“Mommy, doorbell!” Josh chimed in company with Jo’s doorbell, running to join Amy and Louisa in the kitchen. He’d been playing upstairs with Flint’s boys but must have decided to check on the progress of supper.
Amy nervously brushed her hands off on a towel. “Why don’t you take Louisa outside on the swings? I’ll be right out in a minute.” She headed down the open hall of the cabin’s cathedral-ceilinged front room. Flint and Jo needed wide open spaces for the boys and their music, or their house would probably bust at the seams, she reflected.
If she concentrated on the familiar, she wouldn’t have to worry about seeing the man with whom she had become much too intimate this afternoon. She blushed just thinking about what they had done, and how they could have been caught doing it. But her breasts burned to do it again, and she was wishing she owned sexier underwear. She brushed a wayward lock of hair back from her heated cheek.
“Aunt Amy, can we put the hamburgers on? We’re starved!” Johnnie called from the loft balcony, where a stereo boomed.
“Start carrying the salads out to the picnic table, and I’ll put the burgers on in a minute,” she called back. “Keep an eye on Louisa and Josh until I get there.”
The pounding of teenage shoes on the back staircase spoke of hunger and not eagerness to obey her command, but she’d counted on that. She preferred to have all the kids out of the house when Zack came in. She wanted at least a minute alone with him to steady her bouncing nerves. Her pulse pounded like a love-struck adolescent’s.
She bit her lip to add color before she opened the door — and almost fell backward as Evan stormed in.
“Who is that guy and why is he staying in our house?” her ex demanded, stalking into the big front room as if he owned it.
Evan’s size used to reassure her. She’d loved him for being her bulwark against the world’s storms. Now she saw how he used his bulk to intimidate, and she refused to be intimidated. Hands on hips, she remained at the open door, studying the situation rather than bothering to respond similarly to his angry outburst. Evan had obviously gone to their house first — without calling. Tracking her to Jo’s had no doubt strained his sociability.
“I didn’t expect you this weekend,” she replied mildly, casting a glance to the gravel drive where a Bentley rolled to a halt next to the Beamer Evan had kept in the divorce. She thought she was seeing the scenario now, and she couldn’t resist smiling, wishing she’d seen how that battle had gone down. “And the house is mine, not yours, if you’ll remember correctly. I can do with it what I will.”
Wearing tan tailored trousers and a black knit golf shirt that molded to his athletic shoulders and six-pack abs, Zack strolled up to the porch, not a feather ruffled by the obviously irate earlier encounter with Evan at the other house.
“Are you living with that creep?” Evan shouted. “I’ll not have my kids in the same house with — ”
“A foreigner with too many teeth and headlights you will punch out?” Zack finished for him in his clipped European accent. Carrying a bottle of wine, he winked at Amy, draped his free arm across her shoulders, and raised his eyebrows at her furious ex. “He is like a bull in a.…” he glanced around at the cabin’s huge paneled living room, “in a barn?”
Amy tried not to giggle. She had a house full of kids and a grill that would burn out if she didn’t get food on it soon. She’d grown up admiring the testosterone wars fought over Jo, but she was too busy to appreciate male idiocy now. “The kids are out on the swings, Evan, but they’re not expecting you. I can add a hamburger to the grill, if you want one. I assume you’ve met Zack?”
“You haven’t explained what he’s doing in our house, Ames!” Evan shouted.
She disentangled herself from Zack’s much too masculine and proprietary hold to return to the kitchen. His spicy aftershave had her stomach rumbling. Or other parts lower. She needed to remember that Evan likely had fifty pounds and four inches over Zack, but Zack packed an athlete’s power and muscle. A war would not be pretty.
“Sleeping there as far as I know,” she called back. “But ask Zack. It’s not any of my concern.”
“What do you mean it’s not your concern?” Evan demanded, following her.
“She means I have paid for the privilege of having the house to myself, and I can walk the ceilings if I like, as long as I do not harm the premises.” Unperturbed, apparently indulging in masculine amusement at Evan’s bluster, Zack set his wine bottle on the counter and sampled an olive from the Greek salad.
