Blame it on Cupid (27 page)

“Hi there, lover,” she whispered.

“Don't you try talking nice to me after what you've been doing,” he snarled, and then ducked his head.

Well, damn the man, if he didn't abruptly, relentlessly, smother her with tenderness. He offered kisses, softer than secrets. A touch that revered and cherished. And at some point, she felt him sliding, gliding, so naturally inside her. He claimed her slowly at first, but then deeper, much deeper, so deep that he just possibly reached the depth of her womb.

“No one,” he whispered. “No one, Merry. Ever. Made me feel the way you do.”

And double damn the man if that didn't tip her right off the cliff. Orgasm was such a silly, pale word for the clenching shudders that rippled through her, forcing her eyes closed, her throat to bare for his lips, her hips to cleave tight to him in surrender. Surrender, and triumph both.

Belonging. Who knew it was an emotion? Yet moments later, as they both lay there, spent, she snuggled close with a sweet rush of belonging. “Where'd I ever find you?” he murmured, and she chuckled against his throat—then kissed his throat, right below the chin line. Then snuggled in tighter and fell hopelessly sound asleep.

 

S
HE WOKE UP ALONE
, and stretched like a lazy cat. Talk about euphoria. The only way she could feel happier was if Jack was lying next to her—which, naturally, he couldn't be. Thankfully he'd managed to stay awake and get up and go back to his boys. Still. Falling asleep in his arms had felt more luxurious than a present of diamonds, and her body still felt the sated pleasure from being with him.

The clock claimed it was only six-thirty, which meant that Charlene wasn't even close to getting up for school yet. She leaped out of bed, pranced around finding clothes, danced silently out to the coffeemaker…she still wasn't totally friends with the high-tech appliance, but they seemed to reach a fairly regular truce. While waiting for the fancy machine to chug through its cycle, she picked up the phone and dialed Minnesota.

“There's only one person in the solar system who would dare call me at this hour,” Lucy said. “It better be Merry.”

She chuckled. “And I better not have woken you, but you've said a zillion times that you're up with Laurie at this hour.”

“I am. This is a monster baby. She never wants to sleep past four. On the other hand, we get these first two hours of the day together, just ourselves.”

“You're still in love? Even after all these days and weeks of no sleep?”

“With the baby and Nick both. You think it's sleep deprivation making me crazy?”

“Nah. I think it's happiness.” The light went on the coffee machine. With the phone tucked in her ear, Merry poured the first mug. “I don't want to keep you from the private baby time for long. But I had to call you. Had to share this with someone. Oh, Lucy…”

“What?”

“I am
so, so, so
in love.”

On the other end, Lucy let out a soft laugh. “I can hear it in your voice. You're dancing on air. It has to be the neighbor?”

“Yeah, Jack.” She couldn't keep the bliss from her voice. “In the beginning, I couldn't believe it could go anywhere…and even now I can't swear where it's headed. For sure there's no way to do this fast. I have Charlene, and he has two teenagers. There's no hurrying anything, but Lucy, I can feel it building. So strong. So real. It's the best thing that ever happened to me.”

“Merry…”

“What?”

“I've heard you say this before.” Lucy's voice had turned gentle, with a rim of worry now. “You do tend to take on everything at five hundred percent, you know. To throw yourself into a new job. To start a project with all your energy. To love with your whole heart.”

Through the east window, the sun was just starting to peek over the horizon with a flush of pale rose. A bird suddenly started chirping. “But not men,” Merry said. “You've never heard me be in any kind of hustle to use the
L
word with a man.”

“That's true. It's been hobbies and jobs and projects that you fall head over heels for.” Lucy's voice turned thoughtful. “With men, you usually—”

“Drop them. Not stick. Not even think about staying the course,” Merry admitted. “But this is completely different. I never wanted to be tied to a job or a place. You said it one time, Lucy, that my mom preyed on my mind. I know you're right now. If there was ever a man who really mattered to me, I didn't want a job or a place or anything else affecting whether I could be with him. I want a relationship where the two of us mattered more than anything else. Because when it comes down to it…if you're not free to love, then you're not really free.”

“All right. Now you're starting to scare me.” In the distance Merry heard Lucy shifting the baby to her shoulder, heard the creak of an old rocker. “I'm beginning to think this guy is the real thing. Do I need to come there and check him out?”

Merry laughed. “That's exactly what my dad said. And I can't wait for you to meet him. But not quite yet. And that's enough about me—How's Laurie? You said you were going to download some new pictures.”

“You mean you actually
want
to see more? Could this be? That someone exists who's willing to see another five hundred pictures of the baby?”

“Hey, you're talking about my godchild.” They teased and chatted a little longer, but it
was
early in Minnesota, and Merry hung up after a bit. She sat, still smiling, so easily imagining her old friend rocking the baby. Lucy used to be a fussbudget extraordinaire, a hard-core picture straightener, a complete tidy freak…but that was the thing about old friends—at least the really good old friends. You knew their flaws and they knew yours. No need to pretend.

Lucy knew well how Merry had always presented a flaky image for the world.

Of course, she
had
been flaky in the past. But all her free-spirited attitude and buzzing around from job to job hadn't been exactly what it seemed.

Suddenly she glanced up and noticed Charlene in the doorway. She was wearing a Chicago Bears T-shirt in a man's XXX-large, which meant it trailed almost to the floor. In spite of the budding breasts, she looked so young and vulnerable with the bare feet and sleepy eyes and tousled hair.

