by Leanne Banks
“Yeah,” Fletch said eagerly at the same time Andie shook her head.
“You wouldn’t discriminate on the basis of age, would you,” Eli asked her as he enveloped both Andie’s and Fletch’s hands in one of his and put the other on Andie’s slim waist.
“Well, no, but—”
“We’re a sandwich,” Fletch interrupted, leaning back against Eli’s chest. “You’re the breads and I’m the bologna.”
Eli’s lips twitched. “You must still be hungry from dinner. I should take you home and get you something to eat.”
“I wanna play with Stud some more first.” Fletch promptly let go of Andie and tried to slide down. Eli caught him with one hand and eased him to the ground. Without missing a beat, he pulled Andie back into his arms.
She stiffened slightly but didn’t pull away. “You could have stayed at Daphne’s.”
“I was almost on my way out the door when you called,” he assured her, savoring the sensation of her hand in his, the warmth of her body close to his. “Your waist is so small,” he mused.
Her gaze locked with his for a brief sizzling moment, then her eyelids fluttered down and her eyelashes became a dark, feathery shield. She cleared her throat. “I’m sure Daphne would understand if you explain...”
Eli chuckled. “After that dining experience, Daphne might need therapy.”
Andie gave a soft wince. “That’s bad? I heard about the grape juice.”
Eli nodded soberly. “A grape juice stain has a half-life that rivals plutonium.” He lowered his voice. “Did he tell you he nearly set her lace tablecloth on fire with the candles?”
Horrified, Andie groaned, shaking her head. “Maybe you can try flowers.”
“Why?” His green eyes were intent and slightly puzzled.
“Well, if you want to see her again, then—”
“And if I don’t?”
Her stomach took a dip at the expression on his face. She was acutely aware of the difference between holding Fletch and being held by Eli. Eli didn’t let her forget her femininity for a minute. Nor for that matter could she forget his sexuality. She was reminded by the flex of his broad shoulder beneath her hand, his larger hand swallowing hers, the brush of his thighs against her bare legs and, perhaps most of all, the way he watched her. Right now, he was waiting for her response. “I—uh—you don’t?”
“I don’t want Daphne,” he told her in a voice that sent her heart into a frenzy.
I want you. He didn’t say it aloud, but his eyes said it loud and clear. Trapped by the blatant need in his gaze, Andie held her breath.
“The administrators for the research center where I work are holding a mandatory cocktail party next week. I want you to come with me.”
She blinked. Bolder than brass, no subtlety, he laid it flat out on the table. “That’s not exactly asking.”
“That’s right.”
His deep voice rumbled through her like the beginning of an earthquake. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Say yes.” He tugged her closer and lowered his mouth to her ear. “Stop running. Test the hypothesis.”
Andie felt a delicious shiver. “What hypothesis?” she whispered breathlessly.
“When Eli and Andie spend time together, they like it,” he said, “a lot. When Eli kisses Andie, he gets hot.” He tilted his head to look at her. “And Andie does, too.”
Excitement roared through her at an alarming rate, Andie couldn’t have dodged him if she’d wanted to. “Yes to the cocktail party.”
Eli’s mouth tilted in a seductive grin. “When Eli and Andie make love—”
Sucking in a quick breath, Andie shook her head. “You’re pushing—”
“My luck.” His grin faded slightly, and this time he was stepping back, not her. “Don’t worry. I don’t have much luck when it comes to women.”
She struggled with the urge to wipe away his cynicism. It was more than her everyday instinct to heal or nurture. He called to something deep inside her, a womanly part of her that was untouched and untried, but bursting to get out. Andie swallowed hard and tried to come to grips with the powerful feeling.
But the moment passed too quickly. Loosening his hold on her, Eli looked around the room. “Where did he go?” Eli muttered. “Fletch,” he called and turned toward the kitchen.
Wondering what had hit her, Andie gave herself a hard mental shake and followed after him.
“Fletch.” Eli paused. “Oh, Fletch, not again,” he said, his voice shadowed with weary disappointment.