Amy was excruciatingly aware that Zack was following her every move. Knowing his competitive instincts, she could tell he was assessing Evan, the situation, and her reaction, processing everything through that high-caliber brain of his, and probably making mincemeat of it.
She had this kind of argument with Evan all the time now. It was meaningless. Evan just liked to have his way, and now she finally had the freedom — and gumption — to defy him. She’d bitten her tongue too many times when they’d been married not to enjoy upsetting his applecart now.
“We close on the house on Friday,” she reminded Zack, ignoring Evan. “I’ll have to remove the rest of the furniture by Thursday night. Do you have a place to go yet?”
“You will own the cottage Friday, will you not?” he asked with carelessness, moving on to sample the bruschetta.
Adam burst in to grab a platter, glance at the adults, and rush back out again without asking about the hamburgers. Smart kid, Amy figured. She knew from Jo’s explanations that Flint’s boys had endured a lot of confrontations between their parents in their growing up years. She had no desire to remind them of that unhappy time.
“I’ll sign the deed Friday, but the cottage won’t be fit to move into. We’ll have to stay at the apartment for a while longer.” She elbowed her ex from blocking the refrigerator. “Go visit with your children, Evan. They haven’t seen you in a month.”
“I want to know what the hell’s going on here first. Where are you moving my kids that isn’t fit for living in? What apartment?”
“Oh, did I forget to tell you?” Reaching for the ketchup, Amy turned to bat her eyelashes and plaster on a fake smile. “I bought a house.” She didn’t add, and I did it without you. She was still pretty amazed herself.
“How can you buy a house? You don’t even have a decent job.” Evan scowled, crossing his arms, making it obvious he had no intention of leaving while Zack was there.
Opening drawers until he located a corkscrew, Zack didn’t seem to be wasn’t in any hurry to get out from under foot either. He tutted disapprovingly at Evan’s comment. “You doubt that the inimitable Amaranth can look after herself? No wonder you have communication problems.”
“The only thing inimitable about Amaranth is her ability to run up credit cards!”
Lifting the tray of prepared hamburger patties, Amy escaped the war zone for the more pleasant company in the backyard. It might be amusing to be spoken about in the third person, but she had hungry kids to feed and not a lot of patience for male posturing these days.
She’d be a little more pleased that Zack thought her inimitable if she didn’t believe he was just figuratively punching Evan’s lights out. Zack’s civilized exterior didn’t fool her for an instant. Beneath the smooth tailoring and behind the charming smile was a man who had a mind with wicked teeth and the conscience of a wolf.
“Mommy, my tummy hurts.” Louisa wrapped her chubby arms around Amy’s knee, immobilizing her.
“You didn’t eat those green apples, did you? I told you they’d make you sick.” She looked around for help. “Johnnie, would you take this tray for me? Carry it over to the grill.”
Wearing his hair buzzed short these days, still sporting a gold earring and the first signs of adolescent acne, Flint’s twelve-year-old loped over to take the tray. “Are you sure there are enough?” he asked, eyeing five pounds of hamburger with disappointment. “I could eat a horse.”
“I don’t recommend it or your tummy will hurt, too. There are bratwursts in the refrigerator if those aren’t enough. Try some of the salads.” Amy reached down to lift Louisa from her leg.
“I don’t like onions,” he replied, galloping off with the burgers.
“I like onions,” Zack murmured near her ear, deftly handing her a glass of wine while taking Louisa from her arms. “They have many layers and taste spicy.”
Just the rumble of his voice could shiver her spine into a puddle of lust. Amy sipped the wine to steady herself, then glanced at the glass in surprise. It was the most delicious wine she’d ever tasted, and probably cost ten fortunes. “I cannot deal with this,” she muttered, fortified enough by the adult beverage to admit her tension. “I cannot. Back off, Zack, or I’m likely to hurl.”
