Single in Suburbia

by Wendy Wax

  She puttered around the kitchen, setting things up, dumping the cans of soft drinks she found into an already iced cooler. Fido eyed her occasionally, but kept his nose to himself. She felt good, she realized, as she gave the counters a final swipe, happy almost.

  True, the growing stack of bills was never completely out of mind, but deep down where it mattered most, she was beginning to believe that she had what it took to protect herself and her children; that she was a fighter and survivor; that she had real value that had nothing to do with being somebody’s wife, or somebody else’s mother.

  The music snapped on outside followed by whoops of laughter. The front doorbell rang and Roses Red and White, out of breath and flushed with excitement, speed-walked through the kitchen and made a beeline for the door.

  “Oh God, it’s starting,” Meghan said to Samantha. “Can you believe it?”

  And then Samantha’s equally breathless, “I hope it’s Joey and Brent. I so want them to see us before our hair gets all wet.”

  And then there was more excited babble, and a steady stream of teenagers traipsing through the kitchen with waves and nods, on their way out to the pool.

  Squaring her shoulders and affixing a smile to her lips, Amanda kicked into parent/hostess/chaperone mode. Outside, at his station in front of the grill, Hunter James did the same.

  Sometime after ten P.M. Amanda’s energy began to flag. Wandering out to the pool, she found a vacant chaise and lowered her weary body into it. It was a perfect night; the dark sky was littered with stars and a sliver of moon dangled in the midst of them. Music still played, but the selections were quieter now, more reflective; the booming rhythms of Green Day and Bowling for Soup had been replaced by the haunting melodies of Norah Jones and Michelle Branch.

  A handful of kids stood in the shallow end of the pool talking. Others lingered in the shadows of the deep end in that eternal teenage quest for privacy. The majority had changed out of their swimsuits and headed down to the basement where Hunter had been staked out for the last hour.

  Amanda tilted her head back and stared up into the stars, the words of the song twining itself through her thoughts. Don’t know why I didn’t come…

  “How are you holding up?” As if summoned by her thoughts, Hunter dropped down onto the lower end of the chaise near her feet. The moonlight glinted off his hair and threw his face into shadows.

  “I’m still kicking,” she said. “I’m just not kicking quite as high as I was a few hours ago. I don’t think the Energizer Bunny has anything to fear from me.”

  “I know what you mean.” He sighed. “I don’t normally feel particularly old, but I haven’t been around this many teenagers at one time before. I’m feeling like Father Time.”

  Amanda laughed. “Yeah, there’s nothing like twenty-five fifteen-year-old girls in bikinis to make a middle-aged woman’s life pass before her eyes. I can barely remember being that young.”

  “Well, I can. And that’s what’s keeping me on my toes,” Hunter said. “I caught two boys eyeing the liquor cabinet, one couple trying to sneak into the downstairs guest room, and I had one girl give me her mother’s phone number.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “No. Lucy Simmons seems to think her mother would be perfect for me. She wanted to write the number on my hand in permanent marker.”

  Amanda laughed again. “Poor man. You must be so tired of women throwing themselves at you.” She smiled and shook her head. “But I guess it’s understandable. There aren’t a lot of single men in the suburbs and most of them don’t look like you. And, of course, as it turns out, you are famous.”

  His lips turned up in a smile. “Yeah, but dating in the suburbs is kind of like high school. All the ones you’re not interested in are hot on your trail. And the one you want?” He speared her with a look that left no doubt who he was talking about. “She doesn’t give you the time of day.”

  Amanda studied Hunter James. In the moonlight, just like in the light of day, he was wholly masculine and completely attractive. He was also kind, considerate, and easygoing, but with that sharp bite of humor that kept things interesting. And, of course, he was busy dealing with his responsibilities, not trying to escape them.

  The way he was looking at her made her want to give him way more than the time of day. If they weren’t surrounded by teenagers they were supposed to be chaperoning, she’d hand him her entire watch, fob and all. Why she might even allow him to reset her second hand or ask him to check her battery.

  “So what time is it?” she asked quietly.

  “I wish it was time to take you upstairs and show you my etchings,” he said.

  Amanda felt a brutally swift kick of desire, which she attempted to fight off.

  “But I’m afraid it’s actually time to make another swing through the basement. I can hardly wait to hear their groans of annoyance when they catch sight of me.”

  Amanda smiled and told herself she should be glad she wasn’t about to view Hunter’s etchings or anything else. “If you help me up,” she said, “I’ll go torture some kids too.” She put her hand in his and he pulled her out of the chair and set her directly in front of him.

  Their bodies were close, too close. She could feel waves of heat pulsing between them. Before she could stop herself, she was imagining his arms wrapped around her with all those hard planes and angles pressed tight against her.

  “All righty then.” She removed her hand from his and drew a deep breath as she waited for him to step back. But he continued to look down at her, their faces so close they wouldn’t even have to move for their lips to meet. “I guess it’s time to go check on the kids.”

  Neither of them moved. But something completely visceral passed between them.

