A Man for Mom

by Gina Ferris Wilkins

  “I should have beaten his head in,” Seth said in a curiously uninflected voice, his gaze never leaving the evidence of her struggle with Holder.

  “No, you shouldn’t have.” Rachel snatched her blue chenille robe off the end of her bed and wrapped it clumsily, hastily around her. Oddly enough, beneath her embarrassment at having Seth see her nude, there was an underlying chagrin that he’d reacted only to the bruises.

  “I wish he’d tried just once to hit me,” Seth mused, absently rubbing his right fist into his left palm.

  “Bullies like Holder rarely attack someone who could easily beat their heads in,” Rachel observed, using Seth’s own graphic description of what he would have done to Holder if given the chance. “It took more character for you to resist violence than to have given in to it,” she added, then winced at her rather sanctimonious tone. She had a tendency to fall back on clichés in awkward situations—and this was, most definitely, an awkward situation!

  “Rachel?”

  She was concentrating on knotting her belt tightly at her waist. She didn’t look up from the task. “Yes?”

  “Have I told you yet that you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever known?”

  That brought her head up. His tone had been quite casual, but the way he was looking at her wasn’t casual at all. And this time, she was aware that he wasn’t seeing the bruises.

  “Seth—”

  He raised a hand to her face, his warm palm gently cradling her abused cheek. “You really are beautiful.”

  She wished he’d stop saying that. It left her without anything to say in return...especially tonight, when she harbored no illusions about how she must look. “I—”

  His fingers moved in her hair and the heavy, dark mass fell around her shoulders, the pins deftly removed. Seth seemed to be very good at things like that—too good, actually. “You—”

  His mouth brushed hers. Lightly. Barely hard enough to feel. And yet she felt the contact all the way to her bare toes.

  She’d forgotten what she was going to say. She stared up at him, speechless. He smiled and kissed her again. And this time he stayed long enough for her to respond.

  Somehow her arms found their way around his neck, her fingers into his thick, sandy hair. For the second time that day, she found herself pressed against a man’s body, but this time she knew she was in no physical danger. Her heart, however, was a different matter.

  In some ways, she was far more vulnerable to Seth than she had been with the vicious Frank Holder.

  He kissed her again. And again. His arms were strong around her, but he kept them locked around her waist, just holding her while he made love to her mouth. He made no move to carry the embraces further. Rachel knew he wouldn’t resist if she backed away from him. Maybe it was that knowledge that kept her right where she was.

  It was so quiet in the house. So still. She could hear her own pulse pounding in her ears. She thought she could even hear Seth’s heart beating rapidly against her chest. She closed her eyes and parted her lips, an invitation he accepted eagerly.

  Her arms tightened around his neck. In automatic response, he held her more firmly, his arms lifting her against his chest. She stood on tiptoe, straining against him, savoring every point of contact between them. Still flushed and damp from her bath, wrapped in her fuzzy robe, she felt soft and feminine in contrast to his strong, muscular body. Despite her deeply ingrained belief in their mental and social equality, she found those physical differences deliciously exciting.

  As she’d discovered only hours earlier, a man’s strength could be terrifying when turned against her. She realized now how wonderful it could be when the man was as tender, as considerate and as caring as Seth was being with her. She’d needed this, she thought dazedly, to help her push aside those lingering fears for good. And she suddenly needed to tell him so.

  “Thank you,” she whispered, her lips close to his ear, her cheek pressed to his.

  “For what?” His voice was endearingly unsteady.

  “For coming to my rescue this afternoon. For being here with me now.”

  His hands moved against her back in slow, easy strokes that soothed even as they aroused. “You’re welcome,” he murmured. “Though I wasn’t expecting to come to anyone’s rescue when I showed up at your office. I was there to apologize to you for being so impatient with you yesterday when you had to work late. I was being selfish, and I wanted to tell you I was sorry.”

  “Apology accepted,” she mumbled, lost in the faint, masculine scent of spicy after-shave.

