Susan Mallery - Father in Training

Sandy grabbed the last of the plates from the table and carried them to the counter.

"I'll do that," Kyle said, but he didn't move from his chair in front of the window.

"I'll wash the dishes. I insist. It's the least I can do." She put the stopper in the sink and started running the water. From the living room came the musical introduction to a familiar cartoon video. "I'm a little surprised that you have videos for kids," she said without turning around.

"What did you think? That the house would be done in red velvet and paneling, with X-rated movies and mirrored ceilings? I live here, Sandy. It's my home."

Mirrored ceilings? She certainly hadn't thought that. But she had assumed there would be some signs of the seductions that must have taken place here. If the walls could talk.

She glanced around the small kitchen. Everything was clean and in its place. The floor looked swept, the only items on the counter were a pile of mail and the hat from his uniform.

"I didn't expect to find naked women in the closets, if that's what you're thinking," she said. "I would hate for us to cramp your style. It is Friday night."

"That's the second time you've said that. You're really hung up on which day it is, aren't you?"

"No. It's just that, well, you are a single man."

"And you're a single woman."

She swallowed. "No, I'm not. I'm a single mother. There's a big difference."

"Bull."

She risked glancing at him over her shoulder. He'd propped his legs up on the chair to the right of him and leaned back against the wall. His arms were raised, his hands tucked behind his head. A slow, lazy grin tugged at his mouth. He was six feet two inches of fed, satisfied, hunky male.

She forced her thoughts away from his body and back on the conversation. "If I've learned one thing in the two years Thomas has been gone, it's that most men don't want a woman with children."

"You mentioned that before, too. I happen to like kids."

"You're in the minority." She reached for the dirty plates and lowered them into the soapy water, then turned off the faucet. "It's been very enlightening to be single again. Things have changed since I was young."

"Because you're so old now?" he teased.

"I'm mature."

"You were born mature."

"Maybe." She rinsed the plates and slipped them into the dish rack. She hadn't been born mature, but she'd grown up fast in her house. She hadn't had a choice. Painful memories threatened, but she pushed them away.

"Do you miss him?" Kyle asked. His voice was quiet. "You don't have to answer that if you don't want to."

She picked up a glass and placed it in the soapy water. "Thomas, you mean? I do. Sometimes. I see him in the children. Blake looks a lot like his father. So does Nichole."

"But she has your eyes."

She almost dropped the glass. He'd noticed? Why? What did it mean? Nothing, she told herself firmly. After all, he was Kyle Haynes and she was just an ordinary person. Or she would be as soon as she got her body's reactions to him under control.

"I heard somebody mention he was a professor, right?"

"Uh-huh. Philosophy."

"You're kidding?"

She finished washing the last glass and pulled the plug. As the water swirled down the drain, she reached for a dishcloth and wiped her hands. "You sound horrified," she said, glancing at him.

"I am. Philosophy? Why would anyone do that on purpose?"

"Thomas was a very good professor."

"I bet he was. Is there a more boring subject?"

"Some people like intellectual pursuits."

Kyle didn't look convinced. "Did you guys, you know, talk about philosophy a lot? Is it something you discussed over pizza?"

"We didn't have pizza very much." Ever, she reminded herself. Maybe that's what had gone wrong in her marriage. There hadn't been enough pizza. Sandy shook her head. That was crazy. What had gone wrong in her marriage was that Thomas had refused to grow up. He'd left her in charge of everything while he'd run off to play. She'd spent most of her marriage being a single mother.

"I didn't mean to bring up unhappy memories," he said.

Sandy took the seat opposite him and rested her forearms on the table. "They're not unhappy in the way you think. It's been two years. I've gotten used to the fact that he's never coming back. The children and I have started a new life together. In many ways, it's better."

He shifted on his chair and leaned forward. Before she knew what he was going to do, he reached out his hand and touched her fingers. Sandy told herself to pull back. Except she couldn't. Sparks leapt between them. She was surprised when she didn't actually see them arcing across the table. A warm feeling of lethargy moved up her arm, heating her blood and making her yearn for something more. Something… dangerous.

The cartoon video played on in the background. She could hear her children talking. Beyond the house were the sounds of the night. A car driving by, crickets chirping. She felt caught in some powerful force. Slowly, she raised her gaze from the table to Kyle's chest, then higher to his face.

Stubble shaded his jaw. There was a dab of paint on one cheek. His eyes darkened to the color of a midnight sky. Her gaze dropped to his mouth and the shape of his lips. She wondered what it would be like to be kissed by that mouth. Kyle had probably kissed hundreds of women. She'd kissed about five men. No doubt she would be completely out of her league. Still, the thought had merit.

Tension crackled around them. She wanted to lean closer, but the table was too long. She thought about getting up and walking over to him. Would he pull her close and kiss her? Would he hold her in his arms and-

He yawned.

Sandy straightened, blinking frantically as if she'd just been doused with a bucket of cold water. "I hope I'm not keeping you up," she snapped.

"No." He covered his mouth with his hand and yawned again. "It's not you. I pulled a double shift last night. Normally it doesn't bother me, but I didn't get any sleep today. Sorry."

"You haven't had any sleep since the night before last?"

He shook his head. "It's catching up with me."

Now that she looked closer, she could see faint shadows under his eyes. There were lines of weariness around the mouth she'd been admiring.

"I should have realized," she said, rising to her feet. "I'll get the kids and we'll go."

"They can finish their movie."

"Nonsense. They've seen it before. You need to be in bed."

She hoped he couldn't tell what image had sprung to her head at the word bed. It was too embarrassing. She'd been sitting there having incredibly erotic thoughts, and he'd been struggling to stay awake. Figures.

"Okay," he said, standing. "I'm pretty tired. But I'll be back tomorrow to finish the painting."

"You don't have to."

"I want to."

"But, I-"

He grabbed her hand and pulled her close. Kyle did a whole lot of touching, she thought, wondering if she should step back or just plain give in. Her body was already humming. Jeez, she'd spent the last two years without a single sexual thought, but since arriving in Glenwood, she couldn't get sex off her brain.

"You talk too much," he said lazily. "In my experience, women who talk too much are generally hiding something."

"I'm not one of your women." She jerked her hand free, but didn't step back. "I don't have anything to hide and I don't want anything, so don't waste any of your smooth, practiced lines on me."

"I promise." He made an X over his chest, then stared down at her. "You have the most beautiful eyes."

"I thought you just promised you weren't going to try any of your lines on me."

"It's not a line, it's the truth. Green is one of my favorite colors."

She stared up at him, immobilized. She told herself to run. This wasn't happening, and if it was, it was happening too fast. She couldn't get involved with Kyle Haynes. He would use her and dump her. He was irresponsible, immature. She didn't need any more children in her life.