What a Man's Gotta Do (19 page)

He laughed. Heat crawled into her belly, curled up like a fat, sassy cat, even as her thoughts settled enough to realize he'd deliberately steered the conversation away from talking about Galen's new acquisition.

Not that she would ask.

After a final drag on the cigarette, he stubbed it out on the bottom of his boot, tossed it out into the yard.

“Hey! Don't you go leaving your cigarette butts for me to clean up!”

“It's butt, singular, and I don't intend to, and you know you're startin' to sound like me.”

“Am not!”

“Yes, you are, darlin'.” He shifted to reach into his coat pocket, pulled out something shiny. “And it's damned cute.” Palm extended, he stretched toward her. “Mint?”

“No. I'm still stuffed from dinner.” And would be for at least a week.

Mala hugged her knees, looked up at the stars, found herself wanting this moment to last forever, this sense of victory over at least some of her fears. This feeling of peace in a man's company. Because she did feel peaceful around Eddie King. Safe. And no, that didn't make sense, since that would mean she'd have to totally rethink her definition of the word. But you know, after tonight? She didn't really care anymore. “Safe”—her old definition—was for wimps. And damned if she was a wimp.

“Hard to believe it's only two days to Christmas,” she said.

She heard the crinkle of the candy wrapper, caught a faint whiff of chocolate and mint. “Bet the kids are like to turn themselves inside out by now.”

“Bet you're right.” Her full stomach groused when she bent over, rubbing at an imaginary spot on the toe of her shoe. She'd heard it in his voice, that sense of detachment, that the holiday meant little to him personally. Yet he didn't seem to begrudge Carrie and Lucas their excitement, even if he couldn't share it.

Or wouldn't.

And maybe she could change that.

And maybe you need to have your head examined.

Her sense of peace gave way to something edgier, like the feeling she used to get before an exam, that bizarre mix of confidence and doubt that had always driven her to succeed.

“So,” she said, “what are you doing for Christmas?”

“Working at the same shelter I did at Thanksgiving.”

“All day?”

“If you're about to invite me to spend Christmas mornin' with y'all, forget it. That's just a little too Hallmark for me, okay?”

“Why? Because of the kids?”

“Has nothin' to do with the kids.” At her raised brows, he added, “I swear.”

“Then it's me.”

“Oh, for the love of Pete, Mala. No, it's not you, either.” His gaze had gone opaque as stone in the dark. “Which I would've thought you'd figured out by now.”

She wasn't sure what to make of that. “Then why not? I just hate the thought of you being alone.”

“I've been alone most of my life, Mala. I'm more'n used to it.”

“Which doesn't make it a good thing.”

“And I suppose that's for me to decide, isn't it?” he said, then, after a moment, got to his feet, headed down the stairs.

“Hey! Where the blue blazes do you think you're going?”

“Back to my place.”

“Where you're safe from the crazy lady who keeps trying to invite you to breakfast.”

At the bottom of the steps, he turned, his thumbs hooked in his pockets. “No. Because the only reason I was here to begin with was to see if you needed someone to talk to. About your ex and all. Since you don't, there's no point my hangin' around.”

The man was going to drive her totally insane.

“Dammit, Eddie—” She threw her purse at him, which weighed all of eight ounces and which he easily caught. “You can't have it both ways! You can't run every time somebody tries to get close, and then accuse them of pushing you away!”

“You're nuts, you know that?” He tossed back the purse, which she missed and nearly put out her back when she lunged for it. “I'm not accusin' anybody of anything.”

“And I'm a size three.” She stood, smacking at the back of her coat, then shivered as she crossed to the door, looked for her key in her purse. “Just because I didn't give you a blow-by-blow description of my conversation with Scott doesn't mean I don't want your company.”
Where was the stupid…? Oh, there.
“And just because I want your company doesn't mean I expect a lifetime commitment. Now, if you're willing to take a chance that I'm not going to chain you to the hot water heater in my basement and force-feed you breakfast for the rest of your days, you can come inside. I'll light a fire and
tell you about Scott, which is really boring, but hey, if it rings your chimes, who am I to say? And after that, we can sit and stare at the tree and tell awful jokes and maybe, if we're feeling really wild, we can watch the puppy grow.”

