Chapter 34
Andrew’s bashfulness and sweet countenance had endeared Dylan to him from the get-go. He also had Mitch’s eyes, which might have had something to do with the little boy’s appeal.
But she also found herself observing Andrew from the standpoint of a psychological analyst. It was an occupational hazard.
While waiting with him in the hospital lobby, he self-pacified by playing with his cars, delighted in the tropical fish in the aquarium, and watched other people with open curiosity but no perceivable fear of strangers.
He also seemed right at home in the unique wonderland of the fishing camp. She’d remarked to Mitch that she was surprised he wasn’t frightened of the hunting trophies, especially the razorback.
“The one time he showed some fear of it, Molly told him that he shouldn’t be afraid because Roger the Razorback was a friend of hers. That was that. He thinks Molly hung the moon, so anything she says is scripture.”
By the end of the day, Dylan had concluded that being shuttled between Mitch and his grandparents seemed not to have had a negative effect on the child. He was well adjusted and well behaved, usually minding after being told only once either to do something or to stop.
Now, however, as they were having dinner, his good behavior began to deteriorate to that of an obstinate two-year-old-going-on-three.
She and Mitch were eating “John’s famous” gumbo.
Andrew was having a single portion of microwaveable mac and cheese, which Mitch had bought in a convenience store on their way back from Lafayette.
He’d also bought a box of Froot Loops, which he’d hidden in the pantry so Andrew wouldn’t want the cereal for dinner.
After having eaten only half of his macaroni, Andrew was making a smeary mess of it on his plate. His hand was covered in orange goo. Mitch, losing patience, wiped his hand clean and pushed a spoon into it. “Use your spoon.”
Andrew dropped it onto the table, where it landed with a clatter. “I want to get down. I want to play cars.”
“Not until you use your manners and finish your dinner. Eat your apple slices.”
Andrew picked up one and threw it to the floor.
Mitch pointed his index finger at him. “Enough, Andrew!”
Andrew’s lower lip began to tremble, then his whole face crumpled. He opened his mouth as wide as it would go and released a wail. Fat tears puddled in his sapphire eyes.
“Meltdown.” Mitch sighed. He pushed back his chair and stood. He lifted Andrew off the makeshift booster seat, a stack of old telephone directories, and hoisted him onto his hip.
Andrew, wriggling in an effort to get down, burbled, “I want to play cars.”
“No way. No way, José. You didn’t act nice at the dinner table. It’s off to bed for you, buddy.” As he carried his squalling son toward the guest room, he said over his shoulder to Dylan, “Catch you later,” and shut the door behind them.
She cleared the table and put the dishes in the dishwasher. She was just finishing up when Mitch came out of the bedroom, closing the door quietly behind him.
“He’s down for the count.” Noticing that she’d cleaned up, he said, “You didn’t have to do that.”
“It was nothing.”
Her dismissal had come out sounding curt, and he caught it. He tilted his head. “Are you still mad at me?”
“No.”
He didn’t say anything immediately, then gave a small nod. “I heard from Mary. Hank had four arterial blockages. Tomorrow, he’ll undergo angioplasty to insert stents. After that, a week, ten days of taking it easy. Prognosis, good.”
“A relief to Mary, I’m sure.” She carefully folded a dish towel and draped it over the edge of the sink.
He said, “I think you’re still mad.”
“I’m not.”
Again, he studied her for a moment before continuing. “Sorry about Andrew’s tantrum. They’re rare, but he can pitch a good one.”
“You handled it very well.” He arched his eyebrow skeptically. “No, I mean it. He challenged your authority, and you didn’t give in. His bad behavior wasn’t rewarded. You showed him that bad choices have consequences.”
“I made him tell me he was sorry, then read him a story, hugged him, told him how much I love him, and lay there with him until he went to sleep.”
“All good. Actually, I didn’t even hear him crying after you took him into the bedroom.”
“Well, the deal was that if he didn’t get over the fit that instant, he wouldn’t get to shower.”
“Shower?”
“At his grandparents’ house, he takes baths. When he’s at my house, I take him into the shower with me.” He walked slowly toward her. “And you know how much fun that can be.”
Her femaleness betrayed her by instantly responding to the rumbling tone of a man aroused.
Her sensory receptors sizzled with memories of the night before.