  “As for being with you now—don’t you know there’s nowhere else on earth I’d rather be?”

  She drew back just enough to look at him. His beautiful green eyes were utterly sincere.

  He wanted her. She wanted him. At that moment, it suddenly seemed so clear, so simple. “Seth,” she whispered, and brought his mouth back to hers.

  He stiffened for just a moment, as though uncertain of her meaning. And then he gathered her hungrily against him and wholeheartedly accepted everything she was offering.

  The belt she’d knotted so tightly loosened at his touch. Her robe slipped from her shoulders and slithered unnoticed to lie at their feet. Seth kissed the bruises on her forearms, and then knelt to press gentle, fleeting kisses to the marks on her ribs and hip. His mouth moved across her tummy and up her torso, his hands sliding slowly up and around her thighs.

  Rachel gripped his shoulders through the fabric of his pale blue shirt, steadying herself when her knees threatened to buckle. The uncomfortable image of stretch marks and other physical flaws raced through her mind, but then Seth’s mouth moved against her breasts and all thought fled.

  She was breathing in sharp, ragged pants by the time he finally threw off his own clothing and lowered her to the bed, his own breathing labored. He fumbled for a moment with his slacks, then tossed them aside, and Rachel knew that he was still protecting her, this time from the consequences of her own choice. A moment later, he came to her, covering her restless, yearning body with his own.

  Incapable of coherent speech, she gasped when he finally, carefully entered her. He moved slowly at first, giving her time to adjust, painstakingly considerate of her bruises. But Rachel soon urged him on with eager, impatient hands. She didn’t want to be pampered, coddled like some fragile doll. She wanted him to make love to her without holding anything back.

  She was with him completely as they raced toward fulfillment. She tumbled into the madness first, shuddering with spasms of sensation so intense she cried out. She was dimly aware that Seth wasn’t far behind her. She gripped him tightly when his perspiration-sheened body grew rigid, his head thrown back, his eyes closed. And when he finally collapsed against her with a deep groan of satisfaction, she cradled him against her breasts, her lips against his damp hair, her legs wrapped snugly with his.

  They lay that way for a very long time, each drawing strength from the other, seeking—and finding—unspoken reassurance that the extraordinary experience had been fully shared.

  * * *

  Lace-draped French doors led from Rachel’s bedroom to a tiny balcony that overlooked her backyard. Wrapped in her chenille robe, she stood on that balcony sometime after midnight and let her eyes drift from the misty half-moon that seemed to hang so low above her to the heavily shadowed silhouette of the swing set she and Seth had assembled for her children. Though the October days were still warm enough, the nights were growing longer and cooler. There was just enough nip in the fresh, clear air to make her draw the collar of her bathrobe more snugly around her throat.

  Seth had been soundly asleep when she’d slipped out of the bed. She’d been very careful not to disturb him. She was trying to deal with her feelings about what had passed between them earlier. She was still feeling rather stunned by the intensity of the experience.

  She was aware of a faint, nagging sense of guilt. She knew Ray wouldn’t have wanted her to live like a nun for the rest of her life. He ha
d always wanted her to be happy, and would have been the first to encourage her to go on with her life. But still she felt a bit disloyal, especially when she silently, rather sadly acknowledged that what she’d experienced with Seth had been different, more shattering than anything she’d ever known before. Even with Ray.

  Two bare, tanned arms circled her from behind, and she was drawn back against a warm, hard body. “What are you doing out here?” Seth asked in a deep voice, his cheek resting against her hair.

  “Just enjoying the peacefulness,” she said, keeping her own voice low. “No sirens wailing or dogs barking, for a change. It’s nice.”

  “Your kids should have a dog,” Seth said unexpectedly. “Aaron would probably like one.”

  “Dogs are too much trouble. They dig holes and poop in the yard, and always need to be bathed and dipped and fed and taken to the vet. I’m not at all sure they’re worth it.”

