One in a Million

by Susan Mallery

  Howard had mentioned something similar the day before. “Why me? I was the good kid.”

  “Right. As the bad kid, Kevin got all the attention. Vivian was afraid you’d get forgotten in all the fuss. We talked about it a lot before we were married.”

  Nash felt as if he’d missed out on most of what was going on while he’d been growing up. “Why didn’t I know about any of this?”

  “You weren’t supposed to. You were the child.”

  They reached the edge of the middle-school playground and turned around.

  Howard slowed to a walk. “Whew. I’m not getting any younger.”

  “You’re still in great shape.”

  Howard grinned. “You’re lying, but thanks. Anyway, Kevin continued to get into trouble and you continued to be the perfect child. When Kevin stole that car, we didn’t know what to do. The police were the ones who suggested the military school. We figured they would probably be able to straighten him out and with Kevin gone, you’d have a chance to shine.”

  Nash didn’t think there were any more surprises to be had, but he’d been wrong. “I didn’t think you’d sent him away because of me,” he said, oddly humbled by the information.

  “Not because of you. Kevin was hell on wheels. But our concern about you swayed our decision.” Howard slapped him on the back. “You’re both like my own sons. I would have loved Vivian as much without you two as part of the package, but just between us, knowing you boys came along with the deal made it irresistible.”

  Nash didn’t know what to say. He felt awkward and foolish. As if he’d been playing by one set of rules all these years, when there had been a completely different game in play.

  “Howard,” he began slowly. “I—”

  The older man smiled. “I know, Nash. I’ve always known. I love you, too.”

  In celebration of the kids all being out of school, the Haynes/Harmon/Reynolds family took over the large back room of the local pancake restaurant.

  Nash sat at the big U-shaped table and listened to all the conversations flowing around him. In a crowd like this, his instinct was to withdraw—to observe rather than participate. But since his early-morning jog with his stepfather, he’d realized he’d better stop assuming anything about himself or his life. Apparently nothing was as he’d thought it had been.

  All those years wasted, he thought sadly. Howard had been there for him and he’d never noticed. What else had he missed in his life?

  The sound of laughter interrupted his thoughts. He looked across the table and saw Stephanie and Elizabeth laughing together. Petite, with short blond hair and a mouth designed specifically to drive him mad, Stephanie was a walking, breathing fantasy. He liked how she fit in with his family. In less than twenty-four hours she and his mother had become fast friends. She managed to keep his brothers, their spouses and kids straight.

  He wanted her. That was hardly news, but the feeling this morning was different. He wanted more than sex. He wanted—

  Nothing he was going to get, he reminded himself and looked away. He glanced around the table and saw Brett watching him. He smiled at the boy, who started to smile back, then instead turned away. Ironically, Nash knew exactly what the kid was thinking. He still saw Nash as a threat.

  He thought about trying to reassure Brett again, but figured there wasn’t any point. He, Nash, hadn’t listened to Howard all those years ago. Why would Brett listen to him? Still he wished he had the right words. Life would be easier for Brett if he understood, just as life would have been a whole lot easier for Nash if he’d known that Howard wasn’t a problem. All those wasted years when they could have been close.

  He hated the regrets. The “could have beens.” And he didn’t just have them with Howard. What about his regrets with Tina? Their marriage had never been picture-perfect. Maybe if he’d worked harder to make it better. Maybe then he wouldn’t feel so damn guilty all the time. Maybe—

  His brain cleared. It was as if he’d been looking through a fog for the past two years, since the day of his wife’s death.

  Haltingly, almost afraid of what he would see, he looked at his brothers and their wives and fiancées. He looked at their faces, their eyes, and the way they were always touching. Husbands and wives in love with each other.

  Love. That’s what had been wrong with his marriage. He’d gone through the motions, but that’s all it had been. He should never have married Tina because he’d never loved her. And it had taken him the better part of two years to figure that out.

  Chapter 13

  Stephanie watched the clock impatiently. It was 11:27 p.m. She and Nash had agreed she would head downstairs at 11:30 p.m. After some debate they’d decided it would be easier for her to explain her presence going up to her own floor than for him to say why he was heading down from hers.

  In theory there was no reason to sneak. While it was best her children didn’t know that she and Nash had become intimate, would it really matter to his parents? Not that she was going to suggest they spill the beans. In a way, having to wait heightened anticipation. She was already trembling slightly at the thought of seeing him and there was a definite heaviness low in her belly. One would think they had made love enough times for some of the thrill to be fading, but one would be wrong.

  Two more minutes passed. At exactly 11:30 p.m., she picked up her shoes, a travel alarm set for four in the morning and tiptoed out of her room. She made it down the hall to the stairs without making a sound then headed to the floor below.

  At the third stair from the bottom, she stepped as close to the wall as possible to avoid the creaky step, then reached the second level and headed for Nash’s room.

  The door was already open. She stepped inside, prepared to remind him that she had to make it back to her own bed before anyone was stirring, but she wasn’t given the opportunity to speak.