Andie rounded the corner to find Eli staring down in exasperation at Fletch, who had his hands in the guts of her kitchen clock radio. Fletch looked up, his green eyes full of guilt. “It’s a really neat clock, Dad,” he said in a low voice.
Eli nodded. “Who’s going to put it back together?”
“I dunno,” Fletch said, defeat tugging at his features.
Eli knew he needed to make his point without squashing Fletch’s self-esteem. “I thought we’d settled this. No more taking clocks apart without my permission.”
Andie sensed an unhappy and ultimately unnecessary scene on the horizon. She walked over to Fletch and patted him on the back. “It’s okay. I was going to replace it anyway.”
Eli concluded that part of the reason Fletch had torn apart Andie’s clock was, ironically enough, because he was so comfortable in her home. “He hasn’t done this since Caleb gave him the distributor,” Eli muttered, frowning as he looked down at the clock. He ran his fingers over the wires and assorted metal parts. “Clock radios aren’t my speciality, but I might be able to put it back together.”
“It’s really no big deal,” she insisted. “I told you I was going to replace it. I just hadn’t gotten around to it.”
“He’s got to learn to respect others’ property.” Eli decided he was going to have to get a book on how to raise a gifted kid. He shook his head, turning the shell of the clock radio in his hands. “It looks new,” he said, and glanced up at Andie. “When did you get it?”
She blushed, and he wondered at the reason for it. “It’s just a clock radio, Eli,” she hedged. “It’s not as if it’s state-of-the-art electronic equipment.” Her gaze skittered away and she smiled at Fletch. “Why don’t we have some of that frozen yogurt I brought home from the grocery store?”
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Fletch brighten. Although Eli was usually about as intuitive as a block of wood, he had learned that Andie used diversionary tactics when she was uncomfortable. Studying her, he saw a hint of turmoil clouding her eyes. Before she could slip past him to the refrigerator, he caught her arm. “When did you get it?”
Annoyance flickered across her features. “It was a Christmas gift I received year before last.”
Eli nodded, but didn’t release her arm. “From one of your brothers?”
“No.” The way she drew out that one syllable revealed a wealth of reluctance. “Paul gave it to me.”
Eli heard the slightest edge in her voice and felt as if he were pulling teeth. If he were polite and gentlemanly, he might just have let it slide. His feelings for Andie, however, weren’t particularly polite. For no logical reason, he felt possessive as hell. “Paul,” he prompted, not bothering to hide his demand for clarification.
She met his gaze and the emotions swirling in her eyes hit him like a punch in the gut. Pain, anger and shame. The shame was the worst.
“Paul’s the man I was going to marry.”
Chapter Seven
“When?” Eli asked without missing a beat. He looked at her as if she was a puzzle he was determined to solve.
Her stomach took a tumble. The power of his determination was daunting. He saw more than she wanted him to. She didn’t want to discuss Paul with Eli, with anyone for that matter. “Last summer,” she finally said and pulled free from his grasp. “Now let me get that yogurt.”
Eli sighed and stood. “We can’t have yogurt tonight.”
Andie swung around from th
e freezer. “Why—”
“Why not?” demanded Fletch
“Because it would be rewarding you for something you shouldn’t have done,” Eli said firmly. “We need to talk about some important things tonight, like respecting other people’s property and going to another person’s house without asking for permission.” He glanced at Andie. “Another time?”
Andie nodded, immediately seeing the wisdom in his plan. It was dangerous for Fletch to go off on his own, especially at night, and his curiosity could end up getting him into trouble if he didn’t accept some limits. “Of course.”
Reluctant to give up the treat, Fletch jutted out his chin. “But I’m hungry.”
Eli tugged him to his feet. “Then I’ll fix you a peanut butter sandwich after we finish talking.”
“Aw, Dad—”
Eli shook his head. “No. Andie said we could come for yogurt another time.”
“But—”
“Tell Andie you’re sorry for taking apart her clock,” Eli instructed his son in a quiet, but no-nonsense voice.
