Stephanie thought about looking at the clock, but the first time she'd checked it had been about ten to four in the morning. She doubted it was much past four now. Although she'd managed to doze on and off for a few hours, she'd spent most of the night alternating between reliving the incredible kiss she and Nash had shared and pulling the pillow over her face to muffle her shrieks of embarrassment.
What had she been thinking? Had she been thinking? No, she told herself. She hadn't been thinking at all. She'd been reacting. She'd been feeling and touching and wanting. Not thinking.
If she'd taken the time to consider her actions, she never would have allowed herself to respond with such wanton abandon. She'd been crazed with passion-a new experience for her. Her feelings of need had spiraled out of control in less than ten seconds of first contact. What did that say about her? Stephanie didn't have an answer. In all the years she and Marty had been married she'd never felt so needy. So alive. So desperate.
“Desperate?" she murmured into the night.
She didn't like the sound of that. It made her think of pitiful people doing inappropriate things without considering the consequences.
Oh, like wanting to do it right there on the counter, next to the batch of cookie batter? She pulled the pillow over her face and groaned.
She wasn't desperate, she told herself forcefully. If she was desperate, she would be out eyeing all the single fathers in town. She'd met a few at school events. A couple had even asked her out. While she'd appreciated the invitations, nothing about them had sent her into sexual spasms the way Nash did. She'd thought they were nice, pleasant men who didn't tempt her in the least. She'd found it tragically simple to remember that she absolutely didn't want to get involved again because a relationship with a man meant taking on more responsibility. Thanks but no thanks.
With Nash it was different. She found it far too easy to forget her rules and instead focus on how the man looked as he walked through a room. She could spend an embarrassing amount of time thinking about his mouth, his voice, his hands. And all that was before he'd kissed her. Now that she had actual evidence of the potential, she could easily spend the better part of her day considering the sexual possibilities. They could Stephanie sat up in bed and clicked on the lamp on her nightstand.
“Snap out of it," she whispered aloud. "You're a mature, responsible woman with a successful business and three kids. You have more guests arriving in a few days, summer vacation starting at the end of the week and laundry multiplying like rabbits. You simply cannot waste your days thinking about making love with Nash Harmon. It's not right. It's not healthy. It's not likely to happen." The last was the most tragic, she thought as she flung herself back on the bed. If only he would creep into her room in the dead of night and take advantage of her. If only he would She sat up again, but this time it wasn't to give herself a stem but useless talking-to. Instead her mouth dropped open as a horrifying thought occurred to her.
She and Nash had kissed. Right there in her kitchen. It had been painfully real and erotic and incredible and wow. But she didn't know why he'd done it or if he was going to regret it come morning. Regardless, she was going to have to face him and act as if nothing had happened. She was going to have to pretend not to be affected by his presence or his voice, and she was going to have to act that way in front of her children.
She moaned, then rolled onto her side and hugged the pillow close. Why hadn't she thought that part through before she'd allowed herself to come unglued in his arms? What if he was having seconds thoughts? What if he thought she was some sex-starved freak and all he wanted was to pack his bags and move out? What if he was laughing at her? Each thought was more awful than the one before. Stephanie endured the potentials for humiliation for as long as she could, then gave up and threw back the covers. She wasn't going to lie here for another couple of hours, looking for trouble. With her luck, it would come looking for her, regardless of her opinion on the matter. Better to face the day with a smile and a happy heart.
She crossed to her bathroom and clicked on the light. It was worse than she thought. In addition to spiky hair and pale skin, she had bags the size of carry-on luggage under her eyes. Scratch that starting-the-day-with-a-smile stuff. She was going to have spend the next hour with a cold compress under her eyes.
Nash heard footsteps on the stairs shortly after five that morning. He figured it was probably Stephanie getting an early start to her day. While he wanted to get up and join her in whatever she might have planned, he didn't think she would appreciate the interruption.