  “This party can’t last forever,” he whispered. “Midnight is only”—he glanced down at his watch and back up into her eyes—“an hour and a half away.” He rested his hands on her shoulders.

  Amanda knew she should step away and pretend not to notice the current surging between them. The trouble was she didn’t want to move and neither did Solange, who seemed to be trying to stage some sort of takeover. Think of all you’ve been through, that inner voice said. After all the hurt and rejection, don’t you think you deserve one night?

  “That’s ninety minutes until midnight,” she finally said. “Why is that starting to feel like an eternity?”

  They spent the next sixty seconds of it staring into each other’s eyes.

  “I say we synchronize our watches and do our best to get everybody out the door by twelve-oh-one,” he said.

  His eyes were dark and bottomless. Above his head the stars still glittered and the moon still hung, suspended in the night.

  She felt suddenly sexy and sure under his regard and uncharacteristically bold. And she no longer cared which one of her was in control.

  “I’m with you.” Her gaze still locked with his, she went up on tiptoe and pressed a kiss to his lips, just a small opening salvo in a campaign she couldn’t wait to wage.

  “It’s ten thirty-three,” she murmured against his lips. “Only eighty-seven minutes to go.”

  For Amanda, the rest of the party passed in a rush of anticipation. Where the first two hours had, in fact, stretched out into infinity; the last hour and a half telescoped and flew. And through every moment of it, she was completely aware of Hunter James.

  He handled the boys with a casual acceptance that puffed their chests up with pride, and flirted with the girls in a nonthreatening way that made even the least attractive of them preen. He stayed so calm and attentive, so completely in the moment for Samantha, that Amanda would have thought he wasn’t counting the minutes like she was. Until she’d look up and catch his gaze on her, an incredibly sexy smile hovering on his lips, his eyes sparkling with promise.

  He made her feel like the most attractive woman in the world; made her aware of her body in a way she hadn’t been in too long to remember. She wanted to do a happy dance and
a striptease at the same time. Her mind practically shouted, You’re going to have sex! This Greek god, who could have any woman he wants, wants you! And Solange added, Admit it, Amanda, you know you want him too!

  She wanted him all right, so much that it scared her. Her fear dredged up the evil and insidious what-ifs: What if she didn’t remember how? What if when he saw her naked he changed his mind? What if they had mind-boggling sex and she never heard from him again? What if Meghan noticed what was happening between them and freaked out?

  The Greek god who wanted her sent her a saucy wink across the room and the what-ifs scrambled for cover.

  At midnight parents began arriving to pick up their kids. The only one who attempted to linger was Susie Simmons, but by twelve thirty everyone but Meghan, Samantha, Hunter, and herself, was gone.

  The girls yawned in unison. Amanda followed suit. Hunter was right behind her.

  “Wow, I’m beat,” he said too quickly.

  Amanda yawned again. “Me too,” she said.

  They looked at each other over the girls’ heads.

  “You two get to sleep.” Hunter stood and moved toward her. “I’ll see Amanda home.”

  “You don’t have to do that.” Amanda protested because she knew that’s what she would have said to anyone else. “I’m not even a mile away.”

  She stole a glance at Meghan, but her daughter appeared too euphoric over the party’s success to tune in to the undercurrents swirling around her or to make anything of the fact that with both she and Wyatt spending the night out, Amanda and Hunter would be in their house alone.

  Ignoring her halfhearted objections, Hunter patted his pockets for his keys, scooped Amanda’s purse from behind the kitchen counter, and grabbed her hand. “You girls get ready for bed,” he said. “I don’t want to hear a peep out of you when I get back.”

  Before Amanda could protest further, they were out the door, and he was helping her into her car. When she was settled behind the wheel, he leaned in and kissed her, a searing kiss that promised all kinds of things she sincerely hoped he was going to deliver.

  Her hands actually shook on the steering wheel as she drove, her gaze trained on him in her rearview mirror, her mind fantasizing forward to what might happen next.

  Her clock was so tightly wound she was afraid her works might pop out.

  At home she pulled into the garage and barely waited for him to pull to a stop next to her before she sent the garage door flying down.

  “OK,” she said as she climbed out of the van.

  “OK,” he repeated as he clambered out of the Escalade and strode around it toward her.

  They stood in front of each other for all of two seconds before they were in each other’s arms. His mouth covered hers, warm and insistent. Their tongues met and parried.

  He slid his hands down her sides then slipped them beneath her buttocks to lift her up for an even tighter fit.

  “Hmmmm…” She pressed against the bulge of his erection, rubbed her breasts against his chest. Details seemed unimportant; it was the touching that mattered.

  “Wrap your legs around me,” he said, “and hold on. We need to go inside.”

  She did as instructed and he carried her toward the kitchen door, his erection pressing more insistently against her with every step.

  “Do you have the keys?” He groaned when they reached the door. “God, you feel good.”

  She thought that must be an understatement, because at the moment she was way better than good and on her way to great. She did not, however, know where her keys were. “They must be in the car.”

