by Mia Madison
“It was my pleasure,” he says as if he carries women to bed every night the week. “I could have slung you over my shoulder and given you the whole fireman experience.” But I hear him laughing now and look up.
“Why do I suspect there's more to the fireman experience than being saved from fire or jet lag?”
He doesn't answer me. For a moment, we just look at each other. I've no idea what he's thinking but I'm imagining him carrying me out of a tall building and saving my life, how it would feel in his arms and what I'd like to do with him right after that.
I think he's going to flirt right back, but he doesn't and now I really am embarrassed. I shouldn't have said that about there being more. I'm reading too much into it because I want there to be more.
But we're back to normal or as normal as we've ever been. “If we get there and she wakes, we can give her a bottle. It's like planning a rescue, this baby care thing, teamwork and timing,” he says.
“Without having to carry people out of burning buildings.” Apparently, my mind can't let go.
“I hope it won't come to that. With a bit of luck, the cafe won't go up in flames before we get there,” he says.
“No, the ice cream will melt.” And I can't help thinking of a big dollop of cold ice cream on Andrew's hot body—the one I saw this morning—but there's no mess as it melts because I'm licking it off before any drops reach the sheets. I look at him and I feel my face redden though there's no way he can know what I'm thinking.
“Where are you planning to go after you leave England?” he asks, taking me back to reality again.
“I thought I'd go to Paris, Amsterdam and Rome, maybe Berlin, though I don't know if I'll have time for that before I head back to LA.”
“And then? You're going to work for your dad, right?”
“Yes, he wants me to join the company. I tried working for a property company but that didn't go so well.”
“What happened?”
“I just didn't fit in.”
“I can't imagine you not fitting any anywhere. Did they all have blue hair? Or talk Swahili?”
“Neither.” I smile at the idea of my bitchy co-workers sporting blue hair and speaking in words I don't understand when I got exactly what they were hinting at all too clearly when I worked there—I wasn't one of them. “The boss was a douchebag, though. Maybe I shouldn't have mentioned what I thought of him to a girl who turned out to be his niece. Big mistake.”
“Oh well, you're better off out of that. You'll be fine working for your dad. No one can say Duncan is a douchebag, not the Duncan I know anyway.”
“No, Dad's great. But the job is more about him offering me a career, a future, than what I want to do. I worked there every summer break so I can do the work. I don't know what's not to like, really.”
I never told this to anyone, not even my friends. A lot of them don't have the kind of jobs they wanted after working their asses off at college to get a good degree and it seems ungrateful to mention I'm not happy with the idea.
I like the way Andrew listens without jumping in. But crap, he's my father's friend. I shouldn't be saying all this. He's too easy to talk to now that we broke the ice. But then, I guess it doesn't matter to him what I do or don't do so he's got no axe to grind here.
“Your dad was telling me how you hated it at your intern job and deserved a break before you went to work for him. He wants you to be happy. Why not tell him you want to do something else?”
Andrew has a point but it's not that easy. "He'll be upset and I don't have anything I want to do instead."
"Maybe you just need time away to think about it without the pressure of college and everything. What if you end up working for your Dad until you're sixty when you could have been … oh, I don't know … a tightrope walker or a zookeeper?"
Lucy gives a little cry. We stop and I settle her down.
"You should talk to him anyway,” Andrew says. “I'm sure Duncan would understand. Secrets like that are not healthy. Do you hate the idea of working for me too? Even though it's only for six weeks and not forty years?"
I grin at him. "So far so good. I think I'll be able to go the distance. You haven't turned out to be too horrendous yet."
"I'm pleased to hear it, but don't keep it a secret if you start to hate it. Better out in the open then we can sort it out."
I nod at him and he smiles. "Hey, Melissa, any other secrets you want to tell me? I'm all ears."
"Nope, not a one."
"You disappoint me. I was looking for some juicy gossip. Juicy gossip is thin on the ground in Beech Hill."
