“Your key.”
He folded her fingers around it again. “Keep it.”
She hesitated. The gesture had been impulsive, but they both knew it wasn’t meaningless. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah. In case you’re ever overcome with lust and want to crawl into my bed in the middle of the night.”
“Or in case you don’t want to get out of your nice comfy bed to lock the door behind me when I sneak out in the middle of the night,” she teased.
“That works, too,” he said, but he got out of bed to say goodbye to her at the door, anyway.
* * *
“You gave her a key?”
“Yes, I gave her a key,” Andrew repeated, mentally chastising himself for somehow letting that fact slip into a conversation with his brother. “Not a diamond.”
“It’s practically the same thing,” Nate insisted.
“Hardly,” he denied. “Although I did spend some time looking at engagement rings when I was in Maryland.”
“Wow. You really are in love with her, aren’t you?”
“She’s the one,” he confirmed.
Maybe he’d panicked when Maura had first started talking about wanting a new mommy, but the more time he spent with Rachel, the more he realized that she was exactly what both he and his daughter needed. She was the final piece of the puzzle to make them a family again.
His brother shook his head, and Andrew braced himself for some more of the usual ribbing. Instead, Nate said, “How is it that you’ve managed to fall in love not once but twice, and I’ve never even lost my footing?”
He was surprised by the almost-wistful tone in his brother’s voice. “Either you’ve always been careful to watch your step or you’ve just never met the right woman.”
“That’s what I used to say—but lately I’ve been wondering if I was so determined to keep things light and carefree that maybe I did meet her—maybe I met a lot of women, any one of whom might have been the right woman—but I refused to see it.”
“What’s put you in such a philosophical mood?”
He shrugged. “I guess I’ve just been thinking about some things since I broke up with Mallory.”
“Since she dumped you, you mean?” He couldn’t resist teasing.
“Yeah,” Nate admitted.
Andrew frowned, surprised by the flatness of his brother’s tone. “Were you in love with her?”
“No, but I thought we were building a relationship. It was a bit of a shock to realize that she only wanted no-strings sex.”
“Isn’t that your ideal woman?”
“Maybe a few years ago. But lately...I kind of like the idea of sharing more than just my bed with a woman.”
Andrew’s gaze narrowed. “Who are you and what have you done with my brother?”
Nate chuckled. “Is that really so unbelievable?”
“Coming from the guy who taught my daughter the expression ‘ball and chain,’ yes, it is.”
* * *
As much as she loved Maura and enjoyed being with her, Rachel couldn’t deny that she was looking forward to the weekend and some time alone with Andrew. Unfortunately, she had the late shift at Buds & Blooms on Saturday, so while she got to sleep in a little and wake up in Andrew’s arms, her fantasy of staying in bed with him all day had to be put on hold.
But when she got back to his house Saturday afternoon and tracked him down in his workshop, she was treated to a different fantasy in the form of a slightly sweaty, intensely focused and very sexy carpenter. She didn’t know what he was doing, but he was wearing an old pair of jeans that had gone white at the stress points and a T-shirt that clung to the delicious muscles of his shoulders and chest. The smell of sawdust filled the air and classic rock pounded in the background as he moved some kind of instrument in long, firm strokes over the surface of the wood. Watching him work, she couldn’t help but think about how those same hands now stroking the wood had stroked her body.
She stood in the doorway for several long minutes, mesmerized by the image he presented, enthralled by the bunch and flex of the muscles in his arms, aroused by the bold confidence of his movements.
He looked so primitive and male, and every female part of her instinctively responded. And maybe her pheromones did call to his, because suddenly his head came up and his lips curved in a slow and sexy smile. He wiped the light sheen of perspiration off his brow with the back of his hand as he glanced at the clock. “I thought you had to work until five.”
“Trish said that she would stay.” She looked around. “Why didn’t I get to see this—” she didn’t know what it was—a garage or workshop or a combination of both “—when you gave me the grand tour?”
He wiped his hands on a rag. “I didn’t think you’d be interested.”
And if he’d asked, she probably would have said she wasn’t. But seeing him here, clearly in his milieu, had definitely changed her mind.