  Seth chuckled, his chest vibrating against her back. “They’re no more trouble than a couple of kids. And they don’t talk back.”

  “True. But kids are eventually supposed to reach a point where they’re self-sufficient. Dogs don’t.”

  “Always an argument for everything,” he said with an exaggerated sigh.

  She smiled and rested her hands over his crossed wrists. “I try.”

  He held her in silence for a moment. She could sense that he was wearing nothing but his jeans. “You must be getting chilled,” she said, snuggling more deeply into his arms.

  “No. Are you?”

  “Not yet.”

  “It’ll be winter soon,” he said, looking up at the clear, starry sky.

  “Yes.” She sighed, and hers wasn’t feigned.

  “You don’t like winter?”

  “I used to. Now I dread it.”

  “Why?”

  She took a deep breath and recited, “Dead batteries. Frozen and broken fuel lines, air lines, brake lines, hydraulic hoses. Icy roads and parking lots. Drivers taking reckless chances with their safety and their equipment to run their routes in spite of the weather. Customers complaining even when we can’t safely get to their containers. Frozen Dumpster lids. Frozen truck lids. And there’s always the danger that vagrants are sleeping in the Dumpsters for warmth, though we haven’t actually encountered that problem yet. And then there’s—”

  “Okay, I get the picture,” Seth interrupted her hastily. “What about the good things about winter?”

  She made a rueful face. “Sometimes it’s easier to prepare for the bad things than to anticipate the good ones,” she said, and she wondered if Seth was aware that she was no longer talking entirely about her business.

  He had always seemed to be very perceptive where she was concerned. He turned her to face him, his face grave in the moonlight. “Just because bad things have happened to you in the past doesn’t mean you should give up hoping for the best.”

  “I’m...not used to taking risks, Seth,” she told him, choosing her words very carefully. “I’ve always needed to know where I was going, and exactly how I intended to get there. I’m a planner, a list maker. I’m at my best when it comes to taking care of other people’s needs. When it comes to my own...” She let the words trail into a little shrug.

  He heard her out, but he was smiling, his hand cradling her still-sore face. “Have you ever considered letting someone help you with your own needs?”

  “I’m not accustomed to depending on other people. I’ve always taken care of myself,” she informed him. Even with Ray, she had never been dependent, she mused. In fact, there were people who’d said that Ray was sometimes a bit too dependent on her competence, not that she’d ever allowed those people to bother her. She’d always been content with what she’d had with Ray.

  The problem was, she wasn’t so sure she would be content with such a quiet, carefully planned and orchestrated relationship with Seth.

  “I know you take care of yourself, all too well,” Seth assured her dryly. “But has it ever occurred to you that someone who cares about you, someone who loves you, would want to take care of you at times? Would want very much to feel needed by you?”

  Even that cautious mention of the word “love” made Rachel’s breath catch. She had to swallow before she could whisper, “I’m not sure I want to need anyone, Seth. If I should start needing someone, and then that person went away, what would I do then?”

  He kissed her right temple, and his lips moved softly against her skin. “I can’t imagine that someone who loves you would ever leave you for any reason short of death.”

  She sighed. “That’s reason enough to be afraid, as I’ve learned from experience.”

  “I can’t—no one can promise you that he won’t die, Rachel.” Seth was careful to keep the conversation hypothetically phrased, so she wouldn’t feel it necessary to commit herself to anything just yet. “It’s something you have to know will happen to everyone eventually. The philosophers say we should live every day as though it is our last. Savor every moment, treasure every smile, seize every opportunity for happiness and fulfillment. It took me a long time to start living that way, and now I have no regrets.”

  “That sounds like a very irresponsible way to live. Live for today and let tomorrow take care of itself.”

  Seth shrugged. “It’s possible to accept responsibility without becoming a slave to it, Rachel. Planning and list making and organizing are all necessary at times, but not when they overshadow all the fun and adventure in life.”