“You're up early,” Merry said cheerfully, yet immediately noticed that Charlene swiftly ducked away from direct eye contact, and was pulling at her fingers again. And abruptly Merry remembered last night—the time before she and Jack made love—the part he'd been trying to tell her something about a secret of Charlene's.

“Yeah, I woke up when I thought I heard the phone. And then I was just wide awake. So…you have a godchild?”

“Yup. Little baby girl. You've heard me talk about Lucy and the baby before. Lucy was my best friend in school—”

“Yeah, but I didn't know the baby was your godchild.”

Merry slipped off the stool, bending down to reach in the cupboard for the granola with almond cereal that Charlene loved. Something in her tone made Merry pause. “Is that a problem?” she asked in confusion.

“Problem? No problem. I'd just guess you'll want to go live back there again. If you've got a godchild and best friend there and all. I mean, whenever.”

So it was that old story again. “The only reason I can imagine moving there was if you wanted to. Which would be fine. But as long as you're happy here…one of these days, I want my dad to fly in to meet you. And Lucy can't easily travel yet, just too tough with a baby that age. But a little later, I hope she'll come and bring the baby, give you a chance to meet her.”

“Yeah, right.”

Merry heard the doubt. Hard to miss, when it had all that preteenager ring of sarcasm attached. It stung. Not for long. She served the cereal, the bowl, the milk, the napkin. Of course a leopard couldn't change
all
her spots. She forgot the spoon.

“So what's on the agenda after school today?” Merry asked. “There has to be a ball game practice of some kind. B-Ball? V-Ball? M-Ball? What?”

Charlene sighed. “Merry, you really don't get the difference in the sports, do you?”

“Hey, I did cheerleading. And dance. It's just the ball games that seem to blur altogether. Anyway, if it's not sports, how about academic challenge? Or the science project—”

“Nothing going on after school today,” Charlene jumped in, before she'd run down the complete agenda of after-school activities.

“Good. Your hair's flopping big-time. Wouldn't you like a little cut and style?”

“I don't need a cut and style. I need more wax,” Charlie informed her.

They'd see, Merry thought. She had an idea about the hair. And getting Charlene in a mall or salon environment meant she'd be on Merry's turf. Which meant she'd have a much, much better chance of worming Charlene's secret out of her. The one she'd told Jack.

As soon as the squirt was in school, she intended to call Jack anyway. Then she'd know the secret. And could strategize all day what to do about the problem—whatever it was—before the after-school hair crisis.

It was a good plan, she thought.

Of course everything seemed like a good plan, after having been made love to, thoroughly and fabulously well. Hell's bells. Even looking at the sinkful of dirty dishes that had appeared out of nowhere made her smile.

Love did that to a woman.

 

W
HEN
D
IANNE CALLED
to let him know her business trip had been extended, Jack didn't mind having the boys an extra week. Hell, he wished he had them full time. Even when they were being a pain, he still loved having them, and could usually rearrange his work to accommodate their long school commute. The only trial was getting them up at the crack of dawn.

Root canals had to be easier, and today he had the two extra boys to carpool as well. Once he faced Armageddon and finally got the whole surly crew into the car, though, they immediately quieted down. The three in the back seat even closed their eyes and nodded back to sleep.

Jack had ample time over the long drive to replay the night before with Merry. The climbing in her window, because he'd been so distraught over Charlene's problem. His trying to tactfully start that whole dialogue and getting all muddled. His somehow—and how did those “somehows” keep happening?—ending up in bed with her.

Mostly his mind played and replayed the luxurious sex. That woman gave more in one encounter than he remembered in a dozen years of marriage. She was so…generous. So sensuous, so open, so giving.

So sexy.

Jack kept trying to grasp what was happening to her, to them—to him. He'd never thought he was a terrible lover. At least he'd never heard any complaints. But when Dianne told him she'd wanted a divorce, later, he'd thought he'd have survived the breakup better if she'd left him for another man. Leaving him because of her career just seemed the Ultimate Ego Wilter.

All the women he'd slept with since hadn't helped him recover that lost ego. He just couldn't seem to get that positive feeling about himself as a man back.

He'd stopped expecting it.

Then along came Merry. He'd only seduced her a couple of times—or she'd seduced him; he couldn't tell who got the most credit. But suddenly his ego had flown back home, to hell with Jersey, and was infesting his head with a light-headed euphoric idiot grin.

Real life just wasn't
like
this.

He'd stared in the dark all last night, grinning like a hyena.

She wasn't for
him,
for Pete's sake. Nothing about the relationship or anything else was right. She thought he was a good guy, a hero kind of guy.

The whole thing was a complete mess. Complicated. Confusing. Worrisome. So how come he still couldn't wipe off that idiotic grin?

Maybe he needed a psychiatrist, he told himself, as he pulled up to the school. “Wake up, guys,” he told the boys, who obediently started gathering up their gear. “You'll be at Gary's after school until I can pick you up, remember.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Kicker could not be expected to be civil before 9:00 a.m. And neither boy appreciated having to be pinned down to a friend's house after school. But Jack needed to know where they were, and although the early-morning commute was easy enough to manage, he couldn't always guarantee leaving work at a set time, so arrangements had to be made so they had a safe, sure place to go.

The minute Kicker and the other boys heaved out of the truck, Jack said, “Cooper. Hold up a second.”

Cooper shifted his book bag and hung in the passenger window. “What?”

“Nothing really. I just wanted to ask…you okay? Anything up with you?”

“Like what?”