“Hurl what?” he asked with interest, backing off with Louisa in his arms.
“You don’t want to know.” Amy eyed Louisa contentedly curled against Zack’s neck, touched her little girl’s forehead to test for fever, and frowned in concern, forgetting both wine and argument. “Maybe you better set her on the porch swing and let her rest a bit. She feels kind of warm.”
“Give her here. I’ll take care of her.” Marching down the back steps, Evan reached for his daughter.
“Daddy!” Josh cried joyfully, jumping from the swings to race across the yard.
Louisa grinned and held her arms out for her father, too.
With reluctance, Zack let the little girl go. She’d felt so right breathing her baby breath on his neck that his heart had almost broken to give her up. How could he ever forget the feel of wiggly weight in his arms, the baby powder scents, the childish giggles? Better that she go to her father, where she belonged.
And better that he stay and admire the children’s mother. Amy had changed into a gauzy peach-and-lemon shirt over a lemon tank top and matching shorts. He loved the free-flowing lines and soft colors on her. They suited her much more than the dull, tailored outfits she wore to work.
“Hey, Son.” Evan rubbed Josh’s hair while bouncing Louisa on his arm. “Want to go home with me tonight?”
“Johnnie’s gonna teach me to climb the apple tree.” Intent on his own program, Josh ignored the question. “Mommy, when are we gonna eat? We’re starving.”
He imitated his older cousins so well that Zack laughed. Aware that the other man threw him a look of annoyance, he tried not to make the evening any harder on his hostess by explaining his laughter. “I will help your lovely mama make burgers so you will not starve, all right?”
“Yeah!” Josh pumped his fist in the air. “I want mustard and pickles.”
“And salad,” Amy reminded him. “Eat some of the tomato bread and I’ll fix you a plate of macaroni in a minute.”
Zack watched the older boys inhaling bruschetta as if it were peanuts and decided that must be the tomato bread. Josh ran off to join them, leaving his father without a backward glance. Zack could almost sympathize, except Evan seemed more intent on antagonizing Amy than paying attention to his marvelous son.
“Where are you taking my kids?” Evan demanded, following Amy and Zack across the yard to the grill rather than putting Louisa on the porch. “I have a right to know where they’ll be living.”
“If you had bothered to come and pick them up when you were supposed to, or even taken some of your precious time to call, you’d know by now.”
Zack thought perhaps he ought to disassociate himself from the family argument, but he hated to see the little girl caught up in it, and he disliked deserting Amy if she needed his help. He knew nothing of grilling hamburgers, but he had a lively interest in walking all over brutes who growled and made others miserable, especially at a party.
“If the little one is feeling poorly, perhaps I could take her to the porch?” he suggested. He wanted to add that Louisa shouldn’t have to hear her parents argue, but he thought Amy understood that. He’d suffered enough family fights to know children didn’t need to hear them.
She gave him a look of relief that confirmed his opinion. “Would you, please? Sometimes she just gets too excited.”
“She’s not too excited,” Evan argued, refusing to release the toddler. “I can take care of her just fine.”
Amy slapped meat patties onto the grill. “Excellent. Then go sit with her on the porch swing until she’s feeling better. I need to get these cooked before the kids start chewing my ankles.”
“Daddy! Come see me swing,” Josh yelled from the swing set.
“He’s been asking for you for weeks,” Amy said in a heated undertone. “Give him some attention.”
Zack felt the other man’s glare and realized he was an obstacle to Amy’s wishes. Grinning, he saluted Evan and strolled away to see what the older boys were doing. He did not need to make Amy’s life miserable. If it were within his power, he would sweep her away from all this. But she had responsibilities that tied her down, and he had no right to interfere, so he left the field. For now.
He might seriously reconsider his strategic retreat if Amy’s ex continued to make an ass of himself in front of the children.
“Where’s Luigi?” Adam asked as Zack helped himself to more of the excellent bruschetta before it disappeared. The fresh tomatoes and basil no doubt came from the garden in the back corner. The vines were almost spent, but he could see a glint of red here and there. Bruschetta should be made only with the freshest of ingredients. These might be the last of the season, and he savored the spicy sweet blend of flavors.
