Somebody's Lover (3 page)

“No-oh.” Connie frowned. “I meant
another little girl.”

“Don’t tell me.” Evelyn’s brow
frown deepened.

“I’m late,” Connie said. “Very
late. Don’t tell Mitch.”

Evelyn was silent a second too
long. “Honey, you have to tell Mitch. You should have told him before you told
us.”

“You know how he is.” Connie
sighed. “He’ll start running numbers in his calculator and freak out about not
knowing where to come up with the money for diapers and clothes and stuff.”

Not to mention medical bills,
insurance, and on and on. A new baby was very expensive. Taylor didn’t voice
the thought. Connie was sweet, loved her kids more than anything in the world,
and was the best mom, but she could be a bit unrealistic at times. She’d
probably invented rose-colored glasses.

“Because Mitch worries is exactly
why you have to tell him,” Evelyn insisted. “Have you been to the doctor yet?”

“No. I wanted to wait another week
or so.”

“Have you at least peed on the
stick?” Which was Evelyn’s euphemism for home pregnancy tests.

“I don’t need to. I can feel the
changes. I didn’t need the stick to know Rina was coming along.”

“Heavens, girl, you better tell
Mitch soon.”

Connie’s usually perky lower lip
trembled. “I thought you’d be happy. I think it’s another girl.”

“I am happy.” But the laughter had
faded from Evelyn’s eyes. “But that boy’s the worry wart in this family, always
trying to keep up with his brothers as if thinks he’s got something to prove.”
She sighed, gazing across the yard. “And I don’t like keeping secrets from my
boys. So promise you’re going to tell him.”

Connie nodded. “I promise. As soon
as I get a test. There isn’t any sense in worrying him before I’m positive.”

“There’s a good girl.” Evelyn
patted her hand.

They sat in silence for a few
moments, watching the game’s progress. Childish laughter and whooping rang out
across the yard as Brian made a perfect throw. Jace, always wonderful with her
boys, gave him a high five.

“Jace is looking mighty fine
today.”

Taylor shot Connie a look. The
younger woman sat with her chin propped on her hand, her gaze on the very part
of Jace’s anatomy Taylor herself had been watching too much that day.

Why had she said that? Taylor’s
mind started working overtime. Connie hadn’t noticed something different, had
she?

Taylor suddenly needed to busy
herself. “I’ll take these inside.” She hastily gathered empty bowls and stacked
the dirty paper plates.

“I’ll help you in a minute,” Evelyn
said as she clapped for another well-aimed throw, this time by Taylor’s
youngest, Jamey.

Taylor headed for the house, but
couldn’t resist one more glance at the game. At that moment, Jace looked up. At
her. Even from this distance, she could see the smolder in his eyes.

He hadn’t put last night out of his
mind either.

* * * * *

“Will you look at that?” Connie
mused.

“What?” Evelyn pulled together the
plates Taylor couldn’t carry.

“That.” Connie nodded at Jace with
her chin. “He’s been watching Taylor all day.”

Evelyn looked. She didn’t see
anything. Jace was helping Rina get ready for another throw, demonstrating the
proper stance. “You’ve got a fertile imagination.”

Connie’s eyes twinkled. “Fertile is
right.”

Evelyn felt a little catch in her
throat. She loved Connie. She loved both her boys’ wives. But Connie sometimes
got things set wrong in her head. Evelyn debated briefly about pulling Mitch
aside tomorrow and telling him about the maybe-baby, but discarded the idea.
That’s one thing she’d vowed she’d never do, get involved in her boys’ marriages,
any of them.

She ignored Connie’s little joke.
“Jace is acting the same way he always does.”

“No. He keeps watching Taylor.
Whenever she’s not looking his way. And she’s doing the same thing.” Connie
gave a sly smile. “Something’s going on there.”

Taylor and Jace? Evelyn gave her
youngest a long look. She used to wish he’d find a woman like Taylor. Someone
who would settle his oats, calm him down a little. He was her baby, her wild
boy, the one who had given her quite a few sleepless nights.

