Читать книгу Star Quality - Lori Foster - Страница 10

Three

When Jenna got home, rushing so she’d have time to refresh her hair and make-up before Stan showed up, she discovered her daughter still in the bathroom, primping for her date.

When she knocked, Rachelle said, “I’ll be out in a few minutes.”

Jenna sighed. “Hello to you, too, honey.”

The door opened. “Hey, Mom. I thought you were Ryan.”

They exchanged a quick hug, and Jenna asked, “Where is your brother?”

Wrinkling her nose, Rachelle said, “Out back, digging up worms in the hopes you’ll take him fishing.”

Because Rachelle still had hot rollers in her long blond hair and only half her make-up on, Jenna knew she’d be busy longer than the predicated “few minutes.” Sharing one bathroom with an eighteen-year-old daughter wasn’t easy.

But at the same time, Jenna knew she was going to miss her something awful when college started. “I’ll let him know I’m home.” Then she hesitated. “Where are you going tonight?”

“To the movies, and then the Old Orchard Inn for dinner.”

Jenna frowned. The theater was located just outside of town, and that was bad enough, but the Old Orchard Inn was also a B&B—meaning there were beds right upstairs. At eighteen, Rachelle was on the verge of being a woman, but she was still Jenna’s little girl. She didn’t want to be smothering, but neither could she be cavalier. “You’re going to be late?”

Rachelle shrugged. “Maybe midnight or so. Is that okay?”

“I suppose so.” But as usual, Jenna felt the need to lecture. “Please just remember that as nice as Terrance seems, it’s you I trust, not him. If he tries to buy you alcohol or if anything happens—”

Rachelle rolled her eyes and headed back into the bathroom. “I know, I know. I’ll call a cab, or call you, or I’ll hit him over the head. Don’t worry, Mom. It’s just dinner and a movie. I promise.”

Don’t worry? Dear God, Jenna well remembered the raging hormones of youth, how she and her husband had found plenty of inconspicuous places to explore their sexuality. They’d married young and had a wonderful marriage that had lasted until his death three years ago.

But Jenna wanted so much more for her daughter. . . .

“Mom!” Ryan came thundering into the house with all the delicacy of a herd of elephants. His untied, dirty sneakers brought him to a skidding halt on the hardwood floor right in front of Jenna. “I’ve dug up a bunch of night crawlers.” He lifted a paper cup filled with dirt and wiggling worms. “Let’s go fishing.”

Hiding her revulsion, Jenna peered into the cup. “Wow, you do have a bunch. And they’re so . . .” She swallowed hard. “Big.”

“They’re juicy,” Ryan said. “The fish’ll love ’em.”

Jenna mentally prepared herself and said a quick prayer that her son would be happy with the change of plans. “I’m sure there’ll be time for some fishing, but guess what? Stan Tucker offered to take us out on his boat.”

Ryan’s eyes widened. A heartbeat later, the bathroom door opened and Rachelle stuck her head out, her eyebrows raised in comical wonder.

Dear God, Jenna thought, she’d rendered both kids mute.

Forging on, she cleared her throat and tried to be casual when she felt nearly frantic instead. “I don’t know what type of boat he has, but he said you could go tubing or swim in the cove. We can take the fishing gear along. Stan might like to fish, too.”

Still, both children just stared at her. A deep breath, then another, and a bright smile. “You remember Stan, don’t you?”

They each nodded. Ryan fought a grin. “For real? He’ll take me tubing?”

“That’s what he said.”

Rachelle sent Jenna a sly look—and began teasing. In a soft, singsong voice, she said, “Mom’s got a boyfriend, Mom’s got a boyfriend . . .”

“Rachelle! Of course I don’t. Stan is a—”

“Stud,” Rachelle said. “And if he’s not a boyfriend, then why are you turning bright red?” Laughing, Rachelle threw her arms around Jenna and squeezed. “I think it’s cool.”

“Me, too.” Ryan was suddenly beside himself, jiggling, hopping, and antsy with anticipation. “When’s he gettin’ here?”

Jenna glanced at her watch and gulped. Time slipped by far too fast. “In about ten minutes.”

