Adding to the Family

by Gina Wilkins

  The files she needed were in her closet. She paused in the bedroom doorway, struck by the emptiness of the room now that the bed and dresser had been moved out. She was moving away from the life she had built for herself a little piece at a time, she thought wistfully. It wouldn’t be long before someone else’s things filled these rooms.

  She told herself it was silly to be so attached to this tiny apartment. She’d only lived here a couple of years, and she’d spent more time out with her friends than in these rooms. But it had been home to her, more so than the house in which she had grown up with her family. She would miss it.

  She hadn’t realized Mark had moved close behind her until he laid his hands on her shoulders. “A few regrets?”

  “I guess so.”

  “That’s only natural.”

  “So you keep telling me.”

  His hands moved on her shoulders, kneading the knots that had formed there. “You must feel as though a tornado has swept through your life and changed everything.”

  The massage felt good enough to make her almost purr her answer. “That pretty well sums it up.”

  His thumbs rotated at her nape, eliciting a murmur of pleasure. “What you need is a break from worrying about everything. Why don’t you take tonight off and go to one of those parties? I can watch the kids for a few hours.”

  A sound of sheer exasperation escaped her. “Damn it, Mark, stop that.”

  His hands froze. “The massage?”

  “No. Yes.” Stepping away from his touch, she turned to face him. “Stop doing so many nice things for me. You’ve already taken my nephews and me into your home. You’ve moved furniture, rearranged your schedules, cooked for us…and now you’re offering to baby-sit so I can take a break and go to a party.”

  “And this annoys you…why?”

  “Because I’m not sure why you’re doing all this. I know you have a habit of doing nice things for people—but would you have done this much for any other client? Or do you think I need your help more than most, that I can’t take care of things on my own?”

  “I have no doubt that you would be fine on your own. I just wanted to help, if I could. Because—well…”

  “Because?” she prodded, eyeing him suspiciously.

  He sighed. “Oh, hell. It’s easier to show you than to tell you.”

  While she was still trying to figure out what he meant, he reached for her.

  She should have known that the emotions that had been building between them would explode eventually. She had known, actually—which was why she had tried not to be alone with him since the last time they had almost given in to temptation.

  She had thought an apartment-hunting excursion would be safe enough. She should have known better, she thought as he crushed his mouth against hers.

  She could still end this before it went too far. One move on her part to stop him would be all it would take to have him backing away. But when he lifted his head to take a quick breath, she was the one who reached up to take his face between her hands and pull his mouth back to hers.

  The kiss became more heated, more intense. Miranda’s pulse raced as she drew closer to him, wanting to feel him against her. His hands moved over her in a more sensual massage than the brief neck rub that had felt so good before. She had purred with pleasure then, but she was very close to moaning now.

  She loved the feel of his thick, slightly curly hair. There had been plenty of times during the past year when she had been tempted to plunge her hands into it—and it felt every bit as good as she had imagined it would.

  He shifted so that her back was pressed against the bedroom wall, and then he leaned into her. It never failed to surprise her that her “buttoned-down accountant” had such a hard, strong body beneath his conservative clothing.

  Speaking of which…she felt his right hand slip beneath the hem of her short yellow T-shirt. His palm was warm against her waist, and when he slid his hand upward, she arched forward into his touch. He slid his knee between her legs. Even through layers of denim, the contact made her ache for more.

  He tore his mouth from hers and buried it in her throat, his lips moving against her skin when he said, “We really should stop this now.”

  She slid her hands down his back, her fingertips sliding over the ridges of bone and muscle. Her eyes were closed, enhancing the tactile sensations. “Not yet.”

  A tiny nip at her collarbone made her shiver. “Miranda.” There was a raw edge to his voice now. “You’re treading on thin ice here. It’s been a while for me…”

  She rubbed her cheek against his springy hair. “For me, too.”

  For some reason, no man had intrigued her enough for her to risk a potentially sticky intimate involvement. It had been…well, more than a year now, she realized with some surprise. Since she had met Mark Wallace, actually.

  “So…” He nibbled kisses down the line of her jaw, his fingertips brushing the fabric of her bra.

  She all but melted into a puddle at his feet as her nipples drew into hard, aching points. “So…” she whispered, and pulled his mouth back to hers.

  She could not have said later who first reached for buttons and snaps and zippers. Or whose clothing fell aside more quickly beneath the onslaught of eager, impatient hands.

  The absence of a bed didn’t discourage them; they tumbled to the plush carpet, rolling fluidly across it. Between kisses and gasps, Mark muttered something about protection. Tangling her legs with his, she informed him that she was on the pill. When it came to pregnancy, she took no chances, even when she hadn’t been involved with anyone in more than a year.

  Considering how long they had waited, it was no surprise that their lovemaking was fast and rather frantic. Both of them were primed for release, and they achieved satisfaction almost simultaneously, their mingled cries echoing in the nearly empty room.

  Sprawled beneath Mark’s damp body, Miranda wondered dazedly if she would be able to walk again within the next few hours. There was a distinct possibility that she was going to have to stay right where she was for a while.

