A Single Dad to Heal Her Heart

by Caroline Anderson

  And then she showered, ransacked her wardrobe and wondered what he called casual. How casual? He’d talked about jeans and a shirt, but there were a million different ways of doing that.

  It was hot, too, but the pub was on the river, so there might be a cool breeze. Cropped jeans and a pretty top? A skirt? Or her ultimate go-to, a bold print jersey maxi-dress that she could dress up with chunky beads and heels, or wear with beach sandals.

  ‘Stop overthinking it!’ she told herself, and put on the dress and the minimum of make-up, left her hair down and slipped on a pair of toe-post sandals. Her toenails were still OK from the previous weekend, and she stood back and looked critically at herself.

  The dress, like most of her more fitted clothes, had a bit of detail over the bust to disguise her lop-sidedness, a wrap-over with a twist in this case, and although if she lifted her arm her scar would show, he’d seen it anyway and it was time to stop hiding in the shadows and get over herself.

  She stopped fussing, tidied her bedroom, grabbed a cardi in case it got chilly by the water and went downstairs to wait, her heart jiggling in her chest. Was tonight the night? Would he want to make love to her, or was it still too soon? Probably, but her reckless side, the side that wanted to live life to the full and not waste a single minute more, really, really hoped not...

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  SHE WAS WEARING another long dress, but casual this time, light-years away from the formal gown of last weekend, and she still looked gorgeous. More so, even, because this time he knew what was underneath, and he couldn’t wait to see it again.

  He pulled her into his arms and kissed her, massively tempted not to bother with dinner, but he wanted to do this properly, so he lifted his head reluctantly and nuzzled the tip of her nose with his.

  ‘You’ve caught the sun.’

  ‘Mmm. I spent the morning weeding the garden and getting some vitamin D.’

  He chuckled and let her go. ‘So, are you ready?’

  ‘Yup—if I’m OK like this?’

  He ran his eyes over her again, just for the joy of it, and smiled. ‘Very OK,’ he said softly, and she smiled.

  ‘Let’s go, then.’

  It wasn’t far to the pub, just a few miles, but he was right, the view was stunning, and the light breeze off the water made it perfect.

  That, and having him sitting beside her on the terrace on a picnic bench overlooking the river. He was wearing dark jeans with a white linen shirt and deck shoes, and he looked every bit as gorgeous as he had the week before. It wasn’t the tux, she decided as he put the drinks down in front of them and settled himself beside her, it was him. She caught a waft of cologne warmed by his skin, felt the brush of his thigh, the touch of his fingers as he lifted a strand of hair away from her eyes and tucked it behind her ear, and she wanted him more than she could believe was possible.

  It was the first time since Mark, the first time ever since her cancer that she’d got this close to anyone, but she’d never expected to feel so much and now she was impatient.

  Later, she told herself, and turned her attention to the menu, poring over it with him.

  ‘Oh, it’s too hard, it all looks delicious.’

  ‘We can always come again.’

  She smiled up at him. ‘Sounds like a plan. So, what are we eating today?’

  In the end they both chose the same—a crab and prawn tian with avocado, followed by pan-fried local sea bass served on a bed of samphire with a mixed leaf salad and sweet potato fries on the side. She wouldn’t normally have had the fries, but just this once she let herself indulge, and they were delicious.

  All of it was, the food simple but beautifully cooked, and in between mouthfuls they talked.

  Not about work. He banned that, and she was more than happy to forget about the previous evening’s shift, but he told her what he’d done that day with his children, and she could see the love shining in his eyes as he talked about them affectionately.

  They’d been to the beach with Ed and Annie and their children, and they’d built sandcastles and the children had buried him and Ed in the sand and then tickled their feet.

  ‘It was great. Really good day. And no tantrums,’ he said with a chuckle, as if that was a rare thing.

  ‘Sounds like you had fun,’ she said, hoping she didn’t sound too wistful, and he nodded wryly.

