“Oh, of course,” Sloane answered immediately, guilt pinching as she remembered what she’d promised Molly, but only as a way of gently making fun of her brother.
“Great,” he said now, getting to his feet and starting up her walkway. “Thanks.”
Boo and Paige trailed behind the man, then so did Sloane, feeling guiltier by the footstep. As he prepared to leave her property, she called his name.
He turned then, looking at her little tribe of dog, child, and plastic Baby Sally. Sloane took the opportunity to study him as well, a man in his prime with a face to inspire sighs and a body to launch daydreams. Her heart beat a little faster despite herself but she ignored the pitter-patter of it just like she ignored the traitorous heat kindling in her belly.
“I would never…” Sloane began, and then cleared her throat to start again because he deserved her assurances. “I’m sorry if I gave you the wrong impression. I won’t say a word to them. I just couldn’t resist teasing you a little bit yesterday.”
“Good.” Then his eyes narrowed. “But you seem to have lost your sense of humor now—after that call.”
Could he tell? She bit her lip. “Well…”
“Is everything okay?”
She resisted the urge to unburden herself. He was a stranger, and a man who wanted to focus on fun, not a single mother’s persistent fears.
“It’s all great,” she said, plastering on a smile. “You go on now and have a good night.” Paige tugged on her shirt and she looked down, into her daughter’s face. “Did you want to say goodbye too, Paige?”
“Baby Sally,” the little girl said.
“Oh.” Without thinking, Sloane played along as she always did, and looked to Eli. “Baby Sally wants to—” Then she broke off, not sure if he’d enjoy being part of the game.
He didn’t skip a beat. His gaze shifted to the doll Paige held up. “Goodbye to you, Baby Sally. I hope you enjoy your spaghetti dinner.”
“And ice cream for dessert,” Paige added.
“And ice cream for dessert,” he dutifully echoed in a grave voice.
“Kiss,” Paige said now, and pushed the doll toward Eli so he had to grasp Baby Sally, his big hand wrapped around her bare plastic thighs.
He flicked a glance at Sloane, then gave a peck to the top of Sally’s wealth of unkempt brown hair. When he tried to return the toy, Paige held out her hand instead, like a princess meeting a knight. “Kiss,” she demanded.
Bending, Eli pecked her knuckles. “Uh, thank you, ma’am,” he said straightening.
Sloane had never seen her daughter take such a shine to a stranger, so she wasn’t prepared for Paige’s next command. “Kiss Mama!” she declared, imperious.
Eli’s gaze met hers and Sloane felt that burning, red-pepper heat once again crawling over all her body. “Now, Paige—” she started, but before she could finish, she felt Eli’s dry lips brush the heated skin of her cheek.
Okay, fine, nothing to get excited about, but as she moved to end it and he moved to end it, they both moved in the same direction and now it was his lips on hers, almost a real kiss.
Her first kiss in more than four years.
The top of her head blew, but it was over nearly before it started and they were edging away from each other again, this time in opposite directions. In fact, Eli practically sprang back, clearly in a hurry to depart.
Paige reached up to snag the doll from him and as it left his grasp, Sloane saw that Baby Sally’s panties—no, damn it, her panties—were left dangling in his fingers.
Oh, God.
He gave one distracted look at the scrap of pink lace, shoved it in his front pocket, then stalked off in the direction of home.
Sloane opened her mouth to—
But words wouldn’t come out. Her brain couldn’t find a way to politely request the return of her underwear. No simple, “Hand over my panties” or “Unhand the thong!” Not with that kiss still a burning imprint on her lips and the knowledge that her crush wasn’t quite as conquered as she’d thought burning in her head.
Chapter 3
Eli held his phone to his ear as he rummaged through his closet to drag out the pair of boots the sisters had given him for Christmas. He’d been forced to make a solemn promise never to wear them to work, which tended to be hard on footwear. “I’m fine, Nora. But enough about me. Are you sure your car is running okay?”
She answered in the affirmative.