  Feeling Mark’s warm rapid breath still against her cheek, she decided she had no complaints.

  After a long moment, he sighed heavily and rolled onto his back. “Oh, man.”

  She smiled faintly. “Thank you. I think.”

  Gazing meditatively at the ceiling, he said, “I can’t feel my legs.”

  She laughed softly. “Give me a minute and I’ll feel them for you.”

  “Damn, woman, are you trying to kill me?”

  Giggling, she rolled onto her side to kiss his cheek. “We don’t have time for any more ‘feeling around’ right now, anyway. Especially not if we’re going to see a couple of more apartments before we go relieve Mrs. McSwaim.”

  “Oh.” His voice was suddenly hollow. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

  Determined to play this scene lightly, Miranda reached for her clothes. “I won’t take long in the bathroom. Then you can have it while I gather the things I need to take with me.”

  He caught her wrist when she started to rise. “Miranda…”

  “Mmm?”

  Searching her face, he asked uncertainly, “Just what was this for you?”

  Hesitating for only a moment, she said, “It was a very nice distraction. Thank you.”

  His hand fell heavily from her arm. There was little expression in his voice when he replied, “You’re welcome.”

  She escaped to the bathroom with her clothing bundled in her arms.

  She deliberately kept her mind blank while she quickly cleaned up and dressed. Allowing herself to dwell only on the relaxed and mellow way she felt, she assured herself that nothing had really changed between Mark and her. They had scratched an itch that had been bothering both of them, that was all.

  But because that sounded so wrong even to her, she cleared her mind of any thought except the other apartments she hoped to tour that day. She really needed to find another place to live very soon�
��before her life became even more entangled with Mark’s.

  There was only time for one other apartment visit before they returned to Mark’s house. For the first time all day, Mark could find very few flaws to point out—or maybe he was simply too distracted to look closely this time.

  He couldn’t take his brooding gaze off of Miranda.

  How could she be so blasé about what had happened between them today? She seemed to be totally focused on checking out the size of bedrooms, bathrooms and closets, exploring the kitchen and pantry, approving the pool, exercise room and playground facilities. She seemed pleased to learn that a ground-floor two-bed-room apartment would be available next week.

  “I think this is it,” she told Mark with a smile that appeared completely genuine. Buddy to buddy. “I can totally see me living here with the boys.”

  And did she see him fitting anywhere into that picture? As a good friend? An occasional visitor? Or just her accountant again? For all he knew, she might even end the business relationship now that they had stepped over a line she had never intended to cross.

  A very nice distraction. Was that really all it had meant to her?

  Unfortunately it had meant a great deal more to him.

  He tagged along behind Miranda and the apartment manager on a tour of the property, basically ignored by both of them. Miranda had made it clear this time that he was just a friend along for the outing, and that her opinion was the only one that counted, so the manager concentrated on selling the complex’s assets to Miranda.

  “I’m sold,” Miranda said when they returned to the leasing office. “I think my nephews and I will be very comfortable here.”

  She looked at Mark as if daring him to argue, but he merely nodded. “It does seem like a nice place.”

  It almost seemed to surprise her that he hadn’t found any faults, but after a moment she smiled and turned back to the manager. “What do I need to do to reserve the apartment?”

  So she had made up her mind. She wanted to move out of his house in a few days. Everything would be back to normal in his life. Comfortable. Predictable. Lonely.

  “I’ll call a moving company to transfer the rest of my things to the new apartment,” Miranda mused aloud when they were back in the car. “I know there isn’t all that much, but it will be easier just to have someone come in and do it all at once. And I’ll need to buy furniture for the boys’ bedroom, and call the electric company and the telephone company—and the cable TV people. And I’ll need to change my address for my insurance and my subscriptions and other bills. What else?”

  She seemed to be babbling to fill the silence, but he went along. “You can make a list, adding to it as new thoughts occur to you. It will take a few weeks to get everything settled, but it will all work out.”

  “I’m sure you’re right. I have two day-care appointments Monday, so maybe I’ll have that resolved by then. Both places are open from 7:00 a.m. until 7:00 p.m. during the summer. I’ll make sure my office hours correspond.”

  “And when you have to leave town?”

  “I’ve been thinking about that, too. My clerical assistant is a single mom with a seven-year-old son. Money’s tight for her, so I think she would be willing to watch the twins occasionally for a little extra income.”

  “She’s trustworthy?”

  Miranda shot him a look. “I wouldn’t even consider asking her if I didn’t think so. Give me some credit, Mark.”

  “Sorry. I didn’t mean to imply that you would be careless about their safety.”

  “Good.” She looked back at the road ahead, her fingers tight around the steering wheel.

  “You know the boys are always welcome at my house. I hope you’ll feel free to call if you ever need someone to watch them.”

  “Thanks, but I think I’ve got everything under control.”

  “You always do,” he muttered, unable to mask his growing annoyance with her.

