by Lori Foster
Even sitting among other kids, Jack managed to be by himself. When it came to art, he was too contained, not at all the animated kid at the camp store the other day. Did Joy notice it, the way he created his own little world? Royce would have loved to see him run around the table once, knock over the glue or shout for attention. Instead, he kept his head down and worked.
Crazy, but at only five, the kid had an artist’s soul. Every ounce of concentration was on his task.
Maybe someday he’d show Jack his mother’s work. Royce inhaled a deep breath, let it out slowly and accepted that he wasn’t ready for that yet. But soon.
At two p.m., Joy wrapped up the activities, promising the kids she had more fun lined up for them after dinner. Parents began to filter in to collect their children, scary scarecrows, falls wreaths and all. Jack looked up, saw things were ending and went back to work with renewed purpose.
Excusing himself from the camper, Royce strolled over to Jack. Around them, chaos ensued...but Jack either didn’t notice, or he didn’t care. His scarecrow, made from a toilet paper roller, looked like a damned scarecrow.
To the side of him, he’d also created a fall wreath. Both were colorful, neat and meticulously assembled.
Royce eyed the small chair, decided it wouldn’t hold him and instead leaned over with one hand flat on the table. “Jack.”
Brown eyes flashed up. “I’m almost done.”
“I wasn’t rushing you, but will it bother you for me to watch?”
“I don’t care.” He was already back to work, gluing a few more pieces of straw around the scarecrow’s neck. When he finished, he held it up and scowled. “I got stuff crooked.”
“It’s a scarecrow. Things are supposed to be crooked.” The kid took himself far too seriously. “And actually, it’s pretty amazing. See the mouth? You drew on stitches.”
“It looks like the one Mom put up there.” He pointed to the front of the room where Halloween decorations clustered around the art supplies. Sure enough, a small, smiling scarecrow sat with fake, light-up jack-o’-lanterns.
“But most kids wouldn’t have noticed that.” On his fall wreath, he’d not only made some lopsided leaves to go on it, but he’d drawn the veins in the leaves. His eye for detail went well beyond his age, even beyond the average adult’s comprehension of art.
“When can we come to the drive-in?” With the scarecrow finished, Jack half crawled up into his seat and tilted toward Royce. “Could we go tonight? Will you play a movie for me? Can I get popcorn?”
Now here was the lively kid he remembered. “Pretty sure your mom wasn’t planning any outings tonight.” From what he understood of her schedule, they’d overlap; she’d still be working with kids when he’d be at the drive-in, starting the first movie.
“I’ll ask her.”
“She’s been working, right? How about we help her clean up instead, and then when she’s ready to visit, she’ll let us both know.”
It took some doing, but Royce convinced Jack to pitch in. Joy finished saying goodbye to all the guests, reminding them of the next activity planned, and after getting the last kid out, she closed the door. Her gaze sought Royce.
He liked the flush on her cheeks and the anticipation in her eyes. If ever a woman deserved to be thoroughly kissed, she did. Royce banked his smile and asked, “What can I do to help?”
She looked around. “If you don’t mind, you could gather up the foam cups and put them in the trash.”
“Sure thing.”
Going to Jack’s seat, she picked up his fall wreath. “Jack, this is wonderful.”
Jack shook his head at Royce. “She always says that.”
“She’s your mom and she loves you. But I don’t always say it, right? Heck, I barely know you, and I also think it’s terrific.”
Laughing, Jack began gathering up crayons.
Joy bent to kiss his cheek. “Thank you for helping, honey.” She collected scattered paper scraps and headed to the kitchen.
The quiet, empty kitchen.
While doing his own share of picking up, Royce watched Jack. He was busy sorting crayons by colors, putting them in individual bins. It amused him, because the boy was such a little artist, right down to the need for color coordination.
Knowing he wouldn’t get a better chance, Royce casually joined Joy in the kitchen. She had her back to him as she emptied the coffee grounds from the maker and rinsed it all in the sink.