“What are you doing?”
“Planing a door for a multimedia cabinet.”
“Your own design?”
He nodded. “A lot of furniture design is done by computer today, but I still like to build a prototype from the plans, to ensure no steps or materials were missed. And I like to work with my hands.”
“Now I understand the calluses.”
He winced. “I sometimes forget how rough my hands are.”
“Don’t apologize. I love how they feel on me.”
He settled those strong, work-roughened hands on her hips. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” He smelled of sawdust and sweat—a surprisingly arousing combination. She lifted her hands to link them behind his head and brought his mouth down to hers for a long kiss.
“I picked up Chinese food for dinner,” she said, easing away from him. “It’s in the oven, keeping warm for whenever you’re ready.”
He pulled her back into his arms. “I’m always ready.”
The sexy promise in his smile made her heart knock against her ribs.
“I meant for dinner,” she clarified. “I don’t want to interrupt your work.”
“I can’t imagine a better interruption,” he said, pushing her skirt up over her hips and lifting her onto the workbench.
“Andrew.” She’d intended to protest, but his name came out on a breathy sigh that sounded more like a plea.
“Rachel,” he responded, a teasing glint in his eyes.
Her breath caught in her throat as he worked her panties over her hips and down her legs.
Then he caught her bottom lip between his teeth and tugged gently. “I want you,” he told her. “It doesn’t seem to matter how often I have you—it’s never enough.”
She understood what he was saying. She wanted him, too. It didn’t take much—a lingering kiss...a casual touch...sometimes just a heated look—to make her heart race and start her blood pounding. Even now, she could tell by the throbbing between her thighs that she was ready for him.
He continued to nibble on her mouth while she tugged his T-shirt out of his pants, sliding her hands beneath it to trace the rippled contours of his abdomen. His fingertips skimmed up her thighs, teasingly close to her center. She unfastened his belt, then popped the button at the front of his pants and reached inside. Her fingers wrapped around the long, hard length of him, stroked him slowly.
He groaned in appreciation. “We should go inside. Up to the bedroom.”
She shook her head. “Here. Take me here. Now.”
His hands gripped the wooden edge of the bench as he fought for control. “I don’t keep a stash of condoms in my toolbox.”
She grabbed the handle of her purse and tugged it toward her, then dumped the contents onto the bench and rifled through them. Wallet, gum, loose change. She finally located the square packet and held it up triumphantly.
“I’m impressed.”
She grinned as she tore open the packet. He caught her mouth again in a slow, deep kiss as she unrolled the latex over him. Then he was lifting her off the bench, and easing into her, filling and fulfilling her. She hooked her legs around his waist, anchoring him to her.
“Are you okay?”
The bench was hard and cold and she would probably end up with splinters in her butt, but right now she wasn’t thinking about any of that. She wasn’t thinking about anything but how good it felt to have him buried deep inside of her. “I’m okay,” she assured him.
He began to move as her eyes closed on a sigh of pure pleasure and her fingers dug into his shoulders. She didn’t know if it was the angle of their bodies or the novelty of doing it in his workroom, but the pleasure was almost more than she could bear.
As he continued to thrust, harder and deeper, her head fell back and rapped against the pegboard wall covered with instruments and tools of various descriptions. Something fell off and clattered to the ground. Then several other somethings. Crash. Clatter. Clang.
Andrew didn’t seem to notice—or maybe he didn’t care. Even she registered the sound as if it was faraway. The only thing that mattered in the here and now was Andrew and the indescribable pleasure he gave her whenever she was in his arms.
She’d never experienced anything like this. It wasn’t just primitive—it was a little rough and a lot wild, and the orgasm that racked her body left her completely breathless and spent.
Her hand slid off his shoulder to his chest, and she could feel the thunderous pounding of his heart beneath her palm, its rhythm as hard and fast as her own.
He reached up and sifted his fingers through her hair, looking for a bump. “How’s the head?”
She laughed softly. “I think I’ll live. And if not, I’ll die with a smile on my face.”
He was smiling, too, when he touched his lips to hers. “I don’t know that this bench is tested to withstand that kind of vigorous activity, but I’d be happy to write a product recommendation.”