Instead he continued to sit in the tufted chair in front of the window and stare out at the faint hint of light on the eastern horizon.
He felt good. Hell of a thing to admit, but it was true. Life coursed through his body. Desire rumbled just below the surface and threatened to surge back into existence at any moment. Interest prickled at the edges of his mind. He no longer wanted to get lost in his job-instead he was making plans, anticipating.
When had that happened? It wasn't all about the kiss and his reawakened sexual need. Oh, sure, hewanted Stephanie. All she had to do was name the time and place and he would be there. But this feeling inside was about something more.
Was it finding out about his family? Was it a combination of things? Was it that he'd finally be forced to look up from his work long enough to remember there was a world out here? Did it matter? As he stared out the window, he had a sudden flashback to what she'd felt like in his arms. How her body had yielded to his. Curves to hard planes. She'd smelled so damn good. His fingers flexed as he recalled the feel of her breasts and how she'd moaned when he'd brushed against her tight nipples.
His body reacted quickly and predictably. Nash chuckled as blood sprinted to his groin. The ache there thickened until it bordered on uncomfortable, but that was okay with him. Feeling all of this beat feeling nothing, and he'd been feeling nothing for a long time.
Since well before Tina's death.
He closed his eyes against the growing light. He didn't want to think about her. Not today. He didn't want to live in the past or wonder what he could have done differently. He just wanted to be.
Life beckoned. He heard the call, felt the stirring inside himself. Was he going to answer? Was it safe? He opened his eyes and considered the question. There were no guarantees. He'd always known, but Tina's death had reminded him in an ugly way. Joining the rest of the world would mean taking risks. He could never forget that he had to stay in control. He couldn't risk letting that go, not even for a second.
His cell phone rang. Nash grabbed it from the desk by the window and glanced at the display screen. He recognized the number and punched the Talk button.
“Harmon."
“Tell me you're on a beach somewhere enjoying the sun." Nash grinned. "Jack, it's a little after five in the morning on the west coast. There isn't any sun." His boss swore. "Sorry. I always forget about the time difference. Did 1 wake you?"
“No. I was up."
“Want to tell me why?" Nash thought about Stephanie and what they'd done the previous evening. "Not a chance."
“Huh. I can't decide if your being cryptic is good or bad."
“I can't help you there."
“You mean you won't. Never mind. I'm not calling to mess with you too much. I thought I'd bring you up to date on what's going on around the office."
“Right." Nash grinned. "You're calling to check up on me. Why don't you admit it?"
“Because I don't have to. Marie's pregnant." Nash's grin broadened. "Don't sound so broken up about it."
“She already has eight or nine kids. Why does she want another one? What if she doesn't come back? She keeps my life running smoothly. I don't want to have to train some other assistant."
“Hold on. I want to pause a moment and feel the compassion." Jack swore again. "I know, I know. I should be happy for her."
“You would be if it weren't so inconvenient for you."
“Right." Nash shook his head. "For one thing, Marie only has two children, not eight or nine. For another, she loves her job more than most of us do. She's not going to quit."
“That's what she says, but I don't believe her.”
“That's your problem." Jack called him a name, then brought him up to date on several projects. "So how are you feeling?" he asked when he was done.
“I felt fine before I left and I still feel fine," Nash said.
“You know what I mean. I worry about you. Too many hours, no time off. Hell, Nash, you don't even call in sick."
“That's because I don't get sick."
“You work late, you work holidays. It's not natural. I don't want you burning out. I need you at the top of your game."
“So your concern is all about you."
“Damn straight." Jack was quiet for a second. "You need to talk to somebody." Nash's chest tightened. "I did."
“You had the required sessions with an in-house psychologist, because I threatened to fire you if you didn't. I'm talking about someone outside the bureau. Tina's death was a shock to all of us. Violence leaves a scar." The conversation was a variation of one they'd had a dozen times before. "I've dealt with it in my own way."