After putting his own handful of trash in the bin, Royce came up behind her and nuzzled against her ear. She went perfectly still, her hands remaining in the sink.
With one hand, he moved her hair away from her neck, then brushed his lips over the sensitive skin there. “Jack is busy sorting, so we probably have one minute...and I don’t want to waste it.” He grazed his teeth over the soft skin along the column of her throat, followed by his tongue.
She melted back into him. “Royce.”
Damn, that was a turn-on. He’d missed hearing a woman whisper his name so softly.
He had a few things to discuss with her, parameters that they needed to establish, but first...
When he reached around to gently clasp her chin, she hurriedly dried her hands and turned toward him. Her attention skipped to the door, and when she didn’t see Jack, she met his gaze. Voice low and cautious, she said, “He switches gears pretty quickly so we should probably—”
Royce kissed her midsentence. No way in hell would he miss this scant opportunity.
Her lips softened, fitting to his. Keeping things slow and easy, the way a first kiss should be, he tilted his head and traced her bottom lip with his tongue, lightly kissed her upper lip, the corner of her mouth.
God, she tasted good, smelled good—all soft and womanly—and he had to concentrate to keep from moving too fast. More than anything, he wanted to crush her close, take her mouth with his tongue and press his hips to hers so he could feel every inch of her.
Instead, he forced his hands to stay on neutral ground and reminded himself that her son was nearby.
Joy wasn’t quite as restrained. Hands fisting in the material of his shirt, she pulled him closer until her breasts met his chest.
With a low sound of hunger, she opened her lips and deepened the kiss—exactly the way he’d wanted to.
Chapter Four
Honest to God, Joy’s urgency took Royce off guard—for about two seconds, after which he was right there with her. He tunneled his fingers into her silky brown hair and wondered how a woman this combustible had turned men away.
It had been far too long for him, too, and he couldn’t get enough, kissing her deeper, hotter, their tongues stroking, heat spiking. He pressed a hand down her back, urging her hips in, aware of her accelerated breathing.
Whatever the reason, he was damned glad she’d chosen him now that she’d stopped denying herself.
Of course, that reminded him of the here and now. She wasn’t only a woman, but a mother, too, and if Jack busted them she might not want to chance it again.
Smoothing his hand over her hair and shoulder, Royce eased up on the kiss by small degrees until he raised his head.
Her amazing eyes were more gold than green now, her cheeks flushed and her long hair mussed. “God, you’re beautiful.”
She smiled, and given that her lips were damp and full from kissing, it was an especially sexy look.
Because he badly wanted to kiss her again, it seemed prudent to take a step back. As he did so, Royce leaned away and glanced into the other room. Jack was stacking the bins, meaning he’d finish any minute.
“I enjoyed that.”
Joy’s husky voice drew him back around. “So did I, believe me.”
Running his fingers over her hair, he tried to return it to some order. “If Jack wasn’t nearby, I wouldn’t have stopped.”
“I wouldn’t have,
either,” she said. “Thank you for understanding. He’s never seen me with a man, other than in a friendly, distant way.”
Royce finished with her hair and moved his fingers to her cheek, drawn by her softness. He wanted to touch her all over. Hopefully he’d get a chance soon. “You know I heard you talking to Maris.”
Her gaze skittered away. “Yes.”
“I’m sorry. I should have left, or walked on in and announced myself, but you took me by surprise. A nice surprise.” Tilting up her chin, he brought her gaze back to his. “To say I’m flattered would be the understatement of the year.”
Uncertainty sobered her expression. “But?”
“No buts. I just want to make sure we’re on the same page.”
Stepping out of reach, she leaned back on the counter and waited.
He wished he had more time to work into this conversation, but knowing a five-year-old loomed nearby, he was pressing his luck already. “You said you weren’t interested in a relationship.”
“I’m not. I have little enough free time as it is.”