Her head dropped forward to settle against his shoulder as she tried to catch her breath. “You know what you said about not keeping condoms in your toolbox?”
“Yeah.”
“You might want to reconsider.”
He chuckled. “Let’s go get that Chinese food.”
Chapter Fourteen
M
aura couldn’t sleep.
She could hear Grandpa Ed snoring across the hall, but she knew that wasn’t why she was awake. She couldn’t sleep because her tummy hurt deep inside and she wanted to go home to Daddy.
He’d called to talk to her after dinner, like he always did. She didn’t talk to Rachel, but she knew she was there, because she said “hi” in the background.
Grandma wasn’t happy when Maura told her that Rachel was at home with her daddy. She didn’t say that she wasn’t happy, but Maura could tell because her face got that pinched look.
Before bed, Maura wanted to read Harry Potter but Grandma said it wasn’t an appropriate story for a child her age. Instead, she got out a book of fairy tales and read her the story of Cinderella—as if she hadn’t heard that enough times since kindergarten.
But listening to Grandma read it, Maura picked up on some details she hadn’t before—like the fact that Cinderella’s stepmother was nice to her own children but not to Cinderella. She was a stepmonster, like the woman who married Kristy’s dad, and it made Maura wonder if Rachel would get mean, too, if she married Daddy.
Then there was the story about Snow White. She was sent away by the evil queen who married her daddy. And Hansel and Gretel’s stepmother told their daddy to abandon them in the woods. Maura knew the stories weren’t any more real than Harry Potter, but she wasn’t going to take any chances.
She wasn’t going to let Rachel marry her daddy.
* * *
Sunday morning, Andrew was lured into the kitchen by the tantalizing scents of cooked bacon, fresh coffee and cinnamon. What he saw in the kitchen was even more tempting than what he smelled. Rachel was standing at the stove, dressed in one of his shirts. The sleeves were rolled up past her elbows and the tail fell just past the delectable curve of her bottom.
She was humming quietly to herself as she fried bread in a pan.
“I sometimes wonder if you’re with me for my body or my appliances,” he said.
She turned to him with a smile. “I assure you I’m appreciative of both.”
He took a mug from the cupboard and filled it from the coffeepot.
“I was going to bring you breakfast in bed,” she told him.
“And what did I do to deserve that special treatment?”
“Me,” she said cheekily.
He chuckled and drew her close for a kiss. “Anytime,” he assured her. “In fact—”
“No.” She stepped out of his arms. “I’m not going to ruin this French toast.”
He looked in the pan. “That doesn’t look like normal French toast.”
“It’s banana cinnamon French toast—I’m expanding your culinary horizons.”
“Looks...interesting.”
“You’ll like it,” she promised.
And he did.
But what he liked most was getting creative with the leftover maple syrup, drizzling it over select parts of her body and slowly licking it off. By the time he was done, they were both sticky, so he carried her up to his shower and soaped up every inch of her body. And he really liked that she returned the favor.
* * *
Rachel was torn between relief and regret when she went back to her own apartment Sunday night. Every minute that she’d spent with Andrew over the weekend had been incredible, but she knew that she was falling deeper and deeper in love each day. And not just with Andrew, but with his daughter, too.
She’d expected her life to follow a traditional path wherein she’d meet someone special, they’d fall in love, get married and raise a family together. Andrew had already done that whole routine, and, for the past three years, he’d been raising his daughter on his own. He had help from his family, of course, and from Maura’s maternal grandparents, but he had ultimate responsibility and made all decisions with respect to this little girl.
Rachel didn’t have a problem with that, but she found herself wondering what her role in Maura’s life would be if she and Andrew ever took their relationship to the next level. Blended families were almost the norm now, but that didn’t mean they weren’t fraught with difficulties.
She felt fortunate that Andrew’s daughter was so accepting and affectionate, but she knew there would eventually be conflicts. It was simply the nature of human relationships.
She didn’t anticipate that their first conflict would come the very next weekend—or that it would have such far-reaching repercussions.
