Nash lost count of the number of pizzas consumed by the Haynes family. They simply kept on coming. Pitchers of drinks were continually refilled as well. By the time the kids asked to be excused to go play video games and the adults had started moving the chairs around to form small conversational groups, even the servers were looking exhausted.
He'd spent most of dinner talking with Stephanie and Jill, but after the meal, he found himself in the company of his brothers.
Brothers. The word still surprised him. How could he and Kevin have been a part of this family for so many years and not have known? How could a man like Earl Haynes get an innocent seventeenyear-old pregnant, abandon her to return to his real family, then produce such honest, sincere, caring offspring? He crossed to the pitchers of drinks left on the table and poured himself another glass of iced tea. After two beers, he'd switched to the non-alcoholic drink. He wasn't worried about driving, they'd brought Stephanie's minivan and she'd taken the wheel on the way over. Instead he considered the fact that too much beer would make his hostess even more of a temptation than she already was. When sober he found her delightfully intriguing. While drunk he might find her irresistible. Not a good thing for either of them.
He took a drink and surveyed the crowd. He could put a name to the men, but he was still having trouble connecting which spouse belonged with which partner. Hannah was easy. As the only female Haynes, she had many of the physical characteristics of her brothers-she was tall, dark-haired and attractive. Her husband was the only blond male in the room. But after that, things got fuzzy. Was Kyle's wife the average-height brunette with brown eyes or the average-height woman with light brown hair and green eyes?
“Is it making you crazy?" He turned toward the speaker and found a slender woman standing next to him. Her name tag read "Rebecca-Austin." Underneath were the words "Honorary Haynes through love."
“The guy with the earring," he said.
She smiled. "That would be my husband, yes. He's something of a bad boy." She spoke the words with a smile and Nash saw the affection twinkling in her eyes.
He glanced over to the man in question and saw him with a young child on his hip. As he spoke with Travis, Austin absently brought the child's hand to his mouth and blew on the palm. The little boy laughed loudly.
“You seem to have changed his ways," he said.
Rebecca shook her head. "Actually he changed them all on his own. He was always the quiet rebel, but he's mellowed." Austin looked content, Nash thought. He was a man comfortable and at peace with his world. Two things Nash rarely experienced.
He turned his attention back to the woman in front of him. She was lovely, with classically beautiful features that spoke of a gentler time. Unlike the other wives who were dressed in slacks and blouses, Rebecca wore a long dress edged in lace. Her dark, curly hair came to the middle of her back. She reminded him of a character in one of those British period movies-the kind that made him head directly for ESPN if he ever turned the television to one by accident.
“Are you overwhelmed?" she asked. "It's a huge family."
“I'm getting the adults," he said. "The kids are going to take longer."
“We all have trouble with that. At one time or another, each of us has had to stop one of the children and ask who they belong to." She took a step closer and lowered her voice. "When Travis told us that there were long-lost Hayneses around, everyone was thrilled. When I heard you were all single, I was doubly delighted." He raised his eyebrows. There was no way she was asking for herself.
She laughed. "I have a friend. D.J. doesn't know it yet, but she's ready to settle down. I was planning on fixing her up with one of you. The thing is, you're not all single, are you?"
“Gage and Kevin have had a change in circumstance in the past few months."
“So I heard." She grinned. "I had high hopes for you, Nash, but they've recently been dashed." She turned and nodded across the room. He followed her gaze and saw Stephanie talking with Jill.
As Stephanie spoke, she moved her hands. A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. Jill responded and they both laughed. He was standing too far away to hear the sound, but he imagined it and smiled in return.
“Oh, my," Rebecca said. "It's worse than I thought."
“It's not anything."
“Really?"
“Yes." He wasn't about to tell her about his no-relationships rule. "I'm only in town for a couple of weeks."
“Sometimes plans change."
“Not mine."
“Too bad." She shrugged. "But if you're leaving that quickly, you wouldn't be right for D.J. even if you were available. Which leaves the mysterious Quinn Reynolds. Maybe I can fix them up." Nash considered the idea. On the surface Quinn was a charmer, with plenty of stories and a woman on each arm. But underneath…he wasn't like the rest of them. Quinn lived in a world that would break most men. He did things, saw things, no human should endure.
“Quinn's a great guy," he said. "But more than a little dangerous." Rebecca looked intrigued. "D.J. enjoys a challenge."