“Or maybe we could just cut to the chase and get naked.”

She dropped the key.

Then she turned, one brow arched, saw him still standing at the bottom of the steps, his hands tucked into his back pockets. “I don't suppose you mean in separate rooms, huh?”

“Now, darlin', that would kinda defeat the purpose, doncha think?”

She stooped down, found the key, rammed it into the lock. The door popped open. She flicked on the hall light. Bent to greet the quivering dog. Realized she'd run out of things to do. That Eddie was on his way back up the stairs, his footsteps slow, deliberate. Promising.

Grateful dashed out onto the porch to greet his long-lost buddy, who knelt to scratch the beast's belly. Mala found herself staring at Eddie's hands.

“You…you remember that conversation we had the other night?” she asked.

“Yep.”

“You're ignoring it, aren't you?”

Eddie looked up. Shrugged, like it really didn't matter to him, one way or the other. “I'm not the one who changed my mind, honey.”

Then he stood, right in front of her, slipping his hands back into his pockets, but still close enough for her to feel his warmth, his quiet dominance of the space. The moment. Close enough for her to pick up the mingled scents of chocolate and mint and man and just the merest hint of tobacco, which she found exciting in a forbidden, dangerous kind of way.

Her mouth went dry, while the rest of her just went nuts.

“And, um, if I were to change it back…?”

She shuddered as one of those incredible hands lifted to her jaw, as his thumb began tracing her cheekbone with a lazy sensuousness that threatened to debone her. His head dipped, his mouth grazing hers. A hint. Another promise.

“I think maybe,” he whispered into her mouth, “I just might find it in my heart to forgive you.”

Except at that precise moment, Realization jumped to its feet at the back of Mala's buzzing, hormone-crammed brain, waving madly and shouting over the din, “Madam Chairman! Madam Chairman! Aren't you forgetting something?”

Mala backed away so suddenly she tripped over the stupid dog.

Eddie frowned. “What?”

“You know damn well
what.
Or were you just trying to save face the other night by telling me you'd been about to break it off, anyway?”

Well, at least he had the courtesy to look embarrassed. One hand lifted to the back of his neck. “I was kinda hopin' you'd forgotten that part.”

“I'm a mother, Eddie. We don't forget anything.”

He let out a sigh. “Okay, fine. No, I wasn't tryin' to save my butt. I mean, I was, but that's why I was going to call it off. For both our sakes. Only you beat me to the punch, and my male ego got all bent out of shape. That didn't mean I still didn't want you. Or that, after I got to thinkin' about it, that I didn't understand how much your ex's poppin' back up in your life like that must've thrown you, made you feel you had to protect yourself. Then, when I saw you with him tonight…”

His eyes burned through her. “Look, if you still feel you gotta protect yourself, that's okay. But I just want to let you know, I'm here if you need…anything. Company, comfort, mind-blowing sex, some leftover lasagna…”

Mala burst into startled laughter, wanting to touch him so badly, she thought she'd burn up. Afraid if she did, she would. “Do I have to pick?”

“Only whether I go upstairs or come inside with you.”

Oh, God. Oh, Lord. Oh, blessed Mother and all the saints and anybody else who might be listening—what
was
a girl to do? And then it hit her, with a force strong enough to make her heart nearly leap out of her chest, that for all Eddie said he was there for her, he was there just as much for
him.

That he'd changed
his
mind first. After all, who had shown up on whose doorstep?

Like a wall sliding back to reveal a secret passage she hadn't known existed, or even been looking for, she saw a chance. A slim one, God knew, and one she wouldn't have dared take even a week ago. A chance to heal, to show this lonely, proud man—a man who, heaven help her, she was growing to love with everything she had in her—what could be his.

It meant risking everything: her heart, her peace, her barely recovered self-confidence. Even her dignity. What if he never completely warmed up to the kids? What if she couldn't convince him to take the same kind of chance she was?

But the thought of letting this opportunity slip away…

Tonight had proven she was no longer the woman she'd been when Scott left her. Or even, for that matter, the still-cautious woman she'd been a few weeks ago, when Eddie King had come strolling back into her life. Somehow or other, the cocoon of fear she'd huddled inside for the past three years had fallen away, and—ta-da!—there she was, her old giving, impetuous self, ready to try again.

