скачать книгу бесплатно
“But I don’t want her to go home to Boston. I want her to stay here, with us.” His belligerence gave way to a look of sly cunning. “She could, if you ’n her got married.”
Neither adult corrected his grammar this time, and he launched into a quick, impassioned argument.
“You told me you like her, Dad. ’N I see the way you stare at her sometimes, when she’s not looking.”
Dawn raised a brow.
“She likes you, too. She told me.”
This time it was Brian who hiked a brow.
“So you should get married,” Tommy concluded. “You’d have to kiss ’n sleep in the same bed ’n take showers together, but you wouldn’t mind that, would you?”
His father parried the awkward question with the skill of long practice. “Where’d you get that bit about taking showers together? You’d better not tell me you’ve been watching TV after lights-out again.”
“No, sir. Cindy told me that’s what her mom and dad do. It sounds pretty yucky but she says they like it.”
Dawn struggled to keep a straight face. “Who’s Cindy?”
“A very precocious young lady who lives on the next block,” Brian answered drily. “She and Tommy went to the same preschool. They’ve gotten together with some of their other friends for play times during the summer. And her big brother Addy—Addison Caruthers the Third—stays with Tommy sometimes when Mrs. Wells needs a break.”
“Addy’s cool,” Tommy announced, “but Cindy’s my best friend, even if she is a girl. You might meet her ’n her mom when you take me to school Monday.” He thought about that for a moment. “Maybe you should ask her mom if you would really hafta do that shower stuff.”
Dawn bit the inside of her lip. “Maybe I should,” she said gravely. “That could certainly be a deal-breaker.”
She glanced across the table, expecting Brian to appreciate this absurd turn in the conversation. His cheeks still carried that hint of red, but she detected no laughter in his expression.
Oops. Message received. Propping her elbows on the table, Dawn tried to deflect Tommy’s latest attempt to fill the void in his life.
“The thing is, kiddo, I’m allergic to marriage.”
“Really? Like I am to dog hair?”
“Pretty much. Every time I think about marching down the aisle, I get all nervous and sweaty and itchy.”
“I get itchy, too. Then my eyes turn red and puffy.”
“There! You know what it’s like. So...” Smiling, she tried to let the boy down gently. “Although I like your dad and he likes me, we’re just friends. And we’ll stay friends. All three of us. I promise.”
“Even after you go back to Boston?”
“Even after I go back to Boston.”
Her smile stayed in place, but the thought of resuming her hectic life left a dusty taste in her mouth. She washed it down with a swish of the extremely excellent Syrah that Brian had uncorked to accompany their braised pork.
With his characteristically quicksilver change in direction, Tommy shifted topics. Dawn contributed little as the conversation switched from Scottish terriers and adult shower habits to the video he had to watch before bed that night. From there it zinged to the laundry list of items he’d crammed into his school backpack.
The question of when his temporary nanny would head north again didn’t come up again until after he’d dashed up to his room to retrieve the overstuffed pack and demonstrated to his father exactly why he needed every item to survive his first full day of elementary school.
“Sorry ’bout that third-person proposal,” Brian said as he and Dawn carried the dishes to the sink. “I did warn you, though.”
“Yes, you did. Good thing I’m ’lergic to marriage, or Tommy might have swept me right off my feet.”
He passed her the dinner plates, which she rinsed and slotted in the lower rack. Straightening, she found him standing with a dessert bowl in each hand.
“I appreciate the way you stepped in to help us out, Dawn. I really do. So I need to tell you that I talked to Lottie Wells this afternoon. Her rehab is going fine, but she’s decided to stay in California with her sister.”
Dawn’s heart emitted the craziest little ping. Was he going to ask her to stay? Suggest some sort of loose arrangement that would keep him and Tommy in her life and vice versa? His next comments put those thoughts on instant ice.
“Since I suspected that would be Lottie’s decision, I had my assistant compile a list of prospective replacements. She’s contacted the top five on the list and I’m flying them in for interviews, starting Monday.”
“Oh. Good.” She grabbed the dessert bowls and jammed them into the top rack. “I’ve had a great time with Tommy...and with you,” she added belatedly. “But you’re right. I need to get back to my real life.”
The one filled with twelve-and fourteen-hour days at the office. Late nights hunched over her laptop. Casual dates with men whose names she couldn’t remember.
“I also need to catch up on some work,” she said briskly. “Tell Tommy good-night for me. We haven’t planned any outings for the weekend, by the way, since I assumed you’d want to spend time with him before his big day Monday.”
“Good assumption. And about Monday...”