* * *
When Rachel asked Andrew and Maura if they wanted to join Scott, Trent and herself for a picnic in the park and then a game of mini-golf, his daughter immediately responded with an enthusiastic yes. But when Rachel showed up with her nephews on Saturday, Maura refused to come out of her room.
“I don’t want to go mini-putting,” Maura decided.
“Yesterday you said you did,” Andrew reminded her.
“I changed my mind.”
“Well, you can’t stay here by yourself.”
“You can stay with me, Daddy.”
“No, I can’t,” he told her. “Because I made plans with Rachel and Scott and Trent.”
Her little brow furrowed. “But you’re my daddy. You have to be with me.”
“I made a commitment to Rachel,” he reminded her. “So if you don’t want to come, I’ll call Auntie Jordyn to see if she’s available to stay with you.”
Technically, Jordyn was Maura’s second cousin not her aunt, but when Maura was little, she couldn’t understand why Nathan and Daniel were her uncles and Braden, Justin and Ryan were her cousins. So she started calling them
uncle
and, by extension, his female cousins, Jordyn, Tristyn and Lauryn, became her aunts.
And although Maura was usually happy to spend time with any one of her aunts or uncles, she crossed her arms over her chest now. “I don’t want Auntie Jordyn. I want you.”
“Well, I’m going for a picnic.”
“With
her
.”
Andrew had never heard such venom in his daughter’s tone and was taken aback by it now, especially considering that it was directed toward Rachel, whom she completely adored. “If you mean Rachel, then yes.”
His daughter’s blue eyes filled with tears. “You’d rather be with her than with me.”
“I’d rather spend the day with both of you, but you decided that you don’t want to go,” he said with deliberate patience.
“I don’t wanna go,” she confirmed.
He left her pouting in her room and went to explain the situation—as best he could because he really didn’t understand what had caused her to change her mind—to Rachel.
She immediately offered to take the boys on her own, but he shook his head.
“We made plans,” he reminded her. “And I’m not going to renege on them just because my daughter’s having a temper tantrum.”
But Rachel suspected it might be something more than that. “Can I talk to her?”
“You can try.”
While he went to call his cousin, Rachel went up to Maura’s room. She knocked lightly on the partially closed door.
“Go away.”
“I just want to talk to you, Maura.”
“I don’t wanna talk to you.”
Through the narrow opening, she could see the little girl standing with her back to the door, her arms folded across her chest. Her instincts urged her to push open the door and go into the room, but she held back. Instead, she asked gently, “Did I do something to upset you?”
Maura didn’t answer.
“Because if I did, I’m sorry.”
The child remained silent.
Rachel sighed. “I wish I knew what to do to make this better, but I can’t help if you don’t tell me what’s wrong.”
Finally she turned to face the door. Behind the tears, the little girl’s big blue eyes were filled with confusion and sadness, and Rachel wanted only to take her in her arms and offer comfort.
But when Maura spoke, the coldness of her tone assured Rachel that she meant what she said, and she knew that anything she offered would be rejected. “I don’t want you to help—I want you to go away.”
“If that’s really what you want, I will.”
Maura’s lower lip trembled and fat tears spilled over, tracking slowly down her cheeks. “It’s really what I want.”
So Rachel nodded and headed back down the stairs.
“Any luck?” Andrew asked.
“No,” she admitted.
He exhaled a weary sigh. “Okay. Jordyn’s on her way—she should be here in about fifteen minutes.” He looked over at the boys, who were on the couch in the living room playing video games while they waited. “I’m really sorry about this—the boys are probably starving.”
“They don’t seem to be complaining,” she noted. “But I do think it’s best if we get going and just spend the day by ourselves.”
He frowned. “Why?”
“Because I don’t want Maura to feel like you’re choosing to be with me instead of her.”
“Don’t you think that’s a little melodramatic?”
She shook her head. “No, I don’t.”
“Whatever’s going on with my daughter, she’ll get over it,” he assured her.
“How can you be sure of that?”
“Because she’s seven years old and occasionally moody.”
“I don’t think this was a simple matter of Maura changing her mind,” Rachel noted. “It wasn’t about mini-golf so much as spending time with me.”
“She loves being with you.”