  He’d been standing in the center of the room, just out of the pool of light given off by the bedside lamp. As she entered, he crossed to her and pulled her close. As his arms wrapped around her body, his mouth settled on hers. The deep, sensual, demanding kiss turned her bones to liquid.

  She melted against him. Wanting flooded her, barely giving her enough time to drop her shoes and set the clock on the dresser. The door closed with a soft thud, then Nash’s hands were everywhere—her back, her hips, her waist, her breasts.

  They’d been together enough times that he knew what she liked, what she loved and what made her scream with delight, and he used that knowledge to reduce her to a quivering shell of need. His long fingers gently massaged the curves of her breasts, moving closer to her already tight nipples without actually touching them. Anticipation built inside her.

  She squirmed closer, silently begging him to touch her there, but he was slow to respond. Closer and closer still until his thumbs lightly brushed over the tips of her nipples. One brief caress, then he was gone.

  She groaned her frustration. Determined to tease him as much as he teased her, she withdrew from the kiss and began to suck on his lower lip. At the same time, she cupped his rear, digging her fingers into the firm flesh and bringing his arousal more closely in contact with her stomach. They both caught their breath.

  “I want you,” Nash breathed. “Naked.”

  His words increased her need, delighting her. In a smooth dance they’d performed before, they broke apart and quickly tugged at their clothes. She finished first and slid onto the cool sheet. Nash followed.

  They lay facing each other, his leg between hers, his thigh pressing against her swollen dampness. As they kissed, he cupped her left breast. Their tongues stroked and played. When he retreated, she followed. His taste, his heat, his hardness all inflamed her. She could not be naked enough with this man. She wanted to be vulnerable, hungry and bare to him. Yes, she wanted the pleasure to fo
llow, but for now it was enough to want him.

  When he urged her onto her back, she went easily. He broke the kiss and knelt between her thighs. His mouth settled on her chest. As his tongue swept over and around the tight nipple, his fingers matched the action on her other breast. Her muscles tightened as pleasure poured through her, trickling down to increase her growing ache. She felt herself swelling, readying. Already she wanted him inside her, but that was for later. First Nash would want to make her beg.

  He kept his attention on her breasts until she was close to breaking. Tension filled her body, making every muscle stiffen. When she nearly vibrated with need, he moved lower, placing openmouthed kisses on her belly, then lower still.

  He reached for her hands and brought them to her center, where he had her part herself for him. She drew her knees back and dug her heels into the mattress. Her eyes were closed, but she knew he was close—she could feel his warm breath fanning her dampness. She was ready, so ready. Ready and aching. Her hips pulsed in silent invitation. And still he waited.

  At last he moved close and pressed his tongue against her. Fire shot through her, making her jump and gasp. The single, slow lick was followed by another and another. Gentle, easy strokes that drove her to the edge of madness. He didn’t go fast enough to take her to climax, but he didn’t let the tension fall off, either.

  She strained to get more pressure, she rocked her hips to get him to go faster. Neither worked. She tried begging.

  “Nash, please.”

  She felt the rumble of his laughter. In response to her plea, he inserted a finger inside her then curled it slightly, so it seemed to stroke her from the inside as his tongue did the same from the outside. He moved them in tandem. Slowly. Gently. Thoroughly. Bottom to top. Top to bottom. Over and over. Like the ticking of a clock. Ever so steady. Ever so slow.

  Her entire body clenched. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t do anything but focus on that incessant rhythm. Over and over. Tension grew and grew until she thought it would split her in two. More. She needed more. She needed—

  He stopped completely. For the space of three heartbeats he hovered above her, not touching, not moving. Nothing. The wait was unbearable. Then he kissed her again, but more firmly this time, and faster.

  She climaxed without warning. The release swept through her at the speed of sound, flinging her into paradise and making her cry out. Muscles contracted, her entire body spasmed in perfect pleasure. She was out of control and she never wanted that to change.

  He continued to touch her, gentling the contact, until she had nothing left.

  She opened her eyes and saw him smiling at her. She had to clear her throat before she could speak.

  “That was more amazing than usual,” she told him. “Which is saying something.”

  “You’re easy to please.”

  “I’m glad you think so.”

  She lowered her gaze and saw that he was still hard. Her stomach clenched.

  “I want you inside me,” she said.

  Words to live by, Nash thought as he reached for the condom he’d left on the nightstand. As he slipped it on, he studied the flush on Stephanie’s chest and cheeks. The physical proof of her orgasm pleased him. He wanted her to enjoy their time in bed.

  When he’d put on the protection, he slowly pushed into her. She was hot and wet. As he filled her, her muscles contracted around his erection, testing his control. He forced himself to hold back. He wanted her to come again.

  Still kneeling, he shifted his weight off his arms so he could reach out to touch her breasts. They were always exquisitely sensitive after her first release. Just lightly brushing her nipples was usually enough to get her going again. He wanted to feel her rippling contractions and watch her face as she experienced wave after wave of orgasm. Her mouth would part slightly, her eyes would widen as she tried to keep looking at him. Sometimes he would swear he could see down to her soul.

