by Jaci Burton
Jeff walked out right behind her. "We're going to the Galley for dinner?"
Mitch grinned. "If your mother says it's okay."
Greta slanted a sideways look at him, as if he'd somehow conspired with her kids against her. This time, he was innocent. But it worked in his general plan. "What do you say, Greta?"
"I guess we're going to the Galley for dinner tonight."
Chapter Four
The Galley was a raucous family-style restaurant located on the Front Pier, surrounded by arcades and shops just footsteps away from the sand and the ocean. The kids loved coming here, mainly for the arcades. Greta hadn't brought them here in at least a year.
Great. Another thing to feel guilty about.
She brushed it aside as the kids dragged Mitch by the hand to a table near the window. They'd gotten there before the rush crowd packed the place in, so they were fortunate to get a spot with a view. Once everyone settled in and ordered their dinner, the kids regaled her with the scoop on their surfing for the day. According to her children, they were practically world-class surfers after one lesson from Mitch.
Mitch sat quietly and listened to the kids boast about their skills.
"That good, are they?"
He nodded. "They did great."
"See, Mom, told ya," Zoey said, lifting her chin. "You know how good I am in the water."
Greta smoothed her hand down her daughter's hair. "Yes, I do."
"You should surf with us tomorrow, Mom."
Greta's eyes widened at Jeff's suggestion, then she shook her head. "I have a busy day."
Jeff frowned. "You always say that. Can't you take an hour or two off?"
She cast a pleading look toward Mitch, who only smiled. "Yeah, Greta. Surf with us tomorrow."
Damn him. "The motel doesn't run itself, you know." She looked to her kids and smiled. "And my two best helpers are shirking their duties to play in the surf."
Their smiles died on both their faces.
Zoey sniffed. "We can help you, Mommy."
"I'm sorry, Mom. You're right. We'll help you out at the motel instead of surfing," Jeff said.
Shit. That wasn't at all the reaction she'd been going for.
"Oh, no. I've totally got it covered."
"Are you sure, Mom? Because we don't have to surf. We don't want you stuck doing all the work."
Jeff, always the one to worry about her.
"I have a light day tomorrow. So you can help me out in the morning and then surf with Mitch in the afternoon. How's that?"
Jeff nodded. "Okay. That'll work."
How sad that her children worried about her. Was that the role they'd taken on in life? Shouldn't they be allowed to be children? How could she have missed this?
They ate dinner, then she shuffled the kids out to the arcade, insistent that they take at least a little time to be kids. While they played inside the arcade, Mitch led her outside to the pier overlooking the ocean. She could still keep an eye on the kids, but getting outside in the fresh air was nice.
She needed to think, to figure out where she'd gone wrong.
"You're quiet."
She looked over at him. "Am I? Sorry. I'm not very good company."
"I didn't say that. I just said you were quiet. You have something on your mind?"
"No. I'm fine."
"Greta. Something's bothering you."
Now she turned to him. "Really? You know me so well to know that?"
He gave her a half smile. "No. I don't know you at all. But you have revealing body language, and you went quiet during dinner. What started out fun turned...not so fun all of a sudden. Was it something I did?"
"No. Not at all. It was something I did. Something I've been doing. Or not doing. Never mind."
"What do you think you've been doing, or not doing?"
Why was she even talking to him about this? "It's nothing, really."
He swept an errant strand of hair away from her face. "Tell me. I'm a pretty good listener."
"It's the kids. They just seem so...serious. So worried about me."
He let out a soft laugh. "It's obvious they care a great deal about you."
She tilted her head back, looked in his eyes. "They shouldn't care so much. They're kids. I don't want them to worry about me."
"You can't change that."
"Yes, I can. They need more free time to be children. Which means I need to take on more of the work so they can play."
He leaned against the pier railing. "Just what you need--more work to do."
"I can handle it."
He paused, almost as if he wanted to blurt something out. But he didn't.
"What?" she asked.