Fletch dipped his head and gazed up at her. “I’m sorry, Andie.”
“I know you are. It’s okay.” Andie’s heart went out to him, to both of them. For all Eli’s firm resolve, she could tell he didn’t like meting out discipline. “You listen to what your dad says,” she told him and smoothed his hair back from his forehead.
Eli frowned at the mess on the table. “Can I use the paper bag on the chair?”
“Sure.” She watched in surprise as he swept the remains of her clock radio into the bag. “You don’t have to fix it.”
“I’m getting you a new one.”
She rolled her eyes. “It’s not necessary. I really don’t—”
“I want to.” His gaze captured hers with the same intensity he’d exhibited when he’d told her he didn’t want Daphne. I want you.
A shiver ran down her spine. Distress and feminine anticipation tangled inside her. What could she say? Don’t make me want you. You could ruin me.
He stepped closer and by the look in his eyes, she knew he wanted to kiss her, would have if Fletch hadn’t been there. Instead, he lifted his hand to the curve of her jaw in a brief, yet possessive caress. “Stop running, Andie,” he told her in a low, intimate voice.
She held her breath until they left, and lifted a trembling hand to where he’d touched her. Putting her other hand against her throat, she glanced around her kitchen. Everything looked the same. On the outside, it didn’t appear that a tornado had raced through her and tumbled everything upside down. Stop running, Andie. Her heart squeezed tight. Could she stop? Could she stop and see what would happen? More important, did she dare?
* * *
“Are you mad at me?” Fletch asked, drinking his last swallow of milk. His stomach felt better after the peanut butter sandwich, but he was still afraid he was going to get in trouble.
“Not mad,” his dad said as he tossed Fletch’s paper plate into the trash can. “I’m not pleased about what you did with Andie’s clock. What if someone had taken apart your clock? How would you feel?”
Fletch frowned. “I would have already taken apart my clock if I had one.”
His dad closed his eyes and sighed. “If you didn’t want your clock torn apart and you wanted to use it, how would you feel?”
That was hard for Fletch to imagine because he really liked looking at the inside of clocks better than the outside. He shrugged. “I dunno.”
Dad sat next to him and nodded. “Okay. How would you feel if one of the neighborhood kids tore apart your boom box and it wouldn’t play music anymore?”
Fletch loved playing tapes on his boom box. “I would be sad if my boom box didn’t work,” he said, and thought about Andie’s clock. He felt ashamed. “Does that mean I made Andie sad?”
“Not this time. But it’s wrong to take apart other people’s things.” Dad looked at him right in the eye.
That look made it hard for Fletch to sit still in the chair. “Even if I want to find out how they work?”
“Even if you want to find out how they work,” he said in a firm voice. “You’re a smart boy, and—”
“Not as smart as you are,” Fletch pointed out.
His dad laughed. “The jury’s still out on that one, but you’re going to be curious about many things and you’re going to have to tell yourself not to take things apart. If you’ve got questions, come talk to me. If you don’t want people to tear up your things, then you can’t take apart theirs.”
Fletch didn’t understand the stuff about the jury, but he and Mrs. G. had talked before about being curious. “Being curious isn’t bad.”
“Right.” Eli messed with Fletch’s hair and sort of smiled. “Being curious is actually good.”
Fletch started to feel better inside until his dad stopped smiling. “There’s one other thing. Do not ever go to another person’s house without my permission.”
“Even if I’m bored?”
“Even if you’re bored. Daphne and I looked all over her house for you. When I couldn’t find you—” His dad paused and shook his head. “I was scared.”
Fletch was shocked. “But you’re big. You’re the dad. You don’t get scared.”
“I did when I couldn’t find you.” His dad pointed his finger at Fletch’s chest. “How would you feel if you and I went somewhere and I left without telling you?”
His stomach turned. “I wouldn’t like that. But I’m a kid.”
“And I’m your dad,” he said in a quiet voice. “And you’re the most important thing in the world to me. I don’t want to lose you.”
