“I want to be. I love you, Gabby.” He took the card from her and slid it into her shorts back pocket, then rested his hands on her hips. “So, how much time do you think we have until we’re invaded?” he asked, his mouth lowering to hers.
He kissed her deeply, sweeping his tongue against her bottom lip. She felt his passion, which ignited her own. Their evening together on Friday had been all about slow, sensual lovemaking, but Andrew was fairly spectacular at the “we have three minutes” quickie.
“It depends on when Makayla gets home,” she said, already eyeing their bedroom door. “The girls are coloring. Five minutes, maybe ten.”
He was already unbuttoning her shorts. “Think you can come in three?”
Andrew turning her on had never been a problem. Even before she felt the first brush of his fingers against her clit. The familiar combination of heat and ache had her wrapping her arms around his neck. He eased her toward the bed and leaned over her, rubbing his erection against her thigh.
“Mommy, Mommy, Makayla’s home!”
Kennedy’s high-pitched voice cut through the house more effectively than a fire alarm. Andrew swore softly before withdrawing his hand and helping her to her feet.
“Tonight,” he promised.
She shivered in anticipation. “I can’t wait.”
He grinned. “Want me to stall the girls while you take care of things yourself?”
His suggestion made her blush. She swatted his arm. “You know I don’t do that. I’d rather wait and make love with you.”
“Not always.”
Because sometimes she did touch herself, but only when he was there. Only when he was watching. She couldn’t imagine doing that with anyone else. But Andrew always made her feel safe. Wanted.
They started for the living room. “I’m thinking of taking classes with Nicole,” she said.
“Like knitting or something?”
Which was just like a man. “No. At her studio. An exercise class.”
His look of genuine confusion made her want to hug him for about a thousand years.
“I’ve put on a little weight.”
“Really? I don’t think so, but if you want to take the class, have a good time.”
There were implications. If she couldn’t find a class when the twins were at camp, she would need to make sure Makayla could watch them. Or hire a sitter. The latter meant an added expense but Andrew was okay with that.
The twins were dancing around Makayla, competing with each other to tell her what she’d missed over the weekend. Boomer joined in, wanting to be petted by the returning member of the pack. Jasmine was nowhere to be seen but later she would settle herself on Makayla’s bed and stay there for the night.
Gabby watched her stepdaughter, taking in the straight set of her mouth and the way she seemed to be forcing herself to interact with her sisters. Only time would tell how bad this week’s reentry would be, Gabby thought. She called out a greeting to the teen, then walked back to the bedroom to finish folding clothes.
When she’d first met Andrew, he’d only had Makayla on weekends. Then, just before she and Andrew had married, Candace had asked for a change in the parenting plan—giving him equal custody. A few years after that, Candace had again asked for a change, this time giving Andrew full custody with Makayla visiting her mom every other weekend.
Gabby had known there wasn’t a choice. That while Andrew asked her if it was okay, the truth was, she couldn’t say no. Of course he wanted his daughter around more. The fact that he was at work and traveling, leaving her to deal with the teen, was immaterial. With Candace basically rejecting her only child, it was up to them to make the girl feel welcome. Gabby did her best, although sometimes it was hard.
She wanted to love her stepdaughter and was pretty sure she did. But liking her was more of a challenge. She wrestled with the expected emotions, like anger and resentment. But sometimes there was jealousy, too. Jealousy that Andrew had done the husband/father thing before. That no matter how she tried, she would never be first. There had always been another wife, another child before her and the twins.
She sorted the folded laundry by owner, then dropped it off in each bedroom. She paused in front of Makayla’s open door, braced herself for the lingering effects of the weekend visit, then offered a cheerful, “Knock, knock.”
Makayla was sitting on her bed, her unopened suitcase on the floor beside her. She looked up when Gabby entered.
“I know it’s late for these,” she said, placing the white crop pants on the dresser, “but I felt bad you didn’t have them to take with you. If you tell me you need something, I’ll try to get it washed.”
Makayla’s head was bent so her hair mostly covered her face. “Sure,” she mumbled.
“I could teach you to do laundry yourself.”
“No, thanks.”
Gabby wanted to stomp her foot. The teen was plenty old enough to be washing her own clothes. All the books she’d read on teenagers said it was important that they be given clearly defined chores. But Andrew wasn’t a fan of that. He wanted Makayla to, as he put it, “Have time to be a kid and not always have to deal with crap around the house.” Then he told Gabby to hire a housekeeper so she wouldn’t think the situation was unfair.
She already had a service every other week to take care of the deep cleaning and even that made her feel guilty. But once she was back to work, they would be a necessity. At least that was what she told herself. And having a housekeeper wasn’t the point. Makayla needed to be a contributing member of the household. Watching the twins when she was in the mood and setting the table wasn’t enough.
Everyone had their flaws, she reminded herself. Andrew was a great husband and father and she could live with his unrealistic expectations of what it meant to be a teenager.
“Everything go okay with your mom?” she asked, then braced herself for the response. Because while Makayla didn’t like to talk about her weekends, she complained when no one mentioned them.