"If anyone can handle it, you can."
She didn't think that's what he'd originally wanted to say. "Thanks. I do the best I can."
"Don't forget how important it is for you to play, too."
She laughed. "Me? I don't have time to play."
He grabbed her hand. "Sure you do."
He dragged her into the arcade. The kids waved as Mitch pulled her along, stopped at a racing game for two, and shoved her inside. He popped money in the machine, got in next to her and started the game. In no time flat Greta had forgotten all her problems in her zeal to kick Mitch's butt and race across the finish line. She couldn't recall the last time she'd laughed so hard or had so much fun. They played several games. Eventually the kids came over and they took turns switching out partners.
It was a great family night. The kind of night she needed to have more often with her children. And she had Mitch to thank for it.
After a couple hours, Greta rounded up the kids and they headed back to the motel. Jeff and Zoey were both yawning, so she sent them to the house to get ready for bed while she lingered outside with Mitch.
"Thanks for taking us out tonight."
He leaned against her front door, his nearness making her all too aware of how long it had been since she'd been around a man. A very attractive man, too.
"You're welcome."
Damn, he was good looking. Hadn't the man aged at all? "The kids had a really good time."
He grinned. "I'm glad 'the kids' had a good time."
God, she was really out of practice at this. Not that there was any "this" going on. There wasn't. They'd had a family thing. It wasn't like this had been a date or anything. Still, she felt vibes between them, an awareness that she was a woman and he was a very desirable man. And the way he looked at her told her he felt the same thing. "I had a good time too."
"Good."
She wished she didn't have so many other things on her mind, so much responsibility. It might be nice to ponder that whole man/woman thing with him. She'd had such a huge crush on Mitch when she was a kid.
Some things obviously never changed, because standing out there in the moonlight made her quiver with awareness, with a need she'd thought long ago buried.
He leaned closer. She inhaled, caught the fresh scent of him which only served to remind her how very long it had been since she'd been with a man. And all the reasons she wasn't going to be with one. She couldn't add that kind of a complication to her already very complicated life.
"Well, good night, Mitch. And thanks again."
She slipped inside and grabbed the door. He nodded and smiled.
"'Night, Greta."
Greta closed the door, then exhaled as she leaned against it.
Mitch was a whirlwind, sweeping in with a hurricane force and turning her life upside down. She didn't like it. Not at all. Her life was fine as it was and he'd upset the balance and careful order she'd spent the past few years arranging.
Good thing he wasn't staying long.
Mitch stayed out of sight the next morning, having sensed Greta's tension the night before. He knew she was irritated, but maybe she didn't really know what she was irritated about.
Maybe he didn't really know what she was irritated about, either. It wasn't like he was an expert on women and their emot
ions. Rich men typically didn't need to be. You threw enough money around and the women he hung out with tended to quiet down.
And didn't that speak volumes about his life?
Good thing he wasn't much into self analyzing. He liked his life just fine. It suited him. No attachments, no emotional entanglements. Fun, sex, travel, the women in his life got exactly what they wanted out of the arrangement, and so did he. No one got hurt. He never made promises he didn't intend to keep. At least he was honest that way.
Greta, on the other hand, was an unknown. She wasn't one of his party girls only out for a good time. He didn't exactly know how to handle her, especially since she hadn't jumped on the chance to take his money.
Everyone wanted his money. Why didn't she? God knows she needed it.
But there was still plenty of time. She'd eventually figure out what he was offering. Then she'd come around.
He waited until after lunch, then put on his wetsuit and found her and the kids. Greta was working on paperwork in the office. The kids were helping Heath.
"Hey," he said, leaning over the counter. "You ready to surf?"
Jeff and Zoey's faces lit up like they'd just been sprung from prison.
"Yes! Is it okay, Mom?" Jeff asked.
Greta looked up from the desk, smoothing away the hair from her face. "Of course. Go ahead."
Mitch was just about to push off from the counter when he paused. "Greta, why don't you come surf with us?"