“Maybe I'll have to misbehave when I'm here to give the gossips something to talk about.” I blush because I know exactly what kind of misbehaving I have in mind. Misbehaving with him. With Andrew.
CHAPTER 12
Andrew
Melissa is easy to talk to and flirty. I like that though I think the flirt in me went AWOL with everything that’s happened lately. Thinking about it, that's not even strictly true. Angela was so serious, I think she put a stranglehold on any kind of flirting.
I can see myself laughing with Melissa, though. She's so young and alive, she could bring out the playful in me if I'm not careful, and it doesn't seem right to be playful. Not now.
The wind whips up her hair. Even if I can't play with her, I'd like to hold her close and keep her warm.
“Are you cold? The cafe is just around this bend but we can go back home if you like.”
“No, let's go on, but I think hot chocolate rather than ice cream.” She smiles at me.
“Good plan.”
But fuck, when we get to the cafe the last person I want to see is there. Angela is sitting at a window table with some guy. He turns around when she looks up and it's Jerry from the station, and the way she avoids looking me in the eye, I don't know but I suspect there's something going on here, something that maybe even started before she broke up with me.
“Hello, Angela, Jerry,” I say because I can't avoid speaking to them completely. I can't say, “You shit, Jerry. We don't mess with each other's girlfriends and wives. We're supposed to be a team looking out for each other.” He knows that. And it won't do any good to point it out.
But Angela doesn't hold back, as if she resents me for moving on, even though I haven't and even though she moved on first. “You found yourself a babysitter pretty fast, I see.” She looks over at Melissa who is checking that Lucy isn't too warm inside the cafe in her padded suit. I think Melissa's pretending not to be too interested in what's going on.
“Yes, this is Melissa. She's over from the States for six weeks helping out. Duncan's daughter.”
Melissa comes over and says, “Hi,” with a beaming smile that doesn't reach her eyes. It's clear there's no love lost between the women.
“We were just going,” Angela says, getting up. She doesn't even ask to see Lucy. She has no interest in her at all. “See you around.” She and Jerry sidle out of the cafe.
I get the drinks at the counter and then sit down with Melissa, well away from the seats Angela and Jerry vacated, as if they contaminated the space.
“That was your ex?”
“Yes, with one of the crew at the station. Different shift, but still. I have a feeling that friendship has been going on for a while. The last time we were in the same crowd, at a party a few months ago, I remember they got on well.”
“They're probably just friends.”
“Possibly more, who knows? Interesting how little that idea hurts. Pride, yes. Rest of me, no. I'm out of emotions for the year.”
“It's only the end of January.”
“Yes, and bring on next year. This year is well and truly shot. I'm done with it.” Maybe Angela leaving hurts more than I'm letting on to Melissa. I thought Angela and I would be coping with Lucy together, not me doing a one-man band in parenthood. I'll be able to manage with good help, though. Even though Melissa has been here less than a day, she's helped me see that.
&
nbsp; If only she was here for longer, and not just because of Lucy. I'd like to get to know her better. A lot better. I look at her blue eyes and fuck, I want her, and not just as a babysitter. Living in the same house, it's going to be so difficult to hide that from her, but I'm going to have to try.
CHAPTER 13
Melissa
We slip into an easy routine once we get home, as if we have been doing this for weeks. I feed Lucy and then give her a bath while Andrew cooks. Lucy falls asleep over my shoulder and I'm just putting her to bed when he pops his head around the bedroom door to say dinner is ready.
“Hey!” he says, quietly, so as not to wake her. “You're a marvel at that.”
“You'll be a marvel before long, too. Maybe she can sense you're new to it.” Who knew Daniel would be such good training?
He looks down at the sleeping baby, such tenderness in his face, I want to hold him and make everything better for him though there's nothing I can do. Not really.
“Andrew,” I say.