Though he’d changed since Lou’s
death. There were times he brooded over things that weren’t his fault, she
knew. A mother who’d always been able to talk to her sons about anything,
Jace’s guilt was the one thing she’d never been able to bring up with him. He’d
walk out of the room rather than listen to her. It wasn’t something she could
discuss with Arthur either. Arthur never talked about that day, and she
certainly couldn’t bring up her worries over Jace. She’d been married to Arthur
for almost forty years, but that was a subject over which she couldn’t predict
his reaction. So she let sleeping dogs lie. Jace needed to deal with it on his
own. He’d taken to treating Lou’s boys like they were his, coaching their
little league team, taking them to father-son days at school or camp. He fixed
whatever Taylor needed fixing around the house. He changed her oil when the car
needed it, came over to mow the lawn. He did Lou’s jobs. Atonement? Probably.
Yes, for sure.

But something more with Taylor?
That girl wasn’t looking for a husband or a man. She was fine with her boys and
the family. No one would ever replace Lou for her. If Jace thought otherwise,
he was in for a big heartache.

“Hey, Jace,” Connie called. “Come
here.”

He ambled over politely, but darn
if his glance didn’t stray to the screen door through which Taylor had
disappeared, and might reappear at any moment. A shiver ran down Evelyn’s
spine. She didn’t want her boy hurt, she didn’t want her family hurt,
especially not Arthur. She didn’t think he’d be able to handle the day Taylor
found another man. If that man were Jace? Heaven help them.

But Taylor wasn’t interested in
another. How many times had she said she was happy with her life the way it
was? Selfishly, Evelyn prayed she meant it.

Connie kicked her under the table,
then smiled at Jace. “Did Taylor tell you her faucet’s leaking?”

“No, Connie, she didn’t.”

“Well, it is.”

He nodded, his head tipped
slightly. “Thanks for letting me know. I’ll take care of it as soon as I get a
chance.” Then he backed away, giving Connie an odd, speculative look.

He was a good-looking boy. All her
boys were. Big, strapping, brown-haired boys. But Jace looked the most like
Lou. Sometimes, when Jace came up the walk at the house, her heart would give a
little leap. For a moment, when she forgot Lou was gone, the joy overtook her
and she thought her eldest was coming home after a long time away. Then she’d
remember, and the memory would steal her breath and start an ache in her heart
that wouldn’t quit until she cried herself to sleep while Arthur watched TV in
the living room.

Taylor and Jace? Evelyn prayed it
wasn’t so. He’d never be able to forget Taylor was his brother’s widow, and
Taylor would always be seeing Lou in Jace’s face.

And Arthur? Well, she couldn’t
think about how Arthur would feel. Or what he’d do.

Monday morning Taylor had nipped
down to the office after dropping the boys off at school. They’d be out for
summer next week, and she’d do most of her work at home then. She did the
accounts and payroll for Jackson and Sons Arborists. Evelyn acted as
receptionist, accounts receivable clerk and general office person. The only
adult family member not working in the business was Connie. Rina would be
starting school in the fall, but until then, Connie had wanted to stay home.
With a new baby on the way, well, she wouldn’t be starting work any time soon.

Returning home, Taylor dropped last
week’s receipts and payables in the bedroom she used as an at-home office, then
went back to the kitchen to start another pot of coffee.

After filling the carafe at the
sink, she tightly twisted the faucet, but the drip didn’t stop. If it had
started last week, she’d have asked Jace to take a look. After Saturday night,
she couldn’t look him in the eye, let alone ask him for a favor. She could fix
it herself. Lou was always showing her how to do things around the house. She’d
let Jace take over Mr. Fix-it because it seemed to make him feel good. Same as
it did when he took the boys for an outing. She knew he felt like he had to make
up for Lou’s death. Though they’d never talked about it, guilt racked him for
not being there that day. But they never
would
talk about it, the whole
subject taboo in the family.

Just then, his truck pulled into
the driveway. Taylor’s hands started to tremble, and she almost dropped the
carafe.

What was he doing here?

He slammed the truck door. A black
T-shirt molded his chest, and his jeans hugged in all the right places. She’d
felt exactly how right against her the other night. Lord, he looked good. Too
good. He took her breath away. With a bag tucked under his arm, he flipped
through his keys as he walked up the path to the front door. Sunlight gleamed
off his hair.