“Quinn would be that. But he's a loner. Women tend to have one purpose in his life, and it's not cooking." He'd expected Rebecca to be shocked, but instead she grinned. "How fun. That would make D.J. completely crazy." Nash wouldn't have used that word to describe Quinn's relationships with his women, but then he didn't know this D.J. person, either.
“You want to torture your friend?" he asked. "No, but I can't figure out another way to get her happily married."
“Okay, then." Nash took a step back. Sometimes women completely confused him.
Rebecca excused herself. As she walked away, Stephanie joined Nash. She glanced at her watch.
“Would you mind if we collected the boys and left? It's a school night and they're already wired enough from school getting out in a couple of days. If I have any prayer of a decent bedtime for them, I need to get moving now."
“Sure. Want me to help?"
“Please. Why don't you look for the twins? They'll be together and more cooperative. I'll pull the car up front and get Brett." They said goodbye to the Haynes family, then walked into the main restaurant. The video-game room was by the door. Nash spotted Jason and Adam on a bench by the wall. Adam stood as he approached, but Jason only blinked sleepily.
“Time to head home," Nash said.
“I'm ready," Adam said.
Jason rose, then held out his arms. "I'm tired." Nash stared at him. A small child holding up his arms was a pretty universal symbol. Even living a child-free existence, Nash got it right away. Jason wanted to be carried.
Nash hesitated. It wasn't because he thought Jason would be too heavy or that Stephanie would mind. Instead he paused because something inside of him warned him that this was potentially problematic. He didn't do relationships-not with women, not with friends, not with kids. Relationships required a level of letting go he didn't permit himself. Control was all that stood between him and chaos.
Jason's implied trust made him uneasy. He'd only known the kids a couple of days. So why was Jason so comfortable around Nash?
“He wants to be carried," Adam said, as if he thought Nash didn't get it.
“I know." There didn't seem to be a graceful way out of the situation and Nash didn't want to make a scene over nothing. So he bent forward and pulled the boy up toward his chest. Jason instantly closed his arms around Nash's neck and rested his head on his shoulder. His small legs wrapped around Nash's waist.
Nash put one arm around the boy to hold him in place, then motioned for Adam to lead the way. Instead the eight-year-old tucked his fingers into Nash's free hand and leaned close.
“Is Mommy bringing the car around?" he asked sleepily.
“Yes. Come on." He led the way to the front of the restaurant, then out into the night. Brett was already waiting on the sidewalk. He took one look at the three of them, then turned away. But not before Nash saw the hostility flare in his eyes.
The brief glimpse of the twelve-year-old's raw hurt and anger stirred something familiar in Nash.
Stephanie drove up and broke his concentration. Then he got caught up in settling the twins. As he was about to climb into the passenger seat, Kevin stepped out of the restaurant.
“What did you think?" his brother asked.
Nash looked back at the pizza place. "Good people."
“I agree." Kevin grinned and slapped him on the back. "See you soon." He ducked his head into the minivan. "Nice to meet you, Stephanie. If this guy gives you any trouble, you let me know." She smiled. "So far he's been terrific, but if that changes, I'll call."
“You do that. Night." Kevin stepped back into the restaurant. Stephanie watched him go.
“You have a great family," she said. "You're lucky." Nash had never thought of himself that way, but in this case, maybe she was right.
Stephanie sucked in a breath and did her best to hold on to her temper. "Brett, it's late, it's a school night and you're behaving like a brat. If you're try- ing to convince me that you're not mature enough to handle evenings out on a weeknight, you're doing a great job." Her oldest flopped back on the bed and stared at the ceiling. Since arriving back from their dinner out with Nash and his family, Brett had been sullen, uncommunicative and mouthy. She couldn't figure out what the problem was. Sure he was inching closer to being a teenager, but hormones couldn't kick in over the course of a couple of hours, could they? She sank onto the bed and put her hand on his stomach. "I know you had a good time. I saw you laughing."
“It was okay."
“Just okay? I thought you were having more fun than that." He shrugged.
She began to rub his stomach, something she'd done when he was little and not feeling well. "I'm not leaving until you tell me what has your panties in a bunch. I'm just going to sit right here. After a while, I might start singing." He continued to stare at the ceiling, but she saw his mouth twitch. All the boys thought she had a horrible voice and begged her not to sing. Plus, he would really hate the panty remark. She wondered which one would get to him first.
“I don't wear panties."
“I do the laundry. I already know that." She leaned over him. "How about I just stare at you?"
