“That sounds so narcissistic! Honestly, I don’t much think about how I look. Or at least, I haven’t in years. I know I’ve never thought of myself as more than pretty, on a good day.”
Trust him to jump on the most revealing thing she’d said.
“Why ‘in years’? Do you mean, since your divorce?”
She hunched her shoulders, recognized what she was doing and consciously straightened them. “Probably long before that. I guess, since Josh, I haven’t been that interested in starting anything.”
There was a long silence. Then, voice quiet, Tom said, “Are you warning me off?”
Her breath caught. “I didn’t know I needed… I mean, that you were… Oh.” She squeezed her eyes shut.
After a moment, he said, “Yes or no would do. I won’t push, Suzanne.”
She had to open her eyes and meet his. He was watching her very seriously. No, more than that. He looked wary, guarded. He expected her to say she was warning him off.
Until this second, Suzanne hadn’t known what she would decide. Maybe it was his expression, the sense she had that he was bracing himself, that finally did give her the courage to say “No. I wasn’t. Truly, I didn’t know that you were, um…” Losing her nerve, she looked back down at her plate. “You see, I haven’t actually dated much. Josh was my only serious boyfriend. And husband, of course.”
“Only?” Tom sounded incredulous.
“We went together in high school. I suggested we date other people in college, but he was so upset, I backed down and…well, we got married, and you know what happened.”
“So that bastard is your only real experience with men.”
“Well, the uncle who raised me. Who is actually kind of a jerk. And my cousins. They’re not much better.”
“Good God.”
“I mean, Roddie isn’t that bad. I like him better than Ray. And of course I’ve known nice men. Friends’ husbands. Oh, and Mark, and now Gary.” She was babbling, and couldn’t seem to stop. “It’s not that I think all men are awful. Really.”
“Suzanne.” His chair scraped back. “Look at me.”
Knowing her cheeks must be bright red, she lifted her head.
Tom stood, his hand outstretched to her. He wasn’t smiling, but his eyes were so kind she stood without a second thought and went to him. His hand gripped hers, and with the other one he tilted her chin up.
“Would you mind if I kissed you?”
Her voice didn’t seem to want to work. Maybe she’d worn it down. Shyly, she shook her head.
He bent his head slowly, as if he still expected her to pull away. He was going to kiss her. She wanted him to kiss her. Even if she suddenly wasn’t quite sure what to do. It might be different than it had been with Josh. She hoped it would be. But not so different that she didn’t know how to respond.
His lips brushed hers. “Relax,” he murmured against her mouth.
She closed her eyes. “I’m nervous.”
Now his voice was a low, soothing rumble. “I know. But you don’t have to be.”
“I’ll…I’ll try.”
He made a sound that might have been a chuckle, but sounded more like a groan, then pressed his lips to hers again.
She felt like a mannequin and was probably as appealing to kiss, but the excitement low in her belly began to radiate warmth that felt very, very good, and after a moment her mouth softened.
He gently sucked her lower lip, then touched it with his tongue. She drew in a sharp breath, then timidly kissed him back. The large hand that had held her chin up slid to her nape, and she let her head fall back. He kept the kiss slow, undemanding, intoxicating.
Suzanne heard herself sigh with pleasure. Or moan. She didn’t know, but Tom’s fingers bit into hers and he deepened the kiss, his tongue stroking hers. It felt heavenly. Already on tiptoe, she swayed toward him, gripping his shoulder.
Now he was the one to make a rough sound deep in his throat. He dropped her hand and wrapped his arm around her, pulling her against his big body. No longer sure she could have stood without his support, she only felt. And such amazing things. Josh had always been demanding, even rough, never tender and slow like this. Tom’s hand squeezed her neck, while his other one kneaded her lower back and hip. His arousal was unmistakable, but he was also patient, as if he had all the time in the world for her to become confident.
Suddenly he lifted his head. “Hey!”
Dazed, she opened her eyes.
He grazed his knuckles over her cheek. “You’re crying.”
“I’m not!”
“Yeah, you are.”
“Really?” Wondering, she drew back and touched her own face. “I’m so sorry!”
The worry in his eyes wrenched her heart. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“You didn’t. I just…I suddenly thought how nobody has ever been as patient and kind and nice to me as you are.”
He didn’t move much, but she felt his withdrawal. “You know, I’m starting to hate that word.”
“What word?”
“Nice.”
“But…”
Tom shook his head. “Never mind. Forget I said that. What I hate is that your uncle and your husband were such jackasses, you think it’s extraordinary when some guy is decent to you.”
Made brave by the anger in his voice, Suzanne stroked his hard jaw. “More than decent. Offering to lend me your lawn mower would have been decent. Actually mowing my lawn was generous. Spending days and days working on furniture for kids you didn’t even know was extraordinary. But mostly, it was the way you kissed me. As if what I felt was way more important than anything you wanted.”
“I want you,” he said clearly, the expression on his face all but stopping her heart. “I want you to be happy.”
“I never knew,” she said in amazement. “I just thought…”
“I was nice?”
“Well, um, I guess so.” She sounded dim-witted. “When…?”
“Did I start wanting you?”