Nodding, Royce said, “I understand. I suspect I have more time than you, but I’m still working on the drive-in, and once that’s done, I have a ton of renovations to do to my house.”
“So we’re in the same predicament.” With a nod of satisfaction, she clarified, “Interested, but unavailable for anything too time-consuming.”
It wasn’t the time, as much as the emotional commitment, that concerned Royce. The past few years had drained him to where he felt he had nothing left to give. Not anything meaningful.
Not what Joy and her son deserved.
After being so focused on a single purpose, he’d looked forward to regaining his autonomy, having the power to do what he wanted to do, when he wanted to do it, with no one to answer to. But along with anticipating the future, he’d also grieved and dealt with guilt. Those things combined had compelled him to start over in a new place, away from harsh, sometimes heartrending memories.
He needed to be there for himself again, before he could be there for anyone else.
So he gave Joy a small smile and asked directly, “Does that still work for you?”
“Perfectly.” Her chin lifted a notch, but other than that, she showed no reaction. “Where did you buy your house?”
He didn’t mind veering off topic, but planned to circle right back. “Next door to the drive-in. It’s convenient and the price was right.” Right meaning cheap.
The house had “good bones,” and since he was more than adequate with his hands, he’d eventually enjoy working on it. For now, though, his priority was the drive-in.
“Nice. I know that neighborhood. It’s quiet. Most of the people who live there are older.”
He hadn’t met the neighbors yet, so he couldn’t comment on that. “I want to see you, Joy. You and Jack. If things progress to sex, I’m all in. If not, I can handle that, too.” He’d still enjoy her company, even without added benefits—though he was definitely rooting for more. “Like you, I’m not looking for anything too involved.”
That pretty smile came again, this time almost mocking. “If I get a vote, things will definitely lead to sex.” Her gaze skipped over him. “After all, the idea of sex is what first drew me to you.”
Talk about conflicting emotions. What she said, and how she said it, made Royce burn with interest. And yet, it also insulted him. Could she not simply enjoy his company, as well?
“It’s been a while since I was attracted to a man that way. The tricky part,” she continued, “will be the when and where, but we can work that out later.”
Royce rubbed the back of his neck. She might have been discussing her work schedule, for all the emotion she put into saying that. “Good to know.” At least she’d agreed to sex. He’d work on the rest when and however he could.
Jack called out, “Mom?”
“Just a second, honey.” Joy stared up at Royce. “I think a noncommittal relationship based on convenience works best for both of us. I have no expectations, and you shouldn’t, either.”
Damn. This blunt acceptance wasn’t at all how he’d planned things to go, but since he’d brought it up, all he could do was nod.
“Good. We’ll still see you tomorrow?” One eyebrow lifted. “I don’t want to tell Jack if we’re not getting together.”
“We are.” Royce studied her face, but whatever she felt, she wasn’t showing it. “I could come by and get you both at five, if that works.”
“Perfect.”
Jack ran into the kitchen, carrying four markers. “These are dried up, and we’re running out of red.”
Joy said, “Maybe we’ll have time to buy some new markers tomorrow, before Mr. Nakirk picks us up.”
Eyes widening, the boy spun around to face Royce. “You’re picking us up? Where are we going?” He jumped in excitement. “Will I get to see the drive-in?”
Jack had paint-stained fingers, a smudge of marker on his cheek and dried glue on his chin. At least, Royce hoped it was glue. “I’d planned on dinner and a trip to the drive-in. But if you need art supplies, I know the perfect place.” He turned to Joy. “I’d be happy to show you both. Maybe make it four instead, to give us time?”
He knew he shouldn’t push, definitely not in front of Jack, but the less enthusiastic she seemed, the more determined he felt.
Although she’d been plenty enthusiastic about that kiss.
Because Jack stood there, his gaze ping-ponging back and forth between them, or maybe to make a point, Joy stuck out her hand and said, “Sounds like a deal. Thank you.”
Royce had no choice but to shake her hand like a business associate.
