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Authors: Tanya Michaels

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BOOK: A Mother's Homecoming
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“I cannot believe I did that,” she said to the ceiling, embarrassed. “That was …”

“Earth-shattering?” Nick flashed her an adorably cocky grin.

Out of control.
She sat up, tugging her shirt and bra back into place. Letting her common sense get eclipsed by the moment was a bad idea for an addict. One kiss had turned into much more so fast her brain hadn't been able to process it. It was reminiscent of the way a single drink to help her loosen up before a show had once turned into a sloppy, intoxicated performance that had tanked the last of her professional credibility.

“That was too much,” she said. “What happened to discipline?”

He reached for her, trying to joke away her tension. “I didn't know you were into the discipline stuff. Maybe next time.”

“Nick! I'm serious. That …” She blinked. “I've had too many mindless one-night stands.”

“We don't have to talk about that. Neither of us have been completely celibate, and I'm not going to hold your history against you.”

“It's not about you holding anything against me, it's about me holding myself accountable. I don't want this anymore. I don't want you to be just a quick lay.”

He flinched, then stood. “That kind of talk is kind of a mood killer, sweetheart.”

Good. Because it would have felt too selfish to send him out of here still aroused while she was satisfied.
Sort of.
Her body might have just released months of tension, but she wasn't exactly giddy with afterglow. She wanted to curl into a ball and cry, which was what had landed her in this mess in the first place. Tears weren't the answer.

With a sigh, Nick resumed his pacing. “I don't mean to downplay what you've been through, but is there any
chance you're overreacting? Getting swept away with your ex-husband is hardly the same thing as taking home a stranger. There's a difference between self-control and self-denial.”

She pulled her legs up against her body and turned her head, resting her cheek on her knees. It gave her a strange, sideways view of his concerned expression. She appreciated that he was at least trying to understand her perspective rather than fuming at her for leading him on, not that Nick ever would.

He'd always been a gentleman … just, a gentleman who ended up getting her naked more often than not.

“You may have a point,” she conceded. After all, it wasn't so impromptu, her being attracted to him. She'd felt that pull most of her life. “I didn't realize the chemistry between us would still be so potent.” In a smaller voice, she confessed, “It rattled me.”

He held one hand out in front of him; they could both see his fingers trembled slightly. “I'm not exactly steady myself. I want you.”

“I want you, too. But not like this.” Sweaty and sore on a secondhand couch with bits of plaster and paint stuck in her hair? She'd been intentionally abstinent since joining the program. If she slept with him, it would be the first time she'd had sober sex in years, and she wanted to remember it as more than a savage haze. To savor it. To know that she was doing something deliberate and not just losing herself in a different kind of intoxication. “Go home, cool down. And after you've had a chance to think about it, ask me out. If you still want to.”

“So you're not saying no?” he asked, looking cheerful again. “I just have to put some thought and effort into it?”

She chuckled. “That's not exactly how I meant it, but okay.”

“You're worth the effort. I used to love that, planning how to get you alone, what I would say, where I wanted to touch you first. It'll be just like old times.”

“No.” She winced. They weren't seventeen anymore. “It won't be.”

“All right.” Nick leaned down, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “It'll be like new times, then. Even better.”

Chapter Thirteen

“Someone's in a good mood,” Dawn commented with a raised eyebrow.

Pam looked up blankly from the pile of hair she was sweeping. “Why do you say that?” Had she been unconsciously beaming at the broom? She probably looked like an idiot.

“You were singing,” Dawn said. “Again. Third different song today. You're better than the radio station—no commercials.”

They'd had a busy Saturday morning, but were enjoying a brief lunchtime lull. Nancy had run out to make a deposit before the bank closed at one, and Beth was getting sandwiches for all of them. Dawn had just finished with a customer and didn't have another appointment for fifteen minutes.

“Huh. I didn't realize I was singing.”

Dawn smirked. “So who is he?”

“A woman can sing without there being a man involved,” Pam replied, stonewalling. She tried not to think about the way Nick had kissed her last night. “I sang professionally for years.”

“Oh, come on,” Dawn pleaded. “I tell you all the romantic details about me and Jer.”

“Whether I want them or not,” Pam grumbled good-naturedly.

Dawn put her hands on her ample hips. “Are you really not going to tell me?”

“I'm not sure there's anything to tell yet. Let's just say that, for the first time in a long time, there's a poss—”

The door to the beauty shop opened and both women turned automatically. It wasn't the woman with the next appointment, however. It was a young guy with skinny legs beneath his khaki shorts. His top half was mostly obscured by the large flower arrangement he carried.

“One of you Pam Wilson?” he asked from around the blooms.

“That would be her,” Dawn said with a cat-who-ate-the-canary smile.

Oh.
Pam's face warmed; she could feel the rosy blush creeping up her cheeks.
Nick, you shouldn't have.

He apparently felt otherwise. The card read: Being with you is worth every effort, worth any wait. I'll be in touch soon.

