Belonging

by Samantha James

  "Sit up and eat, Mommy. We fixed you breakfast in bed." Casey beamed proudly.

  "You didn't fix it." Kim frowned at her younger sister. "Matt did. And it was his idea, too."

  Casey stuck out her tongue. "Well, I helped," she pouted.

  "Did not!" Kim's eyes began to flash before Matt interrupted.

  "Ladies, please! Let your mother eat before everything gets cold."

  Miraculously, that seemed to settle the argument. Angie peeped out from beneath the sheet at the three sets of eyes fastened on her.

  "Come on, Mommy," Kim prompted. "We did this specially for you."

  "Yes, Mommy," Matt echoed mildly. "Sit up and eat."

  It was hard to remain dignified with a sheer lacy nightgown and a sheet as her only protection against a knowingly amused pair of gray eyes. Angie didn't even try. Slowly, nervously, she sat up, pushing tousled blond waves back over her shoulders.

  Holding the tray in his other hand, Matt handed her the robe from the foot of the bed. But not before his eyes had feasted on the tantalizing glimpse of honey- gold flesh beneath the sheer white nylon.

  Angie felt the heat of that scorching gaze in every part of her body. She gave a silent prayer of thanks for the protection of her robe, scanty though it was, as her nipples responded with an involuntary pout. A tiny smile creased her lips as Matt carefully placed the tray on her lap.

  "This was really very thoughtful of you," she murmured. Glancing at the clock, she noticed it was later than she'd thought--nearly ten. Knowing that Matt was asleep in the very next room, she'd lain awake half the night.

  The side of the bed sagged beneath Matt's weight as he seated himself. "I can't take all the credit. Kim went outside and picked the rose, and she helped me find everything in the kitchen." The little girl beamed at his praise. "But it would be nice to know that the effort wasn't wasted." His eyes dropped meaningfully toward the plate she hadn't yet touched.

  Angie automatically picked up her fork and lifted a bite of perfectly cooked scrambled eggs to her mouth. Matt chuckled at the look of surprise that darted across her face.

  "Don't tell me I've lost my touch," he said lightly. "Too much cottage cheese?"

  Her eyes widened. "Cottage cheese? You put cottage cheese in these eggs?"

  "Family secret. Passed down from mother to son." He eased back slightly to watch her, enjoying the morning flush that tinted her cheeks, the unblemished perfection of her skin. "Overdone?" he asked solicitously as she lifted the fork a second time.

  "They're perfect and you know it." Harboring a smile, she began to spread thick raspberry jam on a slice of toast. "You never told me you could cook. Do you have any other hidden talents I don't know about?"

  A lengthy silence followed. She bit into the toast and glanced at him curiously. There was an extremely suggestive smile on his face. His eyes were filled with amusement, and the slightest hint of devilry.

  "Let me guess." Even she was a little amazed that she was teasing him. "Is this where you tell me how great you are with your hands?"

  "It's a thought," Matt murmured. "If nothing else, I certainly have a very willing pair of hands."

  Angie opened her mouth, but the retort poised on the tip of her tongue never came. Kim and Casey had been exploring the contents of her dressing table, but now Casey had returned to the bedside. She and Matt noticed at the same time that Casey was studying his profile intently. There was a look of utter consternation on her face.

  "Matt," she began worriedly, "how did you get all those slivers in your chin?"

  The startled look on his face was too precious for words. Angie laughed until tears rolled down her cheeks. It wasn't until her hand wiped away the last watery trail that she found herself on the receiving end of an intent gaze.

  "What is it?" she asked. "What's wrong?"

  Matt's eyes suddenly shone with pleasure. "Do you know," he said softly, "that I've never heard you laugh like that before?"

  Her heart turned over at the warmth reflected on his lean face. "I can't remember the last time I did," she admitted. "It... it feels good."

  "I'll bet it does." His eyes roved tenderly over her face. After last night he had promised himself he would wait to kiss her, wait until she was more certain of her feelings for him. But she was smiling rather shyly at him, an alluring combination of innocence and sensuality that sent his control scattering to the winds.