Ready to live again.

From the open doorway, the pup yipped, giving them a goofy, tongue-lolling grin when they looked over.

Mala looked up into Eddie's hopeful gaze, realizing he didn't even understand what it was he was hoping for. And for a split second, she wished with all her heart she didn't have to go through what she was about to, that she could somehow sidestep the risk.

Except she'd never be able to live with herself if she didn't.

She slipped her hands inside his jacket, making the contact that would, she knew, change her life forever. “Just one question.”

“And what is that?”

She smiled into his eyes. “Is the lasagna vegetable or sausage?”

He grinned back, then took her by the hand and led her into the house.

The dog seemed immensely relieved.

T
hey never made it to the bedroom. And to be perfectly honest, Eddie didn't ever remember getting naked, although he did—vaguely—remember the brief—very brief—stab of regret that he'd more or less yanked that red dress off of her before he got a real good look at her in it.

The trade-off, however, was that here they were, slick and sweaty and panting on the carpet in front of the Christmas tree, ignoring the pup's whines from the other side of the kitchen door where he'd been banished. And all Eddie could think was…

Not a whole lot, actually, since anything even approaching reasonable thought had been pretty much obliterated by this thick, fire-red I-have-surely-died-and-gone-to-heaven haze of lust. At least, he figured that's what it was, although he had to admit, he'd never had a case of it quite this bad before.

Something told him Miss Mala hadn't, either.

From God knows where, she'd produced a box of condoms—“Don't ask,” she'd said—and hurled them at him, her eyes begging him to hurry.

Not that he'd needed any encouragement.

There was so much of her and she was so warm and soft and sweet-smelling—and soft—and everyplace he touched or kissed or nuzzled quivered or arched or hardened or went wet….

Her moans were the downright prettiest sounds he'd ever heard.

Sex with this woman was like being caught in a hurricane, exhilarating and frightening and exciting, all at once. He buried his face in her belly, flicking his tongue around her navel, then tracing the faintly puckered lines of her stretch marks—what would it be like, to add to those marks, to plant his own seed in her and make a baby…?

The thought shot through before he could stop it, except then she spread her legs, whimpering little
comeoncomeoncomeon
noises, and her directness arrowed straight to…someplace…but he wanted to taste her first, just enough to tease, to make her tense and cry out….

Yeah. Like that.

He slid up the length of that lush, amazing body to trap her hands with his over her head, her gaze in his…

Gotcha.

Desperate to regain control, he plunged inside her…she hissed her welcome and the old male ego sang out in triumph…only to go “Huh?” a second later when she shook her head and said, “No.”

Eddie froze, next door to shattered, his mother's tiny cross shivering between them on its frail gold chain.
“No?”

She sputtered a laugh, her eyes dark with arousal. Her hands squeezed his, still braced over her head. “Not
that
‘no,' doofus.
No,
as in, it's been three years, y'know? I'd kinda like it to last more than three seconds.”

“I'm not sure I can.”

One brow arched. “Try.”

“If your parents show up right now—”

“—you'll make me an orphan. I know.” She smiled, the tenderness in her expression damn near stealing his breath.

Now, hold on, here. This wasn't supposed to be about tenderness, this…this was supposed to be about mutual need and
the easing thereof. Of comfort, yeah, but the kind of quick-fix comfort of a great meal or a full-night's sleep or a good book.

This was supposed to be about
lasagna,
for the love of Pete.

Except then Mala gently cleared her throat and said, “Hello? I'm down here?” and Eddie remembered he was inside her, and how significant that was for both of them, so he decided to concentrate on being a good lover and giving the lady what she wanted instead of straining his brain about matters he couldn't think clearly about anyway considering where most of it was at the moment.

He'd never gone slow before now, he guessed because nobody'd ever asked him to, for one thing. And because going slow was not a concept most men were prone to think about if left to their own devices.

But he'd always prided himself on being a quick study.

