Chapter 6

Monica carefully placed the pile of dessert plates into the sink’s soapy water. The house was quiet, seeming even more so after the commotion of the day.

Beside her, Luke lifted a glass from the drying rack and ran a towel around the inside before wandering off to return it to its place in the cupboard. Her body thrummed with awareness as he moved easily around the kitchen. Could he hear her heart pounding into the silence?

He’d insisted on staying to help her clean up the Thanksgiving dishes. It was the first time they’d been alone since their kiss more than a week ago. She hadn’t known how she’d react the first time she saw him afterward. What would she say? How would she feel? While Luke had given no indication their kiss had changed anything for him, she was in a constant state of anticipation whenever he was around. And when he wasn’t, he—and his kiss—were constantly on her mind.

Today he seemed different, though. Quieter, more pensive. It was probably the holiday—they were always the toughest after a loss. Thanksgiving. Christmas. Birthday. Each punctuated the absence, a specific point in time where you could remember everything you did with the other person. Or, in Monica’s case, everything you didn’t do.

The day had been everything she’d ever imagined a big family Thanksgiving to be. She knew she should be elated that she’d experienced it at least once in her life—and she was. It was just that her happiness was cut by the bittersweet awareness that it would never happen again. Oh, she could return for a visit, but it wouldn’t be the same. The closeness she had with the Donovan children—with Luke—wouldn’t be there. You can’t maintain that from three thousand miles away.

“Monica?” He was staring at her, worry creasing his forehead. “Are you okay?”

She glanced away from him, afraid her eyes would betray what she’d been thinking. The drying rack was empty. “Sorry, just daydreaming, I guess. It was a great day.” She picked up a soapy plate, rinsed it, and put it in the rack.

“It was a perfect Thanksgiving. Thank you for including us.”

She nodded and rinsed another plate. It had been perfect. Her mother, Cathy, and her two nieces had arrived early in the morning to begin the preparations. Terry had been propped up on a recliner and made comfortable so she could supervise the kitchen. She was thrilled to be out of the convalescent home—even for a day—and even more pleased to be passing on her family recipes to her granddaughters. Phil arrived around noon and positioned himself in front of the television for an afternoon of football.

It had been Monica’s idea to invite the Donovans. The children, she said, desperately wanted to see their Nanny Goose. All week long, Derrick, who showed no signs of a concussion, and Devon had been making Thanksgiving decorations in anticipation of her visit.

The arrival of Luke and his six children was made even more boisterous by the gift they brought with them. As they unloaded the crate, Monica stared in horror at the large white and brown goose loudly protesting her captivity.

“The boys saw it in the market this morning and thought it might be nice for George to have a partner again,” Luke said apologetically.

“Her name is Martha,” Ophelia said, clapping her hands.

“That makes sense,” Monica said, smiling weakly. Ophelia had been studying American history in school.

George appeared from behind the bird barn, no doubt attracted by the noisy arrival. Derrick and Devon were vibrating in anticipation. “Let ’er out, let ’er out,” they chorused.

Luke bent down and released the latch. Martha stepped out of the crate and everyone held their breath as George ambled toward her. He paused when he got close to her, cocked his head, issued a loud squawk, then turned and waddled back toward the barn with Martha following closely behind.

“I think she was supposed to be somebody’s dinner,” Monica grumbled to Cathy as they headed into the house. “She’s not even the same type of goose as the others.”

“If the President can pardon a turkey for Thanksgiving, the least we can do is give a goose a good home for the rest of her life. After all, this is Mother Goose Daycare.” Cathy laughed. “Besides, you know what her arrival means?”

“No, what?”

“Oh come on,” Cathy chided. “Thanksgiving is the start of the Christmas season, right? Now we have six geese.”

“Just as long as they don’t start a-laying,” Monica said and then laughed. Her sister’s glass-half-full attitude was contagious. What difference did one more goose make if it made the kids happy?

“Let’s take a break.” Luke’s voice interrupted her thoughts.

She glanced down and realized she’d stopped washing the dishes again. “I’ll finish up in the morning. There isn’t much left.”

She followed him down the hall toward the entrance. She expected him to collect his coat and leave, but instead he turned into the sitting room, sat down, and motioned for her to join him on the sofa.

“Your mother’s doing well. I expect she’ll be home soon.”

His words drove a knife into Monica’s heart. When she’d arrived she’d been hoping for Terry’s speedy recovery so she could get back to her safe, quiet life in Monterey. Now, the thought of leaving brought physical anguish. “Yes, she’s a tough one. The doctors expect she’ll be home before Christmas.”

“And what about you?” He shifted to face her.

“Me? What do you mean?”

“When your mother returns, will you leave right away? Or will you stay for the holidays?”

She lowered her head, allowing her hair to fall forward so he wouldn’t see her despair. “I don’t know.”

“The kids would like it if you stayed.” He brushed back her hair, tucking it behind her ears, and cupping her face. “I would like it if you stayed.”

She raised her gaze to his and felt the tickle of a traitorous teardrop fall across her cheek. “For Christmas?” she whispered hoarsely.

“Or longer.”

He lowered his head and softly kissed away the tear. She tasted her own salty agony on his lips as he moved to claim her mouth. Unlike last time, this kiss was gentle, his lips like butterfly wings against hers. He quietly played with her mouth; his teeth nipped, his tongue explored, but he didn’t demand entry. He just teased until she couldn’t take it anymore. All evening her body had been on edge, attentive to his every move. She hadn’t known what she wanted from him—at least nothing she’d admit to herself—until now.

