One in a Million

by Susan Mallery

  “Of course I still love him,” she said gently. “Why do you ask?”

  He shrugged.

  “Is this about Nash? Are you worried that something’s going on between us?”

  Another shrug.

  “He’s being nice,” she said. “I like him, but that doesn’t mean anything. He’s on vacation. When his vacation is over, he’s going back to Chicago.”

  Where the handsome widower probably had dozens of elegant, sophisticated women vying for his attention. Where he wouldn’t even remember a single mom with three kids who had an embarrassing crush on him.

  “Do you want to, like, you know, go out with him?”

  Honestly she would much prefer to stay in with Nash, but that wasn’t what Brett wanted to know. Two weeks ago she would have told her son that she never planned on dating or getting involved with a man ever. But Nash’s arrival had shown her that there were some empty places in her life. While she would never be stupid enough to risk marriage, she wouldn’t mind a little male companionship now and then.

  “I can’t imagine Nash and me on date,” she said truthfully. “But your dad has been gone three years. While my feelings for him haven’t changed, there will come a time when I want to start dating again.”

  Brett’s blue eyes filled with tears. “Why? Why can’t you just love Dad?”

  “Because he’s gone.” She pulled him into a sitting position, then drew him into her arms. “When you get a little older, you’re going to think girls are a whole lot better than icky. I promise. So you’re going to go out. You may even have a girlfriend.”

  He writhed in her arms. “Mo-om.”

  “Just listen. So you have this girl you really care about. Will you still love your brothers?”

  He looked at her. “What does that have to do with anything?”

  “Just answer the question. Will you still love them?”

  “I guess. If they’re not being dopey.”

  “Will you still love me?”

  “Sure.”

  “That’s my point. The human heart has the capacity to love as many people as we want to let into our lives. If I start dating or not, nothing about my feelings for you, the twins or even Dad are going to change. There’s more than enough room for everyone.”

  “But I like thinking about you with Dad.”

  “You can keep thinking about that. I didn’t leave him, honey. He died. We mourned him and we still love him. That’s the right thing to do. But it’s also right to live our lives and be happy. Don’t you think your dad would have wanted that for all of us?”

  Stephanie knew that Marty would have loved the idea of being mourned endlessly by his wife and children, but she wasn’t about to lay that guilt on her twelve-year-old.

  Brett nodded slowly. “But you’re not going out with Nash.”

  “I’m not.”

  “Promise?”

  “Nash and I will not go out of this house on a date.” She made an X over her heart. “But that’s as much of my life as you get to dictate, young man. And should I decide to go out with someone, you’re going to have to accept the idea. Agreed?”

  “Yeah. No problem.”

  “Good.”

  She kissed his forehead, then released him. After he scrambled under the covers, she tucked them in around him, said good-night and walked out into the hallway. After closing the door, she moved down the stairs.

  She wondered when Brett had started to consider Nash a threat. Was there something in his behavior, or was her son able to subconsciously pick up on her strong attraction? Not that it mattered. She’d been very comfortable agreeing to no dates with Nash. Somehow she couldn’t see him offering to take her to dinner and a movie. He wasn’t a “dinner and a movie” kind of guy. Nash was more late-night walks along the river and hot, passionate kisses up against the crumbling stone wall of the ancient castle.

  Stephanie smiled. At least he was in her imagination. As there was neither a river nor a castle nearby, she was probably safe. Not that she wanted to be.

  She reached the main floor and turned toward the kitchen, then stopped when a slight movement caught her attention. As she spun around, she saw Nash pacing restlessly across the living-room rug. He glanced up and saw her, came to a stop and shrugged.

  “I’m a little wound up from the dinner,” he said. “I’m not ready to go up to bed. Am I bothering you?”

  Not in the way he meant. “Of course not. I have to make cookies for the twins to take to school tomorrow. There are few things less interesting than watching someone bake. You want to come into the kitchen and be bored for a while? It will probably help you sleep.”

  “Sure.”

  As soon as he agreed, she wanted to stop and bang her head against a nearby wall. Watching her might be boring for him, but having him near was wildly exciting for her. She really didn’t need to spend more time with him. Hanging around with Nash only seemed to encourage her overactive imagination. Before their dinner tonight she’d thought he was sexy and roguishly charming. After their dinner, she was starting to like him.

  She’d enjoyed watching him interact with his family. He’d been caring and understanding with the dozens of kids running around, attentive and interested in his brothers. She’d been stunned to find out what he did for a living. So much for her theory that he was a professor or sold shoes. Instead he inhabited a dark and dangerous world, which only made him more physically appealing.