“It was fine. I want to have friends over this week. After camp.”
Andrew walked in and sat next to his daughter. He pulled her against him. “Friends? Do I know these friends? Are they in a rock band? Because you know how I feel about rock bands.”
That earned him a slight chuckle. As Makayla leaned against her dad, her hair fell away from her face and Gabby could see she’d been crying.
Her low-grade annoyance at Makayla’s easy life here gave way to anger directed at Candace. Why couldn’t Makayla’s mother care just a little? Would it kill her to be nice to her only kid?
“Just let me know what day,” Gabby said. “I’ll make sure the twins have plenty to do.” Because there was nothing the five-year-olds liked more than hanging out with their big sister and her friends.
“Thanks. Maybe Wednesday. We have to decide.”
“How many? I’ll bake cookies.” She’d learned that no matter how surly the teenager, he or she could be bribed with cookies out of the oven.
“Three or four. Brittany, Jena and Boyd for sure.”
Gabby’s radar clicked on. “Boyd’s been hanging out here a lot.”
Boyd was an unassuming sixteen-year-old. Never in a million years would she think he was capable of anything. But she’d seen the movie Juno enough times to know looks could be deceiving.
Andrew looked up and chuckled. “Gabby, it’s fine. Makayla’s only fifteen. She’s not into Boyd that way, are you, honey?”
Makayla rolled her eyes. “We’re all friends, Gabby. It’s not like that.”
“Humor me on this,” Gabby said lightly. “When Boyd is here, you all stay downstairs in the family room. I’ll keep the twins in their playroom.”
Andrew surprised her by nodding. “Good practice for when you bring home the football captain.” He kis
sed the top of his daughter’s head. “Jocks love pretty girls who are secretly smart. I should probably take up karate so I can take them on if they get out of hand.”
He made a slashing motion with his arm. Makayla got up. “Da-ad, stop. You’re not going to do karate on any of my boyfriends.”
“There’s an easy solution, kid. Never get a boyfriend. That way you won’t break your old man’s heart.”
Andrew rose and followed Gabby out of the room. In the hallway, she turned to him.
“I’m worried about Boyd.”
“Don’t be.” He put his arm around her. “I’ve seen the kid. He’s probably gay. Plus he’s too young.”
“They’re so not too young, but as long as they stay in the family room, we should be okay.”
“You worry too much.”
“I can’t help it.”
“I know and I love you for it.”
Chapter Five
Nicole felt like the White Rabbit as she kept chanting, “I’m late, I’m late.” She didn’t add the “for a very important date” part, but she felt it. She could hear the tick, tick, ticking in her head as she circled the parking lot, looking for a spot.
The lot was packed. Had every family in Mischief Bay conspired to take advantage of the beautiful beach weather?
“Finally!”
She saw a spot at the very end and goosed the engine to claim it before someone else did. Then she jumped out of her SUV, grabbed her tote, slammed the door and hit the lock button on the key fob before dashing toward the park.
She wanted to say it wasn’t her fault. Her class at the senior center had gone long because she’d been having a good time. There was something so sweet and life-affirming about watching a bunch of seniors dancing together. Especially the couples who had been married sixty and seventy years. Their bones might be frail, but their love was strong. She’d gotten caught up in the lesson and watching them and had totally forgotten that she had to be at the park to collect Jairus Sterenberg and bring him to Tyler’s camp.
A psychologist would probably have a field day with her convenient memory lapse. He or she might point out that there was something very passive-aggressive about the whole situation and later, Nicole promised herself, she would have a good, long think about it. But until then, she was going to simply run as fast as she could, considering she was wearing three-inch heels and a purple tango dress with a very short skirt.
The irony of her running to meet the author of Brad the Dragon did not escape her. Nor was she unamused by the fact that she was the parent liaison. Yes, Tyler had begged, but she knew it was more than that. Life had a sense of humor. She was constantly reminded of that fact. Which meant she was frantically searching for a town car—God forbid the man actually drive himself—and the man who would step out of it.
She spotted the black vehicle pull up to the curb and hurried toward it. The back door opened and a guy got out. Nicole slowed to a walk, then came to a stop altogether.
She waited, knowing someone else had to get out of the car. The guy standing there couldn’t possibly be the evil, nefarious money counter she knew he must be.
He was of average height—maybe five-ten or five-eleven—with dark hair and eyes, high cheekbones and sculpted jaw. His skin was a light café-au-lait color. He wasn’t traditionally handsome, but she had to admit she liked the look of him. Adding to the appeal were broad shoulders and narrow hips.
She blinked, not sure which surprised her more. The sexy package or the lack of black cape and horns.
No, she told herself. This was the manager. He’d come to explain why jerk-off couldn’t make it. He had to be.
She walked over. “Mr. Sterenberg? I’m Nicole and I’m—”
He looked at her, blinked twice, then held up his hands in the shape of a T. “Crap. No way. I can’t believe it. They sent you? Here? Now?”
WTF? Nicole’s warm, fuzzy, girlie feelings faded as quickly as they’d appeared. “Excuse me?”