Instead of signing it, he'd simply drawn that elongated, not-quite-closed heart shape she recognized from school. Passing notes had been forbidden in class, and teachers were known to be merciless to those caught—often reading the private messages aloud. So she and Nick had never used names anywhere on their letters; instead his signature had always been this same heart. It was such a small thing to have tears pricking the backs of her eyes, but she was moved that he remembered and would think to do it now.

She slipped the card into her pocket. “Is it all right if I put these on the front desk for everyone to enjoy?”

“Well, there is a strict salon policy that says you can
only display personal gifts and bouquets if you tell your coworkers who they're from,” Dawn deadpanned.

Pam nibbled at her lower lip. Dawn was a dear, longtime friend—who better to confide in? But for the first time in her life, Pam was afraid of being in the spotlight, superstitious that if she invited outside speculation, things might fall apart before they'd even begun.

“Oooh, flowers.” Nancy strolled into the salon, her interest piqued. “I don't suppose they're for me? Clive and I had a bit of a spat, and it would be just like him to apologize this way.”

“Sorry, they're Pam's,” Dawn said with exaggerated sweetness. It was unlike her to be vindictive, but she'd made it clear on several occasions that she didn't approve of the way Nancy treated Pam.

“Oh,” Nancy said flatly. She rolled her eyes. “You and Nick haven't changed since high school, always so eager to flaunt your relationship in front of everyone else.” With that, she stomped toward the ladies' room at the back of the salon.

“She's crazy,” Dawn pronounced. “That was years ago. You and Nick aren't …
Are
you?”

“I'm not sure,” Pam said. Although the flowers seemed like a pretty positive indication.

“When did this happen?”

“I'm not sure about that either.” Sometime between when he'd first shown up at Trudy's to let Pam know she wasn't welcome in Mimosa and when he'd entreated her to meet their daughter, between his calling her after that meeting to make sure she wasn't tempted to drink and his making her lunch.

To say nothing of the wicked things he'd done to her on her couch.

“So what does this mean? Are the two of you back together?”

With a sigh, Pam carried the broom and dustpan into the storage closet. “Dawn, you can keep asking questions, but they won't do you much good. You'll notice ‘I'm not sure' is the running theme here.”

“Hmm.” Dawn glanced toward the front door, which Pam didn't have a clear view of from inside the closet. “Do you think his family might have some idea of whether you're dating?”

“What do you mean, his family?” Oh, Lord.
His mother decided she couldn't afford a hit man and is coming to do me in herself.
It was more likely Faith who was visiting, although Pam would be disappointed in the girl if she disobeyed her dad again.

Pam poked her head out of the closet just in time to see Leigh Shepard—Pam couldn't recall her married name—enter the salon. The woman was carrying a basket on her arm as if she were stopping by on her way to grandma's house.

“Afternoon, Dawn.” Leigh flashed the woman a genuine smile. “Got time to squeeze me in today? Thought I'd get a trim and drop these cookies off for Pamela Jo.” She glanced past Dawn, and the smile wobbled slightly when she spotted her former sister-in-law. “They're sort of a housewarming gift, I guess. I understand you had furniture moved out to Mae's old place this week.”

“Thank you.” Pam was touched. And deeply suspicious. Maybe she should have a lab in one of the bigger cities test the cookies before she ate any.

“Come on back,” Dawn invited Leigh. “You want a shampoo first or are we doing a dry cut?”

As Leigh explained what she was in the mood for today, Nancy returned to the front of the salon, belting
her smock over her black jeans and black turtleneck sweater. “What smells so good up here?” she asked no one in particular. “Beth back with the food already?”

“Actually,” Pam replied, “Leigh brought me homemade cookies.”

Nancy's lips compressed into a thin line that ruined the effect of her pout-plumping gloss. “What, is it your birthday or something?”

Pam studied the bright bouquet and aromatic basket of chocolate cookies and grinned from ear to ear. “Or something.”

“D
ID
I
CATCH YOU
hard at work?”

Even though Pam knew the caller was going to be Nick before she answered—the number had flashed on the cell's display screen—hearing his voice still sent a thrill through her. “Not exactly.” She'd actually been in the middle of a break, sitting out on the front step, listening to the cacophony of crickets and frogs and night birds now that dark had fallen. The sun was setting earlier and earlier each day, a clear mark that summer was behind them.

It's pretty out here.
The thought shouldn't have surprised her; after all, she'd grown up with this same night music, the same stars twinkling overhead. She supposed “serene” just wasn't how she remembered her childhood home. Twenty minutes ago, she'd come out here with a glass of cold milk and a small plate stacked with cookies; now she was too relaxed to move. “I finally got around to eating those cookies Leigh gave me.”

He chuckled. “Did you feed them to the ladies at the salon first and deem them safe after a forty-eight-hour
period passed with no one's stomach needing to be pumped?”

“Nah, but that would have been so much better than my plan. I ignored the cookies for two days, then got the munchies and scarfed down four of them in one sitting. They're excellent.”

“Her peacemaking cookies,” he said affectionately. “Whenever she used to do something really mean to me, I'd get my very own batch a couple of days later.”

“Not the worst policy I've ever heard.” Forgiveness wasn't always an easy concept; cookies could help.

