Leaving the mess in the living room, Clair took her nephew upstairs again and this time managed to engage him in coloring the pages of a coloring book. Until wandered away and scribbled on the wall while she was concentrating on staying in the lines.
Lunch was a fiasco.
She offered to make sandwiches and encouraged Willy to help her so Jace could go on working.
She and Jace were going to have ham and cheese sandwiches. Willy wanted peanut butter and jelly, and he wanted to make it himself. But rather than spread the peanut butter and jelly on the bread Clair set out in front of him, he smeared it up his arms.
Then he pitched a fit when she took him upstairs to wash him off because he wanted to eat the PB and J off, insisting that he didn't like it on "bwead." And in the process he smeared the stuff on Clair and much of the bathroom.
After lunch was no better.
Willy refused to work on the puzzle Clair tried to entice him with. He didn't want to hear her read him a story. He didn't want to build anything with his Lego. Neither the Matchbox cars or the Tonka trucks appealed to him. Talking Elmo tickled Clair's fancy but only sent Willy once more fleeing to the kitchen to be with Jace.
She began to wonder if her nephew was going out of his way to be contrary just to get her off his back. But she persevered regardless, determined to find some common ground between them and convince him she was as much fun to be with as Jace was.
"Are these your fish, Willy?" she asked on what seemed like the millionth trip to retrieve him from Jace's side.
The ten-gallon fish tank was in the den and could be seen from the doorway. Clair hadn't ventured in there yet today, but since the afternoon was drawing to a close and she still felt like a failure with the little boy, she was willing to try just about anything.
"Fish-uz?" Willy said, perking right up out of his pout over once again being kept from his Unca Ace.
Not suspicious at all, Clair thought she'd hit on a winner and carried him into the den.
"You like the fish-uz?" she asked.
“Down!" he demanded. Clair complied, setting him on the den floor.
“Watch," he said, running to the desk with the first hint of genuine eagerness to show her something. Clair was so thrilled that he was finally interacting with her, rather than trying to thwart her every attempt so he could get back to Jace, that she did as the two-year-old had told her to do and merely stood by and watched as he wrestled with the desk chair to roll it to the side of the tank.
It occurred to her that he wanted her to watch the fish, so after getting a kick out of the sight of him climbing onto the chair she turned her focus on the fish swimming peacefully in the tank.
“That's a pretty one – that bright yellow one with the black stripes," she said to show him that she liked them, too.
And even when, from the corner of her eye, she saw him lift the lid on the tank, all she thought was that he was going to feed them – a job she assumed Jace might have taught him.
But did Willy feed the fish?
Oh no.
Before Clair realized what he was doing, he'd plunged his hand and arm – shirtsleeve and all – into the tank splashing water everywhere. Then he actually managed to catch one of the fish, pulling it out of the tank only to lose the slippery thing and drop it on the floor.
“Oh, Willy!" Clair shrieked.
"I dit it," he assured her without the slightest alarm.
"No, no! You can't get it. You'll hurt it," Clair said, unsure what to do, knowing Willy was only going to compound the problem, and loath to pick up the slimy fish in her own bare hand.
"Is there a net or something?" she asked.
"I dit it," her nephew repeated, nearly stepping on the fish as he climbed off the chair. But he had less luck recapturing the fish than he'd had catching it in the first place as he splashed into the puddle of water where the fish wriggled wildly.
Then, when Willy finally did get hold of the fish, he grabbed it too forcefully and squirted it out of his hand again, right under the low-lying cabinet on which the tank sat.
Clair had no idea how long fish could live outside the water but she was certain it wasn't long. She knew she was going to have to just grab the thing to put it back in the tank, that she couldn't waste any more time.
Getting down on her hands and knees to look under the cabinet, she could barely see the fish where it had slid across the hardwood floor nearly to the baseboard.
"Dit it," Willy ordered her from where he'd dropped to all fours the same way she had, his cheek flat to the floor so he could see the fish, too.
Clair had to lie on her stomach, ignoring the puddled fish water she was soaking up with her shirt and slacks, so she could stretch her arm to its limits. But she finally reached the squirming, slimy fish, pulling her arm out in a hurry and leaping to her feet to toss it back into the tank as quickly as she could,
“Eew," she groaned, shuddering involuntarily at the whole experience just as she caught sight of Jace standing in the doorway.
She didn't know how long he'd been there but he was leaning a shoulder against the jamb, his arms crossed over his chest – as if he'd been there for some time.
Clair took an instant survey of her own drenched clothes, Willy's sopping-wet shirt, the water that seemed to be all over the place and the smell of fish that permeated the entire room, and just wanted to crawl into a hole.
Jace's expression was a combination of amusement and consternation as his gaze went from her to her nephew.
“What have I told you about this, Willy?" he said, aiming the consternation at the toddler.
Willy – who had gotten to his feet, too – shrugged till hugely. “Sumpin'," he said as if whatever he'd been told escaped him at the moment.
“Yeah, something. You know better than to get the fish out of the tank."
“Cair wanna'd a see ‘im." So even at two and a half he knew how to pass the buck, Clair thought.
