One in a Million

by Susan Mallery

“What?” She’d been tracing a pattern on the table. Now she raised her head and stared at him. “No. Of course not.” She smiled. “I thought it was nice. If you want to plan on joining us for the rest of your stay, I’ll just set an extra place in here, rather than the dining room. It’s not a problem at all.”

  He’d half expected her to ask him why. Why did he want to join them? Not that he had an answer. On some level he knew that being around her and her kids allowed him to forget. Without work to distract him, there was too much time to think. But that was only one of the reasons. The others all had something to do with him enjoying her and the boys’ company.

  “I’d like that,” he said. “So if that’s not the issue, what is? Last night?”

  She swallowed, then nodded slowly. “Issue isn’t exactly the word I’d use. I thought…” She looked away. “You’re so calm.”

  “And you’re not?”

  “Isn’t it obvious?” She clutched her coffee cup in both hands. “I just… I guess what I really want to know is why it happened.”

  Funny, that wasn’t his most pressing question.

  He knew that she had to be around thirty, maybe a couple of years older. She was smart, successful, pretty and sexy as hell. But right now she looked ready to jump out of her skin with nerves and embarrassment. Because of him? He would like to think he got to her that much, but he had a feeling that might be wishful thinking on his part.

  “You’re attractive,” he said, wondering if she really didn’t know why he’d wanted to kiss her. “Very attractive and I enjoy your company. I had a pretty universal male reaction to both of those facts.”

  She pressed her lips together and nodded. “Okay,” she said, her voice almost a squeak. She cleared her throat again. “So you’re talking about, um, you know, interest.”

  Sex. He was talking about sex. “Interest works, but only if it’s returned.”

  This time there was no question that she was blushing. Her cheeks flushed to a bright red and she nearly dropped her coffee cup.

  “I’m not really used to talking to adults,” she said in a low voice. “Men, I mean. I don’t think I was very good at it before and the lack of practice has only made me worse.”

  “Then we’ll take it slow. The conversation, I mean.”

  Her eyes widened slightly. “Okay. Well, then I should probably start at the beginning.”

  He had no idea what she meant. “The beginning?”

  “Yeah. I met Marty my last year of college. I was so thrilled to be out on my own and not responsible for anyone but myself. I’d dated some, but hadn’t fallen for anyone before. Not like I did with Marty. Everything was so exciting. Marty…” She sighed. “He was a few years older. Charming, funny. He’d switched majors so many times that he was still a junior after five years of school. I remember thinking that he was so full of life and so interested in me.”

  She looked at him. “I told you my parents are artists, but what I didn’t tell you was that their art is the most important thing in their lives. I remember growing up knowing that no skinned knee, no problem with a friend could ever compete with the perfect light on the right view. While they painted, I didn’t exist.”

  “Marty was different?”

  “I thought so. He focused so intently on me that I didn’t realize I was just the latest in a long line of fleeting passions. He swept me off my feet and I married him less than two months later. Within six weeks, I realized I’d married someone just like my parents.”

  Nash leaned toward her. “In what way?”

  “He wasn’t responsible. He wasn’t willing to think about anyone but himself. He didn’t care if the bills got paid on time or if they turned off our electricity. He didn’t worry about showing up to work on time. There were so many other fun things to be doing. I’m sure a mental health professional wouldn’t be surprised that I’d replaced my parents with someone exactly like them, but it was a shock to me. I was devastated.”

  He wanted to reach across the table and take her hands in his, but he didn’t. Instead he sipped his coffee, then asked, “Why didn’t you leave?”

  “I wanted to,” she admitted. “I considered my options, thought about what I wanted and decided that I wasn’t going through that again. But right before I packed up to go, I found out I was pregnant with Brett.”

  She moved her cup around on the table. “Marty was thrilled. He swore everything was going to be different, and I wanted to believe him. I thought it would be wrong to take his child away from him, so I stayed. He went from job to job, city to city, state to state, and we went with him. Every time I managed to save a few dollars, he spent them on something crazy like an old beat-up motorcycle or a weekend of river rafting. I waited for him to grow up, to realize he had responsibilities. I found creative ways to make money at home. After a few years, I told him we couldn’t continue that way. I would homeschool Brett through kindergarten, but if we weren’t settled by the time he was in first grade, I was leaving.”

  She leaned back in her chair and shrugged. “Brett was three. That gave Marty another three years to get his act together. In the meantime, I started taking night courses whenever I could. Business, mostly. If I had to leave, I wanted to be prepared. Once Brett was of school age, I knew I would be able to take care of us both.”

  “Then the twins came along,” he said.

  “Another unplanned pregnancy,” she agreed. “Suddenly I had a four-year-old and infant twins. There wasn’t any money. I had to pay the doctor off in weekly installments. The week I brought the twins home, the city turned off our electricity. It was hell. Through it all Marty said we’d be just fine. He kept not showing up for work or quitting. About a year later, I snapped. I packed up the kids and I left him. I knew that it would be hard on my own, but caring for three children was a whole lot easier than caring for four.”