  Unable to resist, he placed one hand flat on the bed and leaned forward to kiss her, unmindful of the interested eyes that watched nearby.

  It was an achingly sweet kiss, over almost before it had begun, but it was enough to make Angie's senses swim dizzily. Matt inwardly rejoiced at her dazed expression, then stood and lifted Casey high off the floor.

  "Come on, squirt." He grinned at her. "Let's go get rid of those slivers, huh?"

  Moments later Angie heard an electric razor in the bathroom. The sounds of mingled laughter reached her ears—Matt's, Kim's and Casey's—and she was filled with a poignant yearning.

  At times like this she could almost believe that Matt was right, that with his help, she could learn to open up her heart once more.

  Almost, but not quite.

  After Angie showered and dressed, she went downstairs. It was in the back of her mind that although Matt might be far more at home in the kitchen than most men, cleaning up was probably a different matter entirely.

  The kitchen was spotless. The table had been cleared, the dishes stowed neatly in the dishwasher. Even the stove had been cleaned.

  What was he trying to do? she thought to herself, not sure if she was pleased or annoyed. Prove himself indispensable?

  She began to wonder if that was exactly what he had in mind when she saw him emerge from the garage, pulling the lawn mower along behind him. A second later the motor roared to life.

  But there were some advantages to having another adult in the house, she conceded as she headed for the den. Most weekends were spent catching up on various household chores, both inside and out. When she was able to work on the speech she was to give at Tuesday's Downtown Merchants Association luncheon without a single interruption from the girls, it seemed almost a luxury.

  Later that afternoon Matt asked that she come along while they did some shopping.

  "But we don't need anything," she told him, puzzled at his insistence she join them.

  He glanced up the stairway, where the two youngsters were playing in their room, before his eyes slid back to her. "How do you feel about a new addition to the family?"

  Her heart gave a betraying lurch, as she thought of the previously unoccupied room next to hers—the room Matt had slept in last night.

  Angie raised a slender eyebrow suspiciously as a rakish grin edged Matt's mouth. "I'm not sure I want to hear this," she muttered.

  Matt laughed. "Don't look at me like that. Much as I'd like to, I'm not about to haul you off to the nearest den of iniquity. In fact, for what I have in mind, we'll have not one but two chaperons."

  His eyes made a slow and leisurely reconnaissance of her slender body as he spoke. Angie was aware of a rush of warmth filtering through her. Feminine vanity? For so long now she'd thought Evan had destroyed that, too.

  She couldn't have been more wrong. The smoldering look in Matt's eyes made her feel surrounded, possessed. It wasn't an unpleasant feeling; indeed, it made her feel as if there was a smile in her heart.

  Perversely, it bothered her that she didn't mind him looking at her that way. Not nearly as much as it should have.

  "You still haven't told me what we'll be shopping for," she reminded him. "Or where we'll be shopping."

  "Uh, the pet store. As long as you don't mind, of course," he added rather sheepishly. "I thought it might be a nice surprise for the kids. I know how much they miss Spooky, and I thought...well, maybe they'd like another cat. Or a dog."

  At first she looked startled, so startled he thought she might refuse. Then she smiled, that brilliant, entrancing smile that
made him nearly forget to breathe.

  "What are we waiting for, then?" she asked, a playful lilt to her voice. "You get the car, and I'll get the girls." Not bothering to hide her excitement, she collected her purse from the closet and off they went.

  To Kim and Casey's delight, there was one more passenger in the back seat of Matt's car for the return trip—a-small pure black cocker spaniel puppy.

  ***

  After a light dinner later that evening, Matt and Angie sat beneath the shade of the huge old elm tree that stood sentinel near the side of the house. Frothy clouds floated across the sky, reflecting pastel shades of purple and pink from the waning summer sun. It seemed a haven of peace and serenity from the disturbing events of the preceding day. Matt had ordered extra patrols in the area, and even the occasional glimpse of a police cruiser didn't bother her as much as when she'd first seen one that morning.