  Sure enough, with the first touch of his fingers, she gasped. He felt the tight clenching of her body. He thrust into her again and contractions massaged him. Blood surged into his arousal, pressure built in his groin, and still he held back.

  Their gazes locked. With each rhythmic release, she sucked in a breath and whispered his name. Over and over, as if in prayer. He was getting closer, too, but he wanted this to go on as long as they both could stand it.

  In and out, in and out. He got harder and harder. Deep inside everything collected for the surging release that was as inevitable as the tide. She continued to climax, massaging him, drawing him in deeper. Her breathing increased. He surged in faster and faster. They were both gasping.

  At last he had to release her breasts and grasp her hips. He held on to her as he pumped in and out. She half raised off the bed. Her head dropped back as one massive contraction clenched around him…and he was lost.

  His release exploded in a vortex of heat that forced the air out of his body. He pushed in deeper, wanting her to take all of him. Her dampness continued to convulse around him, drawing out the bliss until there was nothing left for either of them but to fall together in a tangle of arms and legs.

  Stephanie woke with a sense of contentment. She rolled onto her back and smiled. Last night had been amazing. More amazing than usual, which was saying something. But her feeling of happiness didn’t just come from a night of great lovemaking. It also came from the recent changes in her life.

  She liked Nash. Okay, she liked him a lot. She liked being around him and talking to him. She liked his parents and his brothers and their families. She liked the impact he’d made on her world. She liked how he was with her sons. Man, oh, man, did she have it bad. Because liking him wasn’t the problem.

  She wanted more.

  Stephanie sat up and tossed off the covers. “Don’t be ridiculous,” she said aloud. “There is no ‘more’ in this situation. You knew that when you started the affair.”

  But knowing and believing were two different things, at least in her world. She could list all the reasons it would never work—distance, her reluctance to trust a man to act like a partner and not a child, his emotional withdrawal from life since the death of his wife. Those were really big problems to get through. While they could be solved if both of them worked at it, so far she hadn’t seen any indication that Nash wanted to change the status of things. Nor was she going to.

  In a few days, when his vacation was over, he would leave, and she would let him. No matter what, she wouldn’t make a scene. It wasn’t right to change the rules at this late date.

  Not that she wanted to, she reminded herself. When Nash left, she would go on with her life and she would do just fine. Sure she would miss him, but she would get over it…wouldn’t she?

  Stephanie didn’t want to think about any of that. She stretched and swung around to put her feet on the floor. As she did so she glanced at the clock. And actually screamed.

  It was eight-thirty. In the morning. Her alarm had been set for six-thirty. What had happened?

  Even as she fumbled for the switch and realized she’d forgotten to turn it on, adrenaline rushed through her body, galvanizing her into action. She raced into the bathroom where she quickly washed her face and brushed her teeth. A shower was going to have to wait. She had guests to feed.

  In less than six minutes she was relatively groomed, dressed and racing down the stairs. The boys were already up—their doors were standing open—and she could hear voices from downstairs. Wincing at what Nash’s parents must think of her, she jogged toward the kitchen and burst inside.

  “Hey, Mom,” Brett said from the table.

  “Mommy!” the twins said together.

  They were also at the table. They were eating breakfast. Pancakes and bacon from the looks of it. She stared around the room and saw Nash standing at
the stove. The man was cooking!

  “Morning,” he said with a smile.

  While it wasn’t as unbelievable as having aliens land on her roof, it was darned close. Helping out was one thing, but cooking? Marty had always acted as if she were threatening to cut off his right arm if she ever suggested he prepare a meal himself.

  She felt numb with shock. “I, ah, overslept,” she said. “I forgot to set my alarm.”

  Nash’s expression didn’t change, but his eyes brightened with amusement. “You probably had other things on your mind.”

  That was true. She’d been so concerned about setting her travel clock so that she could get back to her own bed, that she’d forgotten about her regular alarm.

  “My folks are in the dining room,” he continued. “They have coffee, fruit and the newspaper. Howard wanted oatmeal which I’ve already fixed. Mom is raving about your scones and complaining about the weight she’s going to put on. I have another batch in the oven.”

  He nodded at the stove. “I was fixing some eggs for myself. Do you want any?”

  She’d slipped into an alternative universe. “Um, thanks.”

  “Okay. Oh, when I took the uncooked scones out of the freezer, I didn’t know which to use, so I took a bag off the top shelf. I hope that’s okay.”

  “It’s fine.”

  “Brett told me what oven temperature to use.”

  She glanced at her oldest. “Thanks, honey.”

  He shrugged. “Nash said you were tired and we should let you sleep.”

  She could feel her cheeks getting hot. Nash was the reason she needed her rest.

  “Coffee?” the man in question asked.

  She nodded. He poured her a cup, then added milk and sugar, just the way she liked it.

  Her throat was tight and her eyes burned. She had a bad feeling she was way too close to tears for comfort. Which made no sense. So he’d been nice—was that a reason to cry?