“That's what scares me. Do you still blame yourself?" Nash knew the right answer. He was supposed to say that he didn't. That it was just one of those things. Instead he told the truth.
“I should have known. I should have done something."
“You're good, but you're not that good. No one is." But Nash knew he was supposed to be. He was supposed to be one of the best.
“So you're having fun?" Jack asked in a change of subject.
Nash thought about what he'd been doing for the past few days. "Yeah. I am."
“Good to hear. Take it easy. Relax. Become one of the living again."
“I'm working on it."
“I wish I could believe that. You need to get laid." Nash chuckled. "Funny you should mention that. I was just thinking the same thing myself.”
“For real?"
“Yup."
“That's the best news I heard all day. Good for you."
“Don't be so enthusiastic," Nash said. "You're starting to worry me." Jack laughed. "Fair enough. Okay. you go find a good-looking broad and I'll hold things together here. See you in a couple of weeks."
“Sure thing. Bye." Nash pushed the End button on his cell, then tossed the phone back onto the desk. Jack was old school, and the least politically correct guy Nash knew. But he was a good man who genuinely cared. He wanted Nash to let the past go-not just for the sake of his team, but for Nash himself.
Nash wasn't ready to let anything go, not yet, but he was willing to take his friend's advice about finding a "good-looking broad." He already had one in mind.
Nash showered and dressed, but waited until close to seven before going downstairs. After what had happened the previous night, he wasn't sure what to expect. At the bottom of the stairs he saw that the kitchen door was closed and the dining room door was open. Taking that as a hint, he crossed to the dining room and found his usual place for one already set. The local paper, along with USA TODAY, sat to the left of his napkin and flatware. A basket of still-warm scones sat next to an empty coffee cup. Before he could check the carafe, the door to the kitchen pushed open and Stephanie entered.
She had returned to her B &B-owner uniform of tailored slacks, low-heeled pumps and a sweater that clung to her upper body in such a way as to interfere with his brain waves. Makeup accentuated her blue eyes…eyes that were not looking directly at him.
“Good morning," she said politely as she carried a full coffeepot over to the table. She unscrewed the lid of the carafe, then filled it with the steaming liquid.
“What would you like in your omelette?" she asked. "I have several cheeses, an assortment of vegetables, bacon, ham and sausage. Or you could have the meat on the side." She offered him a friendly smile that didn't chase away the air of nervousness.
So she'd decided to go the "all business" route to deal with whatever morning-after jitters she might be having. Nash could have wished for something else, but he understood her decision. She didn't know him from a rock. She was a woman with responsibilities and they didn't include playing footsie with the paying guests.
“An omelette would be great," he said. "Cheddar cheese and whatever vegetables you have around. I would appreciate a side of bacon, as well."
“No problem. It will be about fifteen or twenty minutes. The boys are due down any second and I want to get them fed. Is that all right?"
“Of course." She nodded and left, all without ever looking directly at him. Nash took his seat and opened the paper, but he didn't actually see the print.
Was she having second thoughts about last night? Did she regret the kiss? When they'd parted, he would have bet she'd been as pleasantly surprised and turned on as he had been. But after several hours to reflect, she could have decided it had all been a mistake.
He didn't want her to think that. He wanted her to want him as much as he wanted her.
Nash shook his head. Okay-he had it bad. He was on the verge of behaving like an idiot over a woman and he couldn't remember the last time that had happened.
The sound of feet clattering on the stairs caughthis attention. The boys were arguing over whose turn it was to pick up in the family room upstairs. Apparently they all tried to get in the kitchen door at once because there were shouts of "Stop pushing me," and "Get out of my way!" Nash smiled as he imagined the three of them shoving and laughing and then bursting into the kitchen. He heard Stephanie's warm greeting, then the sound of chairs being pulled out.