She made her eyes as wide as possible and forced herself not to blink. Brett pressed his lips together, but it was too late. First he smiled, then he grinned, then he giggled and turned away.
“Stop staring at me!" She relaxed her face and sat back. "I will if you'll talk." He turned on his side so he was facing her, but instead of looking at her face, he studied the blanket. "Do you still love Dad?" She was unprepared for the question. Brett didn't want to have this talk very often, but whenever he did, she felt uncomfortable. She always went for the easy answer, rather than the truth, because that's what Brett wanted to hear. Because she wanted her son to remember his father as a good person and his parents as happy together.
“Of course I still love him," she said gently. "Why do you ask?" He shrugged.
“Is this about Nash? Are you worried that something's going on between us?" Another shrug.
“He's being nice," she said. "I like him, but that doesn't mean anything. He's on vacation. When his vacation is over, he's going back to Chicago." Where the handsome widower probably had dozens of elegant, sophisticated women vying for his attention. Where he wouldn't even remember a single mom with three kids who had an embarrassing crush on him.
“Do you want to, like, you know, go out with him?" Honestly she would much prefer to stay in with Nash, but that wasn't what Brett wanted to know. Two weeks ago she would have told her son that she never planned on dating or getting involved with a man ever. But Nash's arrival had shown her that there were some empty places in her life. While she would never be stupid enough to risk marriage, she wouldn't mind a little male companionship now and then.
“I can't imagine Nash and me on date," she said truthfully. "But your dad has been gone three years. While my feelings for him haven't changed, there will come a time when I want to start dating again." Brett's blue eyes filled with tears. "Why? Why can't you just love Dad?"
“Because he's gone." She pulled him into a sitting position, then drew him into her arms. "When you get a little older, you're going to think girls are a whole lot better than icky. I promise. So you're going to go out. You may even have a girlfriend." He writhed in her arms. "Mo-om."
“Just listen. So you have this girl you really care about. Will you still love your brothers?" He looked at her. "What does that have to do with anything?"
“Just answer the question. Will you still love them?"
“I guess. If they're not being dopey."
“Will you still love me?"
“Sure."
“That's my point. The human heart has the capacity to love as many people as we want to let into our lives. If I start dating or not, nothing about my feelings for you, the twins or even Dad are going to change. There's more than enough room for everyone."
“But I like thinking about you with Dad."
“You can keep thinking about that. I didn't leave him, honey. He died. We mourned him and we still love him. That's the right thing to do. But it's also right to live our lives and be happy. Don't you think your dad would have wanted that for all of us?" Stephanie knew that Marty would have loved the idea of being mourned endlessly by his wife and children, but she wasn't about to lay that guilt on her twelve-year-old.
Brett nodded slowly. "But you're not going out with Nash."
“I'm not."
“Promise?"
“Nash and I will not go out of this house on a date." She made an X over her heart. "But that's as much as my life as you get to dictate, young man. And should I decide to go out with someone, you're going to have to accept the idea. Agreed?"
“Yeah. No problem."
“Good." She kissed his forehead, then released him. After he scrambled under the covers, she tucked them in around him, said good-night and walked out into the hallway. After closing the door, she moved down the stairs.
She wondered when Brett had started to consider Nash a threat. Was there something in his behavior, or was her son able to subconsciously pick up on her strong attraction? Not that it mattered. She'd been very comfortable agreeing to no dates with Nash. Somehow she couldn't see him offering to take her to dinner and a movie. He wasn't a "dinner and a movie" kind of guy. Nash was more late-night walks along the river and hot, passionate kisses up against the crumbling stone wall of the ancient castle.
Stephanie smiled. At least he was in her imagination. As there was neither a river nor a castle nearby, she was probably safe. Not that she wanted to be.
She reached the main floor and turned toward the kitchen, then stopped when a slight movement caught her attention. As she spun around, she saw Nash pacing restlessly across the living-room rug. He glanced up and saw her, came to a stop and shrugged.
“I'm a little wound from the dinner," he said. "I'm not ready to go up to bed. Am I bothering you?" Not in the way he meant. "Of course not. I have to make cookies for the twins to take to school tomorrow. There are few things less interesting than watching someone bake. You want to come into the kitchen and be bored for a while? It will probably help you sleep."
“Sure." As soon as he agreed, she wanted to stop and bang her head against a nearby wall. Watching her might be boring for him, but having him near was wildly exciting for her. She really didn't need to spend more time with him. Hanging around with Nash only seemed to encourage her overactive imagination. Before their dinner tonight she'd thought he was sexy and roguishly charming. After their dinner, she was starting to like him.