“And Lynnie and Molly? They didn’t stay up too late last night watching…” What was their latest obsession? “That dress show?”
Nora only laughed.
He shoved his feet into the leather. “I take that to mean you girls have yourselves handled.”
“We’re on spring break. Why don’t you give yourself one and stop worrying about us so much?”
Yeah. He was supposed to be doing that. And because he heard a note of concern in his oldest sister’s voice, he found himself addressing it. “I’ve got a date tonight, believe it or not.”
“Really?”
“You bet. Don’t tell the others, though, because tomorrow they’ll pester me with what I wore, what she wore, what I said, what she said…” The words poured from his mouth, even though his mind was occupied with another she, other conversation.
That kiss.
Damn, he must be hard up because only that brief touch of lips had given him a hard-on that made getting home from Sloane’s place a formidable task. It wasn’t as if he could reach down and adjust himself with her and her little pack looking on.
And the truth was, dolls always gave him a pause, their eyes just too all-seeing. But he’d manfully dealt with them for years and he’d soldiered on yesterday too, getting Baby Sally into that coat…
And then finding himself holding a pair of panties.
They couldn’t be Baby Sally’s, he knew that, and he took his unexpected and unnerving possession of them as his punishment for that kiss.
Because that possession had been no accident.
God, he hoped Sloane didn’t realize that he’d intentionally walked away with them.
“You’ve gone all quiet on me,” Nora said, and he grimaced, in his memory of the kiss and what happened after, he’d forgotten being in the middle of a call with his sister. “Is something the matter?” she asked.
“Running late for that date, that’s all,” he lied. “She’s picking me up, and soon.”
“Talk to you later, then,” Nora said. “And have a great time.”
“I intend to,” he replied before ending the call. That was the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. Wendy Beacham, a willowy brunette, had a favorite restaurant about thirty minutes south, and she’d offered to drive him in her car. Why not? he’d thought, imagining himself kicking back in the passenger seat anticipating a beautiful night while resting his eyes on a beautiful woman.
Who looked nothing like the luscious and peachy-skinned single mother across the street.
Smoothing the button-down he wore over dark wash jeans, more of the nicer side of his wardrobe, he walked from the large first-floor master bedroom in the direction of the living room. It was early, but he gave a cursory glance out the front window, looking for an unfamiliar car.
And spotted a familiar foursome.
Without a second thought, he found himself shoving through the front door and jogging down the steps. If he walked quickly enough, he’d meet Sloane, Paige, Boo, and Baby Sally at the bottom of the drive. They all paused upon meeting.
Shit. Eli realized he was so out of practice he hadn’t prepared a motive for his interception.
The panties came to mind.
But it wasn’t as if he had them stuffed in his pocket.
No, instead they were stuffed in the top drawer of his dresser and he hadn’t considered returning them.
Yet.
So now he turned his attention to the dog, leashed at Sloane’s side. “Hey, Boo,” he said, crouching to run both hands over the dog’s he
ad. “You been taking good care of your girls?” He glanced up at Sloane, then smiled for Paige who clutched her doll.
“How are you Baby Sally?” he asked politely, taking care not to meet her creepy plastic gaze. “Are you taking care of Miss Paige?”
“Princess Paige,” the little girl corrected.
Straightening, he dipped his head. “Excuse me, Princess Paige.”
She smiled, clearly delighted, and he remembered his little sisters not much older than that, looking to him to slay all the dragons not to mention the monsters hidden under the bed and lurking behind the shower curtain.
Eleven years, and he’d reached his quota of dragons and monsters and now was time for other pursuits.
With that in mind, he turned his gaze to Sloane, in her usual uniform of sneakers, tight jeans, and a sweatshirt baggy enough to hide all her upper good parts, thank God. But nothing disguised her face, those delicate features, her plump pink mouth, the eyes that at the moment were almost as unnerving as those of the doll. “Hey,” he said, his voice coming out softer than he liked.
“Hey, yourself.” Her gaze lifted toward the sky, away from him. “Looks like rain, don’t you think?”