For the first time in years, he found himself not wanting to be by himself. As he sat alone in the dining room, he listened to murmurs of conversation and explosions of laughter, all the while wishing he could be a part of it. Then, without considering the consequences of his actions, he picked up his carafe of coffee, his cup and the basket of scones, then walked into the kitchen.
Once again, conversation ceased. He could feel the boys looking at him, but his attention centered on Stephanie. She had just set a carton of eggs onto the center island. Her head snapped up and her mouth parted slightly. Color crept up her cheeks.
“The dining room was a little empty this morning," he said by way of explanation. "Would you mind if I joined you in here?" Emotions raced across her face, but they went too quickly for him to read them. If she hesitated for too long, or looked too uncomfortable, he was going to head back to the dining room and keep out of her way for the rest of his stay.
The corners of her mouth turned up slightly and her blush deepened. When she finally met his gaze, he saw a heat flaring in her eyes that matched the one raging inside him.
“That would be nice," she said.
The twins shifted their chairs to make room for him between them. He set his coffee and scones down on the table and collected an empty chair. When he was seated he saw that Brett didn't look as happy to see him as everyone else did.
Before he could think of something to say to the preteen, Jason flipped back the napkin on the basket and peered inside.
“Whatcha got?" he asked, then wrinkled his nose.
“Don't you like scones?" Jason shook his head. "They taste funny." Nash offered one to Adam, who shrunk back in his chair as if he'd been offered bug guts. Nash glanced at Brett and raised his eyebrows.
Brett reached across the table and took one. "They're still kids," he said as he set the scone next to his toast. "They don't like these yet."
“Makes sense," Nash said, trying not to smile. The way Brett talked, he was pushing forty instead of barely turned twelve.
Nash poured himself a cup of coffee. Behind him, Stephanie cracked eggs into a frying pan.
“There's a talent show today," Jason announced. "At school. A girl in my class is going to dance ballet." He wrinkled his nose. "She's got this funny-looking skirt thing. A tutu. It sticks out and is all stiff. But if you throw it across the room it goes really far."
“A boy in my class plays the drums," Adam said from Nash's other side. "And three girls are going to sing a song from the radio."
“Sounds like fun."Adam nodded.
The twins chatted all through breakfast. Brett didn't say much, but he kept his eye on Nash. Stephanie slid their scrambled eggs onto their plates, then whipped up Nash's omelette. While he finished eating, the boys stood and began collecting their backpacks. There was a flurry of activity as each child received a hug, a kiss and lunch money.
“Have a good day," Stephanie said as she tucked change into Adam's backpack and closed the small zippered compartment. "I love you." She gave them each another quick hug, although Brett ducked out of her embrace. Then the boys thundered to the front of the house and outside. The door slammed behind them.
Nash finished his breakfast and poured himself another cup of coffee. Stephanie pushed open the door to the dining room and watched out the front window until they were all on the bus.
As she stood there, he remembered his own mornings as a child. His mother had always made sure she was there to fix them breakfast and pack their lunches. Then she'd walked them out of the house. The last thing she'd said every school morning through to his high-school graduation had been that she loved them each more than she could say and that they were the best part of her world.
For a while, he had stopped believing her on both counts. Now, looking back with the hindsight of an adult, he knew that nothing had changed on her part.
Stephanie returned to the kitchen where she fussed with dishes, munched on an extra piece of bacon and fluttered nervously until Nash used his foot to push out the chair across from his.
“Have a seat," he said.
She glanced from him to the chair, then sighed. “Okay. I guess we need to talk about it." She poured herself a cup of coffee and joined him at the table.
She looked at him, then away. Color climbed high on her cheeks, retreated, then returned. Nash figured it was all up to him.
He decided to start with something easy. "Was my joining you and the boys for breakfast a problem?"