“Mom.” Rachelle pulled her into the bathroom. “For heaven’s sake. Why didn’t you say something! It’s all yours. I’ll finish up in my room.” Hands flying, she unplugged her rollers, grabbed no less than three hair-brushes and her assortment of make-up, and said, “Don’t just stand there, Mom. Do something with yourself. Change into your bathing suit and that really cute cover-up you have. And let your hair loose. The wind from the boat will tear it out of the clip anyway.”

Rachelle closed the door before Jenna could think of a single thing to say, but she heard her daughter give rapid orders to Ryan. “Now, behave yourself, squirt. Don’t be a toad, okay? Show Mr. Tucker your best side. Don’t embarrass Mom—”

Their voices faded as Rachelle dragged Ryan and his worms down the hall, listing off all the things he shouldn’t do.

Jenna stared at herself in the mirror. Oh, God, she was still red-faced. But not for the reason Rachelle assumed. She didn’t suffer embarrassment so much as unbridled eagerness. She’d turn forty soon. She was a middle-aged widow, a mother of two children, one a grown daughter. She owned her own business.

But at the moment, she felt like a giddy teenager on her first date.

Jenna put her hands to her warm cheeks and surveyed her appearance. Yes, definitely a mess. No way would she wear a bathing suit—the very idea of showing so much skin to Stan left her mortified. The years, and two births, had not been kind to her body. Any man who hadn’t seen her before she lost her figure sure wasn’t going to see her now, at least, not so soon.

If, as Stan said, they eventually made love . . . yes. She craved his description of unrestrained, bold lovemaking. Jenna sighed. Then, and only then, she’d let him look all he wanted. After all, if he was looking, she’d get to look, too. And Stan Tucker was a definite feast for the eyes.

Stan arrived five minutes early. The hazy sun and low ninety-degree temps had him wearing reflective sunglasses and casual khaki shorts with a mostly unbuttoned white cotton shirt. He’d showered, shaved, slapped on a spicy fragrance, brushed his teeth, combed his hair—and generally spiffed up as much as a gardener in the midst of a small town during a heat wave could.

He parked his sporty red SUV in Jenna’s drive and got out, peering at her tidy ranch-style home with a critical eye. Updated landscaping would improve the looks of the house a lot, not to mention the trim could use a fresh coat of paint.

He was considering that when he saw the small, compact body bounce off the porch swing and stand at the top step, hands on hips, eyes squinted from the sunshine. He seemed to be restraining himself with great effort.

Stan couldn’t quite tell if Jenna’s son wanted to challenge him or welcome him with berserk joy.

Joy won out. He leaped off the steps and came dashing across the lawn, bubbling over with enthusiasm. “Mom said you were coming.”

Stan smiled, amused at the boundless energy vibrating from the boy. He opened his mind to him and then wished he hadn’t. Ryan still missed his father terribly, and a giant void existed inside him. He was so hungry for a father figure that Stan put a hand to his chest, rubbing at the ache of a broken heart.

“That’s right,” Stan said. “Boating alone is no fun, so I’m hoping you’re game.”

“You bet I am!” Ryan leaned around him to see his SUV. “Where’s yer boat?”

“I keep it docked at the lake.”

“We used to have a boat. But Mom sold it.” His face scrunched up. “Cuz of my dad dying and everything.”

“You haven’t been boating since?”

Skinny shoulders lifted in a shrug. “I go with friends sometimes. But Mom likes to worry, and sometimes she doesn’t let me go.”

A smile tugged at Stan’s mouth. He touched the boy’s head and started him toward the house. “It’s a mother’s sacred job to worry, and I bet your mother is good at anything she does—including worrying.”

“Yeah, she’s real good at it.”

His long face got Stan to chuckling. “Speaking of your mom, is she ready?”

“I dunno. She was runnin’ around, grabbin’ clothes and changin’ clothes and complainin’ about her hair and—”

“Ryan.” That stern admonishment came from a younger version of Jenna poised in the doorway. Rachelle pasted on a friendly smile. “Hello, Mr. Tucker.”

Stan looked her over and knew poor Jenna must do most of her worrying about her daughter. The girl was a real looker and, from what he remembered, smart to boot. The little dress she wore would make any lad with hormones go nuts. It was stylish, but it also accented her figure a bit more than any protective, father-aged man would like.