  Worn out from chasing the puppy across the yard, the two girls dropped beside them. "You know you two still haven't decided on a name for her," Angie told them. "If you call her puppy much longer, she'll think that's her name."

  Apparently sensing she was the topic of discussion, the puppy draped both small paws over one of Angie's outstretched legs and gazed up at her with sorrowful brown eyes. Angie laughed and ruffled the silky hair around the dog's drooping ears.

  "Any suggestions, Chief Richardson?" she asked Matt. He was lying on his back nearby, his feet crossed casually at the ankle. "After all," she reminded him, "you bought her."

  He looked both lazy and relaxed, and at her question he opened one eye and squinted up at her. "Not for me. For the three of you."

  She wrinkled her nose at him. "The least you can do, then, is help us come up with a name for this poor pooch."

  Tucking his arms under his head, he opened his other eye and offered, "Whiskers?"

  Neither Kim nor Casey looked thrilled. "Try again," she told him.

  "Duke?"

  "That's no name for a girl!" Kim looked disgusted. Matt chuckled and rattled off several more names, each one more ridiculous than the last. Finally Casey piped up, "How about Patches?"

  This time it was Matt and Angie who looked at each other. The pup's fur was coal-black, unmarked by even a single patch of any other color. Fighting to suppress a smile, Angie started to point that out to Casey, but by now Kim had spoken up as well. "Yeah," she said excitedly. "Let's call her Patches!"

  Angie promptly closed her mouth. With the two girls in agreement for once, she wasn't about to make any more waves. "Patches it is, then," she confirmed. Even the pup seemed to like it, jumping up and yapping excitedly.

  Once again the girls ran around the yard, with the pup chasing them. Matt even joined in the game, but oddly enough, Patches tired out before the rest of them. The girls went into the house then and took the dog with them.

  Angie raised an eyebrow when Matt dropped beside her once more. "Who did you really buy the puppy for?" she asked knowingly. "You or the girls?"

  He grinned. "Come to think of it, I always did want a cocker spaniel when I was a kid."

  "And that's why her bed is in my utility room?"

  "I'd like to see you try to get that dog away from those kids." He looked rather smug.

  "I couldn't and you know it." She frowned good- naturedly. "And I think you knew that when you steered us away from the kittens and parakeets toward this little pooch."

  He pillowed his hands behind his head. "Guilty as charged."

  A comfortable silence settled between them. Angie leaned back against the tree trunk, her eyes drawn to Matt as if by some force she couldn't control. A faint breeze feathered his dark hair across his forehead. His eyes were closed, bristly lashes fanning out against the high sweep of his cheekbones. Her fingertips began to tingle. She wished she had the courage to lean over, to trace the arresting configuration of his features—-across the tanned lines of his forehead to the stubborn angle of his jaw, along the jutting blade of his nose to that beautifully curved masculine mouth.

  She wasn't prepared for the tide of feelings that rose inside her. She was attracted to Matt. There was little point in denying it. But this painfully sweet emotion that tugged at her heart was more than sexual attraction--much more.

  "Angie?"

  She realized he had opened his eyes and was staring at her. His mouth looked both hard and soft, readily inviting. He didn't bother to hide the spark of desire in his eyes, but it was tempered, restrained, an effort she knew he made solely on her behalf. Yet it was his voice—that quietly tender voice she was already so familiar with—that shook her to her very core. She tore her eyes away. She didn't want to remember his gentleness.

  "It just occurred to me—" even to her own ears, her voice sounded high-pitched and strained "—that you've never talked much about yourself." She took a deep breath and stared straight ahead, trying to garner her control. Dragging her knees up to her chest, she wrapped her arms around them. "Your family...is there anyone back in Chicago?"

  He was silent so long she thought he hadn't heard her. She glanced over at him. His gaze was fixed on some distant point high in the sky.

