwich sounds great.”

  “Humph. Offering a sandwich to a man who’s been working so hard all afternoon,” Frances grumbled, appearing suddenly in the doorway to the kitchen. “I’ll have you know I’ve got a garden salad, a pot of vegetable soup and a pan of corn bread ready.”

  “I think I’m in love,” Seth announced, slipping his arm around Frances’s comfortably padded waist. “Granny Fran, will you marry me?”

  Frances laughed and shook her head admonishingly at him. “Stop your foolishness and go wash up,” she told him. “Save your proposals for the one who should be hearing them.”

  Embarrassed to her toes by the blatant matchmaking, Rachel glared at her grandmother, who only smiled blandly back at her. Cody gave a bark of laughter that earned him a killing look from his sister. Seth prudently withdrew to the closest bathroom to wash his hands.

  * * *

  Celia arrived just as the others were sitting down to their early dinner of soup, salad and corn bread. She was easily persuaded to join them. She greeted Seth as easily as she did the others, apparently not at all surprised to find him there. Rachel reflected in concern that Seth was becoming just a bit too much a part of the family lately. What would happen when he met someone who interested him more than she did at the moment? How big a hole would his absence leave after they’d all gotten used to having him here?

  She told herself not to borrow trouble, but she’d always been a worrier, always been one to look ahead at consequences and repercussions. And she still couldn’t imagine that Seth’s flattering interest in her would be more than a passing fancy. Could he really have enjoyed spending an entire day building a swing set for her son? Weren’t there many more things an attractive single man would rather have done on a warm, beautiful autumn afternoon?

  Cody and Celia presented their gifts to Aaron after dinner. Celia gave him two new cartridges for his video game system, and Cody rolled in a bicycle—pre-assembled. Aaron was delighted with both gifts. Rachel whispered a reproach to Cody for being overly extravagant, as he always was with her children. He cheerfully told her that it was his money, and he could spend it as he liked, to which she had no legitimate argument.

  Even Seth had provided a gift, which he brought in from his car. “Hey, cool!” Aaron said, tearing the wrappings off a genuine leather football. “Will you play with me sometime, Seth?”

  “You bet,” Seth agreed. “We’ll get up a game of touch, okay? You and Granny Fran and me against Paige and Cody and your mom.”

  “And what about me?” Celia demanded, while Frances laughed at the idea of playing touch football at her age.

  “You can be the water person,” Cody replied with a grin.

  “You can be the referee, Aunt Celia,” Paige said, getting into the spirit of the teasing.

  Aaron shook his head. “Aunt Celia can be on our team and Mama can be the referee.”

  “How come, tiger?” Seth inquired.

  “‘Cause Mama’s the one who’s always making everybody follow the rules,” Aaron answered logically. “Aunt Celia and Uncle Cody don’t care about stuff like that.”

  The adults laughed—all but Rachel, of course. But even she couldn’t help smiling a little at her son’s reasoning.

  Exhausted by the events of the day, the children were both yawning hugely by eight o’clock. Rachel sent them off for baths, firmly overriding their protests that they wanted to stay up “just for a little longer.”

  Cody and Celia left at the same time. Frances made an excuse to retreat to the kitchen, leaving Rachel and Seth alone in the den.

  “I guess I’d better be going,” Seth said, glancing reluctantly toward the door.

  Rachel didn’t argue with him. “Thank you again for putting the swing set together. I really appreciate it.”

  “Will you have dinner with me one night this week?” he asked promptly.

  She sighed and shook her head. “Don’t you ever take no for an answer?”

  “Not when it’s important,” he admitted.

  “I’m afraid you’re going to have to this time.”

  He took a step closer to her, and cupped the side of her face in one large, warm hand. “Why, Rachel? Why are you so afraid to go out with me?”

  “I’m not afraid of you,” she denied immediately, a bit too quickly.

  “Then what are you afraid of?”

  Of the way you make me feel, she almost told him. Of the strange, breathless excitement I feel when you smile at me. Of the way it feels when you touch me. Of falling for you because I’m vulnerable and lonely and susceptible. Of being left alone again just when I’ve gotten used to not being alone anymore.

  “I’m not afraid of anything,” she said, instead. “I’m just not ready.”

  His eyes called her a liar. But he didn’t try to argue with her. Instead, he leaned over to cover her mouth with his.

  He didn’t pull away quickly this time. He lingered, his lips moving slowly, seductively over hers, his arms going around her waist to pull her against him. She pressed her hands to his chest, maybe even with the intention of pushing him away, but she got lost somewhere in that kiss and somehow forgot all the cautious, sensible reasons why they shouldn’t be doing this.

  It had been three years since a man had really kissed her. Three years since she’d known the pleasure of being held in a pair of strong arms, having her breasts crushed against a broad, warm chest.

  Seth made her feel as though she were experiencing those sensations for the very first time.