  She glanced at him again, but didn’t seem to have anything to say.

  “About what happened between us earlier…” This was hardly the best time to bring it up, but they would be back at his place in a few minutes, surrounded by kids. And he suspected that Miranda would make sure they weren’t alone together again.

  “It really was very nice, wasn’t it?” Her tone was so cheerful and airy, they could have been talking about the weather. “Of course we can’t let it happen again, but I guess we both needed to cut loose for a little while.”

  Cut loose. That ranked right up there with a “nice distraction,” in his opinion. Either way, it denoted a complete lack of commitment. An absence of emotion. He didn’t know whether she actually felt that way, or was simply afraid to admit there was more to it. He was worried he would drive her even further away if he admitted that their lovemaking had meant a great deal more to him than it apparently had to her.

  “Miranda—”

  He watched as her fingers flexed on the wheel, her knuckles going white. “I can’t do this now, Mark,” she cut in before he could say anything more. “There’s too much change going on in my life. Too much turmoil. I can’t deal with all of that and you, too.”

  His first instinct was to be offended by those blurted words. But after mentally replaying them a couple of times, he realized that she had just implicitly admitted that making love with him had not been a casual thing. He should have realized sooner that her chatty, almost hyper behavior ever since they’d left her apartment had been a clue to how shaken she was.

  She wasn’t pushing him away because it had been a casual encounter for her—but because it had not been casual at all. He supposed that should make him feel better, but either way she was pushing him away.

  He would have liked to argue his case further. To make her admit that she cared—if only a little. And to try to convince her to give them the opportunity to see where these feelings took them. But because he had heard the slight note of desperation in her voice when she had told him she couldn’t handle any more changes in her life now, he bit back the words.

  For Miranda’s sake, he would put his own desires aside for now. She needed him to be a friend—so he would be a friend. That was just the kind of guy he was, he told himself with uncharacteristic bitterness.

  It was just after two o’clock when Miranda and Mark returned to his house Saturday afternoon. Still very early in the day, Miranda mused with a glance at her watch as they entered the house. Amazing how many things had changed in such a few hours.

  But she couldn’t think about that now, she told herself. She planned to spend the rest of the day working very hard to avoid thinking about it.

  Things had not gone smoothly while they were out. Madison’s morning crankiness had developed into a runny nose, a scratchy throat and a fever. Looking flushed and miserable, she went straight into Mark’s arms and refused to let him put her down again.

  It turned out that Payton—who they found curled on her bed asleep—was also running a slight fever, and complained that her throat was also sore.

  “Jamie’s been a little quieter than usual, too,” Mrs. McSwaim told Miranda. “Kasey said he feels okay, but I wouldn’t be surprised if they all got sick. That’s how it goes with kids, usually. Once one of them catches something, it gets them all.”

  “What do you suppose it is? Should we call a doctor?”

  “I talked to one of the mothers from Payton’s preschool. Turns out there’s a virus going around. Nothing serious, just a bad cold, basically. Since antibiotics do more harm than good when it comes to viruses, the doctors simply recommend plenty of fluids and over-the-counter medicines to control the symptoms—unless they take a dramatic turn for the worse, of course.”

  “Of course,” Miranda repeated weakly.

  Mrs. McSwaim left a short while later. The rest of the day passed in a blur of tears and runny noses. While Mark did his best to keep the children entertained, Miranda filled endless cups of juice and water, then prepared cans of chicken-noodle soup for an
early dinner—which reminded her that she had never gotten around to eating lunch. Neither had Mark. They had spent their lunch break rolling around on the floor of her old apartment.

  But no. She wasn’t going to think of that, she reminded herself, setting bowls and spoons on the kitchen table.

  Madison wouldn’t let go of her father even long enough to eat, so Mark sat her in his lap and pretty much fed her dinner. Studying her flushed little face and glassy eyes, Miranda couldn’t really blame him for pampering her. The child looked so small and miserable.

  They moved back into the den after dinner, promising the children a video before bedtime. Mark settled into his recliner with Madison, while Jamie climbed onto the couch and Kasey curled on the rug with Poochie.

  Miranda was tempted to escape to her room, but it hardly seemed fair to leave Mark with the kids. Instead she sat in a chair in one corner of the room with a book, prepared to provide assistance if necessary. Opening the book, she cast another glance around the room to make sure everyone was settled before she lost herself in the novel.

  She noticed Payton standing nearby, looking at her father and sister with tears trickling slowly down her cheek and her lower lip quivering. “Payton? What’s wrong?”

  Payton looked around dolefully. “I don’t feel good, either.”

  Miranda closed her book. “I know you don’t. Is there anything I can do for you?”

  Payton looked back at her father, then turned fully to Miranda. “Can I sit in your lap?”

  “Oh. Well…sure. I guess so.”

  Payton climbed into the large wingchair and squirmed into position in Miranda’s lap. The movement caught Mark’s attention. He looked away from Madison with a frown. “Payton—”

  “It’s okay, Mark. She can sit here for a little while if she wants to.”