  Which brought them back to where they’d started. Rachel was cautious, Seth impulsive. He considered her a slave to responsibility; she worried that his emotions would change as rapidly as his moods. She had to worry about how their actions would affect her children; Seth embraced her children with the same enthusiasm with which he’d pursued her, even though he and Rachel hadn’t come to any agreement about where their relationship was headed. He wanted to be needed; she was desperately afraid to need.

  Did those differences leave them any common ground other than the physical attraction she had never been able to deny?

  Seth brushed a breeze-tossed strand of hair away from her eyes. “Such a serious expression,” he said, placing a kiss on her forehead. “It’s getting late, and cooler. Come inside, sweetheart, before you get chilled.”

  He was taking care of her again, even though she was perfectly capable of deciding whether she was too cool. Yet, again, she found that she couldn’t resent his consideration for her welfare. Just for tonight, it was rather nice to be pampered. Maybe a bit too nice.

  Pushing her worries to the back of her mind, she stepped through the French doors into the bedroom. Into Seth’s waiting arms.

  Chapter Twelve

  Seth woke in bed alone again the next morning. He glanced automatically toward the balcony where he’d found Rachel during the night, but the French doors were closed. He assumed she was downstairs, probably in the kitchen. Neither of them had eaten dinner the night before. He didn’t know if Rachel was hungry yet, but he was starving.

  He yawned, stretched and swung his legs over the side of the bed. All in all, it had been one hell of a night, he thought ruefully. From the most exquisite lovemaking he’d ever experienced to one of the strangest middle-of-the-night conversations he’d ever become involved in; he should know by now that there was no guessing what Rachel would do, despite her claims to predictability and reliability.

  As he stood, he glanced at the nightstand beside the bed. The cup of tea he’d brought her last night was still there, still untouched, long grown cold. A clock radio told him it was just after eight o’clock. A framed photograph lay on its face on the nightstand. It had been standing last night, he remembered with a sudden frown. Rachel must have set it down.

  He lifted the frame and studied the smiling face of the man in the photograph. Ray Evans. He’d had a pleasant smile. Had probably been one hell of a nice guy, Seth thought with a scowl.

  Why had Rachel turned the photo facedown this
morning? Had she been feeling a bit guilty as she’d climbed nude from the bed she’d once shared with Ray? The same bed in which Seth had spent such an exhilarating night? He was fully aware that he was the first man to have slept in that bed since her husband had died.

  Seth swallowed as the eyes in the photograph seemed to study his face. “I’m not going to hurt her,” he sheepishly heard himself mutter aloud. “I don’t want to replace you for Rachel or your children. I only want to make my own place in their future.”

  He hoped Ray would have approved.

  He set the photo back into its original, upright position and stepped into his jeans. Then, carrying the full teacup with him, he went off in search of Rachel, telling himself that it was ridiculous to imagine that worried eyes were watching him leave the bedroom.

  As he’d expected, he found Rachel in the kitchen. She was wearing an oversize black turtleneck sweater and jeans. She had pinned her hair up again. If she’d been trying to look a bit distant this morning, she’d succeeded.

  A pot of coffee brewed on the counter. Rachel was busily stirring something in a large mixing bowl. Was she planning to feed him and send him on his way? If so, she could forget it. Cody wasn’t bringing the kids home until midafternoon, and Seth intended to stay for a while.

  “Good morning,” he said, and dumped the cold tea into the sink. “You never got around to drinking your tea last night,” he added unnecessarily. Maybe just to remind her of exactly what had distracted her from her tea.

  “Good morning. You must be hungry. I hope you like waffles.” Rachel spoke brightly, her bland smile making it clear that she wasn’t ready to discuss last night.

  “I love waffles,” he assured her. “What can I do to help?”

  “Nothing. They’re almost ready. Pour yourself some coffee and have a seat at the table.”

  She was talking to him as if he were one of her kids. Seth thought about remaining on his feet out of pure obstinacy, but decided if he did that, he’d be acting like one of her kids. He filled a coffee mug for himself, and another for her.