  He suddenly seemed a million miles away. "Matt?" She almost hated to disturb him.

  The sound of his name seemed to rouse him. He raised himself to a sitting position, carefully respecting the small distance she'd put between them earlier.

  "No," he said quietly. "No family." He appeared to hesitate. "Not in Chicago or anywhere else."

  Angie frowned. "But you mentioned your mother this morning." Too late she realized the path her statement led down. When Matt began to shake his head, she asked tentatively. "She's gone?"

  He nodded. Angie waited for him to speak further, sensing that for once the tables were turned. That it was he who harbored secrets, he who held so much inside.

  He suddenly looked older, and very tired.

  The silence drifted between them, and Angie realized how much she wanted him to talk to her, how much she wanted to ease whatever had caused that somber, faraway look to settle in his eyes. Was this how Matt felt when she refused to talk to him about Evan? The thought had no sooner chased through her mind than she heard his voice.

  "I had a brother once," he said softly, so softly she had to strain to hear.

  "Did you?"

  Pale streamers of light trickled through the tree branches, bathing his strong features in a kind of golden glow as he nodded. "Michael." A sad, wistful smile touched his lips. "His name was Michael."

  Slowly, in bits and pieces, the story emerged of two brothers, raised in a tenement on Chicago's South Side by a mother whose husband had left one morning never to return.

  It had been a struggle for survival.

  "We never had enough money." He rested an arm on his knee as he spoke. "My mother did what she could." He shrugged, a silently eloquent gesture. "She had a lot of dreams for Mike, though, and I thought I could help, too. I got a job driving a delivery truck right out of high school. The only trouble was..." He paused, and she had the feeling he didn't really want to continue.

  "Yes?" Her eyes encouraged him.

  His face hardened. His mouth tightened into a thin line. "Neither my mother nor I were home much. Mike got in with a bad crowd." The hand resting on his knee tightened into a white-knuckled grip. "He was killed in a gang war when he was fifteen. My mother died three months later."

  Of a broken heart. Angie's eyes closed. She didn't have to hear the words aloud to sense what Matt was feeling. She looked at him then and knew by the starkly rigid lines of his profile the battle he was exerting over his emotions.

  There was a hollow sensation in her chest. She had never thought of Matt as vulnerable, yet he was a man who had been alone most of his life. A man who had reached out to her...

  As if it were the most natural thing in the world, she bridged the small distance between them and laid her hand on his. It was a simple, consoling gesture, one she made without really being aware of it. She was reaching
out to him.

  Matt stared down at the small hand lying so trustingly, so comfortingly, atop his where it rested on his jean-clad thigh. His heart seemed to swell inside his chest with the powerful emotion that seized him. At last, he thought to himself, only barely able to believe it. At last, she's starting to see how it is between us.

  "I'm sorry," she whispered, not knowing what else to say. "It seems so unfair for you to have had so little, and then to lose what little there was."

  He was quiet for a few seconds. "I suppose it makes you appreciate what you do have."

  "And reminds you what you don't," she said with a small sigh.

  "True," he agreed, thinking of the two of them at this very moment. They were so close, yet there was still such a distance to bridge.

  "I'm glad you told me," she found herself confessing. "I wish things could have been different for you, Matt."

  His face softened as he gently turned his hand in hers and laced their fingers together. Their eyes melded. The emotion he saw reflected in those sapphire-blue depths stole his breath. For a heart-stopping moment he said nothing.

  Then he brought her hand to his lips. "I'm not so sure I'd have changed anything even if I could," he told her huskily. "Because otherwise I might not be here with you right now." His lips sought the sensitive skin on the inside of her wrist. "My angel," he murmured. "My sweet, loving angel."

  Angie froze.

  "The girls," she mumbled, feeling deathly sick. "I'd better check on the girls."

  As she jumped to her feet, Matt caught at her hand and followed her up. "Angie. Angie, what the hell. What did I say? What did I do?"