Fletch got a warm gooey feeling inside him. “You’re not gonna lose me,” he assured him. “You said I’m stuck with you, so that means you’re stuck with me, too.”
“Good, but I need you to promise that you won’t run off ever again without asking my permission.”
Fletch jumped out of his chair and put his arms around his dad. He liked it when Dad squeezed him real tight. “I promise.” He could think of only one reason why he’d ever break that promise, and he was determined to never let that happen.
* * *
Did she dare? That question preyed on Andie’s mind over the next several days. Did she dare? Andie had never been much of a daredevil. She didn’t smoke, didn’t drink much, ate the right foods most of the time, and though she hated it, she dragged herself to a step aerobics class at the hospital two or three times a week.
After today’s torture session, the instructor with the perky voice told everyone to give themselves a hand. Andie buried her face in a hand towel.
“Let’s grab a quick shower and go across the street for cheesecake,” Samantha whispered.
Andie groaned. “The reason we’re exercising is to combat the effects of food like cheesecake.”
“Right,” Sam said with a nod. “We did combat. Now we get to eat turtle cheesecake.”
Andie weakened. Turtle cheesecake was her favorite. Brushing aside thoughts of swollen arteries, bulging thighs and the harsh reality that swimsuit season had arrived, she surrendered. “Okay. In fifteen minutes.”
For some reason, when Andie sat down in the small café to eat turtle cheesecake, her mind was drawn to Eli. The similarities between her favorite dessert and Eli plagued her while Samantha chattered on about Brad and how she didn’t think he was the twentieth century’s Mark Anthony after all.
It was the forbidden element, Andie decided, as she savored each bite. Distracted by her thoughts, she automatically exchanged a few pleasantries with the new surgeon Samantha introduced. After he left their table, Sam leaned forward, her eyes full of anticipation. “So what did you think?”
Andie blinked. “Of what?”
Sam rolled her eyes heavenward. “Not what. Who! What did you think of the new surgeon, Walter?”
Andie shrugged. “He seemed nice. I hear he’s very talented.”
Sam gave her a long-suffering glance. “I think that cheesecake
did something to your brain cells. Walter’s single,” she said, counting off his attributes on her fingers. “He has no children. He drives a Corvette. He said he’d like to meet you. And I think he may be your long-lost French king.”
Andie sighed and shook her heard. The only way to reason with her friend when she got this determined was to play along. “Sam, I don’t know how to tell you this, but I’m not in the market for a reincarnated French king.” She raised a hand when Samantha opened her mouth to protest. “Look at it from my point of view. If I were the favored courtesan to a French king, and that’s a very big if, then I was in love with a man destined never to marry me. Why would I want to get involved with another French king type if I knew he might give me a good time in the sack and a few gifts but he would never make a commitment?”
Sam stared at her for a long moment and frowned. “I hadn’t thought of that.”
Suppressing a sigh of relief, Andie took the last bite of cheesecake and thought again of Eli.
“But we don’t really know that Walter won’t ever make a commitment. The important thing is that he doesn’t have children. He told me he has season tickets to the symphony. I bet if I dropped a hint he’d invite you to Saturday night’s performance.”
“I can’t do it. I’ve got other plans,” Andie told her, hoping her friend wouldn’t grill her. She signaled for the waiter.
“What are you doing?” Samantha asked, killing Andie’s hopes.
“I’m going to a cocktail party with Eli Masters.” She lifted her hand again when she saw Samantha’s mouth open. “Don’t say it. It’s just a cocktail party.”
“That’s how it started with—”
“No, it didn’t. My first date with Paul was a trip to the fair with him and his daughter. When I look back on it, Paul’s daughter was more fun than he was.” Andie paused. “Besides, Eli kisses better than Paul.”
Samantha’s openmouthed silence conveyed her complete astonishment more effectively than words. She tossed Andie a considering glance. “And what else does he do better than Paul?”
“I don’t know, but I suspect quite a bit,” she murmured, remembering how easily he’d aroused her. She glanced up to find her friend regarding her with a worried expression.