“Look, this is really bad timing. I’m sure you’re terrific and all.” He glanced away, then returned his attention to her. He actually took a step back. “My friends are great. Assholes, but great. I can’t figure out if this is a joke or what but I’ll take it up with them later. But I have a thing I need to get to.”
He pulled his wallet out of his back pocket. “I can pay you. You want the money, right? Or if they paid you already, I’ll tip you, but you have to go away.”
Words all spoken in English, yet they made absolutely no sense to her. Nada. What on earth was he—
“Oh my God, you think I’m a hooker?”
He stared at her, his eyes widening. Several twenties dangled from his fingers. “You’re not?”
“No. I’m the mom sent to escort you to the event back at the camp.”
His mouth moved, but no words came out. “Y-you can’t be. Look at how you’re dressed. This is not my fault. I saw a couple of my buddies over the weekend. I was bitching, ah, complaining about a long dry spell. They joked about fixing me up with someone. When I saw you—” He waved his hand up and down in front of her. “Look at how you’re dressed. This is not my fault.”
“You already said that.” Nicole raised her chin and squared her shoulders. “I was substitute teaching dance at a senior center,” she told him, using the haughtiest tone she could muster. “Helping a friend who’s on vacation with her family. She likes to dress in a costume because it helps. Today was tango day.”
His gaze dropped to the fairly spectacular amount of cleavage she was showing. No way she was going to tell him that it was mostly fake. Her somewhat meager assets were being pushed up by the wardrobe equivalent of chicken cutlets.
“Costume?” The word came out as a yelp.
“Costume,” she repeated slowly. “Do you know how insulting this is? I have a six-year-old son who worships you.” She dismissed him with a flick of her wrist. “Okay, not you but Brad the Dragon. He wrote and rewrote his essay. He didn’t play, barely ate. Because of your books. Do you know how many forms your stupid contest requires? I filled out every one of them. I took time off work to be here. I left senior citizens to be here and you think I’m a hooker?”
“I’m so sorry.”
“Like I believe that. I knew you’d be a jerk, but I never expected...” She sucked in a breath. “Fine. Let me show you where you’re supposed to go.” If only it were hell, she thought grimly. She would love to show him that.
“And you’d better be nice to the kids. All of them. Especially mine.”
“You’re mad.”
She started walking toward the camp area of the park. “Wow. A rocket scientist. You’re wasting yourself on kids’ books.”
He kept up with her easily, but then he wasn’t wearing heels. “It was an honest mistake.”
“Prostitution is illegal. I’m not even dressed that sexy. It wasn’t honest. It was sick. What kind of a man assumes a woman is a hooker?” She swung around to face him. “It’s one o’clock in the afternoon. In a park. Did you think I was just going to blow you in your car?”
He shifted uncomfortably. “I didn’t think that part through. And, no, I don’t assume every woman is a hooker.”
“Just me?”
He winced. “I’m sorry. Really sorry. But you have to admit, you’re dressed provocatively.”
“No, I don’t.” She glared at him. “You’re saying I look like a slut?”
“I’m saying you’re all that.”
Under any other circumstances, she would have found him interesting. And maybe charming. But not like this. Not when he was that hideous author. She started walking again.
He slipped the money back in his wallet. “I’m sorry,” he repeated.
“You should be.”
“You really don’t like me.”
/>
She barely glanced at him.
They went along the tree-lined path, toward the main camp building. Normally the kids were outside, but for this event, they were kept contained.
“Why did you assume I would be a jerk?” he asked.
“We are not having this conversation. I’m taking you where you need to go and nothing more. No. Wait. I’ll be taking pictures of you with Tyler and you will pretend this is the best time of your life.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“This is really important to him.”
“I got that.”
They reached the main camp building. She opened the side door before he could and stomped inside, then pointed. “Room five. Act happy. I’ve got mace in my bag.”
Jairus nodded once and reached for the door handle. He turned back to her, but she only continued to glower and point. When he went inside, she crept close and watched through the window.
The kids screamed loud enough to shake the building. She spotted Tyler standing in front of everyone, his eyes wide, his whole body shaking with excitement. Jairus approached him and said something she couldn’t hear. Tyler nodded. Jairus held out his hand. Tyler flung his arms around the man and Jairus hugged him back before glancing over his shoulder to where Nicole was watching.
“I got this,” he mouthed.
She turned away and hurried to the bathroom. Once there, she checked out her reflection even as she was peeling off layers.
Okay, so the makeup was a little heavy for the middle of the day. And yes, the dress was kind of tacky-sexy. But she’d been teaching tango.
“A hooker,” she muttered as she stepped out of her dress. She slipped on shorts and a T-shirt, then traded in heels for flip-flops. “Talk about a jerk. I knew it. I just knew it. That internet article about him was exactly right.”
Too bad he was so appealing. That was just wasted. God should have given Jairus more ugly. The man deserved it.
She had makeup wipes tucked in a side pocket of her tote. She used them to remove her tango-centric eye and face makeup. It only took a second to brush out her hair and secure it in a simple ponytail.
The Friends We Keep (Mischief Bay) Page 6