Her eyes widened, then she frowned and shook her head. "Can't. Busy."
"Aww, come on, Mom." Zoey tugged at her arm.
"Yeah," Jeff added. "Come on. It'll be fun. You haven't been in the water in a long time."
The irritated look she shot Mitch's way spoke volumes. "I have work to do."
"I can do that for you, Ms. Mason," Heath said. "I know how to do it."
Mitch grinned. "See? Problem solved. Go get your wetsuit on, grab your board and we'll meet you on the beach."
She opened her mouth, closed it, opened it again and then looked at the hopeful faces on her kids and sighed. "I guess I can surf for an hour."
"Yay!" Zoey clapped her hands and jumped up and down.
Mitch tried not to laugh. "Come on, kids. Let's head down to the beach."
Fifteen minutes later, Greta joined them at the water's edge, though she didn't look happy about it. Mitch aimed to change that.
The wetsuit clung to her lush curves like a second skin. He liked looking at her. She was a true woman, all soft curves that he'd love to get his hands on.
And that had nothing to do with getting his hands on her motel.
"How long has it been since you surfed?"
She shrugged. "I don't remember."
"Then it's been too long. Come on. Let's get wet."
They got in the water and paddled out to meet the waves to ride them into shore. It may have been awhile since Greta had surfed, but after one or two tries she was up and riding like a pro again. Once a surfer, always a surfer, and she hadn't forgotten the lessons he'd taught her all those years ago. She had awesome balance, rode the board like it was part of her body, and had a great feel for the surf under her.
Soon she was laughing with her kids and having fun, just as he'd hoped she'd do. Her work was all but forgotten as the afternoon slipped by.
They took a break and sat sipping drinks at the snack shack.
"Mom, you're an awesome surfer!"
She beamed under Jeff's declaration and ruffled his still wet hair. "Thanks. Not bad for an old lady."
"I hardly think you're old."
Greta tilted her head back to look at Mitch. "That's because you're way older than me."
Zoey snickered. Jeff snorted.
"Hey, you two," Mitch said. "Watch it."
They laughed louder, then spotted some of their friends and ran down the beach to hang out with them.
"This has been fun, but I need to get back to work."
"Have dinner with me tonight, Greta."
He had no idea why he'd just blurted that out, but chalked it up to part of his plan to woo the motel right out from under her. Deep down, though, he saw the fatigue on her face, the look of utter defeat, and he just wanted to give her something to brighten her up. And that had nothing to do with his plan to buy the motel.
"What?"
"Have dinner with me."
"I...I can't."
"Why not?"
"Because I have work to do."
"You can't always use that as an excuse. You can't work all the time, Greta. We've had a lot of fun with the kids. But when was the last time you had some adult fun?"
Chapter Five
Greta glared at herself in the mirror as she prepared for her date with Mitch tonight.
Correction--she was not having a date with him. They were going out to dinner. Something she should have said no to, but dammit, he'd sucker punched her when she was down and weak. She'd spent the day with him and her children. Her smiling, beautiful children who'd looked at Mitch with something close to adoration in their eyes. They looked at him in a way they had never looked at their own father, quite possibly because their own father had never, ever spent an entire day with his own children. God forbid he should sacrifice his coke habit long enough to even notice he had children, and when he had been around all he'd wanted was for Greta to wait on him hand and foot or to drag her into the bedroom for sex.
She shuddered at the bitter memories, sliding them into the dark recesses of her mind and locking them away.
That part of her life was over. Cody was long gone and forgotten. He'd never disappoint the kids again. He'd never break her heart again. She'd never allow a man to put his needs above hers or her children's ever again.
So why the hell had she allowed Mitch to manipulate her into going out with him tonight?
Because he'd mentioned adult fun. When was the last time she'd had some fun on her own, had something that didn't involve work or her kids?
She couldn't remember. Still, she'd said no, initially.
He'd followed her inside and asked again. In front of the kids. Damn him.