He looks up and I think there's a tear and I can't help it any longer. Somehow we are in each other’s arms and he's kissing my hair. I tilt my chin up to him and he kisses me as tenderly as he looked at the baby. And then harder, firmer, our bodies tight against each other, with no other thought than getting closer together. I feel every hard muscle, the length of him, one hand snaking into my hair, the other around me, holding me tight against him, so I can't move. Not that I want to go anywhere, not with the intoxicating man scent of him around me, the feel of his body hot against mine. A moan coming from my lips matches one from him and we part, our eyes wide at the intensity of that moment.
“Sorry,” he says.
“It's okay.” I smile because I wanted that as much as, if not more than, he did.
“I’ve wanted to do that since I saw you at Heathrow.”
“So now you did. And in front of the baby, too.”
“I don't think she noticed. But seriously, that shouldn't have happened. I really am sorry.”
But whether it shouldn't have happened or not, somehow I'm kissing him all over again, his mouth crashing down on mine. Crazy, wild kisses, our tongues tangling together, his mouth claiming mine over and over. And me, abandoning myself to those kisses that I never want to end and I feel his hands on my ass, grasping me, pulling me closer, if closer was even possible. And that's fine because closer is exactly where I want to be.
When we stop to catch our breath, I don't want to stop, but he almost growls at me. “We had better get out of here because if we don't, this is going to go somewhere we can't ever get back from. And if we cross that line...”
CHAPTER 14
Andrew
Fuck! I can't believe that just happened. I'm supposed to be responsible. I'm a father now, whether I like it or not. I'm supposed to be taking care of a baby and looking after Melissa on behalf of my friend, not kissing her, for fuck's sake. And definitely not kissing her so hard I don't want to stop at kissing. But when I say that thing about crossing a line, Melissa looks upset, like she didn't want to stop either. This is so fucking dangerous. Life is complicated enough already.
“We'd better eat,” I say, though suddenly my appetite has disappeared.
“Yes,” she says, not looking at me.
“Melissa, you know we can't do this, don't you? Let's just eat and forget it ever happened.”
“Yes,” she says again. “Let's forget it.” It's like she mentally pulled up her big girl panties and she stands tall. Her chin up.
But things are no better in the kitchen. We move the food around the plate. Not much is going in.
“I'm sorry. I upset you.” I offer.
“It's okay. I'll get over it.” She smiles but I can tell she's putting a brave face on it. Same as I am. Shit! I made this mess and now I have to deal with it as best I can.
How am I going to do that? But I have to. Everything is stretched too tight right now. There's no room for any more complication in my life. But fuck, I wanted her back there. She had a smear of baby cream down her front, her hair was coming out of her ponytail but it made no difference to me. I wanted her. I wanted to lose myself in the scent of her and her honeysuckle shower gel, the soft feel of her against me. I can't deny that.
After dinner, we wash up. I know I should say I'll do it and let her go to her room, but I can't bear this dark atmosphere hanging between us. But doing the dishes together doesn't help. We make awkward conversation about the six o' clock news on TV that's on in the background. She's thoughtful and intelligent in her opinions, but talking about current events is not what I really want to do with her. And we're too polite, too formal after the day we had and those kisses. Everything is spoiled. And it's all my fault. I should have known better.
After the kitchen is tidy, she goes to her room. And I hear nothing. She probably has her headphones in or maybe she's texting her friends or something. I wonder if she's contacting that guy from the airport, arranging to see him as soon as she gets a day off. I can't bear it.
I leave her alone, though. It's not fair. I pace around, tidying up this and that in the living room, though it's tidier than it has been in the short time I've lived there. That's the Melissa effect again.
When Lucy cries, I go to her myself. I'll give her a bottle and give Melissa some space. But she comes out of her room while I'm heating up the bottle.
“Have you got any DVDs?” she asks. “Something funny. I'm in need of funny right now.”
“No DVDs, but Netflix.”
She flicks through the options while I feed Lucy. “Three Men and a Baby. I don't think so, do you? How about Bridget Jones?”
