Part 20 (1/2)
”She'll put you in time-out.” Drew scrubbed a fist across his tear-stained face.
”Or swat me with her wooden spoon.”
Drew offered him a tiny smile. ”She smacked Uncle Todd once when he stole three m.u.f.fins, but the spoon broke.”
”Ouch.”
Drew yawned, his eyelids fluttering shut. ”Mummy wouldn't do that, though. She likes you”-another jaw-stretching yawn-”and I like you, too.”
Nate's throat clamped shut as the boy nestled in under his chin, resting his small head on the crook of Nate's arm. He didn't dare move as Drew's breathing evened out and his warm hand clutched Nate's arm.
Nate closed his eyes so he wouldn't have yet another heart-breaking memory to add to his collection. He pulled the comforter over them both.
”Right back at you, little mate.”
He was only making it harder on himself when the time came to walk away.
A time that drew closer and closer.
By the time Lauren had driven home from the hospital it was closer to dawn than midnight. Lights still burned downstairs, and after a quick pat of Java's head, she walked into an empty kitchen then family room.
Well, now. She'd expected to find Nate flaked out in front of the TV, remote on his stomach and feet propped on her coffee table. Moving farther inside, Lauren spotted the remote on the floor, its battery guts spilled open as if it'd been thrown. p.r.i.c.kles jabbed the base of her spine, her stomach suddenly twisting. She dropped her bag and hurried up the stairs, forcing herself to take long, slow breaths.
He was fine. Drew was fine.
A sliver of golden light sliced across the floor under Drew's door, and she gently pushed it open. The bedside lamp glowed, casting back shadows and highlighting Nate's broad back curled forward in the single bed. Drew's soft snores and the louder, deeper breathing of the man precariously perched on the edge of the mattress were the only sounds. She crept into the room. Tucked into Nate's body, Drew slept with his hand clutching Nate's tee s.h.i.+rt, one pajama-clad leg hooked over his knee.
Tears stung the corner of her eyes. The wanting, the yearning for this to be a real, tangible foundation for her and Nate to build a lifetime on throbbed with every heartbeat.
She wanted him for Drew; but more, she wanted him for herself.
His kindness, his strength, her belief now that he saw her-saw her right down to her scarred soul and accepted her unconditionally.
She walked to the bed and crouched beside it, laying a hand on Nate's shoulder and murmuring his name so as not to startle him. He came awake instantly, twisting his head up to meet her gaze, a sheepish smile curving his lips.
Between the two of them, they gently eased Drew away from Nate so he could climb off the bed. Lauren tucked her son in then laced her fingers with Nate's and led him to her bedroom.
Closing the door behind them, she turned and peeled off her dress.
But before Operation-Seduction went into action, he said, ”How's Mel and the baby?”
Her throat constricted, blood booming past her eardrums as she stood in her underwear and stared across the room. It was too late, dammit. She'd stupidly gone and fallen in love with Nate Fraser.
Not in the moment when she'd found him asleep with her son, not when he'd smiled at her in Drew's bed, his green eyes s.h.i.+mmering in the lamplight. No. She'd tripped over the line when he'd seen her standing almost naked in front of him and he'd thought to ask about someone in her family.
Lauren pressed a hand to her chest as a reminder to her lungs to keep functioning.
”Mel had a healthy baby boy, and they're both doing well. Adam's not doing quite as well since he fainted during the delivery and ended up with five st.i.tches in his forehead.”
”That's got to hurt.” Nate ran his fingers through his rumpled bed hair and m.u.f.fled a yawn.
”More his ego and the knowledge that Todd and his other brothers-in-law will never let him live it down.”
She swayed toward him, running her palms up the ridged muscles of his chest and planting a soft kiss on his stubbled jaw. ”Come to bed.”
A flash of straight white teeth. ”I've already had a nap, I'm not that tired.”
”Good. Because sleeping is not what I had in mind.”
Lips curving into a smile, she traced the hard angles of his face as he backed her up to the bed. She belonged here, in his arms, falling into a tangle on the sheets.
Nate claimed her mouth, his hands possessive as he stripped away her bra and panties. Shoving up his s.h.i.+rt with one hand, she gently raked her nails down the solid line of his abs.
She broke the kiss, fumbling with the stud of his jeans. ”Too many clothes.”
”Fixable.” He stripped off his jeans and s.h.i.+rt, grabbed protection from her nightstand and came back to her, all hot skin on hot skin.
Wedged between her thighs, his forearms braced either side of her shoulders, he nuzzled her neck. ”You're in a hurry.”
In a hurry? No, she wanted every moment of this night preserved in Technicolor detail. The imprint of his face, his musky male scent, the explosion of sensations as he sucked on her earlobe-she wanted it to last. She wanted to remember it all.
”Make love to me,” she said.
His arousal pressed intimately against her, and she arched her hips, drawing him deep inside.
He took her lips again, the dance of his tongue dipping into her mouth mimicking the measured strokes of his body. Crossing her legs over his hips, she encouraged him to move faster, delicious heat spiraling through her core. The wall of his chest grazed her aching nipples as he rocked them both, slicking a fine sheen of sweat across her skin. She couldn't hold back, couldn't hold anything back from him.
Her body convulsed around his, and pleasure drew out a moan so deep part of her scarred heart ripped away with it. Lauren buried her face in the curve of Nate's neck and held on as if she'd never have to let him go.
Nate didn't want to say yes to his old boss' request, but his bills wouldn't pay themselves. Two days in the Bay of Islands covering a pre-Waitangi Day protest would help boost his dwindling bank account.
”You and Stevie would've fought like alley cats over this, not so long ago.” The man's patronizing voice buzzed down the line from a sky-rise office in downtown Auckland.
Nate kept the phone pressed to his ear, careful not to move off his deck-the only place he could get decent cellphone reception. Lauren bent over a spindly sapling, and he leaned against the railing to further admire her shorts-clad b.u.t.t. She and Drew had arrived earlier that morning with a packed picnic lunch. Afterward, she'd taken it upon herself to plant half a dozen young native trees along the driveway.
”Steve is dead, Wally.” Calling Walter Beaumont the Third ”Wally” irritated the man almost as much as it irritated Nate to hear his friend called ”Stevie.” And it bugged the h.e.l.l out of Nate more to admit the truth in Wally's words.
When it turned out Steve's weight loss wasn't due to a new health kick but instead was the dreaded Big C, eating his lungs from the inside out, he'd sucked up his pride and taken any jobs going to help his friend pay the ever-increasing mountain of bills.
Walter tsked in Nate's ear, a noise with no trace of sympathy. ”Yes, terrible thing, that. But life goes on, and you're just about on location. You want the job or not?”
Lauren straightened and turned toward him, the brim of her G.o.d-awful sunhat and oversized sungla.s.ses blocking a clear view of her eyes. The sly curve on her lips told him she knew he hated that d.a.m.n hat, knew exactly what he'd been looking at, and knew exactly what he'd wanted to do to her all morning. They stared at each other across the expanse, Walter's voice a distant mosquito whine in the background.
I see what's behind your smile, sweetheart. You can hide from the camera's eye, but I see you.
Drew's sudden cry broke the connection. His gaze zeroed in on the boy sprawled on the ground with Java nosing his legs. Lauren covered the distance quickly and stooped down to help the boy to his feet.