She paused, one brow lifting.
“I’ll take him to school that morning. They want parents to sign kids in the first day.”
“Makes sense,” she said with a shrug that disguised her disappointment.
“The school also needs to verify alternate emergency contacts,” Brian continued. “Since both sets of grandparents live out of state, I’ll designate them as secondary alternates and you as primary.”
“That’ll work.”
For now. Until he hired a permanent replacement.
Just as well he intended to start those interviews next week, Dawn decided grimly. She needed to cut loose from Tommy the Terrible—and his dad—before the ties went deeper or wrapped tighter around her heart.
The wineglasses were the last to hit the dishwasher. They were tall-stemmed, paper thin and probably expensive. With ruthless determination, she plunked them in the top rack beside Tommy’s milk glass and skimmed a quick glance around the kitchen.
“Looks like we’re done here,” she said flatly. “See you in the morning. Or whenever.”
She made it to the kitchen door. The lighted walkway to the gatehouse beyond offered a welcome escape.
“Dawn, wait!”
His face was set and his lips tight when she turned to face him.
“These past four days. I’ve enjoyed... I’ve been...”
“You’ve been what?” she taunted with a mocking smile. “Staring at me when I’m not looking? Wishing you’d leaned in a little closer that first night? Wondering why I changed my shampoo?”
The words were barely out of her mouth before she realized she’d baited a caged tiger. The skin stretched taut over his cheeks, and a sudden heat flamed in his blue eyes. Muttering a curse, he strode over to where she stood.
“Yes, yes and yes. I’m also wondering why the hell I waited so long to do this.”
She wanted to pretend she was shocked when he slid a palm around her nape and tipped her face to his. She had that instant, that breath-stealing second to protest or jerk away. When she didn’t do either, his mouth came down on hers.
The truth was she’d been imagining the taste of him, the feel of him, since their first meeting in Venice. As his lips moved over hers, reality far exceeded her expectations.
The man could kiss!
Dawn had compiled a fairly decent sample size over the years and would rank Brian Ellis’s technique in the top tenth percentile. Okay, maybe the top percentile. He didn’t go all Neanderthal and bend her back over his arm. Didn’t pooch his lips or get wet and sloppy. He just sort of...overwhelmed her. His broad shoulders, his hard muscles, the hand on her nape. Riding a wave of sensual delight, she locked her arms around his neck.
With a low growl, he widened his stance. His other hand cupped her bottom and drew her into him. She could feel him harden, feel the answering desire curl hot and sweet in her belly. She pressed closer, eager for the contact, but he jerked his head up.
His breathing harsh, he stared down at her for long seconds before grinding out an apology. “I shouldn’t have done that. I’m sorry.”
She wasn’t, but his next words pushed her close.
“Wonderful example that would have set for Tommy if he’d walked in.”
“Hey, your kid just proposed we scrub each other’s back. I doubt a little lip-lock would’ve traumatized him for life.”
“No, but it...”
“Never mind. I get it. We don’t want to confuse the poor kid or let him think that what just happened sprang from anything but good, old-fashioned lust.”
When he didn’t disagree, she tipped him another, even more mocking smile.
“’Night, stud. See you around.”
Chapter Four (#uc4506a2a-fb07-5693-9559-7c2700573e81)
Saturday morning dawned bright and sunny, a direct contrast to Brian’s mood. The kiss he’d laid on Dawn the previous evening had made for a restless night.
Restless, hell! It had left him hard and hurting. Good thing she’d breezed out of the kitchen when she had or he might have compounded his stupidity by suggesting they share a brandy after Tommy trotted off to bed. Brandy being code for getting down on the sofa. Or the floor. Or a king-size bed with soft sheets and her luscious body stretched out in naked abandon.
Dammit! He threw back the comforter and stalked to the bathroom, determined to erase the mental image of shimmering auburn hair splayed across his pillow and those lush, full breasts bared to his touch.
The image wouldn’t erase. It followed him into the shower, then stared back at him from the steam-clouded mirror over the sink. Laughing, sensual, inviting, she teased and taunted him. She knew he wanted her. The feeling was mutual. That message had come through with the astounding clarity of a radio signal transmitted via a 200 gigahertz, ultrahigh frequency satellite band.
The same band, he remembered abruptly, that EAS had been lobbying for access to for months. Which in turn reminded him of his scheduled meeting with the FCC on Monday. Between that potentially contentious meeting, getting Tommy settled in school and interviewing prospective nannies, it looked to be a busy start to his week.
