“Was Daniel showing you his magic tricks?” she asked with a smile.
“He said I should be called Merlin,” Daniel announced.
“I hadn’t thought about it before,” she said seriously, “but he’s exactly right.” She gave Alexander a grateful look and he felt as if he’d performed a great and difficult task, rather than simply allowing himself to be entranced by a sweet, smart child. “Thank you,” she said.
“It was my pleasure.” He stood up. “Did you take care of your problem?”
“You must think I’m horrible,” she said, lowering her eyes.
He glanced at Jeremy, who dug through the box of magic tricks with energetic curiosity. “He seems to have come through it all right,” he said dryly.
“Maybe I finally got through to him.” She blew a wisp of hair off her face. “Unfortunately, I also burned the corn bread for dinner. Daniel, get your things picked up. We’ll walk over to the submarine shop for some sandwiches.”
“All right.” With a mischievous giggle, he lifted the box of tricks over his head.
“Mr. Literal,” Esther said with a smile. “Put your things away, Daniel.” She glanced at her skirt. “I guess I’d better change. Do you want to walk along with us?”
“I have another idea,” he said with a smile, taking pity on her long day. “I’ll take the children ‘round to the shop and get your sandwiches while you treat yourself to a nice shower and a few minutes of quiet.”
She shook her head. “That’s very sweet—”
“Please,” he cut in. “I’d like to.”
“Alexander, you have no idea what you’re getting yourself into.”
“It’s two blocks there and two blocks back.”
Daniel added his voice. “We’ll be good, Mom.” He nudged his brother. “Won’t we?”
“There, you see?” Alexander said with a smile. “We’ll be fine. And,” he added, “imagine how much better you’ll feel by the time we get back.”
The doubt in her face wavered, warring with the promise of a few blissfully quiet moments. Her full red lips quirked finally into a grin. “You win. I’ll get the money.”
He almost protested, but realized she would argue again. Turning to the boys, he said, “You mustn’t disappoint your mother, now. She’s very tired tonight, and we’re going to be kind and let her relax a bit, all right?”
“We’ll be good,” Jeremy said. “I won’t even be a raven this time.”
Esther returned with the money and a list of what she wanted. “Be sure to tell them that the bologna has nothingon it. Just bologna and bread, period.”
“That’s for me,” Jeremy said.
“Mommy likes egg salad with everything,” Daniel put in.
Alexander grinned at her. “Somehow, I’m not surprised.” He tucked the list and cash into his pocket and held out his hands. “Shall we, gentlemen?”
They each took a hand. “Be good boys,” Esther called behind them, “or else.”
As they set off down the sidewalk, lined with spruce and elm and cottonwood trees, the two small hands tucked in his own, Alexander felt a warmth spread through him. Aside from the pleasure of the children themselves, he liked knowing he could do something physical for her. Until that moment, he’d not been aware how much he missed giving his time to another human being.
* * *
When Alexander and the boys returned from the sub shop, Esther had spread a red-checkered cloth over the grass in the backyard. Her mood was much improved, thanks to the quick but reviving shower that had washed away the grime of day. And when Alexander had no tales of horror to report, she relaxed.
They ate together in the warm evening—even Alexander, who devoured a ten-inch pepper-steak sandwich in spite of the supper he’d already eaten.
Afterward, the boys begged for a lesson in tai chi. Alexander teasingly pretended to consider their request, pulling on his beard somberly. “I don’t know,” he said with a mock frown. “It’s a very serious thing.”
“Please?” Daniel wheedled, bouncing on his knees. A smile in his eyes showed he knew he was being teased.
Alexander stood up. “All right. Take off your shoes,” he said, shucking his. His fingers went to the buttons up his shirt and Esther had an instant to think, oh, no,before he’d shed that, too.
Her stomach flopped back and forth as she took in the sight of him, tanned and vigorous. His jeans were old and fit his long legs with almost loving closeness, showing the taut muscles of thighs and his high, firm rear end. Her eyes traveled upward over his washboard stomach and broad, golden chest, then to his face.
A slightly mocking grin met her appraisal. “Feel free,” he said in a husky voice, “to join us.” He glanced pointedly at her blouse.
“Very funny.”
He extended a hand. “Come on. Join us. It will make you sleep well tonight.”
A memory of the women sparring at the dojo flitted over her mind. She’d been wondering what it would be like to leash that power. Intrigued, she stood up.
He led them slowly through the exercises, step by step. “Grasp sparrow’s tail,” he said, lifting one hand, the other falling, his waist shifting.
They followed as well as they could. Esther felt a strange spell fall over her senses. His deep, accented voice was hypnotic, mesmerizing, and she felt herself moving with his words, imitating his body without self-consciousness. The exercises were difficult but somehow graceful and powerful.
“Carry tiger to mountain,” he said and the boys obeyed, both of them mimicking him well.
The sun behind them lowered in the sky and a band of deep yellow light fingered Alexander. Esther paused, caught by the beauty of the picture. His dark hair fell over his forehead and his muscles rippled under tawny skin as sleekly as those of a lion in pursuit of his prey. And once again, the controlled power of the discipline exhilarated her.