The kids were horrified when she said no, had told her it had been a long time since she'd gone anywhere, and that she was growing--what was it that they'd said--old and moldy, she thought were the exact words--sitting around the motel at night. Jeff had told her she needed to get off her butt and get out, and that he and his sister could go spend the night at Uncle Don's and go fishing in the morning. Then her oh-so-suddenly grown-up son had picked up the phone, called his Uncle Don, and made arrangements to do just that.
Clearly she was not in charge of her own life, or that of her children's. The decision out of her hands, the kids told her she was now free to go out to dinner, and they left to take showers and pack for their overnight visit to their aunt and uncle's. She tried to blame the whole thing on Mitch, but he'd just stood there with a grin on his face.
And now she stood in front of her closet realizing she hadn't gone out on a dinner date with just her and a guy in too long to remember and she had no idea what to wear. Where, exactly, were they going? The fish shack down the beach was capris and a tank top kind of place. The nicer restaurant in town was a sundress kind of place. She'd need to know how to dress. She picked up the phone and dialed his room. He picked up on the first ring.
"Where are we going tonight?"
"Huh?"
"I have no idea what to wear until you tell me which place in town we're eating at."
There was a pause at the other end. "Uhh, hang on."
She waited. And waited. And waited.
"Okay, sorry, Greta. I'll send something over for you in about an hour, okay? Gotta run, my phone is ringing."
"Mitch, what are you talking about. Mitch?"
He wasn't there. Send something over? Send what over? What the hell was he talking about?
Fine. She'd go with the sundress. Better overdressed than under.
She jumped in the shower
and was drying her hair when Heath knocked on her door. She opened it to his wide grin and a big box.
"Courier just delivered this."
"For me?"
"Yeah. Said it was from Mr. Magruder." He handed the box over to her.
"Thanks, Heath."
She closed the door, went into her bedroom and set the box on the bed. It was huge, white and unmarked. She pulled the top off the box and gasped. Inside was a shimmery silver cocktail dress along with matching shoes of the same color.
She lifted the dress by its thin spaghetti straps, the whole thing catching the light from her dingy chandelier and shooting sparkling color over her walls.
"Holy shit." He'd ordered this for her? To wear? Tonight? Where the hell were they eating dinner? It looked to be her size. She picked up one of the sexy sandals with the three-inch slender heel. The shoes were the perfect size, too.
Damn, he was good.
She shouldn't. She should be insulted that he would buy her clothes to wear. She should--
Ah, fuck it. He wanted to take her out to dinner, she'd let him. She hurried into the bathroom, did her hair, letting her natural waves do their thing. She left her hair down tonight, just pulled the sides up in a jeweled clip that she found in the nether regions of her makeup drawer. She put on makeup, lip gloss even, then climbed into the dress, which slid onto her body like living silk.
Oh, God, it felt so good, molded against her like it had been created specifically for her curves. She slipped on the shoes and ran back into the bathroom to take a peek.
Damn, she looked good in the dress. She felt like a princess, turned this way and that to watch the dress sparkle. It almost brought tears to her eyes.
You're being silly. Girly. She smiled. She didn't care. She liked how she looked. When was the last time she'd dressed up? Her wedding, probably.
A knock on the door had her running out of the bathroom, smoothing the dress over her hips as she did. Her heart was pounding. She felt foolish getting this excited about something that was just a dinner between...between what? Old friends? They weren't even that.
She opened the door. Mitch had a tux on. Dear God, he looked edible dressed in black and white, his tanned skin looking even more so against the crisp white shirt. He looked impossibly tall and lean as he smiled at her, his eyes raking over her.
"Wow, Greta. You look stunning."
Her face warmed. "I can't believe you sent me this dress."
"I can believe you look so beautiful in it." He picked up her hand and kissed her knuckles. She felt it all the way down to her toes, and everywhere in between. Especially everywhere in between. Her nipples tightened and her clit quivered.