The picnic table was covered with an assortment of plastic-wrapped salad bowls. Picking up a heavy paper plate with one hand, Zack uncovered a bowl with the other. “Luigi went to see a movie in Asheville.” More likely, he went to find a woman. With no corporate spies to terrorize and no gyms to work out in, Luigi was bored. “You should ask him to teach you sharpshooting. He is an expert.”
“Would he? Teach us?” Johnnie asked in awe.
Zack shrugged. “Certainly. He taught me.”
From the corner of his eye, he watched Evan reluctantly leave Amy to see what his son was doing. The man had no clue how to play with his children, it was evident. He held a sickly Louisa like a bag of feed and stood at a distance from his little boy, watching Josh pump his legs to set the swing in motion but making no effort to help him swing high, as the boy so obviously wished to do.
To interfere, or not to interfere. That was the question. Whether ’twas nobler to suffer the slings and arrows.…
Oh, hell, it was more fun to interfere. Bullies needed to be pulled up short and taught to mind their manners.
“Try some of this green salad.” Zack pointed at a delicious layering of peas and onions and other tasty tidbits. “I think it has peanut butter and octopus tentacles in it.”
“Ooo, gross,” both boys exclaimed, reaching for the bowl.
Smiling, he strolled away. He’d been a boy once. Octopus tentacles were quite an attraction.
He checked on Amy. She was flipping hamburgers and pretending not to notice what was happening with her ex and their children. Mothers had eyes in the backs of their heads, though. She knew precisely what was happening. All the better for him.
The children were not his responsibility, but removing the competition from the playing ground was always a source of pleasure. Zack stopped behind Josh’s swing. “Want a push? I bet you could see the stars if you went higher.”
“Higher,” Josh yelled with delight.
Catching the swing, Zack shoved him harder, and Josh squealed, “Higher!” Zack obliged.
Not unexpectedly, Evan stalked around the swing set and shoved Louisa at him. “I can do that.”
“I am sure you can,” Zack murmured, taking the bundle of dirty pink topped by blond curls from Evan’s hands. Louisa didn’t complain about the transfer. Sucking on her thumb, she curled into Zack’s arms.
She was a heartbreaker, this one. But he was intent on bigger game, so he needn’t worry about broken hearts. Taking the second swing, he rocked her gently, smoothing his hand over her back, while watching Evan push his son toward the sky. Zack figured the new shirt he’d worn just for Amy’s admiration would suffer dirt stains from Louisa’s knees, but the pleasure of the child’s trusting hold was worth the price.
“Not that way, Daddy,” Josh cried when his father almost pushed him from the seat with his big hand at his back. The swing twisted awkwardly and the boy nearly fell.
“Don’t do this often, do you?” Zack asked cheerfully.
“And you do?” Catching the chains, Evan attempted to shove the swing from above Josh’s head.
“I climb ropes, swing swings, anything to keep in shape,” Zack agreed with perfect honesty. “One does not need to be a child to play.”
“Men work. Children play.”
The swing careened sideways, and Zack had to abandon his seat for fear of a crash. Josh looked a little dazed but happy, so Zack refrained from commenting. Louisa snuggled her nose into his shoulder. “My tummy still hurts,” she complained.
“Then let us take you back to your mama,” he suggested. “I will learn how to flip burgers just for you, n’est-ce pas?”
“Nessy pa,” she agreed, happily parroting new words.
“I’ll take her. I know how to flip burgers.” Having given Josh another push, Evan grabbed his daughter from Zack’s arms.
Twisting to watch his father, Josh lost his hold on the chains after the rough push and, with a cry of terror, flew off the seat and slammed onto the ground, knees first.
With her brother’s first wails, Louisa puckered up and, lifting her golden curls from Evan’s shoulders, hurled green apples and ice cream down her father’s shirt collar.