She raised her hands to his head and threaded her fingers through his hair, encouraging him to deepen the kiss. She moaned, deep and low, as she opened her mouth to receive his tongue and savored the taste of him.

She arched toward him, loving the hardness of his chest and the power of his arms as they wrapped around her, pulling her closer. Then he grabbed her hips and shifted her beneath him on the sofa. The length of his long, lean body lying on top of hers was pure heaven.

He gazed down at her, passion turning his eyes deep midnight. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you,” he whispered, tracing his finger across her cheek and over her lips.

Her breath caught, and before she could reply he reclaimed her mouth. With one arm propping him up to keep from crushing her, his other hand began a tortuously slow descent from her chin, to her neck, along her collarbone, and down to the opening of her blouse, his lips following right behind. She could feel his single hand fumble with the buttons, and smiled as she heard him utter a frustrated curse.

“Just rip it,” she said, desperate to feel his hands on her body.

The tug of the fabric, and the sound of buttons popping off and scattering along the floor sent a flood of damp heat between her thighs. She pulled at his shirt, bringing it over his head and tossing it aside. Her hands massaged the hard planes of his broad shoulders as she looked down at the erotic image of his red hair between her breasts. She could feel his hot breath on her chest as his fingers skimmed the edge of her bra.

“Touch me,” she begged, arching up to make her point.

Luke’s mouth nuzzled one breast through the fabric, while his hand slipped beneath the material covering the other and began rolling her pebbled nipple between his fingers.

It wasn’t enough. She wriggled to reach around and unclip the bra herself. Successful, she pulled the fabric away. “Please,” she pleaded.

His breath hitched as he stared down at her. “You are so beautiful.”

His mouth was hot and wet on her breast; his teeth and tongue played with her nipple sending shards of pure ecstasy coursing through her body. She was quivering, turning to jelly, and he hadn’t moved below her breasts yet. She wanted him to continue down her—needed him to—but what he was doing to her…she didn’t want him to stop.

Finally, his hands and lips resumed their journey down her body. He unbuttoned her pants and slowly lowered them past her ankles. He came back and peeled her panties down her legs. Then, with painful slowness, he made his way back up, kissing and licking her inner thighs, but not touching the aching need between them.

Now it was her turn to curse in frustration and she squirmed beneath him, trying to make contact. In desperation, she grabbed his hair and pulled him into her. “I can’t take it anymore,” she panted.

She felt him chuckle against her skin, but she didn’t care if she appeared needy. As his mouth clamped down on her clit and his wicked tongue had its way, ripples of desire pulsed through her. Her breathing was ragged and she couldn’t think, only feel, only wonder…

Monica screamed her release, shuddering and bucking under Luke’s tongue, as wave after wave of pleasure wracked her body. He continued to lick and stroke her until she gave one last shudder and slowly returned to earth.

He crawled back up her body and took her in his arms. “I’ve dreamed of making love to you every night,” he said, kissing her gently.

She rested her cheek against the soft red down on Luke’s chest. She was in big trouble. How had this man gotten under her skin in a few short weeks? He was everything she had ever thought she wanted. And soon, she would have to leave him to return to her life in California. She heard a small whimper and realized it had come from her.

“What’s wrong?” he asked. “Is this all too fast?”

“No,” she said. “I was just thinking about your question of when I’m going to leave.”

“Don’t.”

“Don’t what? Think about it?”

“No.” He sat up, pulling her with him. He stared intently into her eyes. “Don’t leave.”

“But my home is in Monterey.”

“What do you have there? A job? A condo? Some friends?” He took her hands. “Your family is here. Your mother would love for you to return to the daycare center, and the kids love you. Stay here with us, Monica. Please.”

She reached for her ripped blouse and put it on. She wasn’t self-conscious about her nakedness, but she needed a few minutes to try to process what he was asking of her.

“I’m making a mess of this. Let me try again.” Luke slid off the sofa and knelt in front of her. He clasped her hands and looked earnestly up at her. “Monica Stevens, will you marry me?”

The room tilted as she gaped at him. They barely knew each other. But then again, hadn’t she, only a few minutes ago, been thinking of him as the perfect mate?

“I can see I’ve taken you by surprise,” he said ruefully. “I’m crazy about you. I think about you all the time. You’re smart. You’re funny. You’re great with the kids—they love you.” He looked down at his bulge in his pants and smiled sheepishly. “And if you couldn’t already tell, I think you’re sexy as hell.”

“It’s just so…so…sudden.”

“That’s the responsible early childhood educator talking.” He stood and pulled her to her feet. He reached out to stroke her cheek and then bent to give her a searing kiss that had her head swimming and her toes curling. What that man could do with his tongue should be illegal. “Let me take you upstairs and see if I can bring you around to my way of thinking on the subject.”

Monica’s heart fluttered at his mischievous smile. She’d heard he was a fierce negotiator, but she was far from being done with him. Her imagination envisioned all sorts of pleasurable scenarios in her bed. Still, the responsible ECE voice wouldn’t be silenced. “Don’t you have to get home to the kids?”

“Nope. Your sister’s taken them for the night.”

“The whole night?”

The whole night.”

He held out his hand and she took it willingly. “I might not be as easy to persuade as you think,” she said.

“Then I’ll have to make sure I try really, really hard.”