She'd enjoyed watching him interact with his family. He'd been caring and understanding with the dozens of kids running around, attentive and interested in his brothers. She'd been stunned to find out what he did for a living. So much for her theory that he was a professor or sold shoes. Instead he inhabited a dark and dangerous world, which only made him more physically appealing.
Stephanie told herself that she had to stop imagining Nash as the bare-chested caveman whisking her off into the wilderness. The poor guy had signed on to be her guest, not the star of her erotic fantasies. If he knew what she was thinking, he would be forced to run screaming into the night.
She collected ingredients for chocolate chip cookies and set them on the counter. Nash took a seat at the kitchen table, then half rose.
“Can I help?" She shook her head. "I've done this so many times, I don't have to look at a recipe. But if you behave, I'll let you have a sample fresh from the oven."
“Deal." She grabbed a couple of eggs and put them next to the canister of flour. "So what did you think of tonight?" she asked.
“It went well. I'm not sure I can keep everyone straight."
“I wouldn't want to try," she admitted. "The name tags were a great idea." She measured brown sugar. "Where in Chicago do you live?"
“I have a condo by the lake. I can walk to a lot of great restaurants. There's a good jogging trail nearby."
“I've never been, but I can't imagine you do much jogging in the winter."
“True. Then I hit the gym." And he had the body to prove it. Although she doubted Nash worked out to be buff. No doubt it was required for his job. She tried not to sigh at the image of him in a ratty T-shirt and shorts, lifting heavy weights. Instead she channeled her energy into vigorously whipping her eggs.
“I grew up with one brother and my mom," he said quietly. "I've never had any experience with a large family."
“The Hayneses will take some getting used to," she said. "But they'll be worth the effort." He nodded. "What about you? Are you one of seven?"
“Not exactly." She opened the bottle of vanilla and picked up her measuring spoons. "I was an only child. My parents were artists. Very focused on their work and each other." She gave him a slight smile. "They didn't believe in paying attention to the outside world. Things like electric bills and empty kitchen cupboards didn't faze them. I grew up pretty quickly. Someone had to be the responsible one and it turned out to be me." His dark gaze settled on her face. "Was that tough?"
“Sometimes." When she wanted to be a kid, like her friends. "But I learned a lot, too. I was really prepared for the real world when I left for college."
“Did you want a big family?"
“Sure. While I was growing up, I thought it would be terrific. I had it all planned, from my husband to our five kids to our assortment of dogs, cats and small rodents." She'd thought the same when she'd married Marty. But by the time she'd figured out she'd madea horrible mistake and discovered she was pregnant in the same week, her plans had changed. She'd resigned herself to having one child. The twins had been an accident. A blessing, but an unplanned one.
If only, she thought. If only Marty had been more willing to be a grown-up instead of an overgrown child. If only she'd seen the truth earlier. Except then she wouldn't have her boys, and she loved them more than anything.
“Stephanie?"
“Huh?" She glanced up and saw him watching her.
“Are you all right? You got pretty quiet.”
“Sorry. Just thinking." He rose and crossed to the island. "About your late husband?"
“Yes, but not in the way you think." She didn't want Nash to worry that he'd made her miss Marty.
“Was it being out with me? The whole 'meet the family' circus?"
“No. That was great. I really enjoyed tonight." She tried to smile, but he was standing only a couple of feet of counter space away and his intense, dark stare took her breath away. She cleared her throat. "I don't get out that much."
“With three boys and your own business, you probably don't have time to date much."
“Date?" She laughed. "Like that ever happens." ''Why doesn't it?"
“Good question." She dumped the dry ingredients into the batter and began to stir. As the mixture thickened, she had to really push to get the wooden spoon through.
“I'll do that," he said, stepping around the island and moving next to her.
Before she realized what was happening, he'd taken the spoon from her and was making quick work of the mixing. She blinked in surprise.
“Why do you do that?" she asked. "Why are you always so happy to help?"
“Why not?" She didn't have an answer she was willing to share. Telling him she'd long ago learned not to depend on anyone made her sound pathetic.
“Do these go in next?" he asked, nodding toward the open bag of chocolate chips.
“Yes." She dumped the chips into the batter. "So why don't you date?" She stared at the swirling mixture, rather than risk looking at him. Dangerous, dangerous question. "I just…there aren't many men interested and I don't seem to meet any."
“Interested men?"
“Any men."