“Yeah.” He shoved his hands into his pockets, so he wouldn’t reach out and take hold of that sweet chin to turn her face back to his. “I believe it’s in the forecast. A spring storm.”
“You’re dressed up,” she said, still not looking at him.
“I’ve got a date tonight.”
She glanced his way. “That’s good,” she said, and her smile looked genuine.
He could see her uneasiness slip away with each breath, as if she thought another woman coming into his life meant that kiss they’d shared had slipped his mind.
That he’d found it forgettable.
“Sloane…” he said, and reached out to touch her arm. It made her jump and she must have loosened her hold on the leash, because Boo broke free and took off, scampering in the opposite direction of Sloane’s house.
She whirled, yelled the dog’s name, but he continued on at an exuberant pace.
“I’ll get him.” Eli took off, then almost instantly realized that was an amateur move. A dog this young considered his pursuit part of the game. “Hell,” he muttered, slowing to a walk. “Come here, boy.”
As if it would be that easy. Boo didn’t obey, and happy talk, growly talk, even undignified cajoling achieved nothing.
A long five minutes in, they were at a standoff, both of them panting, the dog just out of reach, rump in the air, tongue lolling.
Trying to calm his ragged breathing, Eli felt a tug on the straight tail of his shirt. Glancing down, he saw Paige, who was holding up Baby Sally.
“She’s right,” Sloane called out. “Boo loves Baby Sally.”
“He’s a better man than I,” Eli muttered, then took hold of the toy. “Here, Boo.” He lifted the doll to shoulder height, then shook it, trying to get the dog’s attention. “Look what I have.”
Magic.
The creature moved like lightning, and he had to shove his arm skyward to save Baby Sally from a fate worse than death. Still, Eli managed to get his free hand wrapped around the dog’s collar and stepped on the trailing leash for good measure, but not before Boo jumped up, depositing a couple of dusty paw prints on Eli’s especially selected, date-worthy shirt.
“Oh, no,” Sloane said, coming forward to reclaim her dog. “Boo got you dirty.”
“It’s nothing,” Eli said, brushing at the marks with the back of his fingers. “I can change.”
“No. It’s a great shirt.” She frowned at him. “I really like that shirt.”
“Sloane—”
She took him by the arm. “I can get that clean,” she said, towing him toward his house. “You just leave it to me.”
Damn, but he liked her hand on him. So he didn’t resist, tramping toward his house as part of her domestic parade. Paige still had a hold of the tail of his shirt, Baby Sally safely tucked under her arm once again. At his front porch, Sloane tied up the dog and pulled a bandanna from a pocket, then wet it at the nearest hose spigot and wrung out the cloth.
Paige took a seat on the lowest porch step and Boo, tired from his play, threw himself onto the grass with a gusty sigh. Eli and Sloane faced each other, and her hand hesitated a few inches from his chest.
She bit that plump bottom lip.
Killing him.
“I can go inside, change shirts,” he offered again.
“I like this one,” Sloane said, her expression turning stubborn. “You should look perfect for your first date in over four years.”
“Huh?” he asked, staring down at the silky blonde hair on the top of her head. “Four years?”
“Or however long that it’s been,” she said hastily.
“Not quite four years.” He suspected, now, where that number came from.
“Whatever,” she answered in an airy voice, then brushed lightly at the marks on his shirt with the damp rag, her free hand grasping the fabric at the hem and holding it away from his skin. “Look, it cleans right up.”
She flapped the cotton. “Just be patient a moment and it will dry in no time too.”
“Thanks. Good.” He tried to be that way himself, good, and not breathe in her scent or imagine himself sifting his fingers through the light strands of her hair to play with the loose curls.
Then she did a bad thing. With a purse of her lips, she leaned closer and began blowing on the cleaned patches.
That mouth, her mouth, shaped for a kiss.
“Sloane,” he whispered. She glanced up, then froze, their gazes joined.
“Eli.”