Realizing she had stopped completely, she hurried to take the next position and forced herself to concentrate on what she was doing, rather than on the man who illustrated it for her.
* * *
When evening fell, both boys were drooping. “Time for bed, guys.”
As she stood up, Alexander admired the smooth curve of her calves. Replete with the meal and the pleasure of the evening, it was easy to imagine simply reaching out to see if that curve was as silky as it looked. Reluctantly he stood up. “Let me help you gather all this up before I go,” he said.
She looked at him quickly. “Oh, I guess it is getting late.”
Her disappointment was unmistakable and satisfying. “Would you like me to stay?” he asked.
For a moment, he thought she would refuse. To the children, she said, “Go on inside, boys, and brush your teeth. I’ll be right there.” Then she raised her head and looked at him directly. “It won’t take long for me to get them to bed—a quick story and prayers and I’ll be back.”
It occurred to him that her evenings probably stretched as empty and lonely as his own. He also realized that she had no true idea of how enticing a picture she made against the soft light of the evening, her hair gold and copper along the edge of her shoulders. Her simple peasant blouse displayed a swath of white flesh at the scoop neck and for an instant, Alexander wished heartily that he could explore again the hollow of her throat, the lovely swell of her breasts and the soft cloud of her hair.
If he stayed, he would be fighting the physical temptation she presented for every single instant. And yet, she trusted him—he would have to stick to his promise. Could he do so?
“Will you let me hold your hand?” he asked finally.
She seemed to understand exactly what he was saying. Her wide brown eyes were serious. “Yes.”
And because there was so much more to her than the sheer power of her robust and beautiful form, he smiled. “I’m going to walk home and get my jacket. By the time you finish, I’ll be back. How’s that?”
“Fine.”
Chapter Seven
Es
ther tucked her children safely into bed after listening to sleepily murmured prayers and checking to see that teeth had been properly brushed. As she headed back downstairs a sense of anticipation tugged her middle.
Alexander Stone.
He seemed almost too good to be true. She liked his ability to be honest with her and his easy way with the children. Often adults without children of their own mistakenly believed that their smallness of body indicated a small mind. Alexander seemed to understand that, while their young minds were still quite easily mystified and prompted toward wonder and excitement, they were quite capable of understanding ordinary conversation. Jeremy and Daniel, sensing his underlying respect, had played none of their games with him tonight.
On the landing of the stairs, she stopped to look out the window, hoping for a chance to watch him unobserved. And there he was, bent over the herb garden. She could only make out the light color of his jeans and jacket in the gathering darkness, but it was enough. He was so fantastically attractive and smart and kind…
She turned away from the window, a hand pressed to her tumbling stomach. Whoa, she told herself—slow down. We’re going to be friends, remember?
But for the life of her, she couldn’t remember why she had thought that necessary. Men like Alexander Stone didn’t come along very often, after all, and he seemed genuinely attracted to her. He said she made him feel alive.
She smiled and went to the coat closet to get a jacket. Shadows had crept through the room and she reached for the buttons that turned on the dining-room light. As she punched the On button, a pop sounded and the light burned out. Again. Annoyed at the thought of standing up on the table to reach the ten-foot ceiling in the dark, she shook her head and found a jacket by feel. A fresh light bulb could wait until morning.
As she stepped into the kitchen, she realized the coat she’d chosen was an old jean jacket she had owned since college. Oversized and worn nearly white, it was embroidered with herbs and their Latin names. She chuckled to herself—it seemed harmless enough in light of her present occupation as the owner/operator of a natural foods emporium, but it had been a gesture of rebellion in those days.
Leaving the porch light off, she joined Alexander at the picnic table. He, too, had donned a light jacket.
“It’s already chilly,” Esther commented as she sat down. A cool wind lifted her hair. “My mother insisted that my father take her back to Georgia a few years ago—she said cold summer nights were uncivilized.”
“And you? Do you like the cool nights here?”
“Hot nights are miserable,” Esther replied, thinking of Texas, where they had lived when she was in late grade school. “You can’t sleep and the sheets get tangled and when you wake up, you have to start all over again.”
“But what of the romance of sultry summer nights?” he teased.
Esther shrugged. “When it’s that hot, who wants to get cozy with another sweaty person?”
He laughed. The sound came from deep within his broad chest, ringing into the still night like the notes of an oboe, reedy and rich. Esther realized she hadn’t heard him really laugh before and was delighted to find what a unique tone there was to it. “Good point,” he said, “but terribly practical.”
“Believe it or not,” she countered, tucking her feet beneath her skirt, “I am a very practical person.”
“Is that so?” Light spilled from the kitchen window, touching half his face. Amusement lifted one side of his mouth and mustache.
“Yes, I am.”
He reached over to touch the sleeve of her jacket, his index finger tracing the embroidered stem of lavender on the worn cuff. “Your manner of dress says something to the contrary.”
She waved a hand. “This is a college relic and not admissible as evidence.”
“What did you study?” He drew a bottle of beer from the tin bucket she’d filled with ice and she watched him twist the top and drink, wondering irrelevantly what it would feel like to have hair on her face all the time.