  If Marty hadn’t been dead, Nash would have found him and beaten his sorry butt into the ground.

  “He followed me and begged me to come back.” She looked at Nash, then away. “Brett adored him. I gave in. I didn’t love him anymore, but I felt guilty for leaving. Isn’t that crazy? So I stayed. Then one day he got a letter from a lawyer. One that said he’d inherited a bunch of money. I told Marty I wanted to put it on a house. I thought if we could have that much security, I could stand the rest. We were passing through Glenwood at the time, so we decided to buy here. But Marty couldn’t just buy a regular house and own it outright. This monstrosity fit right into his dreamworld. I thought it was better than just blowing the money on a sailboat so we could go around the world and I agreed. Then he died.”

  Nash didn’t know what to say. “You’ve done a hell of a job.”

  “I’ve done my best to think about my boys. I want them to be happy and secure. I want them to know they’re important to me. None of which is my point.”

  She squared her shoulders. “I’m thirty-three. I’ve been responsible for someone else since I was old enough to order groceries on the telephone. By the time I was ten, I was paying all the bills and managing the household money. My parents took off for France when I was twelve. They were gone for five months. I was scared to be by myself for that long, but I got through it. I was the grown-up with Marty and I’m the grown-up now. My point is, I’m not looking for another responsibility. I’ve heard that men can be partners in some relationships, but I’ve never seen it.”

  Nash heard the words, but he wasn’t sure why she was telling him. He added her parents to the list of people he would like to have words with, but that didn’t help.

  “I’m impressed by how well you’ve held it all together,” he said.

  She nodded. “But you don’t know why I’m telling you all this.”

  “Right.”

  She sucked in a breath and stared at the table. “That kiss
last night was pretty incredible. The fact that you didn’t go running screaming from the room when you saw me this morning tells me that you maybe didn’t mind it too much.”

  He knew this was difficult for her, but he couldn’t help laughing. “You’re understating my position,” he said. “I wanted you. I still want you.”

  Her mouth formed an “oh” but no sound emerged. She glanced at him, her eyes wide and stunned.

  “That’s clear,” she whispered. “I, ah, appreciate your honesty. The thing is, I haven’t allowed myself to have a sexual thought since Marty’s death. I don’t meet many men, but the ones I do meet either take off at the thought of a woman with three kids, or they’re too much like Marty and I’m the one running. I don’t want a relationship. I don’t want to get involved. But…”

  Her voice trailed off.

  Nash leaned toward her. He wasn’t sure what direction she was heading, but if it was the one he thought…where could he sign up?

  “I thought that part of me was dead,” she said. “It’s not.”

  “Good to know.”

  She smiled slightly. “I thought so. And that made me wonder, what with you leaving town at the end of next week and all…”

  He put the pieces together, rearranged them and did it again. He came up with the same answer. Which meant he was doing it wrong. No way his luck was that good.

  She stared at him. “You really need to talk now.”

  “You want me to say it?”

  She nodded.

  If he got it wrong, she would throw her coffee in his face and he’d be forced to look for new quarters. He could live with that. If this was going to be his fantasy, too, he might as well just go for it and prepare himself to be shot down.

  “You’re not interested in a relationship,” he said.

  “Right.”

  “You liked the kiss.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “A lot.”

  She grinned. “A lot works.”

  “What you’re looking for is something more along those lines. An affair while I’m in town and when I leave, it’s over. No strings, no regrets, no broken hearts. Until then, we keep each other company at night. Am I close?”

  Chapter 8

  He was close, Stephanie thought as embarrassment and horror swirled in her throat. So close that he’d grasped the concept in one seemingly easy try.

  It was one thing to think about hot monkey sex with a virtual stranger who happened to be handsome, hunky and heart-poundingly erotic, it was another to have the object of her desire figure it all out and say it back to her. Out loud.

  In the light of day, the idea sounded sleazy and off-putting and completely improbable.

  Without thinking, she pushed herself to her feet and bolted from the room. She had no particular destination in mind—just a need to be away from Nash.

  As she raced along the hall, she tried to tell herself that she hadn’t done anything wrong. She was an adult, Nash was an adult. He’d kissed her and they’d both liked it. So what was the big deal about suggesting taking things to the next level? Didn’t people do that all the time?

  Maybe, she thought frantically. But not her. She’d been with exactly one man in her life—her husband. The rules and social mores of the modern dating world were completely beyond her. She had never asked a man to hold her hand before, much less ask him to have an affair.

  She reached the bottom stair, but before she could put her foot on it, someone grabbed her arm.

  She stopped and sucked in a breath. Okay—not someone. Nash. She ducked her head because she could feel heat on her cheeks. Not only from what he’d figured out about what she wanted, but because running hadn’t exactly been mature.

  Silence stretched between them, lengthening like taffy. Finally it snapped with an almost-audible crack and he spoke.

  “I apologize,” he said quietly. “Apparently I misread the situation and insulted you.”

  His words were so at odds with what she’d been thinking, she couldn’t help turning around and staring at him. His dark gaze settled on her face as he shrugged.