  ‘We did, but the beach has its downside. Any time you feel like getting all your orifices filled with sand, come and join us. I’m sure the children will oblige.’

  ‘Gosh, you make it sound so tempting,’ she said with a laugh, and it was, in a way. Not the orifices, obviously, but the rest of it, and she felt a pang of longing to be there with them, to be part of it, the chaos and laughter, the warmth, the love. Was he inviting her to join them, or was it just a throwaway remark? She wasn’t sure, but maybe it was still too soon. The last thing she’d want was for his children to be hurt, but it didn’t stop the longing.

  ‘Are you going to finish your fries?’ he asked, and she pulled herself together and thought about him, not his children, not her unborn babies who were just a distant dream, but him, the man. That’s what this was all about, and that’s all it was about, at least for now and maybe for ever.

  ‘No, you go ahead,’ she said, and pushed the plate towards him.

  And then at last they were done, the food eaten, the conversation coming to a natural halt, and he turned to her, his eyes searching, and her heart skipped a beat.

  ‘Coffee here, or home?’ he asked quietly, the unspoken question hanging in the air between them, and she smiled.

  ‘Home, I think, don’t you?’ she murmured.

  ‘Sounds good to me,’ he said softly. ‘Don’t move, I’ll go and pay the bill.’

  ‘So, your place or mine?’

  ‘Mine,’ she said without hesitation, and he nodded, as if he understood her reluctance to go back to his house with all its reminders of his wife and children.

  He’d been openly affectionate and flirting with her all evening, so by the time he pulled up outside her house she was tingling with anticipation. She hoped she wasn’t misreading him. She didn’t think so.

  She unlocked the door and he followed her in and headed for the kettle.

  ‘Green tea?’ he asked over his shoulder, and she took a deep breath and dredged up her courage.

  ‘I’d rather undress you. I’ve been fantasising about it ever since I opened the door to you.’

  He turned slowly towards her. ‘I thought that was my line?’

  ‘Mmm, it was, but that was last week and this is now, so I thought I’d steal it.’

  His smile widened, a slow, sexy smile that flooded his eyes with promise. ‘I’ve been shopping,’ he murmured, patting his pocket, and she felt the tension ramp up, humming in the air between them.

  ‘So have I,’ she confessed, and he laughed and hugged her.

  ‘So what are we waiting for?’ he asked softly, and followed her up the stairs.

  ‘I tidied up for you this time,’ she said lightly, hoping her voice didn’t reflect her nerves, and he chuckled and put his arms around her from behind, nuzzling his face against hers so she could feel the slight rasp of stubble against her cheek.

  ‘Do you really think I care?’

  ‘Well, I’ve seen your house, it’s pretty tidy.’

  He turned her round and dropped a kiss on the tip of her nose. ‘Not guilty. I have a cleaner, and my mother tidies constantly.’

  ‘Don’t spoil it,’ she teased. ‘I was imagining you were highly domesticated.’

  He laughed. ‘Hardly. I do what’s strictly necessary and I don’t waste time on the things that aren’t. Like small talk,’ he added with that lazy, sexy smile making another appearance.

  He feathered a gentle kiss over her lips, then lifted his head again, his expression changed
, his eyes suddenly darker.

  ‘You looked lovely tonight, sitting there by the river with the wind in your hair, all sun-kissed and radiant and bubbling with laughter.’ He brushed his knuckles lightly over her cheek. ‘I want you so much. I haven’t been able to think about anything else all week.’

  ‘Me, too,’ she said, and cradling his jaw in her hand, she held his searching gaze. ‘Come to bed, Matt. I need you. Make love to me,’ she murmured, and he closed his eyes and turned his face into her palm, pressing his lips to it for a moment.

  She could feel the slight prickle of stubble against her palm, the jump of a muscle under her fingertips, then he lifted his head and met her eyes again.

  ‘It’ll be a pleasure,’ he said gruffly, his hands reaching for her, but she pushed his hands away and started to undo his shirt.