“Speaking of Leigh, she's actually the reason I'm calling,” he said.

“Oh?” Pam tried not to sound miffed. He wasn't calling, perhaps, to tell her about an interesting movie coming to theaters or to let her know about a restaurant that had opened in Mimosa during her years away? It had been nearly a week since Pam had advised him to ask her out, but so far, nothing. They'd had a couple of good conversations in the four days since he'd kissed her. But on the possibility of going out, he'd said nothing.

Zip, bupkus, nada, squat.

“Leigh has sons,” he said, sounding extremely cheerful about this piece of trivia. “So occasionally she likes to do female bonding stuff with Faith. And next Monday just so happens to be a teacher in-service day at the middle school, giving the students a three-day weekend. Leigh has offered to take Faith out of town to do some outlet shopping and a riverboat luncheon cruise. Looks like I'll have the house all to myself for a couple of days.”

“You don't say?” Pam's heart was so light it was
floating in her chest. “You know, I've always liked your sister.”

He laughed. “But not as much as you like me, right? I'm the one who sent you flowers.”

“Which I already called and thanked you for,” she drawled, mock-bored even while she was grinning like crazy. “That's old news.”

“Oh, I see.” He played along. “You're of the ‘what have you done for me lately?' mindset. Tough lady to impress.”

Yeah, right.
All he had to do was smile at her and she melted inside. “Exactly.”

“Do I get any credit for nudging Leigh in the longweekend direction?” he asked. “I may have let it slip that I was hoping Faith would find ways to occupy her time this weekend that didn't include hanging around with Morgan.”

“So you're saying you secretly masterminded the whole trip? Sneaky,” she said approvingly.

“You haven't heard my ace up the sleeve yet. I cook! Want to come check it out for yourself on Saturday? My place, say, seven o'clock?”

She managed not to squeal her acceptance like some girl Faith's age being asked to sit at lunch with the cutest guy in school. “Sounds perfect.”

As they ended their phone call, Pam rocketed to her feet, brimming with renewed energy. The hours between now and Saturday would drag, and she was determined to keep them as full as possible.

I
T DID NOT BODE WELL
for one's romantic evening, Pam decided, when merely the act of lifting your sore arm to knock on the front door made you cringe.
Mental note: doorbell, next time.
She'd just be sure to ring with
a finger she
hadn't
squashed with a hammer yesterday. Her entire upper body felt like one big bruise.

Nick answered the door quickly as if he'd been hovering on the other side, anxious for her arrival. “Right on time,” he praised. His gaze slid down her red jersey dress, a simple scoop neck with a far more daring scooped back. “And you look amazing.”

“Thank you.”
And thank you, Dawn.
Her friend had come over to the house today, not only to offer her services in the wallpapering department, but also to help with Pam's hair and makeup.

“Please come in,” he said. “We have about twenty minutes until dinner's ready. Can I pour you a glass of w—oh, crap. I'm so sorry.”

She was able to laugh it off. “Don't be. It's not the first time someone's asked me that question. I'll stick with sweet tea or, if you don't have any, filtered water. But you should feel free to have wine or anything else you'd like to drink tonight.”

“I'm fine with water, too,” he said promptly. “The sight of you in that red dress is all the buzz I need for one evening.”

She stretched up on her toes to press a quick kiss to his cheek. “Flatterer. So what's on the menu for tonight?”

He rocked back, giving her a wolfish smile. “Well …”

Pam smacked him lightly on his arm. “The culinary menu, Mr. One Track Mind!”

“Shrimp pomodoro over angel-hair pasta with Caesar salad. I made the dressing myself. And dessert is a surprise, but trust me, it's not store bought.”

“You showing off for me?” She liked it.

“Just demonstrating that I think you're worth the
effort. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to stir the sauce.”

She followed him into the kitchen, where she kicked off her shoes. It was a shame, really—they were very sexy shoes—but it was just so homey and inviting in here. She wanted to be comfortable, enjoy the delicious smells and Nick's company.

They talked nonstop while he finished preparing their dinner. He told her about how he'd earned Donald Bauer's respect when he was only twenty, juggling a construction job and parenthood. Bauer Construction had been started by Donald's father, but the man had no sons who could take it over after him. When Nick returned to Mimosa from North Carolina, Donald had not just rehired him, he'd started grooming him to manage the entire organization.

They discussed Pam's renovations on the house, which were going really well. While Aunt Julia couldn't do any jobs that required heavy lifting, she had an eye for color and detail and had become Pam's unofficial decorating consultant. Pam also mentioned that several of the people she'd met at the local AA meetings had stopped by, seeming to find the manual labor as cathartic as she did; respecting the confidentiality of other members, she didn't tell Nick that one of those people worked for him.

“Voilà!” Nick stepped back from two perfectly plated meals, spreading his hands in front of him. He winked at her. “Damn, I'm good.”

“I believe that's for me to decide,” she teased.

He came around the other side of the counter to sit with her. “My daughter would be so jealous. This is one of her favorite dishes.”

BOOK: A Mother's Homecoming
10.97Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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