  Stephanie told herself that she had to stop imagining Nash as the bare-chested caveman whisking her off into the wilderness. The poor guy had signed on to be her guest, not the star of her erotic fantasies. If he knew what she was thinking, he would be forced to run screaming into the night.

  She collected ingredients for chocolate chip cookies and set them on the counter. Nash took a seat at the kitchen table, then half rose.

  “Can I help?”

  She shook her head. “I’ve done this so many times, I don’t have to look at a recipe. But if you behave, I’ll let you have a sample fresh from the oven.”

  “Deal.”

  She grabbed a couple of eggs and put them next to the canister of flour. “So what did you think of tonight?” she asked.

  “It went well. I’m not sure I can keep everyone straight.”

  “I wouldn’t want to try,” she admitted. “The name tags were a great idea.” She measured brown sugar. “Where in Chicago do you live?”

  “I have a condo by the lake. I can walk to a lot of great restaurants. There’s a good jogging trail nearby.”

  “I’ve never been, but I can’t imagine you do much jogging in the winter.”

  “True. Then I hit the gym.”

  And he had the body to prove it. Although she doubted Nash worked out to be buff. No doubt it was required for his job. She tried not to sigh at the image of him in a ratty T-shirt and shorts, lifting heavy weights. Instead she channeled her energy into vigorously whipping her eggs.

  “I grew up with one brother and my mom,” he said quietly. “I’ve never had any experience with a large family.”

  “The Hayneses will take some getting used to,” she said. “But they’ll be worth the effort.”

  He nodded. “What about you? Are you one of seven?”

  “Not exactly.” She opened the bottle of vanilla and picked up her measuring spoons. “I was an only child. My parents were artists. Very focused on their work and each other.” She gave him a slight smile. “They didn’t believe in paying attention to the outside world. Things like electric bills and empty kitchen cupboards didn’t faze them. I grew up pretty quickly. Someone had to be the responsible one and it turned out to be me.”

  His dark gaze settled on her face. “Was that tough?”

  “Somet
imes.” When she wanted to be a kid, like her friends. “But I learned a lot, too. I was really prepared for the real world when I left for college.”

  “Did you want a big family?”

  “Sure. While I was growing up, I thought it would be terrific. I had it all planned, from my husband to our five kids to our assortment of dogs, cats and small rodents.”

  She’d thought the same when she’d married Marty. But by the time she’d figured out she’d made a horrible mistake and discovered she was pregnant in the same week, her plans had changed. She’d resigned herself to having one child. The twins had been an accident. A blessing, but an unplanned one.

  If only, she thought. If only Marty had been more willing to be a grown-up instead of an overgrown child. If only she’d seen the truth earlier. Except then she wouldn’t have her boys, and she loved them more than anything.

  “Stephanie?”

  “Huh?” She glanced up and saw him watching her.

  “Are you all right? You got pretty quiet.”

  “Sorry. Just thinking.”

  He rose and crossed to the island. “About your late husband?”

  “Yes, but not in the way you think.” She didn’t want Nash to worry that he’d made her miss Marty.

  “Was it being out with me? The whole ‘meet the family’ circus?”

  “No. That was great. I really enjoyed tonight.” She tried to smile, but he was standing only a couple of feet of counter space away and his intense, dark stare took her breath away. She cleared her throat. “I don’t get out that much.”

  “With three boys and your own business, you probably don’t have time to date much.”

  “Date?” She laughed. “Like that ever happens.”

  “Why doesn’t it?”

  “Good question.”

  She dumped the dry ingredients into the batter and began to stir. As the mixture thickened, she had to really push to get the wooden spoon through.

  “I’ll do that,” he said, stepping around the island and moving next to her.

  Before she realized what was happening, he’d taken the spoon from her and was making quick work of the mixing. She blinked in surprise.

  “Why do you do that?” she asked. “Why are you always so happy to help?”

  “Why not?”

  She didn’t have an answer she was willing to share. Telling him she’d long ago learned not to depend on anyone made her sound pathetic.

  “Do these go in next?” he asked, nodding toward the open bag of chocolate chips.

  “Yes.” She dumped the chips into the batter.

  “So why don’t you date?”

  She stared at the swirling mixture, rather than risk looking at him. Dangerous, dangerous question. “I just…there aren’t many men interested and I don’t seem to meet any.”

  “Interested men?”

  “Any men.”

  “So it’s not that you’re not interested.”