And damn him! Fresh from the shower, he smelled so good.
He came close enough for her to feel his body heat, and yet he wasn’t nearly close enough.
She wanted him pressing against her. Into her.
But when he leaned in and attempted to kiss her, she turned her head aside and took a step back. “I’ve been behaving badly and making consequential choices myself, Mitch. Topping the list is sleeping with a patient.”
“I’m no longer your patient.” He closed the distance between them again. “One of the best choices I’ve made in a long, long, long time was to fire you last night.”
“Only John Bowie can fire me, and your therapy is mandatory, so you remain a patient. Besides…”
“What?”
“I am mad at you.”
“Yeah, I got that.”
“You were high-handed. You pulled rank. I didn’t like it.”
“I didn’t like it, either. I was an ass. You should’ve decked me.”
In spite of herself she blurted a soft laugh, then said with irritation, “Don’t joke.”
“Wasn’t joking. Are you still mad?”
“A little, yes.”
“Good.”
“Why good?”
He leaned in again and brushed his lips across the smile tugging at the corner of hers. “Because make-up sex is my favorite thing.”
Then he pulled her against him and kissed her for real. Desire spread through her like a potent liqueur, leaving her body weakened and willing, and her saner self in jeopardy. She broke the kiss. “Mitch, we can’t keep doing this.”
“Then stop enticing me.”
“I don’t.”
“You do. You don’t play fair. If you want me to leave you alone, stop wearing this face, this hair.
” He threaded his fingers through it. “Stop looking at me through those eyes and, for god’s sake, do something about those legs that I mistakenly thought went on forever.
They don’t,” he purred. “Last night, I discovered where they led, and… oh my, it was good.”
She made a whimpering sound and went along when he took her hand and led her over to one of the ugly chintz armchairs.
He sat down, gathered up her slim skirt until it was bunched around her waist, and pulled her astride his lap.
Several drugging kisses later, he reached for the hem of her borrowed top and began pulling it up.
“No,” she said, glancing toward the bedroom door. “What if Andrew wakes up?”
“He won’t. He’s out. Besides, if he caught us, he wouldn’t know what we’re doing.”
“I would know.”
“Okay, leave the top on. That almost makes it dirtier, and dirty sex is my second favorite thing.” He reached beneath the borrowed top and unhooked her bra. Sliding his hands back to her front, he cupped her breasts and tweaked her nipples between his fingers.
Then he ducked his head beneath the top and took her nipple into his mouth. Each tug caused a reaction down low where she was open to him. He felt it, too, and soon they were breathing swiftly and rubbing against each other lustily.
He brought his head out from under her top, hastily unbuttoned his jeans, and worked them down. When the waistband got past the hilt of Excalibur, her breath hitched at the sight of his erection.
He grinned and said, “Up,” as he helped her to stand on her knees. It wasn’t graceful, but, working together, they managed to get her panties off.
Before her knees folded, he kept her upright and nuzzled her, breathing her in, and exhaling in soft, humid puffs that caused flutters of sensation on her skin as well as within. His tongue flicked against her cleft, then went deeper, seeking the ultimate pleasure point and finding it.
He didn’t stop until she came, and the instant he felt it, he bracketed her hips between his strong hands and lowered her onto him. He held her secure there, one with him, and kissed her mouth with uncontested passion and possessiveness.
He released her hips only long enough to remove her top and bra after all. “No way are you going to ride me and me not get to watch.”
He rubbed his face against her breasts, his scruff delightfully scratchy, his mouth damp and ardent.
His hands returned to her bottom and initiated a rocking motion, their give-and-take movements in perfect sync.
Her sensitized flesh drew on his until she felt another climax about to claim her. She bore down even as he pushed up.
And what happened simultaneously between them then wasn’t a culmination. It was an awakening.
As the ecstasy of it ebbed, they sagged against each other and held fast. After his breathing returned to near normal, he eased her away so he could pull off his T-shirt. Craving to be skin to skin with him, she helped.
Then he placed his arms around her, splayed his hands over the middle of her back, and drew her to him. He settled his bowed head on her breasts. She felt her heartbeat beneath his rough cheek.
Still inside her, his breath hot on her skin, he whispered, “Dylan, you are the last thing I expected.”
She folded her arms around his head, and buried her face in his mussed hair. “I didn’t expect you, either.”