“Rachelle.” If she were his daughter, he’d dress her in a potato sack—but he hid that thought with a cordial smile. “Call me Stan.”

“All right, Stan.” Her return smile was pretty and welcoming and made Stan want to protect her from the world. “Mom’s almost ready. You want to come in for iced tea? I just made it fresh.”

“Hey! I was gonna show him where I dug up most of my worms,” Ryan protested.

Rachelle’s face tightened. “Stan might not want to look at worms, Ryan.” She bestowed another beatific smile on Stan. “Come on in out of that heat. It’s much cooler inside.”

It didn’t require a mind reader to know that Rachelle wanted to make a good impression. She sensed that her mother wasn’t completely happy on her own and maybe saw him as a step in the right direction. Yet it was so much more than that. Both Rachelle’s and Ryan’s neediness clawed at him, destroying his composure. The love they felt for Jenna was overpowering, but with that love was an almost desperate craving for a return of things lost—a happy home with two parents, a more flexible budget, family vacations.

Jenna tried to fill the gap in their lives, but she could only do so much. Ryan missed the male camaraderie that only another guy could supply. And Rachelle missed her father’s teasing protectiveness and the smell of his aftershave, the way he lifted her off her feet when he hugged her. She missed knowing her daddy was there, the backbone to their home, ready and able to defend them all.

Stan tried prodding her thoughts a little, to see if there were particular concerns on money, but he wasn’t skilled enough to separate the many emotions swirling between the two kids. And truthfully, his own emotions were getting in the way now, because he cared—about both of them, and about their mom.

Wanting to please both kids, he pulled off his sunglasses and gave his most charming smile to Rachelle. “If you could pour me the tea—with plenty of ice, please—both Ryan and I’ll be right in. Just give me two minutes to see this worm farm he’s discovered. Okay?”

Rachelle shot her brother a look of disgust, but accepted the compromise. “I’ll be in the kitchen. Just come in the back door.”

Ryan grabbed Stan’s hand and tugged. “It’s this way. C’mon. I found about a gazillion of them under one rock. My cup wasn’t big enough for them all, so I left some so that next time I fish, I can get ’em. Mom said you might let me fish off your boat. Can I bring my rod and reel?”

Ryan didn’t wait for an answer. He didn’t even draw a breath.

“It’s one my dad bought me and it’s really cool, like for an expert fisherman or something. Dad said I had all the makings of a professional. But that was three years ago, so I’m rusty now. Me and Dad used to fish in the mornin’s, when the fish were really bitin’ and you could fill the boat up with enough bass for dinner.”

The rambling monologue brought them through the backyard and all the way to the perimeter where the woods bordered. Jenna had a spacious lot with plenty of room for kids to play. He liked it.

“Of course you can fish,” Stan told Ryan. “We’ll go back in the cove where the big ones hang out.”

“Seriously?”

Stan laughed. “You haven’t fished in three years?”

“Sure I have. Mom takes me sometimes when she doesn’t have to work. But she works lots, and she doesn’t know much about fishing anyway, so she doesn’t like for me to cast the rod.” In a stage whisper, Ryan said, “I got a lure caught in her hair once. So now we just take reg’lar poles. She’ll hand me worms, but she won’t put them on a hook or nothing like that. I can tell she don’t really like fishing too much.”

“You’re obviously an astute young man.”

“What’s astute?”

“It means you’re already good at reading women. Trust me, it’ll come in handy someday.” Stan crouched down with interest when Ryan used all his meager strength to lift a heavy rock.

“You see ’em?” Ryan asked, his voice strained as he struggled with the stone.

“I sure do. You were smart to leave some here. They’ll probably just get bigger, so next time you fish, imagine what they’ll look like.”

“Wow.” Ryan dropped the rock to the side, leaving the worms exposed. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

“They’ll have nothing to do but eat and grow.”

“They don’t have mouths. How can they eat?”

Stan turned to Ryan. “You’re kidding, right? Of course they have mouths. Look at this one. He’s grinning at you.”

Ryan chuckled. “Is not.”

Stan lifted one long, squirming worm and explained. “These first few segments hold the brain, hearts, and breathing organs. Did you know that a worm has five pairs of hearts?”

“Wow.”

Stan nodded. “The rest of the inside of an earthworm is filled with the intestines, which digest its food.”