  She would never know how long the kiss would have gone on, what might have passed between them had they not been interrupted by two angry voices coming from the hallway.

  “Mama! Paige won’t let me have the toothpaste. Tell her to give it to me.”

  “I’m still using it, Mama. Tell Aaron to wait his turn!”

  “Mama!”

  “Mama!”

  Rachel pulled slowly out of Seth’s arms, the rea
l world crashing abruptly back down upon her. “Good night, Seth,” she said, relieved that the words were coherent.

  He started to say something, then stopped. A moment later, after searching her face with eyes that were all too perceptive, he nodded and stepped back. “Good night, Rachel. See you around.”

  She only nodded and turned to go to her children, leaving Seth to find his own way out.

  * * *

  Rachel was in her office when her insurance agent called Monday afternoon. She rubbed her temples as she greeted him, fighting a headache that was the result of two long, restless nights and too many disturbing thoughts.

  “The policy on your trucks is up for renewal, Rachel, and I’m afraid there’s been another increase. Want me to look into some other policies for you to try to keep the costs down?”

  “Yes, Dan, I would appreciate that,” Rachel said wearily.

  “You okay? You sound a bit down.”

  “I’m fine. Just a headache.”

  “Sorry. I guess this call didn’t make it much better.”

  “Don’t be silly. I always enjoy talking to you. And I know you’re doing your best for me.”

  “I’ll get a couple of proposals together and fax them to you, okay? You can look them over and let me know which policy you want to take. Of course, if you have any questions about anything, you know you can call me at any time.”

  “Yes, I know. Thanks.”

  Dan hesitated, then asked casually. “Or, you know, we could look the policies over together. During dinner? I could explain the various benefits and drawbacks of each one, make a few suggestions, maybe.”

  Rachel started to politely decline, as she had for the past two years—and then stopped. “All right, Dan,” she said abruptly, impulsively. “Let’s discuss them over dinner. When will you have the proposals ready?”

  “Tomorrow night?” he said, sounding surprised but eager.

  “Yes, fine. I’ll meet you.”

  “Yeah, sure. How about Kelley’s Steakhouse?”

  “Fine. Seven o’clock?”

  “You’re on. See you then.”

  “All right. Until tomorrow, then.”

  Rachel hung up with a snap, feeling quite brave and defiant.

  And then she buried her face in her hands and asked herself what the hell she thought she was doing.

  Chapter Seven

  Rachel first mentioned her date that evening, when she asked her grandmother to baby-sit. “I know you didn’t come to stay with me to be used as a baby-sitter,” she began, “but...”

  “Nonsense. I’ll enjoy spending the evening with the children, you know that. So Seth finally charmed you into going out to dinner with him, did he?” Frances added with a pleased smile.

  Rachel lightly cleared her throat. “I’m not going out with Seth. I’m having dinner with my insurance agent, Dan McNeil. We’re going to discuss some new policies for the trucks.”

  Frances seemed disappointed. “Then this isn’t a date?”

  “Well...yes, in a way,” Rachel admitted. “Dan is single, and he’s asked me out a few times. We’re combining business and pleasure tomorrow evening.” Though at the moment, she couldn’t work up a great deal of pleasure about the whole thing, she could have added, but didn’t, of course.

  “Oh?” Looking torn now between approval that Rachel was going out and slight disappointment in her choice of escorts, Frances studied Rachel’s face and then nodded. “All right, you’ve got a baby-sitter. Now, what are you going to wear?”

  Rachel hadn’t even thought of that. “Um, I suppose I’ll just meet him in whatever suit I wear to work tomorrow.”

  Frances was shaking her head before Rachel even completed the sentence. “You’ll do no such thing. You come home in time to change for dinner. Common courtesy, if nothing else, dictates that you make a special effort to look nice.”

  “I hardly go to work in rags,” Rachel protested, rather offended by the reprimand.

  But Frances was so adamant in her opinion that Rachel should freshen up and change before her date that Rachel finally conceded. She told herself she was doing so only because her grandmother was being nice enough to baby-sit for her, and not because she necessarily agreed with Granny Fran’s advice.

  “Dan McNeil?” Celia said over the telephone that evening. “You’re going out with Dan McNeil?”

  Rachel sighed in exasperation at Celia’s lack of enthusiasm. “I thought you would be pleased that I’m finally going out on a date.”

  “Well...yes, I suppose so...but Dan McNeil?”

  “Would you quit saying his name? Dan is a very nice man. What could you possibly have against him?”

  “Nothing personal. It’s just that he’s so...well, dull.”

  “Celia—”

  “And you know how bitter his divorce was. Men who’ve been burned the way Dan was always carry scars.”

  Rachel shrugged, though she knew her sister couldn’t see the gesture. “I have a few scars of my own,” she murmured. “And Dan isn’t dull. He’s just quiet.”