She nodded.
“I don’t know. I always thought you were beautiful. I was glad when you kicked your ex out. But I didn’t know you.”
“And I acted like I was scared of you, besides.” She grimaced.
“That is a little off-putting.” The skin at the corners of his eyes crinkled when he smiled.
“I’ve barely admitted to myself that I was attracted to you,” she confessed. “I guess I’m a little slow.”
“That’s why you’ve been eyeing me today?”
“See? I’m an open book!”
His hand caught her chin. “That’s one of the things I like best about you. You’re direct, gentle and clearly puzzled by other people’s agendas.”
“You’re making me sound like a child.”
“No. Just a lovely woman who’s an anomaly in the modern world.”
“Um…thank you. I think.”
They stood there smiling at each other, rather foolishly, she suspected. Finally, still smiling, he bent his head again and kissed her.
This one heated up with astonishing speed. The soft brush of mouth against mouth metamorphosed into the tangle of tongues, his hands gripping her hips to lift her higher into his arms until she was pressed as tightly against him as the barrier of clothing allowed. When they surfaced for air, he nipped her earlobe and she nuzzled his neck before he groaned and kissed her again.
He was the one to eventually lift his head and say raggedly, “I hate to mention it, but aren’t we supposed to pick up the kids?”
Awash in the most wonderful sensations, she blinked. “Pick up…” Comprehension flooded back. “Oh! What time is it?”
He turned his head. “One-thirty.”
“I said two-thirty.”
“Ah.” His grip loosened. “Unless you want to have a quickie…” He grinned at her expression. “Didn’t think so. You, Suzanne Chauvin, are not a quickie kind of woman.”
Her sniff might have been more effective if she weren�
��t nestled up against his erection. “I should hope not. Although…”
Her sentence trailed off wistfully.
He kissed her hard. “Not the first time. Tempting though it is.”
When he loosened his grip, opening inches between them, she had the first reawakening of self-consciousness. She’d never even shaken hands with this man a few weeks ago, and now they were talking about sex!
Knowing her face must be hot and her hair disheveled, she said the only thing that came to mind. “Um, would you like some apple cobbler?”
“As an alternative to you?” Tom asked politely.
She scrunched her face in embarrassment. “I guess this isn’t a great moment for me to play hostess, is it?”
He kissed her lightly. “I’m just kidding. No, save the cobbler for dinner. The kids’ll enjoy it.”
“But you’ll have dinner with us, won’t you?”
Sounding like his usual kind self, he said, “Don’t feel like you always have to ask me, Suzanne.”
She said simply, “But I like it when you’re with us.”
“God.” His hands, lingering at her waist, tightened momentarily, and something intense flashed in his eyes. Voice gravelly, he said, “You’re not making it easy to let you go.”
“Well, I wish you didn’t have to,” she admitted. “We’re going to have to sneak around behind the kids’ backs, aren’t we?”
“You think we’d succeed? Sophia has an all-knowing look.”
“Mark did say the kids could stay until tomorrow.”
Tom raised his brows.
Suzanne blushed anew. Had that sounded as if she was implying…? Was she implying…?
With an effort, she corralled her muddled thoughts and asked the real question: Was she ready?
Her body apparently thought so. But she had responsibilities. A history. Good reasons to hesitate about starting a relationship at all, never mind racing into one. So…no. No, she wasn’t ready.
Besides… “Jack really wanted to come home. He was worried that I wouldn’t come today.”
Tom’s hands fell to his sides and he stepped back. “They both need to know you keep your promises.”
She nodded.
“We have plenty of time, Suzanne. It took us five years to do more than wave in passing. We can sneak kisses for a while.”
They had better sneak them, she thought practically. The kids weren’t hers yet, and the caseworker might get suspicious if they were suddenly getting married.
Married? Wow, there was a big jump.
And yet, it didn’t feel like one. It felt…right. She examined the word, and the contentment the idea brought her. She’d said that before, about bringing home Jack and Sophia, and despite Sophia’s anger, she still knew they belonged with her. Now, without the slightest doubt, she knew Tom would be a wonderful father and husband.
Still, they shouldn’t rush too much. And stealing some kisses—that should be fun.
She smiled at him. “What do you say we head for Seattle?”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
NEW YEAR’S EVE WASN’T ONE of Suzanne’s favorite holidays, but the kids started talking about it the minute she and Tom picked them up at her sister’s house.
Michael was going to his granddad’s house while his mom and dad went to a party, Jack informed them. “Michael gets to watch fireworks over the lake. I wish I was gonna see fireworks. Are we?”
“Mostly there are lots of loud booms at midnight. I don’t always stay up,” Suzanne admitted.
“Not stay up?” Tom exclaimed in mock horror.
“I can watch the ball drop in Times Square at nine o’clock our time. That’s good enough for me most years.”
“This year, we’ll have our own party. What do you two say?” Tom asked, cocking his head toward the back seat.
“Yay! We’re gonna have a party!”
“Do I get to drink champagne?” Sophia asked.
Tom looked at Suzanne. “Do we have champagne?”
“Afraid not.”