  “I—” The questions were going from bad to worse. Interested? Was she? Not in love. She’d learned that lesson in spades. But in a good man? Someone who would be fun and funny and caring? Someone who would hold her and ease the trembling ache deep inside?

  “I could be interested,” she admitted softly.

  “Good.”

  He dropped the wooden spoon into the bowl and turned toward her. Before she realized what was happening, before she could catch her breath or even consider if this was as crazy as it seemed, he’d pulled her into his arms. Just like that. She was pressed up against his hard, masculine body and then his face was getting closer and she knew he was going to kiss her.

  Stephanie’s last rational thought was that it had been twelve years since a man other than Marty had kissed her and that there was a more than even chance she’d completely forgotten what to do.

  Then Nash claimed her mouth in a warm, tender, erotic kiss that made her heart freeze in midbeat and her brain completely shut down. There wasn’t any thinking, there was only feeling. Feeling and doing.

  He pressed his lips against hers with just enough pressure to make her want more. Strong, large hands settled on her back. She felt his fingers, the heat of his palms, the brush of his thighs against her own. His scent surrounded her, enticed her, made her legs weak and her muscles slack. She had to wrap her arms around his neck to stay standing.

  Then his mouth moved against her. Slowly, discovering, teasing. He brushed his tongue against her lower lip. She had no will and parted instantly. Excitement raced through her. The sound of her breathing filled her head. She wanted with a desperation that should have terrified her, but instead only made her reckless. She wanted deep, hot kisses and wild abandon. She wanted his hands everywhere. She wanted to touch and be touched, to be wet, to be filled. She wanted to lose herself in an orgasm that would shake the very fabric of the space-time continuum.

  So when he again swept his tongue against the inside of her lower lip, she moaned low in her throat. When he moved inside and brushed against her, letting her taste him, feel him, dance with him, she responded with an intensity that was as foreign to her as the fiery need spiraling through her.

  She kissed him deeply, matching each thrusting stroke with one of her own. When he moved his hands from her back to her rear, she arched against him, flattening her belly against an impressive hardness.

  They both strained to get closer and closer still. Heads tilting, tongues mating, hands roving, they gasped and kissed and nipped and surged.

  She traced the length of his spine, then felt his high, tight rear end. As her fingers dug into his flesh, his arousal flexed against her stomach. He slipped his hands to her hips, then to her waist. At the same time, he pulled away from her mouth and instead began to kiss her jaw, her neck, then that sweet spot right below her ear. He licked the sensitive skin and while she was still caught up in the pleasure, he sucked on her earlobe. At the same moment, his hands closed over her sensitized breasts.

  She had to bite her lip to keep from screaming. Long fingers cupped her curves, while his thumbs and forefingers caressed her hard, aching nipples. Need raced through her. Need and desire and longing for more. She wanted to tear off her clothes, and his. She wanted him to take her right there, on the counter. She wanted it hard and fast, her legs spread, him buried deep, thrusting and thrusting until they both lost control in a shuddering release.

  “Nash,” she breathed and reached for the buttons on his shirt.

  He grabbed the hem of her sweater and started to tug. Right then, there was a loud creak from overhead.

  Stephanie knew it was just the old house settling as the night temperature dropped, but it was enough to remind her of the fact that they really were in her kitchen and that she had three children sleeping upstairs. She stiffened slightly. Nash read the signal for what it was and immediately stepped back.

  His face was flushed, his eyes dilated, his mouth damp from their kisses. He looked like a man more than ready for a walk on the wild side. She had a feeling she looked just as…aroused.

  Just don’t think about how long it’s been since you had sex, she told herself. The reality would be too depressing for words.

  In the silence of the kitchen, their breathing sounded loud and unnaturally fast. Nash recovered enough to speak first. Or maybe he wasn’t as nervous as she was.

  “I haven’t kissed anyone in a while,” he said, his voice thick with passion and slightly wry. “I don’t remember it being like that.”

  She had to clear her throat before speaking. “Me, neither.”

  “You okay?”

  She nodded.

  “Want me to apologize?” he asked.

  “No. Not unless you’re sorry.” Oh, please, not that. She couldn’t stand that.

  H
is dark eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled. “Not even close.”

  He raised his hand toward her, then dropped it back to his side. “I’d better head upstairs before… Well, before we start at it again.”

  She didn’t want him to go, but she knew it was for the best. Ah, maturity. Why was it never as much fun as acting like an irresponsible kid?

  “Sleep well,” he said as he turned to leave.

  “Unlikely,” she said before she could stop herself.

  He glanced at her and grinned. “Tell me about it.”

  Chapter 7

  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.