“So all of that is belly?”

“Close enough. Earthworms eat soil and the organic material in it—like insect parts and bacteria.”

“Gross.”

“Right here’s the mouth, but it’s covered by a flap called the prostomium, which helps the earthworm sense light and vibrations, so it can find its way around. Tiny bristles, called setae, are on most of the earthworm’s body.”

Ryan gave him a skeptical look. “How do you know that’s the mouth end and not the butt end?”

“Simple. This is the end he led with when he was crawling. Now, wouldn’t you crawl head first, instead of butt first?”

Ryan grinned. “Yeah, I would.”

“All these worms mean you have good earth here. They aerate it and make the soil richer with their castings.”

“What are castings?”

Grinning, thoroughly enjoying himself, Stan said in a whisper, “Poo.”

Ryan started laughing—and suddenly Stan felt it, simple happiness, gratitude, and overwhelming tenderness. So much tenderness he felt wrapped in it, lending him a peace he hadn’t experienced in years. He turned his head and smiled at Jenna, standing behind him.

She wore a beige tank top and matching capris, with an oversized mesh tunic over the top. A floppy-brimmed straw hat shielded her face from the sun. Her long hair hung free to her shoulders. She looked . . . fabulous. Comfortable. Casual. Sexy.

And she had her heart in her eyes.

Stan narrowed his gaze on her face. “Have you been eavesdropping on our worm lessons?”

Her mouth curled, and more tenderness blanketed around Stan. “Fascinating stuff,” she teased. “How could I resist?”

Stan’s heart wanted to crumble. Witnessing her son’s happiness had given her great joy and had shifted her emotions for him from purely sexual to so much more.

Such a simple thing—sharing laughter with her son. And now she was soft and emotional, even tearful.

He stood, stepped closer to her, and whispered, “Hi,” then kissed her on the cheek.

Ryan stared wide-eyed.

So she’d understand, he said, “Ryan was entertaining me while you finished getting ready.” Without really thinking about it, he sought out the little boy, his palm to the top of Ryan’s sun-warmed hair. “If it’s okay with you, I’d like to ask Ryan to go fishing with me some morning. He tells me that’s how it’s done, and being he’s an expert, I’m sure I could learn a thing or two.”

With Ryan’s loud squeal of excitement, Jenna’s lips quivered. “He’d love that,” she whispered with tearful gratitude that cut Stan like a sharp knife.

Damn, he wanted this woman to be happy, all the time, every second of the day. She deserved that, and by God, he’d see to it. Somehow.

He brushed her cheek with his thumb. “Me, too.”

Blinking away the tears, she said, “Ryan, let’s go get washed up and let Stan drink his tea, so we can get to the lake before it gets any later.”

Stan put his right arm around Jenna’s waist and his left hand on Ryan’s bony shoulder. Together, like a family, they crossed the grassy lawn to the back door of her house.

Rachelle waited in the doorway, watching them all with a sort of earnest serenity. Stan wanted to close them all out, just to regain his balance, but he couldn’t. It seemed intrusive, knowing what was in their hearts, but at the same time, he felt compelled to know even more, to understand them so he could get a toehold into their lives.

A flicker of concern struck him, and he found himself asking Rachelle about her plans for college as they entered the kitchen. Tea waited on the table, but he and Ryan washed their hands first. Over his shoulder, Stan glanced at Rachelle.

She didn’t quite meet his gaze. “I’m going to a state school here.”

The way she said that told him volumes. “What do you want to study?” He took a seat next to Jenna and sipped his tea. “This is good, Rachelle, thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” She laced her fingers together over her middle. “Don’t laugh, but I’ll be an art major.”

“Now, why would I laugh at that?” Her self-conscious shrug prompted him to dig further. “What type of art?”

“Graphic design. I want to do ad layouts.”

Ryan said, “Like on cereal boxes.”

Rolling her eyes, Rachelle said, “Maybe some cereal boxes.”

Stan settled back in his seat. He had a feeling he already knew the answer, but he asked it anyway. “You doing the state school because you want to be close to home, or did you decide it was the best choice?”

Rachelle darted a glance at her mother. “I want to be close to home.”