The key rattled in the lock, then
the door opened. She’d given him his own set because he often came over to take
care of a job when she wasn’t home. She hadn’t expected him today. In fact,
she’d brought the paperwork home in order to avoid him if he dropped by the
office.

She smelled him first, a clean,
recently showered scent. When on earth had she started noticing the way he
smelled? Thinking like a woman in heat.

Fishing in the bag as he entered
the kitchen, he stopped . Then lifted his head. Taylor’s skin prickled. The
room temperature rose. She swallowed, her throat suddenly dry.

“I thought you’d be at work,” he
said.

“I’m working at home today. I
thought you’d be out on that job with your dad.”

“It didn’t need four of us.” He
pulled a box out of the bag. “Connie told me yesterday that your faucet was
leaking. I brought a new one.”

“It’s probably only a washer. I
don’t think it needs a whole new faucet set.”

“I’ll return it if it doesn’t. Got
some washers, too.”

She was still standing at the sink,
with the carafe resting on the counter. Her fingers hurt from holding the
handle so tightly. “Well, thanks. I was making coffee, if you want some.”

“Great. I’ll take a look while it’s
brewing.”

He hadn’t moved, maybe because she
hadn’t moved. He didn’t want to get too close, probably thinking she might
throw herself at him again. Lord, this was difficult.

She finally managed to cross to the
other counter, where she busied herself measuring out scoops and pouring water.
In a few moments, the rich scent of fresh coffee filled the air. But she could
still smell him, as if he filled her head like the bubbles in a glass of
champagne. The bag rustled, the cupboard under the sink where she kept the
small tool chest creaked open, then the box plopped on the linoleum. Metal
chinked against metal as he sifted through the tools looking for what he
needed.

She chanced a quick glance. His
gaze was on her, rising from the hem of her shorts to the sliver of bare skin
between the waistband and her shirt. Her nipples suddenly tensed and ached.

She spoke before his eyes touched
her breasts. “I’ll get my stuff organized while the coffee finishes.” Then she
rushed out of the kitchen all the way to her office and closed the door. She
leaned against the wood to catch her breath.

He’d looked at her. Not in any way
he’d ever looked before. It didn’t mean anything. He was probably wondering if
she’d bring up Saturday night at the bar. In his truck. That look might have
been curiosity as to how she’d handle the situation. Maybe he was wondering how
he
should handle it.

It was obvious they couldn’t ignore
it.

All right, buck up, kiddo. Get
out there and deal with the mess you made of a very nice relationship.

* * * * *

He should have hightailed it out of
there the minute he realized Taylor was home. He’d been ready to leave a strong
note telling her she forgot to lock the damn front door again. But then he’d
found her standing there in the kitchen. In a shaft of sunlight that made her
hair glow with tones of red and gold.

He’d lost his voice and started
thinking with his dick. Pretending to look for the right tools while she made
coffee, he’d watched her legs, her butt in those shorts, the soft rise and fall
of her breasts beneath the shirt. His gaze got caught on the outline of her
nipples. He’d stayed in a squat beside the toolbox so she wouldn’t notice the
raging hard-on in his jeans.

God had been looking down on him
when she said she’d take care of stuff in her office. He didn’t want coffee,
all he wanted to do was fix the damn faucet and get the hell out.

Before he put his hands on her.

She was right. The faucet needed
only a new washer, but he’d bought the whole assembly in case, so he wouldn’t
have to make a second trip. A second time might be his undoing. If this first
trip wasn’t.

He tensed as her sandals pattered
on the linoleum, but he didn’t turn. “It’s okay, I don’t need any coffee.
Almost done here. It was a washer, like you thought.” The job complete, he
turned the water on and off. “See, no drip.”

“Jace, I think we need to talk.”

The wrench slipped from his hand
and hit the sink with a metal twang.

“Uh, yeah, sure.” He picked up the
wrench, then hunkered down by the toolbox on the floor. “What about?” He didn’t
look at her, instead futzing with the tools. Refitting stuff that already fit
fine.

“About the other night.”

He almost crushed his thumb as he
slammed the lid closed.

“I don’t want this to be an
uncomfortable thing that sits between us.”