“No champagne. Sorry. But we’ll have time tomorrow after we get home from shopping to make something special and maybe we could order a pizza.”
More cheers from the back seat.
The kids seemed happy enough to be home, although Sophia predictably disappeared to her bedroom.
They all slept late, even Jack. She made pancakes for breakfast, pouring them in some approximation of animal shapes to Jack’s delight.
It was early afternoon before she and Sophia were ready to leave. Jack ran next door to get Tom, who wheeled the new bicycle out of the garage and called, “Have fun,” when Suzanne and Sophia got in the car.
“Yeah. Have fun!” Jack agreed.
They looked like father and son, standing side-by-side, Tom’s hand on Jack’s thin shoulder. Jack had happily agreed to stay behind. He didn’t like to shop. If Suzanne bought him some clothes, that was okay. She could tell he didn’t care. Nor, probably, would the other boys in school notice one way or the other what he was wearing at this age. Michael sure didn’t.
Suzanne started the car and backed out. She half wished she were staying behind, too. Sophia was quiet, head bent, hair screening her face. With no idea what her mood was, Suzanne couldn’t relax and have fun.
“I hope Jack doesn’t fall off,” she said.
Sophia shrugged. “I did. I got this big bump on my head. Like my brains were oozing out.” She said oozing with positive relish.
At least they were talking.
“You must have had a concussion. Did you go to emergency?”
“Course I did!” She shot Suzanne an impatient look. “Mom thought I was going to die.”
“I had a concussion when I was a kid. Mostly I remember throwing up.”
“I puked lots.”
Suzanne cleared her throat. “Sophia, there’s something I’ve been wanting to say all week.”
The ten-year-old retreated behind her screen of hair.
“If I gave the impression I was trying to make you forget your mom, I’m sorry.” Suzanne drove as she talked, knowing it was better not to be searching Sophia’s face for reactions. “Maybe I was trying too hard. I don’t know. I just… I want you to be happy and feel safe and loved with me. When I spent so much on your bedrooms and on Christmas, it wasn’t because I wanted to show you that I could give you nicer things than your mother could. It was because…” She paused. “Well, you know I went to live with my aunt and uncle after my parents died, right?”
Sophia nodded.
“I knew they didn’t really want me. My cousins were mad that they had to share a bedroom so I could have one, my uncle was irritated by the disruption and by changes in routine, and although Aunt Jeanne was nicer, she didn’t make any special effort, either. I overheard my uncle grumbling about his paycheck having to stretch for me when I wasn’t even theirs. In all the years there I never felt I belonged or was wanted. Anyway, I might have been clumsy with you two—I know how recently your mom died—but I was trying to show you that you are wanted.”
Those vivid eyes stole a glance at Suzanne. Sophia’s voice was small when she said, “I guess I know that. I was mostly feeling sad.”
Stopped at a red light near the mall, Suzanne reached out and squeezed her hand. “I wanted this Christmas to be the best ever, but for my sake, not yours. Because last year, I spent Christmas Eve with friends and then didn’t go anywhere Christmas Day. I felt really alone. Then, this year, I not only had you two, I’d also found my brother and sister at last, and it all seemed magical. But you weren’t ready. I should have known you wouldn’t be.”
Sophia snuffled. “It was the best Christmas I remember. Lots of the time I didn’t think about Mom at all. But then I’d remember, and I kept thinking I shouldn’t be happy!”
“That’s a hard one, isn’t it? Sometimes you forget, and you didn’t think you ever would. And you feel guilty for being happy.”
“I don’t want Mom to know I am!” she wailed.
“I’ve never been sure in my own mind whether people who have died can watch over us or not. Sometimes it would be a little uncomfortable, and sometimes really comforting. Christmas Day, when I looked around the table at Carrie’s, I had this little talk in my head with my parents. I asked if they could see us all together again. I really wished they could.”
“It’s okay to talk to someone who’s dead?”
“Sure it is.” She smiled at Sophia, her own face wet now, too.
“Oh.” Sophia swiped at her tears.
Suzanne opened the glove compartment and took out the small box of tissues she kept there. She took a couple herself, then handed the box to her daughter. My daughter, she thought in fresh amazement. Okay, maybe not officially, but in every way that mattered to her.
After blowing her nose, she said, “I think one of the things we have to do is make sure you do remember your mom. Why don’t we buy a photo album today, so you can put your pictures in it? And you could pick out a favorite and we could get it framed, so you could have it out on your dresser or desk.”
“You wouldn’t mind?”
“Of course not! Some night this week, I could show you pictures of my parents, and maybe you’d show me yours of your mom. I’d like to know whether you look like her, or your father, or some great grandmother.”
Sounding shy, Sophia said, “Mom said I looked like my father. I don’t really remember him. I guess maybe Jack looks more like her.”
“Do you have a picture of him?”
She nodded. “Mom said to keep it even if he was a jerk, because he was still part of us.”
Suzanne gave a choked laugh. “That’s true. Did you know his parents?”
“Huh-uh. I don’t think even he knew them.” She sounded uncertain. “He wasn’t ever adopted, either. He had lots of foster homes. That’s why I thought…” Her throat seemed to close.
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