  ‘My turn first,’ she said, and unhurriedly, button by button, garment by garment, she peeled away his clothes with shaking fingers until he was standing in front of her naked.

  Naked, beautiful and very, very ready.

  He lifted his hand and touched her cheek, his fingers trailing slowly, slowly down over her throat, dipping under her collar bones, tracing the neckline of her dress. Her heart was hammering so hard against her ribs she thought they’d break, and she took a step back and caught hold of the dress.

  ‘Uh-uh. My turn,’ he said, and then frowned and made a face, and she laughed.

  ‘It just pulls off,’ she said, putting him out of his misery, and he laughed with her and said, ‘Good,’ and reaching for the dress he hitched it up slowly, his hands brushing tantalisingly against her legs. He paused to cup her bottom and ease her against himself with a quiet groan, then moved on up her body, inch by inch, past her hips, her waist, her ribs, until finally he peeled it carefully over her head and dropped it to the floor.

  And then he stood there and stared down at her, his eyes lowered so she couldn’t read them.

  Why? Why had he stopped?

  She’d expected to feel nervous, but suddenly she was more worried about him now, about what he was feeling, if it was too soon, if he was really ready for what had to be a huge psychological milestone. Hers felt monumental enough. What it was like for him? Had he changed his mind—?

  No, if his next words meant anything.

  ‘Do you remember what you said to me in Cumbria,’ he murmured, his voice low, ‘about you being inside your body, not me?’ His finger traced a line down her throat, between her breasts, down to her abdomen, his hand flattening against her, fingers splayed across the lace of her shorts, so near and yet so far. ‘It’s been driving me mad ever since. It’s all I can think about.’

  ‘Well, don’t let me stop you,’ she said a little breathlessly, and he laughed softly and met her eyes again.

  ‘First things first.’

  He reached around behind her, sifting her hair through his fingers for a moment, then his hands moved down and he took off her underwear with gentle, careful fingers, peeling away her bra, then her lacy shorts, dropping them on their other clothes.

  Then he straightened up, his eyes trailing slowly over her body before he muttered something and turned away abruptly, and she had a sudden rush of insecurity.

  He picked up his trousers and her heart sank, but then he found his wallet and pulled something out, and relief swamped her.

  ‘Oh... For a moment there, I thought you were going.’

  ‘Going?’ He gave her a quizzical smile. ‘I’m not going anywhere. No way on earth. I was just getting these.’

  He dropped the little foil packets on the bedside table, turned back the bedclothes and took her in his arms with a deep groan.

  ‘Oh, that feels so good,’ he said, and then his mouth found hers, slow and coaxing, his tongue delving as his hands roamed gently over her body, driving her wild. She threaded her fingers through his hair, running her other hand slowly down over his back, feeling the strong muscles that bracketed his spine, the hot silk of his skin, the contrast as her hand moved round and down over his taut abdomen.

  ‘Livvy—!’

  She heard the sharp hiss of his indrawn breath as her fingers circled him, but he didn’t stop her, just slid his hand down between their bodies, his knee nudging her legs apart, his fingers gentle and sure and devastatingly accurate.

  She clenched her legs together around his thigh, her legs giving way, and he scooped her up and laid her in the middle of the bed, following her down, his mouth never leaving hers. His hand found her again, coaxing, teasing, building the tension until she wanted to scream.

  Then he pulled away and reached for the bedside table.

  ‘Let me,’ she said, her voice unsteady. She tore the foil wrapper open with fingers that shook a little, pushed him onto his back and straddled his thighs, stroking him teasingly with a fingertip from his collar bones all the way down, down, slowly, tantalisingly, following the narrow line of dark hair—

  ‘Livvy, please, get on with it,’ he begged, laughing a little desperately, and she obliged, slowly rolling the condom down, drawing it out deliberately even though it was killing her because she wanted him so much. She wasn’t alone. He swore and grabbed the sheet, clenching it in his fists, his eyes tight shut.

  ‘What are you doing to me?’ he mumbled through gritted teeth, and she laughed.