Yanking off the towel he’d wrapped around his waist, Brian tossed it at the laundry basket before pulling on a pair of jeans and his favorite Washington Nationals sweatshirt. He threaded the laces through the eyeholes of his running shoes, thinking of all he should do today. Like go into the office for a few hours to prep for the FCC meeting. And, while he was there, give Travis Westbrook a personal tour of EAS headquarters. EAS’s new VP of Test Operations and Evaluation had landed in DC late last night and confirmed his arrival by email.
Brian paused, the laces snaked around his fingers. Somehow he suspected Travis wouldn’t mind delaying the EAS tour for a day. The pilot was still making up for lost time with his wife. He and Kate had looked so happy when they’d renewed their wedding vows at the impromptu ceremony beside the Trevi Fountain. So secure in the love that had been tested for long, agonizing months but refused to keel over and die. The kind of love that lasted a lifetime.
The kind Brian and Caroline had thought they’d have.
Slewing around, he studied the framed photo on his nightstand. It was a casual, unposed shot of his wife with Tommy in her arms, taken mere weeks before they’d discovered that her sudden imbalance and dizzy spells were caused by a fast-growing tumor that had wrapped itself around her brain stem.
Over the next agonizing months the tumor relentlessly strangled the nerves that controlled every basic bodily function. Her breathing. Her heart rate. Blood flow. Eye movement. Hearing. Sensory perception. After chemo and radiation failed to halt the tumor’s pernicious growth, she opted for a last, desperate attempt to have it cut out.
She and Brian both knew the odds were she wouldn’t survive the surgery. They’d said their goodbyes in the purple twilight punctuated with beeping monitors, then spent the night spooned against each other in her hospital bed. Both sets of parents had arrived early the next morning, bringing Tommy with them. The hours that followed were lost in a misty haze. Brian couldn’t remember the expression on the surgeon’s face when she broke the grim news. He retained only a vague memory of his father-in-law’s shattered sobs and his quietly efficient mother helping him through the business of death.
With a knot in his throat, he realized that he could barely recall the sound of his wife’s laughter or the title of the tune she used to hum all the time. Another woman’s laugh now echoed through their house. Another woman’s voice was in his head. A vivacious, seductive woman who hadn’t tried to disguise her response to his kiss. Or her mocking smile when he’d damned near tripped over his own feet backing away.
Calling himself ten kinds of an idiot, Brian went downstairs and found the coffee already made. The note propped against the pot informed him Dawn had come over early to borrow some artificial sweetener. It also announced that she had a ton of work to catch up on, so she’d hang at the gatehouse while he and Tommy enjoyed a day doing man things. She’d see them this evening. Brian could buzz when he and Tommy were ready to head to the Westbrooks’ for dinner.
He crumpled the note with a combination of relief and irrational pique at the casual way she’d cut him and Tommy out of her day. Gathering the makings for French toast, he cracked eggs into a mixing bowl with something less than his usual dexterity. He added milk and a dash of cinnamon, then set the bowl aside.
Topping off his coffee, he booted up his iPad to skim the financial news until muted thumps and a quick flush signaled his son’s return to the land of the living. He was arranging bread slices in a heavy iron skillet when Tommy rushed into the kitchen. He was still in his pajamas, his hair sticking up in spikes and sleep crusting the corners of his eyes.
“Back upstairs,” Brian directed. “Wash your face, brush your teeth, get dressed.”
Ignoring the order, Tommy swept the kitchen with an eager glance. “Where’s Dawn?”
“She’s working.”
“I gotta tell her something.”
“Not now, Tommy.”
“It’s okay,” his son countered, darting for the door. “I’ll be quick.”
“Not now.”
“I just wanna...”
“Thomas...”
The warning growl stopped the boy in his tracks, but Brian didn’t kid himself. Long experience had taught him there would be more to come.
Predictably, his son’s chin jutted and he threw his father a defiant look. “Dawn said I could come over anytime.”
“And I’m saying she’s busy. Haul your behind upstairs, then we’ll have breakfast and decide what to do today.”
“But...”
“Now!”
He stopped short of a roar but got his point across. Still mulish but wary, Tommy retreated.
Brian had to battle the urge to call him back and smooth things over with a hug. Instead, he concentrated on whipping the eggs and milk into a froth. Pouring the mixture over the bread slices, he left them to soak and returned to his iPad to check the football schedule.
He had the bacon sizzling and the French toast browning when Tommy reappeared. The earlier power struggle forgotten, he hopped up on a counter stool and wanted to know what they were going to do today.
“How about we take in the Redskins’ home game?”
“Really?”
“Really.”