“What?" She'd been tracing a pattern on the table. Now she raised her head and stared at him. "No. Of course not." She smiled. "I thought it was nice. If you want to plan on joining us for the rest of your stay, I'll just set an extra place in here, rather than the dining room. It's not a problem at all." He'd half expected her to ask him why. Why did he want to join them? Not that he had an answer. On some level he knew that being around her and her kids allowed him to forget. Without work to distract him, there was too much time to think. But that was only one of the reasons. The others all had something to do with him enjoying her and the boys' company.
“I'd like that," he said. "So if that's not the issue, what is? Last night?" She swallowed, then nodded slowly. "Issue isn't exactly the word I'd use. I thought…" She looked away. "You're so calm.''
“And you're not?"
“Isn't it obvious?" She clutched her coffee cup in both hands. "I just… I guess what I really want to know is why it happened." Funny, that wasn't his most pressing question.
He knew that she had to be around thirty, maybe a couple of years older. She was smart, successful, pretty and sexy as hell. But right now she looked ready to jump out of her skin with nerves and embarrassment. Because of him? He would like to think he got to her that much, but he had a feeling that might be wishful thinking on his part.
“You're attractive," he said, wondering if she really didn't know why he'd wanted to kiss her. "Very attractive and I enjoy your company. I had a pretty universal male reaction to both of those facts." She pressed her lips together and nodded. "Okay," she said, her voice almost a squeak. She cleared her throat again. "So you're talking about, um, you know, interest." Sex. He was talking about sex. "Interest works, but only if it's returned." This time there was no question that she was blushing. Her cheeks flushed to a bright red and she nearly dropped her coffee cup.
“I'm not really used to talking to adults," she said in low voice. "Men, I mean. I don't think I was very good at it before and the lack of practice has only made me worse."
“Then we'll take it slow. The conversation, I mean." Her eyes widened slightly. "Okay. Well, then I should probably start at the beginning." He had no idea what she meant. "The beginning?"
“Yeah. I met Marty my last year of college. I was so thrilled to be out on my own and not re- sponsible for anyone but myself. I'd dated some, but hadn't fallen for anyone before. Not like I did with Marty. Everything was so exciting. Marty…" She sighed. "He was a few years older. Charming, funny. He'd switched majors so many times that he was still a junior after five years of school. I remember thinking that he was so full of life and so interested in me." She looked at him. "I told you my parents are artists, but what I didn't tell you was that their art is the most important thing in their lives. I remember growing up knowing that no skinned knee, no problem with a friend could ever compete with the perfect light on the right view. While they painted, I didn't exist."
“Marty was different?"
“I thought so. He focused so intently on me that I didn't realize I was just the latest in a long line of fleeting passions. He swept me off my feet and I married him less than two months later. Within six weeks, I realized I'd married someone just like my parents." Nash leaned toward her. "In what way?"
“He wasn't responsible. He wasn't willing to think about anyone but himself. He didn't care if the bills got paid on time or if they turned off our electricity. He didn't worry about showing up to work on time. There were so many other fun things to be doing. I'm sure a mental health professional wouldn't be surprised that I'd replaced my parents with someone exactly like them, but it was a shock to me. I was devastated." He wanted to reach across the table and take herhands in his, but he didn't. Instead he sipped his coffee, then asked, "Why didn't you leave?"
“I wanted to," she admitted. "I considered my options, thought about what I wanted and decided that I wasn't going through that again. But right before I packed up to go, I found out I was pregnant with Brett." She moved her cup around on the table. "Marty was thrilled. He swore everything was going to be different, and I wanted to believe him. I thought it would be wrong to take his child away from him, so I stayed. He went from job to job, city to city, state to state, and we went with him. Every time I managed to save a few dollars, he spent them on something crazy like an old beat-up motorcycle or a weekend of river rafting. I waited for him to grow up, to realize he had responsibilities. I found creative ways to make money at home. After a few years, I told him we couldn't continue that way. I would homeschool Brett through kindergarten, but if we weren't settled by the time he was in first grade, I was leaving." She leaned back in her chair and shrugged. "Brett was three. That gave Marty another three years to get his act together. In the meantime, I started taking night courses whenever I could. Business, mostly. If I had to leave, I wanted to be prepared. Once Brett was of school age, I knew I would be able to take care of us both."