Except, going slow meant he had lots of time to study Mala's face, for him to hear his heart stutter in the house's deep hush as he watched her skin flush with excitement, for the thought to crystallize that he really cared about this woman and wouldn't be here right now if he didn't.

And that that thought wasn't bothering him nearly as much as it should.

Time held its breath while he and Mala luxuriated in their mating dance, while he drank in the scents of her perfume and evergreen and his own heat, and the thought
This could be yours
raced through his brain, spooking him good, and he didn't know what to do with it and he didn't want to think about that right now, all he wanted was to lose himself in her just for these few minutes….

Mala yanked her hands out from his to wrap herself around him, engulf him…Eddie shifted, lifted her hips and claimed her, almost savagely, his own shout of long awaited release mingling with her cries of gratitude to whoever cared to listen.

From behind the kitchen door, the pup started to howl.

 

“Damn dog,” Eddie muttered in her ear, and Mala erupted with laughter. A draught chilled her damp skin as he shifted off her, cuddled her to his chest.

Good sign.

“Where'd you get this?” she said, her fingers tracing the delicate cross nestled in that just-right patch of coarse hair on his chest.

“My mama. When she died.”

“You never take it off, do you?”

“Nope.”

“That's sweet.”

He groaned softly. She smiled, then said, fighting against the insane, overachieving part of her that wanted so badly to make things right, to make this…real, “I've never done it on the floor.”

“I hate to tell you this, darlin', but the way my knees are feelin' right now, you may never do it on the floor again. At least, not with me.”

She let the last part of that play on through, then said, “And here I thought you'd be able to introduce me to the wonders of unconventional sex.”

Beats passed. Many, many beats, each one more torturous than the one preceding it.

“And just what gives you the idea—”

There's gonna be more than just this one time?

“—that I'm so all-fired conversant in the art of lovemaking?”

Relief positively shot through her. “Eternal optimism?”

He laughed, then gathered her even closer, which meant more to her than the sex itself but no way was she going to mention that to Eddie. “Well, maybe I can show you a thing or two,” he said, and his male cockiness made her smile again. “But I'm no expert on the Kama Sutra, believe me.”

“S'okay. I happen to think the missionary position is woefully underrated, anyway.”

“Kinda have a soft spot in my heart for it, myself, if you wanna know the truth. But it is cold down here. And these old bones aren't quite as maleable as they used to be. So come on, Miss Mala…” He got to his feet, put out a hand to help her to hers, and she figured if he wasn't the least bit self-conscious about standing there naked in somebody's living room, why
should she be? “What do you say we move to the sofa or the bed or something a little more conducive to gettin' in the mood again.”

Didn't have to ask her twice.

The next few seconds were a blur as they both grabbed for the box of condoms—he won—then sprinted down the hall to her bedroom, nearly choking with laughter by the time Eddie jerked back the covers and they both dived into the bed. He sprawled over her, solid and reassuring, cradling her face in his hands as he dipped for a kiss, only to pull back, frowning down into her face.

“Your teeth are chattering.”

“I get cold easily.”

“I can tell.” But he chivalrously reached behind him, yanking the covers up over them both before resuming his lovely onslaught on her mouth and neck and breasts and…

She wriggled underneath him. “Again, please.”

“Already?”

“Look who's talking.”

He grinned, then reached between them, teasing her with his fingers for several horribly wonderful seconds before letting himself inside, and she closed her eyes and sighed and silently sang praises to whatever saint there was in charge of these things—and if there wasn't, somebody had definitely missed the boat with that one—and then she opened her eyes and saw so much confusion in his expression, she nearly forgot to breathe.

She whimpered then, for herself, for him, willing him to understand that this could be so much more than the mating of two bodies. But then, maybe that was just her silly, romantic female brain talking and men never felt that way, not really. Once again, she was expecting far more than she had any right to expect.

He moved inside her, just a little, just enough…she sent up another sigh that was equal parts bliss and annoyance, that next to the indescribable joy of holding her babies for the first time, there was nothing like the feeling of having a man—correction: the
right
man—deep inside her to make her feel this…complete.
She'd gone for three years without sex, never really missed it, certainly wouldn't have said she was less of a woman for not having it, but, oh, this was…
oh!
She gasped, clung to Eddie's shoulders, wondering what he was doing, not really caring, only knowing if he stopped she'd die.