But she didn't mind. Rather than take umbrage she reveled in the fact that Willy was referring to her as a cohort.
“I’m sure Clair only wanted to see the fish in the tank. Not out on the floor," Jace continued. "You never put your hand in the water or take the fish out of the water.”
"Betuz de die," Willy finished for him, obviously recalling what he'd been told before, after all.
"Yes, because they die. And you don't like it when we have to flush them, do you?"
"No. Den I hafta cwy."
"That's right, it makes you cry. And we don't want them to die and you to have to cry."
"Can I hep you now?" the little boy asked suddenly, as if his latest naughty deed might finally reward him with being allowed in Jace's company.
"No, you can't hep me now. I'm all done," Jace said. Then, after another glance at the mess in the den and over his shoulder at the tent mess still in the living room, he added, "And apparently none too soon."
That news brightened Willy's entire outlook. "Can we go ou-side and make de snowman?"
"You know what? I don't think so. That was what we were going to do if you were good for Clair today. But you didn't do much behavin', did you?"
Willy's bottom lip came out. "No," he conceded in a grumble.
"So I guess we just have to get you into some dry clothes, go out and shovel again, and then come in without makin' a snowman, don't we?"
Willy gave Jace the dark, under-the-brows scowl again, but he didn't say anything.
"Go on up to your room and get out of those wet clothes. I'll be up to get you some dry ones in a minute”
"I do it myself," Willy muttered as he walked off, banging his head dejectedly and unknowingly tugging Clair's heartstrings.
"Maybe he shouldn't be punished for today. Maybe it was my fault," she whispered so the retreating Willy couldn't hear.
Jace just shook his head. "Even little kids need not be rewarded for breaking rules, Clair. Willy and I made a deal this morning – if he cooperated with you, we could make a
snowman. He didn't do any cooperating that I saw, so no snowman."
“He still got to go to the park even after misbehaving at the doctor's office," she just had to point out.
Jace smiled. "Okay, so I let him slide a little. But doctor's office wasn't a whole day of misbehavin’.”
“He was so sad, though."
Don’t worry about it. He'll be happy again by the time you get back from changin' your clothes," Jace .said, poking his sculptured chin in the direction of her soaked shirt and slacks to remind her of her own soiled condition.
“I do need to change," she conceded with a glance down herself. "Just the smell is starting to make me sick – peanut butter, jelly and fish water."
He looked as if he might be about to laugh but efrained. "Why don't you go ahead to Rennie's and do that then. I'll clean up here."
Clair felt guilty for leaving him with the water that dripped down the side of the fish tank and the cabinet it stood on into the slop already on the floor. But the smell her clothes were giving off really was beginning to get to her.
"Okay, but leave the messes in Willy's room and the living room. I'll pick those up as soon as I get back."
Jace didn't look convinced but he said, "You can do that while I fix supper and then maybe we can get the tiny terror to sit still for the movie so we can have a peaceful evening."
After the day she'd just put in, that was an appealing thought. Especially appealing because they'd be a threesome again.
"A peaceful evening sounds nice," she said, wishing her voice hadn't had such an intimate intonation. She amended it and added, "Willy gets popcorn, doesn't he? He didn't lose that, too?"
"No, he didn't lose that, too. One punishment is enough."
She was glad to hear that, glad to know Jace would be fair.
She was also glad to be standing there with him, alone for the first time all day, basking in the warm glow of his denim-blue eyes....
But that wasn't what she was supposed to be doing, and so she took a deep, steeling breath and said, "I'd better go get these clothes off."
She hadn't intended for that to sound intimate, either, but that's how it had come out. And Jace had heard it, too, because he smiled a crooked, one-sided .mile.
"Yeah, I think you'd better," he agreed with an innuendo-laden tone of his own.
He could have been taking in nothing more than the light of the peanut butter on the front of her clothes but having his gaze just in that general vicinity was enough to tighten her nipples.
"Oh, yeah, I'd better get going," she murmured to herself. Then more loudly she added, "I'll be back shortly."
"I’ll be here," he said with a note of promise that answered that same thing in her voice.
It was on the tip of Clair's tongue to say that Willy wasn’t the only one misbehaving today, that the two them had no business flirting like this.
But she didn't. Instead she just left, hurrying through the falling snow to the house next door, all the while trying to tamp down the excitement induced by the idea of the evening to come.
Excitement she knew she shouldn't be entertaining andd the pure, raw desire that came along with it.
Chapter Eight
Clair showered at warp speed to rid herself of the smells she'd come home with, reapplied blush and mascara, then chose a pair of black leggings and a beige, ribbon-yarn boat-neck tunic sweater to change into.
But when she realized just which sweater she'd pulled out of her suitcase she had second thoughts.
It was a sweater she never wore with a bra because the boat neck was wide and showed the straps. And she wasn't sure going braless was a good idea since she would be with Jace.
But the ribbon yarn was soft and warm and comfortable – the perfect thing for a snowbound night of watching a movie and eating popcorn.
Would being braless be all that noticeable? she asked herself.