Rachel used to think so. But she’d noticed a distinct change in Maura’s attitude toward her since the little girl had come back from her trip to Myrtle Beach. And she didn’t think that was a coincidence. She might not know what or how, but she didn’t doubt that Carol Wakefield had said or done something to make the child wary of Rachel.
But all she said to Andrew was “Not today she doesn’t.”
“I’m not going to be forced to make a choice between you and my daughter.”
“Of course not,” she agreed.
Because she knew that there was no choice to be made—and no hope for a future for them together so long as Maura remained opposed to their relationship.
* * *
Rachel dropped the boys off at her brother’s house at the usual time, then she went home and poked around in the mostly empty refrigerator to figure out her own dinner before deciding that she wasn’t really hungry, anyway. Instead, she curled up on the couch with the television remote in her hand and flipped through various channels, but nothing piqued her interest.
Her heart was breaking, because she knew her relationship with Andrew was over. It had to be over. She couldn’t endure another scene like the one that had played out with Maura when she’d refused to go on the picnic.
She still didn’t understand what had happened with the little girl, but she knew it was more than a simple temper tantrum. For some reason, Maura had decided that she didn’t want Rachel to be part of her life anymore. And the reason didn’t really matter. What mattered was that Rachel couldn’t let Andrew get caught in the middle and she couldn’t bear to hurt his daughter, who had already been through so much.
Maura was the only part of his wife that he had left, and he was the only parent his child had left. Rachel couldn’t blame her for resenting anyone who seemed to threaten that relationship. But she wished the little girl had talked to her, given Rachel a chance to explain that she wasn’t trying to come between Andrew and Maura, she only wanted to be part of the family unit that they already were.
Sunday was Mother’s Day and, aside from the fact that Andrew and Maura would be visiting his parents and his former in-laws, it was a busy day at Buds & Blooms. Rachel focused on her customers and tried not to think about how much she wanted to be with the sexy single dad and his little girl. On Monday, she and Holly worked steadily to fulfill an order for fifty floral arrangements for a fiftieth birthday party. By the time she got home that night, her fingers were raw and bleeding. And when Andrew called, she didn’t have the energy to tackle the discussion she knew they needed to have, so she pretended that everything was okay, cutting their conversation short with the explanation that she was exhausted.
But on Tuesday, she knew she couldn’t put it off any longer. She called him this time and asked him to meet her for coffee. It wasn’t until she reached for the handle of the door of the Bean There Café that she realized the last time she was here with Andrew was when he’d suggested cooling down their relationship. She wondered if it was apropos that they’d returned to the same place to say goodbye again.
He was already seated with two mugs of coffee on the table when she walked in. He smiled, so genuinely happy to see her that her heart felt as if it would split right open.
She couldn’t smile back. She sat down and set his key on the table. He frowned at it. “What’s going on, Rachel?”
“I’m sorry...” Her throat was so tight she could barely get the words out. But she had to do this—and she had to get through it without breaking down so that he didn’t figure out that everything she was saying was a complete lie. “But I don’t want to do this anymore.”
He just stared at her, uncomprehending. “Where is this coming from? Why now?”
“Because I realized that we’re at different stages in our lives—we want different things.” She tried to keep her tone matter-of-fact, so he wouldn’t guess that her heart was breaking. “I enjoyed spending time with you and Maura, but I’m not ready to take on the responsibility of someone else’s child.”
His gaze narrowed.
“I didn’t mean to mislead you—”
“Mislead?” he said incredulously. “I told you I was in love with you, and I thought you were heading in the same direction.”
She shook her head, because she wasn’t headed in that direction—she’d gone down that road way before him. But admitting that now would only make things harder for both of them. Their feelings for one another didn’t—couldn’t—matter, not when there was a little girl who was scared and hurting and needed to know that her daddy would always be there for her. And if she told Andrew the truth, that she was stepping back because Maura wasn’t as ready for a new family as he thought, she knew that he would try to change her mind. He’d argue that Maura just needed more time, and more time with Andrew and his little girl would only make it that much harder when she finally had to say goodbye. So instead all she said was “I’m sorry.”
And then, before he could respond, she pushed back her chair and rushed out of the café.