  ‘You know exactly what I’m doing to you,’ she murmured, and then she moved up until she was straddling his hips, chafing against him, watching his control waver as she lowered herself slowly down over him, taking him into her body, giving it time to adjust.

  He tilted his hips and she gave an involuntary gasp and rocked against him, and his eyes opened and locked with hers, his hands reaching for her, grasping her hips and holding her still.

  ‘Don’t—move.’

  She rocked again, just gently, and he groaned.

  ‘Livvy...’

  ‘I’m so close...’

  He rolled then, taking her with him, their bodies meshed together, legs tangled, his control splintering as he picked up the pace.

  His hand slid between them again, his body shifting slightly so he could reach her, his mouth never leaving hers, and she felt the tension tighten unbearably, building until she thought she’d scream, but still she couldn’t let go.

  ‘Now, Livvy, please, come with me,’ he said raggedly, and as his body stiffened she felt the tightly coiled tension inside her shatter into a million pieces.

  She sobbed his name, and then as the avalanche of sensation died away he sagged against her, his head on her shoulder, his breath rasping. She could feel his heart pounding against her chest, feel the heat of his breath, the ripple of shock waves running through them both.

  For the longest moment neither of them moved, and then he lifted his head and stared down into her eyes.

  ‘Oh, Livvy,’ he said, his voice catching, and he touched his mouth to hers in a tender kiss that nearly broke her heart.

  * * *

  He had to move.

  He rolled away from her, breaking the contact reluctantly, and got to his feet, his legs barely holding him.

  ‘Back in a moment, I need to deal with this,’ he said gruffly, and headed for the bathroom, closing the door behind him and resting back against it for a second while his emotions settled.

  I love her.

  The thought was so profound, so overwhelming, it nearly broke him.

  How? How, so soon?

  In a daze, he dealt with the condom, washed his hands and face and stood staring at himself in her bathroom mirror.

  Had Jules meant so little to him that he’d replaced her this fast? Except he hadn’t replaced her, not at all. He still loved her, and he knew he always would, but was it possible he loved Olivia as well?

  How could that be? And it was so sudden, so unexpected.

  Happiness, yes, he could buy
that, but—love?

  No. It was just the heat of the moment. It couldn’t be love. Love took years to grow, to turn into that almost organic state where you could finish each other’s sentences and anticipate the other’s needs and wishes.

  That was love—wasn’t it? Not this barely there, untried emotion that he felt for Livvy.

  Well, untried, anyway. It wasn’t barely there, it was very much present, and he felt as if he’d been punched in the gut.

  He opened the door and went back to her and found her sitting on the edge of the bed. She looked up at him, her eyes wary.

  ‘Are you OK?’ she asked.

  He found a smile. Actually, it wasn’t hard. Not hard at all. ‘Yes. Yes, I’m fine,’ he said quietly, realising he was. ‘Very fine. How are you?’

  ‘I’m very fine, too, thank you,’ she said, and her smile was tender and loving.

  Her, too?

  No. It was just the magic of the moment, nothing more. It couldn’t be more.

  ‘Good,’ he said, as she got to her feet and came over to him and rested against him for a moment. He lifted a hand and cradled her head against his chest, and then she straightened up and smiled at him.

  ‘I need the bathroom. I won’t be long.’

  He lay down again, staring blindly up at her bedroom ceiling, his thoughts tumbling.

  OK, so it wasn’t love, but what was it? He didn’t know, and he couldn’t work out what he felt.

  Not regret, he knew that without a shadow of a doubt. It had been wonderful, amazing, and he’d been more than ready. What he wasn’t ready for was the tidal wave of emotion that had swept over him when she’d come apart in his arms.

  He heard water running, the door opening, and then she was back, snuggling down beside him and bringing warmth and joy with her.

  They didn’t speak. There didn’t seem to be anything to say, or any need to say it.

  He turned his head slightly and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead, and she tipped her head back and smiled up at him, her lips irresistible.