“You like that?” he whispered, and she thrust her hips upward and he laughed and said, “Guess that answers that,” and then he kept doing…whatever…and she moaned a little and thought he smelled so damned good, felt even better…and she drew him closer, drew him
home,
telling him the only way she dared that he
belonged.

And when his second release came, in perfect, earth-shattering, teeth-knocking tandem with hers, Mala smiled the smile of a woman smug in her ability to please her man.

 

“Scott lives in Chicago now, wants to run for city council or something….” Eddie toyed with her hair, so smooth and sleek, as she lay with her head on his chest. Pillow talk, which Eddie'd always figured was a lot more intimate than sex, usually made him nervous. Most talking made him nervous, to tell the truth. But somehow, with Mala…well, it just didn't feel threatening the way it did with other women, that's all.

“…and I guess it finally dawned on him that, hey, if anybody went poking around and discovered he'd walked out on me and hadn't sent me a penny of child support all these years, he'd be up the creek without a paddle.”

“You shouldn't've let him get away with that,” he said into her hair.

He felt her shrug. “I didn't need the aggravation, Eddie, believe me.”

“Yeah, but he does. Maybe you don't care about his money, but his kids—”

“I wanted the kids, I can take care of the kids. Anyway…I guess he got scared, so he decided to head me off at the pass. Hands me this huge check, as if that's supposed to take care of it.”

“And you handed it back.”

She raised up, looked at him. “You saw?”

“Yeah.”

With a sigh, she cuddled back against him, her arm snaked around his waist. “He never even asked about them.”

“That doesn't give him leave to pretend like they don't exist. You should've taken the money, Mala.”

“And let him think that tossing a few bucks at me would somehow exonerate him? Forget it. Far as I'm concerned, let the creep squirm, wondering when or if somebody's gonna start digging around in his past, find out Mr. High-and-Mighty's nothing more than a deadbeat dad.”

“But you won't force the issue.”

“Why should I? It's much more fun this way.”

Pride warmed Eddie's blood at the resolve in her voice. Lord, but she was fierce, this woman of…

Uh-uh. No way was he gonna finish that sentence.

“Hey—” He squeezed her shoulder. “You hungry?”

“For lasagna? No.”

The laughter trembling in her words provoked a sigh. “Now, see, this is where you and me being the same age is a problem. I peaked twenty years ago. You're just getting going.”

Mala twisted off of him onto her own pillow, one arm under her head, mischief dancing in those cat's eyes of hers. “Fine. So I'll give you another twenty minutes.”

“Mighty generous of you.”

“I thought so.”

Panic viced his heart, but not because making love to her again frightened him….

“You're frowning,” she said gently, skimming a knuckle down his arm. “Which means you're thinking too hard.”

“I do that occasionally, you know. And with more than just my—” Her laugh cut him off. Then he flipped over, caging her between his arms, his thigh insinuating itself between her legs. “Any regrets, Miss Mala?”

“About what we just did, you mean?”

“Uh-huh.”

Her smile softened into something that just plumb stole his breath. “Nary a one. Granted, the concept of living for the moment is a new one for me. But I think I like it.” She laced
her fingers around his neck, tugged him down to her mouth. “Kiss me, Eddie King,” she whispered. “Help me celebrate my newfound freedom.”

Well, now…how could he pass up an invitation like that?

 

Mala was awakened the next morning by a slobbery kiss on her fingers, which were hanging over the edge of the bed. Somehow, she didn't think it was Eddie. She rolled over, not bothering to pull the sheet up over her breasts, only to realize there was no one around to show them off for. Or to.

He was gone. Surprise, surprise.

Now she flopped onto her back, tugging the covers up over her since it was kind of chilly with no nice, warm man to snuggle up to.

Gee, she'd gotten used to that real fast, hadn't she?

It was still early, maybe around six-thirty. But it was Christmas Eve, which meant she had a million and one things to do, which meant lollygagging in bed was not an option. There were still presents to wrap and cookies to bake and kids to keep from climbing the walls and mothers to keep from guessing what their daughters had been doing last night….