“So it's not that you're not interested."
“I-" The questions were going from bad to worse. Interested? Was she? Not in love. She'd learned that lesson in spades. But in a good man? Someone who would be fun and funny and caring? Someone who would hold her and ease the trembling ache deep inside?
“I could be interested," she admitted softly. "Good." He dropped the wooden spoon into the bowl and turned toward her. Before she realized what was happening, before she could catch her breath or even consider if this was as crazy as it seemed, he'dpulled her into his arms. Just like that. She was pressed up against his hard, masculine body and then his face was getting closer and she knew he was going to kiss her.
Stephanie's last rational thought was that it had been twelve years since a man other than Marty had kissed her and that there was a more than even chance she'd completely forgotten what to do.
Then Nash claimed her mouth in a warm, tender, erotic kiss that made her heart freeze in midbeat and her brain completely shut down. There wasn't any thinking, there was only feeling. Feeling and doing.
He pressed his lips against hers with just enough pressure to make her want more. Strong, large hands settled on her back. She felt his fingers, the heat of his palms, the brush of his thighs against her own. His scent surrounded her, enticed her, made her legs weak and her muscles slack. She had to wrap her arms around his neck to stay standing.
Then his mouth moved against her. Slowly, discovering, teasing. He brushed his tongue against her lower lip. She had no will and parted instantly. Excitement raced through her. The sound of her breathing filled her head. She wanted with a desperation that should have terrified her, but instead only made her reckless. She wanted deep, hot kisses and wild abandon. She wanted his hands everywhere. She wanted to touch and be touched, to be wet, to be filled. She wanted to lose herself in an orgasm that would shake the very fabric of the space-time continuum.
So when he again swept his tongue against the inside of her lower lip, she moaned low in her throat.
When he moved inside and brushed against her, letting her taste him, feel him, dance with him, she respond with an intensity that was as foreign to her as the fiery need spiraling through her.
She kissed him deeply, matching each thrusting stroke with one of her own. When he moved his hands from her back to her rear, she arched against him, flattening her belly against an impressive hardness.
They both strained to get closer and closer still. Heads tilting, tongues mating, hands roving, they gasped and kissed and nipped and surged.
She traced the length of his spine, then felt his high, tight rear end. As her fingers dug into his flesh, his arousal flexed against her stomach. He slipped his hands to her hips, then to her waist. At the same time, he pulled away from her mouth and instead began to kiss her jaw, her neck, then that sweet spot right below her ear. He licked the sensitive skin and while she was still caught up in the pleasure, he sucked on her ear lobe. At the same moment, his hands closed over her sensitized breasts.
She had to bite her lip to keep from screaming. Long fingers cupped her curves, while his thumbs and forefingers caressed her hard, aching nipples. Need raced through her. Need and desire and longing for more. She wanted to tear off her clothes, and his. She wanted him to take her right there, on the counter. She wanted it hard and fast, her legs spread, him buried deep, thrusting and thrusting until they both lost control in a shuddering release.
“Nash," she breathed and reached for the buttons on his shirt.
He grabbed the hem of her sweater and started totug. Right then, there was a loud creak from overhead.
Stephanie knew it was just the old house settling as the night temperature dropped, but it was enough to remind her of the fact that they really were in her kitchen and that she had three children sleeping upstairs. She stiffened slightly. Nash read the signal for what it was and immediately stepped back.
His face was flushed, his eyes dilated, his mouth damp from their kisses. He looked like a man more than ready for a walk on the wild side. She had a feeling she looked just as…aroused.
Just don't think about how long it's been since you had sex, she told herself. The reality would be too depressing for words.
In the silence of the kitchen, their breathing sounded loud and unnaturally fast. Nash recovered enough to speak first. Or maybe he wasn't as nervous as she was.
“I haven't kissed anyone in a while," he said, his voice thick with passion and slightly wry. "I don't remember it being like that." She had to clear her throat before speaking. "Me, neither."
“You okay?" She nodded.
“Want me to apologize?" he asked.
“No. Not unless you're sorry." Oh, please, not that. She couldn't stand that.
His dark eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled. "Not even close." He raised his hand toward her, then dropped it back to his side. "I'd better head upstairs before… Well, before we start at it again." She didn't want him to go, but she knew it was for the best. Ah, maturity. Why was it never as much fun as acting like an irresponsible kid?
“Sleep well," he said as he turned to leave. "Unlikely," she said before she could stop herself.
He glanced at her and grinned. "Tell me about it."