  With another groan he carried her back down the garage steps to the car. With one hand he pulled the van door open and fumbled around for the ignition, his mouth still glued to hers and their bodies still wedged together. His free hand supported her bottom.

  When he’d managed to get hold of the keys, he retraced his steps, still holding her against him, his mouth still moving on hers. At the top of the steps he broke the kiss long enough to put the keys in her hand. “Inside. Now,” he croaked.

  It was her turn to fumble, but she finally got the right key in the lock. They pushed through the doorway into the house. As the door slammed behind them, he turned and braced her against it, deepening the kiss.

  Panting with need, she tore her lips from his. “Bedroom,” she said. “Upstairs.”

  Following her breathless directions, he carried her up the flight of stairs and into her bedroom. Not bothering to pull back the comforter, he laid her on the bed and looked down at her, visibly struggling for control. “Are you OK with this?”

  She didn’t want to think about OK versus not, didn’t want to analyze, debate, or—God forbid—talk herself out of this wondrous thing that was about to happen. She nodded her head and held her arms up to him.

  He smiled. Good Lord, the man’s smile was almost as big a turn on as the rest of him. Her body quivered with anticipation.

  In one smooth movement, he removed his shirt and dropped it on the floor. Kneeling over her, he began to unbutton her blouse. Before she could catch her breath, they were both naked from the waist up.

  His eyes on her made her nipples harden. He smiled and traced them with his fingertips then leaned over and circled them with his tongue.

  When he straightened, she reached for the snap of his jeans. Staring into his eyes, she pulled the zipper down and reached for him.

  The glow in his eyes was its own form of foreplay. As he eased off her to step out of his jeans and underwear, she felt an answering wetness between her legs. When he slid her panties down her legs, she held herself very still, afraid she’d come before he’d done anything more than look at her.

  “I, uh, haven’t done this for a while,” she said.

  “No?” A smile played around his lips as he knelt in front of her again and spread her legs. “Then we’ll have to make it very, very good.”

  He lowered his mouth and opened her with his tongue. Mini-waves of pleasure rippled through her. “Oh, thank, God,” she managed, as her body tightened. “I was so afraid you weren’t going to give it your all.”

  She thought she felt a burble of laughter against her clitoris, but he brought his thumbs up to brush her breasts at the same time and she was too distracted by how good everything felt to be sure.

  Every touch, every flick of his tongue drove her closer to the precipice.

  She tried to hold on, tried to resist the inexorable freefall that beckoned, but Hunter’s hands and mouth moved in tandem. His hair brushed across her bare skin.

  Her eyelids fluttered shut and she teetered on the verge, exquisitely taut, until she was forced to let go.

  He held her while she orgasmed in a rockslide of pure sensation.

  Long, gasping moments passed before she remembered to breathe. When she was able to open her eyes, she stared up into his and saw the haze of lust that filled them.

  “Come here,” she said, pulling him closer. “I want to give you what you gave me.”

  He raised his body forward so that his penis rubbed against her. “You’re the boss,” he said. “All we need is a condom.”

  She expected him to locate his jeans and whip one from the pocket. She was ready to help him put it on; could probably break land and air speed records doing it. Anything to prolong the sensations pulsing through her. And make sure he experienced them too.

  “Do you have one?” he asked.

  Given all the blood that had rushed to her sexual organs, she thought maybe she had misunderstood. “Me?” she asked. “A condom?”

  “That night at the grocery store you had hundreds of them,” he said more urgently. “Tell me where they are, and I’ll get one.”

  Amanda closed her eyes and drew in a shaky breath. Her body wanted Hunter James buried inside her and it wanted him now.

  But there was a small problem. “I, um…” She forced herself to meet his gaze. “I don’t have any. I, um, I tied them all to a tree.”

&nb
sp; He blinked. It was the only part of him that moved. “I hate to be critical at a time like this,” he finally said, “but I think you’ve got things a little bit confused.”

  She couldn’t decide whether to laugh or cry.

  He rolled off her. “We’re not on Candid Camera are we?” he asked.

  “No,” she said. “I frittered them away in a twisted attempt at revenge and now, when I would sell my soul for one, I am condomless.”

  He sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. “I can tell this is a completely fascinating story, and I hope you’ll tell it to me later.” He stood, naked and glorious, and pulled on his jeans. Then he was moving purposefully toward the door. “But right now I’m going to check the glove compartment, my wallet, and anywhere else I can think of for some form of protection.”

  She would have liked to toss her head back and laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation, but she simply couldn’t believe this was happening. A moment ago she’d been in the throes of a ten-point orgasm and now she was alone in bed, watching the man who’d given it to her scrambling for the door.

  He stopped in the doorway and turned to face her. Seeing her expression, he strode back to the bed. “Don’t move.” He smiled at her, his eyes frantic, yet warm. “If I have to, I’ll hit the Kroger on Upper Roswell. It’s open twenty-four hours.”

  He leaned over and kissed her, a long deep kiss that made her body tingle with renewed anticipation. “When I get back, we’ll do whatever it takes to put you back in the mood. That, you can count on.”

  Then he turned and pretty much sprinted for the door.