  “Safe, you mean. Predictable.”

  Rachel reflected that those were the very qualities that had made her accept Dan’s invitation. Her reactions to him were safe and predictable, not volatile and alarming. “He’s a nice man,” she repeated stubbornly.

  Celia’s sigh was as gusty as Rachel’s had been. “All right. It’s certainly none of my business who you go out with, but—”

  There always seemed to be a “but” after facts that should have been indisputable, Rachel mused.

  “I just hope you know what you’re doing,” Celia completed, unaware of her sister’s mutinous thoughts. “Don’t jump into anything with Dan just to avoid an involvement with, er, with anyone else.”

  Despite Celia’s awkward effort to be subtle, Rachel knew exactly who she meant. She started to tell her sister in no uncertain terms that she hadn’t accepted a date with Dan just to avoid going out with Seth. She kept quiet only because she wasn’t entirely sure she could convince either Celia or herself that it was true. Instead, she reminded Celia that this was no more her business than Celia’s relationship with Damien Alexander was Rachel’s, as Celia had pointed out frequently of late.

  There was really nothing Celia could say after that.

  * * *

  “Why are you having dinner with Mr. McNeil, Mama?” Aaron asked the next evening, hanging over the back of Rachel’s dressing chair as she freshened her makeup. Paige clumped around the bedroom behind them, balanced precariously in a pair of Rachel’s heels. “How come you aren’t going to eat with us?” Aaron persisted. “Granny Fran is making spaghetti.”

  “Mama’s going out on a dinner date, Aaron,” Paige said, sounding smugly self-important for knowing the difference between dinner out with a gentleman and dinner at home with the family.

  “A date?” Aaron repeated, tiny lip curled. “You’re not going to kiss him, are you, Mama?”

  Rachel’s hand slipped, and mascara streaked her cheek. She bit back a curse and reached for a tissue. “We’re only having dinner, Aaron.”

  “Good,” her son pronounced firmly. “‘Cause if you’re going to kiss anyone, I’d rather it would be Seth.”

  Rachel dropped her blusher brush, scattering rose-colored powder over the top of her vanity table. She snatched another tissue out of the dispenser. “Whatever makes you say that, Aaron?” she asked weakly.

  “Aaron said he saw Seth kiss you the first night he had dinner with us,” Paige explained.

  “I like Seth,” Aaron said. “He’s cool. He can play video games and build swing sets and tell jokes. And he has fish. Couldn’t you go out on a date with Seth, Mama? And could we go, too?”

  “Kids don’t go on dates,” Paige said scornfully, before Rachel had a chance to form an answer. “Only grown-ups do.”

  “I bet Seth would let us go,” Aaron insisted stubbornly. “Wouldn’t he, Mama?”

  Rescue came in the form of Granny Fran, who
appeared in the doorway to shoo the children downstairs. “Your mama has to finish getting ready,” she told them. “It’s almost time for her to leave.”

  “I still think she should be going with Seth,” Aaron muttered, determined to have the last word as he trudged out of the room.

  Paige stepped out of Rachel’s heels and followed in her brother’s path. She paused in the doorway. “I hope you have a good time tonight, Mama.”

  Rachel smiled. “Thank you, honey.”

  “But I think you’d have more fun with Seth,” Paige added thoughtfully.

  “Downstairs, young’un,” Frances urged, her eyes alight with amusement at Rachel’s expression.

  “Yes, ma’am,” Paige said, and obediently disappeared.

  “Not a word out of you,” Rachel warned her grandmother, pointing her lipstick in a threatening manner.

  Frances laughed and held up her hands in a gesture of surrender. “Not a word,” she promised. “I’ll see you downstairs.”

  And then she followed the children out, leaving Rachel to bury her face in her hands—and then to hastily repair the fresh damage she’d done to her makeup.

  * * *

  She didn’t have a wonderful time.

  It wasn’t anything in particular that Dan did or said, though Rachel thought he talked a bit too much about his ex-wife and how badly she’d treated him. Nor was there any particular awkwardness between them. They’d known each other for years, so conversation was easy enough, with few stilted silences to fill. Mostly they talked business, his and hers.

  Dan was attractive enough in a bland sort of way, and as charming as a salesman learns to be after a few years in his job. But there was little laughter between them. And Rachel couldn’t imagine reacting with any enthusiasm should he kiss her, which she intended to avoid.

  They saw several mutual acquaintances in the popular restaurant, and Rachel noted the speculation at seeing them out together. Rachel found herself fighting an urge to announce that this wasn’t really what it appeared. She and Dan weren’t exactly dating. They were, well, “doing dinner.”

  But the worst part of the entire evening, as far as Rachel was concerned, was that she couldn’t seem to put Seth out of her mind. Irrationally, she grew more angry with him as the evening progressed, as though it were his fault that he was haunting her mind, which, she decided, it was.