Jenna reached for Rachelle’s hand and gave it a squeeze. “Actually, since she was fourteen, she’s had her heart set on SCAD—Savannah College of Art and Design. Now, we just can’t afford it.”

“And she don’t wanna leave me,” Ryan boasted.

Half laughing, Rachelle mussed his hair. “You would be missed, rat.”

True enough, Stan realized. Rachelle wanted to be close at hand to help her mother out with Ryan. A little awed, he acknowledged what an amazing young lady she was. “I have a feeling that whatever college you choose, you’ll do great.” But in his heart, Stan wanted her to have the college of her choice, not be limited by funds and responsibilities.

He wondered if he could manage that somehow. God knew he had more money than his simple lifestyle required. One look at Jenna, and he knew she was far too proud to take a handout.

Ryan guzzled his tea, fed up with idle chitchat when swimming, boating and fishing awaited. Nothing more was said on colleges. Stan assured Jenna he had everything on the boat that they’d need—life preservers, a tube and ski rope, sunscreen and towels.

Rachelle’s date showed up the same time they were ready to leave. Stan took one look at the young man and wanted to forbid the date. Dumb. But damn it, he knew exactly what both kids were planning, and he felt like a peeping Tom. Quickly, he blocked the intimate thoughts, but he couldn’t remove the warning scowl from his face when he looked at Terrance.

Before they drove off, Jenna again cautioned her daughter to be careful and made her promise she’d call if she was later than midnight.

On the way to the lake, Jenna was quiet, but then Ryan talked nonstop, leaving little room for adult conversation. Stan didn’t mind. He enjoyed Ryan’s chatter, and he sensed the peacefulness of Jenna’s mood. She simply enjoyed the ride and her son’s giddiness.

Ryan loved Stan’s SUV and asked permission to touch every single button and knob. Stan figured if he liked the car, he’d go bonkers over his Stingray 220DR deck boat that looked a lot like a pontoon on steroids. When Ryan spotted the boat, Stan wasn’t disappointed with his reaction.

He’d nearly run to the dock when Jenna caught him and hauled him back. Her rules required a life preserver before Ryan got anywhere near the murky lake water.

Golden Lake had one small station to gas up your boat and a goodie shack that sold everything from ice cream to beer to bait. Stan loaded up on snacks, pre-made sandwiches, and bought plenty of colas to stow in the ice chest beneath the fresh water sink in the cabin.

The rest of the evening went by in a blur for Stan. He’d never dated a woman with kids, and his ex-wife hadn’t wanted any. Ryan on water was a revelation. He went tubing for what seemed like forever, never tiring, loving the big waves and the sun and the cold spray of water from the boat. Since Jenna enjoyed it, too, and he enjoyed watching her, Stan had no complaints.

Afterward, he dropped anchor in the mossy cove. Jenna and Ryan had put on sunscreen earlier, but they needed a fresh application. When she finished with her son, Stan took the bottle from her hands.

“Let me.”

She glanced at Ryan, who sat on the back of the boat, his feet braced on the ladder, his rod cast out near the shore. When her gaze came back to Stan, it was hotter than the evening sun. “All right.”

She had already removed her tunic, and Stan eyed her golden shoulders and collarbone, and the way the tank top hugged her breasts. Unless he missed his guess, she wasn’t wearing a bra. With the summer heat, it made sense to wear as little as possible, but he’d never seen her without a bra. His palms itched to hold her, to feel the shape and weight of her breasts, to explore her nipples . . .

Swallowing a groan, he poured a small amount of sunscreen into his palms and said, “Lift your hair.”

She did so slowly, and it was such a provocative pose that Stan couldn’t help but think of sexual things. As he smoothed the sunscreen onto her neck, shoulders, and upper chest, she dropped her hair, and her eyes closed.

If her son weren’t sitting a few feet away, singing off key to the Beach Boys in the CD player, he’d show Jenna just how close to reality her imagination had gotten.

But her son was near, and that meant Stan had to behave himself, no matter how hard behaving might be.

Hard being the operative word.

With an apologetic smile, Stan kissed the tip of her nose and went over the side of the boat into the icy water.

The splash drew Ryan’s attention, and he quickly reeled in his line so he could swim, too. The water cooled Stan’s ardor, but nothing could appease the growing ache in his heart—except having Jenna for his own.

Permanently.