“Nursing,” she said when he gave her a curious glance. She held out her arms to display the plethora of herbs meticulously applied. “This should tell you why I feel such sympathy with your students. It was a statement of my disapproval of the pathological approach of modern medicine.”
With a quirk of his lips, he said, “And I’ll wager you studied herbs to the point of saturation.”
“Of course.” More seriously, she said, “I was actually a very good nursing student, as well. I was within the top ten.”
“So why aren’t you a nurse now?”
Esther licked her lips. Like a sore tooth, the subject ached when probed and she ordinarily steered clear of it. “I met my ex-husband,” she said, “in my junior year. I thought I could manage being married and going to school, but he took more time than I thought he would.” Feeling as foolish as she always did, she covered her embarrassment by rounding the table for a fresh beer of her own. As she took it out of the ice, she frowned at Alexander. “I seem to always be imbibing when I’m with you. Are you a big drinker?”
He glanced at her, eyebrows raised. “Why, I don’t know.” He lifted the dark brown bottle to his lips, and she saw that merriment was shimmering in his eyes. “What would being a ‘big drinker’ entail?”
“Guess it depends,” she said. “We are in Boulder, after all. Eating red meat is a pretty big infraction in some circles, but drinking seems to be acceptable—as long as you don’t smoke cigarettes when you do it.”
He studied her for a moment, quietly taking her measure. “I have the feeling we were talking about something else.”
She sighed, standing on the edge of her foot in discomfort. “We were talking about the mess I made of things when I got married, I think.”
“Why haven’t you gone back, Esther?”
“I don’t know.” She glanced up, seeing the stars shine over the dark shadow of the mountains. Somewhere in the herb garden, a cricket mournfully chirped. “I think it would be hard to be away from my boys as much as nursing would require me to be. And I think maybe I’ve found what I was looking for, here in the store, with all the little things that make people feel better.” She looked at him. “Here, I have all the good and none of the evil of medicine.”
He shifted, reaching toward her with one long-fingered hand. “Come sit down with me,” he said, his voice deep. In his eyes was something rich and kind.
She took his hand and settled next to him, feeling his thigh warm against her own. His cologne had faded, leaving behind the scent of the man himself, an elusive combination she couldn’t quite pinpoint—like a streambed lined with pine needles, perhaps. His hand was much larger than her own, the fingers strong and lean, with calluses on the palms that rasped against the ones she had on her own hands. For a moment, she wished fleetingly for the elegant soft hands of a lotion model instead of her working hands with their short, sensible nails.
To her surprise, he began to gently massage the tendons and small bones in her hand as he spoke. “I think, Esther, that you still feel some sorrow over that lost nursing degree.” His voice was deep in the darkness and his fingers moved over her hand, finding and releasing tiny knots of tension.
Somehow, the action dissolved her usual avoidance of the subject. She was able to respond honestly. “I loved it,” she said. “I loved everything about it—the biology and the chemistry and the patients.”
The pads of his fingers moved to her wrists and Esther found herself leaning back against the edge of the table, letting everything flow through her. “I adore my children and I wouldn’t go back to change anything, because that would mean losing them…” She trailed off, remembering the excitement of emergency room nursing, the thrill of obstetrics, the power of surgery.
“Jeremy will be in school next year,” Alexander said. “You might be able to finish then.”
“No,” she said, looking at his strong hands on hers, marveling at the gently aroused sensations they sent through her. “I have to
support them,” she said, but the words came from someplace far away, not really connected to the moment. As if she were under a strange spell, she looked at him, letting her gaze wander over the high brow and strong nose, the silky beard of mahogany and silver. She raised her eyes to his lustrous, unruly curls.
He released her hands and with one finger, touched her chin. “You mustn’t let your dreams go,” he said.
A husky note in his words betrayed his lack of calm and Esther looked at him with a slow smile, pleased that she was not alone in this odd, drifting sense of arousal. She steadily looked up at him, feeling his finger trace the line of her jaw and move over her cheek. Sitting so close to him in the quiet darkness, she was aware of how much bigger he was than she, his chest and shoulders broad and sturdy, his legs longer, his head above hers.
When his hand moved to her hair, his fingers threading through it, lightly brushing her scalp, she closed her eyes. And she felt no surprise when his lips danced over her lids, whispered along her lashes, his breath sending a tiny stream of heat over her forehead, his beard tickling her cheek and nose. A shiver crawled over her spine at the lush mingling of sensations and she smiled softly. “Alexander,” she murmured, eyes still closed as he pressed his mouth to the center of her forehead, “you really are almost impossible to resist.”
He drew back, his hand trailing over her cheek before it fell away. “That is my intention,” he said with a wicked smile.
It would have been ridiculous to draw away now in fear. The last thing she felt was afraid. She let herself smile once more. “Tsk, tsk,” she said, leaning on one arm in an unconsciously provocative pose. “So much for promises.”
“You, dear lady,” he said, gripping her face between his fists, “are a temptress that would drive any sane man out of his mind. And before I am further tempted—” he dropped his hands and stood up “—I’m going to take my leave of you.”
Esther laughed, then stood up with him. “I’ll walk you around,” she said.
A Minute to Smile Page 9