“If you like.” I'll watch anything if she's going to watch with me.
At first, she starts off in the big easy chair while I'm with Lucy on the couch, but Lucy wants to play after her bottle and Melissa can't resist her.
“The little minx doesn't want to go back to bed,” she says. “Here, I'll walk around with her.” She takes the baby from my arms and carries her, Lucy's head resting on Melissa's shoulder and she sings quietly to the baby. I put the movie on pause because Melissa is missing it, though I guess she's seen it a few times.
Her walking around the living room is distracting. There's nowhere to look that I can't see her. There's no way just to ignore her and pretend I don't want her. Badly.
She turns her head and kisses the baby's cheek. “I feel her heavier on my shoulder, I'll just put her to bed.”
There's a little cry as Lucy settles down and then Melissa comes back in. “Thanks for pausing the movie.”
I will her to sit beside me on the couch rather than the chair. It feels like what she does now will decide something but I can't let it go. “Sit here,” I say before she chooses one or the other.
She sits down beside me on the couch, not right up close but I can live with that. “I can't see very well over there,” she says.
“I think Julie and Mike set their living room up for two. You'll have to put up with me or rearrange the furniture.”
“I'm not sure there's any way to rearrange it. You'll have to put up with me too.”
“I will if you will.”
“Okay, then.” She holds out her hand and I shake it. We have a deal but I've no idea what I just agreed to.
We watch the movie like two starfish stranded on the beach, unable to close the gap.
“Would you like a coffee, wine, water, soda?” I ask her when Bridget Jones makes her blue soup.
She nods. “A glass of wine would be good, thanks.”
After we start sipping our wine, the atmosphere gets more charged. I'm sure we both know what is happening here. We end up closer together, although neither one of us makes a big move, and finally I put my arm around her to hold her close and smell her honeysuckle shampoo again. And she nuzzles close to me, her soft curves melting into my body.
CHAPTER 15
Melissa
I can't just sit next to Andrew, watching a movie like
I would with a friend. I'm hyper aware of every slight movement he makes, every breath I take. Whatever's happening on the screen goes right over my head. I don't know what to do with my hands. All that uncertainty ends once he takes me in his arms. The truth is, I didn't want to sit on the chair or watch the movie. I wanted to be right next to Andrew, feeling the heat of his body next to me, his arms around me, his mouth on mine. So, when he tilts my chin toward him and his mouth seeks out my lips, I respond. Oh, how I respond. I don't want him to change his mind. I don't want that kiss to ever end.
“So beautiful,” he says when we finally break off for a moment.
I like that he says that, even if it's not close to true.
“You are,” he says, gruffly. “You may not believe it, but you are. I tried, but I can't keep away from you.”
“I don't want you to.”
He groans a little in his throat, his hands moving over my back, holding me close to him. He plants a trail of kisses down my neck and pulls me over to sit on his lap. “You are so fucking intoxicating.”
I love that I have that effect on him and make him lose his cool. He pulls at my shirt and a button pops open as he bends his head to kiss the tops of my breasts, his hands pulling open the top of my bra and his tongue delving in to lick at my nipples, massaging them with wet heat until they are taut, his cock solid against my hip.
“Easier if we take this off,” he says, undoing the buttons on my blouse one by one, not taking his eyes off mine until he removes it and then he unclips and pulls off my bra so I'm totally exposed to his gaze. I make as if to cover myself but he catches my fingers and kisses them. “Oh no, don't cover up. Like I said, you're beautiful. Never be ashamed of that.”
He lays me down on the couch and then he takes a nipple into his mouth and it's as if he savors it with his tongue, his lips, his teeth while his hand covers my other breast, squeezing, rolling the nipple between finger and thumb, teasing until I'm on fire, thrusting out my chest to him, my hips arching beneath him, wanting him to go on doing that while at the same time wanting more from him. A lot more.