  “Wishful thinking on my part,” he said. “I projected what I wanted on to you.”

  He was taking the fall for this? She couldn’t believe it. “I… You…” She blinked. “Projecting?”

  “The kiss was hot. It made me want more.”

  She processed the statement. The ripples of horror changed to tingles of excitement as she considered the possibilities. “You don’t mind that I’m interested in a no-strings affair? You don’t think that’s tacky and cheap and sleazy of me?”

  His mouth curved into a slow smile as fire flared in his irises. “Do I look like I mind?” He released her arm and reached up to stroke her cheek. “You’re attractive, sexy and you kiss like a wet-dream fantasy come to life.”

  Oh, my. Speaking of wet, his words made her go all squishy inside. An ache began between her thighs and spread out in every direction. She felt both weak and incredibly powerful. Desire swept through her—the kind of desire she’d hadn’t felt in what seemed like a lifetime.

  “Why don’t you ask your question again,” she said. “I’ll try not to run this time.”

  His expression tightened and grew more intense. Around them, the air thickened as tension crackled. She could feel the hairs on her arms and the back of her neck standing up. Her gaze locked with his.

  “Are you interested in an affair?” he asked, his voice low and heavy with what she was pretty sure was sexual need. “Sex, fun and when my time in town is up, we both walk away. No regrets. No expectations.”

  It sounded wicked. It sounded perfect.

  “Yes,” she whispered. “That’s exactly what I want.”

  She couldn’t believe she’d spoken the words aloud, but before she could give in to self-doubt, he pulled her close.

  “It’s what I want, too,” he murmured. “I’ve been hearing rumors for years, and I finally get to find out if they’re true.”

  Rumors? “About me?”

  He pressed his mouth against her neck. Delicious tingles tiptoed down her spine, making it nearly impossible to think.

  “Not you specifically,” he told her. “Older women.”

  Stephanie had already placed her hands on his shoulders and if his thick muscles didn’t feel so good as she pressed her fingers against him, she would have snatched them back. Instead she shifted a little, without actually breaking contact with his hard body.

  “Older women?”

  He raised his head and grinned. “You said you’re thirty-three. I’m thirty-one. Ever since I first figured out the possibilities between a man and a woman, I’ve been hearing stories about how great it is to be with an older woman. All that experience. All that latent desire as they reach their sexual peak. I’ve always wondered if everything they say is true.”

  She supposed there were two ways to respond to his challenge. Duck and run, or challenge him back. While her first inclination was to do the former, something told her there was more fun to be had in the latter.

  “Of course it’s true,” she said as she leaned close. “I hope you can keep up.”

  He gave a low, throaty laugh right before he claimed her mouth.

  The hot, hungry kiss took her breath away. His lips pressed against hers with enough pressure to make her a hundred percent sure he wanted her as much as she wanted him. She parted instantly and he swept inside.

  He tasted of coffee and sin. She shivered in delight at the first brush of intimate contact. Heat poured through her, making her legs weak and her breathing catch. Need exploded, surrounding her, crashing over her, making her want with a desperation that left her ravenous and achingly alive.

  As she tilted he
r head to deepen the kiss, he pulled her closer still. They touched everywhere. Her breasts flattened against his chest, his arousal throbbed along her belly. His hands roamed her back, moving up and down in a rhythm that matched the pounding of her heart.

  While she traced the breadth of his shoulders, he explored her waist, then her hips. One hand slipped to her rear and squeezed. His fingertips just grazed the very top of the back of her thigh. The light contact shouldn’t have been anything special, yet it burned through her clothes and singed her skin.

  Unexpectedly Nash bit down on her lower lip. She gasped. When he drew the sensitized skin into his mouth and gently sucked, the gasp turned into a moan.

  They had to get closer, she thought, need turning frantic. Closer and naked and touching. Now. This instant.

  The message traveled from her brain to her hands. Even as he shifted so that his fingers grazed her nipples and jolts of wanting arrowed down to the thick swollen dampness between her legs, she tugged at his shirt. The fabric pulled free of his waistband. She fumbled with buttons, unfastening the first two. He slipped his hands under her sweater. She caught her breath in anticipation. His large, warm hands cupped her breasts.

  Her thin bra felt like a steel barrier keeping him from touching bare skin. Torn between wanting to get his shirt off him and wanting to feel his skin on hers, she tried to shimmy out of her sweater while still unbuttoning his shirt. At the same time, she turned and bumped the bottom stair with her foot.

  Nash caught her as she started to fall. His strong arms held her upright.

  “We need to take this upstairs,” he murmured as he kissed along her jaw to her left ear.

  “Okay.”

  Her head fell back in supplication. She silently begged him never to stop. His hands returned to her breasts and she couldn’t think…couldn’t do anything but feel. It was all too good, too amazing, too incredible. The wet heat of his mouth, the way he flicked his tongue against the sensitive skin below her ear. Then there were his fingers and the way they teased and played and pressed against her nipples. Not hard, not soft. Just right. Very right.