“Then the twins came along," he said.
“Another unplanned pregnancy," she agreed. "Suddenly I had a four-year-old and infant twins. There wasn't any money. I had to pay the doctor off in weekly installments. The week I brought the twins home, the city turned off our electricity. It was hell. Through it all Marty said we'd be just fine. He kept not showing up for work or quitting. About a year later, I snapped. I packed up the kids and I left him. I knew that it would be hard on my own, but caring for three children was a whole lot easier than caring for four." If Marty hadn't been dead, Nash would have found him and beaten his sorry butt into the ground.
“He followed me and begged me to come back." She looked at Nash, then away. "Brett adored him. I gave in. I didn't love him anymore, but I felt guilty for leaving. Isn't that crazy? So I stayed. Then one day he got a letter from a lawyer. One that said he'd inherited a bunch of money. I told Marty I wanted to put it on a house. I thought if we could have that much security, I could stand the rest. We were passing through Glenwood at the time, so we decided to buy here. But Marty couldn't just buy a regular house and own it outright. This monstrosity fit right into his dreamworld. I thought it was better than just blowing the money on a sailboat so we could go around the world and I agreed. Then he died." Nash didn't know what to say. "You've done a hell of a job."
“I've done my best to think about my boys. I want them to be happy and secure. I want them to know they're important to me. None of which is my point." She squared her shoulders. "I'm thirty-three. I've been responsible for someone else since I was old enough to order groceries on the telephone. By the time I was ten, I was paying all the bills and managing the household money. My parents took off for France when I was twelve. They were gone for five months. I was scared to be by myself for that long, but I got through it. I was the grown-up with Marty and I'm the grown-up now. My point is, I'm not looking for another responsibility. I've heard that men can be partners in some relationships, but I've never seen it." Nash heard the words, but he wasn't sure why she was telling him. He added her parents to the list of people he would like to have words with, but that didn't help.
“I'm impressed by how well you've held it all together," he said.
She nodded. "But you don't know why I'm telling you all this."
“Right." She sucked in a breath and stared at the table. "That kiss last night was pretty incredible. The fact that you didn't go running screaming from the room when you saw me this morning tells me that you maybe didn't mind it too much." He knew this was difficult for her, but he couldn't help laughing. "You're understating my position," he said. "I wanted you. I still want you." Her mouth formed an "oh" but no sound emerged. She glanced at him, her eyes wide and stunned.
“That's clear," she whispered. "I, ah, appreciate your honesty. The thing is, I haven't allowed myself to have a sexual thought since Marty's death. I don't meet many men, but the ones I do meet either take off at the thought of a woman with three kids, or they're too much like Marty and I'm the one run- ning. I don't want a relationship. I don't want to get involved. But…" Her voice trailed off.
Nash leaned toward her. He wasn't sure what direction she was heading, but if it was the one he thought…where could he sign up?
“I thought that part of me was dead," she said. "It's not."
“Good to know." She smiled slightly. "I thought so. And that made me wonder, what with you leaving town at the end of next week and all…" He put the pieces together, rearranged them and did it again. He came up with the same answer. Which meant he was doing it wrong. No way his luck was that good.
She stared at him. "You really need to talk now.”
“You want me to say it?" She nodded.
If he got it wrong, she would throw her coffee in his face and he'd be forced to look for new quarters. He could live with that. If this was going to be his fantasy, too, he might as well just go for it and prepare himself to be shot down.
“You're not interested in a relationship," he said. "Right."
“You liked the kiss."
“Uh-huh."
“A lot." She grinned. "A lot works."
“What you're looking for is something more along those lines. An affair while I'm in town and when I leave, it's over. No strings, no regrets, no broken hearts. Until then, we keep each other company at night. Am I close?"