Jack whooped. At least he was happy about the plans.
Bending down, Royce shook his hand next. With the boy trailing him, a gigantic smile on his face, Royce retrieved the picture Jack had done for him, said his goodbyes and went out the door to make the walk up to the parking area.
From a distance, he watched Joy and Jack leave the lodge, circle around and go up a flight of outside stairs. Seconds later, they disappeared inside.
Wind whistled over the park. It would only get colder, and going up those stairs in snow or ice wouldn’t be ideal, especially at night. If he put some thought into it, he might be able to think of a way to enclose them.
That would be overstepping in a big way and Royce didn’t want to do that, but...he’d think on it.
On the drive home, he kept glancing at the painting on the passenger seat. Things had ended a little awkwardly, but overall, he felt good about how the visit had gone. He’d met a few more people from the area, he and Joy had sketched the groundwork of a plan, Jack was happy—and even better, he hadn’t thought about his past even once.
He did now, of course, but then, he never escaped it for long.
Glancing at the artwork again, Royce smiled. Irony was a son of a bitch. The first woman he’d really wanted in far too long, and her son was a guaranteed kick of nostalgia.
* * *
Joy felt a bit like a third wheel.
Several steps ahead of her, Royce listened as Jack exclaimed with enthusiasm over everything at the drive-in. He loved the popcorn machine. He especially loved the T-shirt Royce gave him, and he was horribly disappointed that the projection room didn’t, in fact, have a projector. Instead, everything was computerized.
Her son was a different boy around Royce, and she’d watched him change right before her eyes.
They’d started their “date” with a lot of promise. Since Jack was playing in his room, he hadn’t heard Royce knock. The second she’d opened the door, Royce had looked beyond her, saw they had a moment alone and bent to her mouth before she could even finish greeting him.
It was crazy how he affected her, but there at the top of her outdoor stairs where anyone walking by might have seen�
�and of course someone did—she’d leaned into him, her hands on his shoulders, her lips parted.
At least, that had been her response until the loud “Whoop” interrupted. She’d almost jumped away, but Royce’s arm around her kept her from too much movement. With far more calm than she could muster, he’d glanced down, then called, “Hi, Maris.”
“My bad. Didn’t mean to interrupt.” Grinning, she waved to them both, instructed, “Carry on,” and strode away.
Snickering, Joy hid her face in his shoulder. “She’s going to grill me later.”
“Then I better give you something good to talk about.” He’d nudged up her face and treated her to a slow, thorough kiss that left her breathing hard and hungry for more.
Lifting his mouth, he whispered, “Damn. Remind me not to start things I can’t finish.”
“I won’t,” she said, touching her fingertips to her tingling lips. “That was too nice.”
“Nice?” He gave a mock frown. “If Jack wasn’t bearing down on us, I’d try to earn higher praise.”
Yes, she, too, heard her son’s rapidly approaching footsteps, but still managed to say, “Hmm, how about scorching? Bone-melting?”
He leaned down to whisper, “My bone did not melt,” and seconds later, as she stifled a laugh, and resisted looking at his lap, Jack joined them.
Chaos reigned as Jack jumped around, asking questions in rapid-fire succession, and thankfully oblivious to the steam in the air.
Joy took that moment to slip away for their jackets, and to calm her racing heart.
The trip to the art supply store was an eye-opener. Yes, she’d known Jack enjoyed drawing, but his face as he looked around at new and unfamiliar medium made her heart swell. Like a kid on Christmas morning, he took it in with wide, awestruck, hungry eyes.
Royce clearly had some knowledge of art himself, given how he schooled Jack on various canvases, different types of acrylic paint versus oil, chalks, special textured papers and even self-drying clay with a variety of modeling tools.
In contrast to the rambunctious way Jack had greeted Royce, he moved through the store with near-reverence. Using infinite care, he’d feathered a touch along the bristles of a paintbrush, studied a set of soft chalks and examined the grain on a canvas.