He liked his name on her lips. But more, he liked his lips on her lips. His gaze narrowed as her pink tongue emerged to lick them. His muscles tightened and there might have been some warning bells going off in his head but he didn’t heed them, because the need to taste her again was more urgent.
“Sloane…” he said again, his voice deep with intent.
She didn’t look away or seem the least inclined to refuse him what he wanted. A flush warmed her cheeks.
Then the friendly toot of a horn had them jolting apart.
Eli’s head snapped to the right as a silver sedan pulled into his driveway. A woman stepped out of the car, a long drink of water, slim and smiling, with a sleek fall of brunette hair. For a moment he blinked at the sight, nonplused.
Then he recalled who the stranger had to be.
His date.
Hell. How could he have forgotten?
But he knew, of course, and kept his attention off Sloane as he moved forward to introduce himself to Wendy Beacham. She didn’t have to reach far to press a friendly kiss to his cheek.
Then she looped her arm in his elbow and turned them both toward Sloane who now had Boo’s leash back in hand and her daughter back on her feet. She aimed her small crew toward home, sending a vague smile in the direction of Wendy and Eli.
“Who is this?” his date asked in a puzzled voice. Obviously she’d caught a glimpse of him and the other woman all up close and personal. “One of your sisters?”
Eli opened his mouth, but Sloane beat him to the answer.
“Nobody important,” she said, without looking their way. “Just the mom from down the street. You two have a wonderful evening.”
* * *
Sloane held the refrigerator door open as Alice Ricci, one of the owners of the accounting business where she worked, and who was also her landlord and friend, unpacked cold goods from a plastic bag.
“Almost a half-gallon of milk, and this cheese will go bad before we get back from vacation,” Alice said. At the office she invariably wore dark slacks and a tailored jacket, but today she was dressed for RV travel in jeans and a rain slicker over a Duffy’s T-shirt. The whole town had them from a promotion the market ran some months before. “There’s lettuce and yogurt and a few of those apples that Paige likes.”
That last confirmed Sloane�
��s suspicions that Alice hadn’t just brought things from her own kitchen that might spoil while she and her husband Joe were out of town for almost two weeks. She’d also made a special stop at the grocery store.
Then a small cardboard box was withdrawn from another bag. “And here are those oatmeal and raisin cookies that she likes. From the farmer’s market, fresh today.”
Not just a special stop at the grocery store, Sloane realized, shaking her head. “Alice, you shouldn’t—”
“They’re healthy,” the older woman declared. “Oats. Raisins.”
Plus butter and sugar, but Sloane wasn’t objecting to the treats. “I meant you shouldn’t always be buying things for us.”
The older woman drew herself up and put her hands on her hips. “Paige has a special place in my heart and I’m not apologizing for that.”
Sloane had to smile. Alice and Joe were retirement age, but they said that until their son and daughter started producing their own sons and daughters, they had no reason to step down from the business they’d run for over thirty years. It was a miracle they’d decided to take time off after surviving the latest tax season. A skeleton crew, including Sloane, would keep things running, though they’d also been encouraged to cut back their hours. The couple had decided that after weeks of overtime, everyone needed to recharge.
“Then thank you,” Sloane said now. “Paige will appreciate the cookies…after lunch.”
That last was for her daughter’s benefit, who had looked up from the crayons and coloring books set out to keep her occupied on this wet, gloomy day. The expected storm had roared in at dawn.
“Is it safe to start out on your drive today?” With a frown, Sloane cast a look outside the windows which showed rain coming down in continuous sheets.
“You know Joe,” Alice said, and crossed over to the small kitchen table to kiss Paige on the top of the head. “Always sticks to the plan.”
“Well, be careful,” Sloane cautioned, following her friend toward the front door, Boo trailing them.
“Will do.” Alice cast a glance toward the ceiling. “And Joe asked me to tell you when we get back he’s going to look at your roof again. The man who’s painting the inside of our house while we’re gone has a brother-in-law looking for work. We may have the entire roof replaced, if necessary. Any sign of new leaks?”
NO LIMIT (7-Stud Club Book 2) Page 4