Ordinarily she didn't think it was a problem. She was small-breasted enough to get away with it.
But ordinarily she wasn't with Jace.
What if he noticed and thought it was some kind of come-on Especially after that little verbal dance they'd done as she was leaving today.
She didn't want him to think she was corning on to him. Because she wasn't. In fact, that was the last Sling she was doing. At least intentionally. But she i ally wanted to wear that sweater.
She pulled it on over her head and studied her reflection in the bathroom mirror to get a better idea of how it might appear through his eyes. From the front and from the side.
Jace probably wouldn't even be able to tell, she decided, And if she were in Chicago, watching a video tape at home on a Saturday night, she would definitely not hesitate to wear it. So why couldn't she wear it tonight?
She decided there was no reason not to, and she left it on, feeling almost defiant, as if someone were trying to control what she could and couldn't wear and she was thwarting that control. She dressed for herself, she thought, not for anyone else.
Then she took out the clips that had held her hair ill day and fluffed it into a free mass of curls, even pulling one as far over her right eye as it would go.
But once she had, she stopped short and took an-other long look at herself.
The curl pulled down over her eye was something she would have done for a romantic evening out with Lyle. The curl was sexy.
And maybe that was going too far. After all, the sweater exposed almost all of her collarbones and a fair share of her shoulders, and with the curl falling down her forehead? Maybe it was too much.
So, change one or the other, she told herself.
But she just didn't want to.
She'd had a day of chasing a two-year-old, a day full of frustration that had seen Jace ushering her out of his house looking every bit as frazzled as she'd felt. She wanted to go back looking – and feeling – better. Looking and feeling as if the day hadn't taken any real toll on her. As if it hadn't gotten the better of her. And both the sweater and the sexy little curl accomplished that.
There wasn't any more to it. There really wasn't.
It wasn't a come-on. It wasn't a signal that she thought she was in line for a romantic evening or for a passionate ending to a romantic evening.
It was just a comfortable sweater and a curl, and there wasn't any more to it than that, she thought as the defiance made a resurgence.
Besides, she and Jace were two adults, not two teenagers who couldn't control themselves if one of them was braless and showing a little collarbone and a come-hither curl. So it shouldn't be any big deal, and she was keeping on the sweater and leaving the curl. Period.
With her heels dug in on the matter, she applied a light lipstick and spun away from the mirror as if to escape before she talked herself into either a more frumpy hairdo or more conservative clothes. Then she shrugged into her coat and headed back to Jace and | illy.
They were just going in from shoveling the walks again when she got there, and as Jace took off his coat she noticed that he'd changed clothes, too.
Of course, there was no way of knowing whether he’d gone without underwear the way she had and she gave herself a stern lecture for even entertaining such a thought. But he had replaced his work jeans with a fresh pair and put on a navy-blue plaid flannel shirt that looked so soft she was tempted to reach out and toutch it.
Not that she did. Or would. But she did tell herself that his shirt justified her sweater because clearly he'd chosen something soft and warm and comfortable, too.
Dinner a was a much calmer affair than lunch had been, with Jace back at the helm. He'd been right about Willy, who was over his mad and back to being intent on mimicking Jace's every movement again,
There was a slight difference in Willy's attitude ward Claire, though. He seemed more accepting of her being with them. He even included her to a small extent. And she thought that any amount of mess, frustration and frazzle was worth that.
Then came movie time, and after Jace had built a
roaring fire in the fireplace, Willy settled onto the sofa between Jace and Clair to watch in rapt silence and eat popcorn.
That was where the three of them stayed right up to the end of the film, when her nephew fell sound asleep with his head against Jace's arm.
''I'll just carry him up to bed. He won't wake up," Jace told her when they realized Willy was out like a light.
Clair nodded and watched as the big man gently scooped up the toddler, cradling him against his massive chest in a way that gave her a rush of warmth so intense her eyes followed them until they were completely out of sight.
But the moment they were, her gaze caught on the pile of debris left over from her afternoon's tent making, reminding her that she had one more mess to clean up.
She'd straightened Willy's bedroom while Jace was getting dinner ready but hadn't had the time to do the living room, too. They'd merely pushed aside the sheet and toys left over from that portion of the day's activities. But now that she had the chance, she opted for finally putting the living room back in order, including clearing away the popcorn and turning off the television and the VCR so the place was completely clean.
She'd just finished folding the sheet and left it and the Digimon monsters on the rocking chair when Jace came back.
"All tucked in?" she asked.
"All tucked in," he confirmed. Then he glanced around the room and added, "Thanks for cleaning up."
"It's the least I could do since I made most of the mess."
He had the good grace to smile without comment. Instead he said, "What do you say we sit in front of the fire and enjoy it before it burns itself out?"
“I wouldn't want to waste it," she agreed without a second thought.
Jace took cushions off the couch and positioned them on the floor so they could sit on one and rest their backs against the other. Or at least Clair could rest her back against the upended one. Jace sat at an angle with his side against it and his arm running along the edge, close enough behind her head that she could feel as much heat coming from his big body as ihe could from the fire.
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