INVITING TOM OVER to her apartment for dinner was turning out to have been a colossal mistake.
First, Wendy actually had to clean the place. Her decorating style was early thrift shop, circa 1994, with a definite hippie tone. She kept it neat, she just didn’t keep it clean. She had spent most of the day dusting baseboards, pulling things off shelves and wiping under them, cleaning the corners of the bathroom and making sure everything appeared to have some semblance of order. Her cat, Dot, was no help at all, instead finding various sunny spots to curl up in.
Wendy opened the windows and aired the place out, turning on her essential oil mister to fill the air with eucalyptus and lavender. It made her feel more alert. Tom was the first guy she’d had to her apartment in a long time, and it was nearly seven now.
She’d bought groceries earlier, grateful she’d planned to cook a simple pasta dish with a marinara sauce, a rosemary focaccia and a tossed salad, with something chocolate from the bakery for dessert. All great first date food.
Even though, technically, this wasn’t a date.
They were supposed to be meeting about Sam’s room. And, yes, the kisses they’d shared had been off-the-charts good, but that was no reason to deviate from her life plans.
Now, if someone could just clue in her racing heart and tingling girlie parts, she’d be all set.
Everything was prepared. The salad was tossed and the bread sliced and cooling on the counter. She had the pasta and water and salt ready to boil once Tom arrived. Even the sauce was done, so she rearranged candles to keep busy, making sure the remote was next to the TV, and shooing Dot off the bed. She shouldn’t be nervous, but this felt like more than just a dinner.
The idea both thrilled and terrified her.
Tom knew her secret and he was still here.
She wasn’t naive enough to let herself believe that meant anything in the long term, but the more time she spent with him and Sam, the more she wanted to remain a part of their group. It had been so long since she’d felt a part of something other than her immediate family and she missed it more than she’d realized. Tom was the real deal and diving into a relationship with him would mean giving all of herself, one hundred percent involvement.
Only problem was, he was the whole package and she...wasn’t.
Not with the Huntington’s hanging over her head.
A few weeks earlier she’d have bailed on the whole idea, shut him down. But now things weren’t so clear. She didn’t want another meaningless one-night stand, but maybe, just maybe, this time was different.
Tom stood in the hallway outside Wendy’s apartment and rang the bell, feeling like a nervous teenager. He kept reminding himself this wasn’t a date, but that didn’t seem to help. Plain truth was, he liked Wendy, way more than just a friend, and it was high time he admitted it. At least to himself. It wasn’t like he needed to do anything about those feelings where she was concerned. In fact, it was best if he didn’t, keeping them tucked deep inside where they belonged and didn’t cause a mess.
Clean, tidy, ordered. That’s how he liked things.
Wasn’t it?
When Wendy had texted him her address, he hadn’t realized he could walk here from his own place just two blocks down around the corner. They’d both picked Rogers Park to live in for whatever reason, probably the cheaper rents. He smiled, realizing she’d been so close all along.
The door opened, and he found his feet sniffed by a rotund cat. The feline was all black except for a large white patch atop its head and it seemed torn between rubbing up against him or running away and hiding. Tom lifted his eyes to meet Wendy’s gaze and realized she wore the same expression as the cat. Maybe he wasn’t the only one nervous about tonight.
The thought made his heart beat faster.
Breaking the awkward silence, she smiled and opened her door all the way, stepping back. “Please, come in.”
He walked inside, holding a bottle of wine. Tom hadn’t been sure, red or white, and had made a last-minute guess at the store, going for rosé to be safe. “Uh, I hope it goes with dinner.”
She took it from him and her shoulders relaxed. “It’s alcohol. It goes with everything.”
“You do drink, right?” It occurred to him for the first time that maybe she didn’t. His anxiety increased again. He should’ve called ahead, maybe brought dessert instead. Even flowers weren’t safe nowadays. The one time he’d tried to go on a date since Sam had arrived, he’d brought a bouquet only to discover the poor woman had been allergic.
Good thing this wasn’t a date, he reminded himself. No matter how much it felt like one.
“Are you kidding?” Wendy laughed. “Who in the medical profession doesn’t drink?”
Tom chuckled, his tension dissipating under her easy charm. “Fair enough.”
“Rosé is a lovely choice, thank you. Though I have no idea whether it matches dinner.” She walked into an open-style kitchen. On the counter, she’d prepared a meal. Salad, some sort of bread, pasta, dessert. Simple, to the point, no frills. Like Wendy.
Tonight she wore a pastel purple V-neck top and sleek black pants. No shoes. A little tattoo of a thunderbird near her second toe. She set the wine on the counter then rummaged through a nearby drawer and pulled out a corkscrew.
He walked over to the kitchen counter and she handed him the bottle, along with the opener. Light jazz music tinkled through the air from somewhere down the hallway. “Dinner doesn’t have to be ready for a while,” she said, turning off the burner under the sauce pot. The air smelled of lavender and garlic. “How about we enjoy a glass of wine—or three—and talk about the decorating.”
“Sounds good.” Tom took the corkscrew. “You live alone?”
“Yeah,” she said, pulling two long-stemmed glasses from the cupboard. “This is only a one-bedroom and the owner lives on the third floor. He likes having a nurse as a tenant. Been here for years. Just me and Dot.”
“It’s nice having another heartbeat around the house, isn’t it?” he said, then felt stupid. Even after a year, the novelty of telling people about his kid hadn’t worn off. And maybe he had turned into a gushing, geeky father. He wouldn’t go back to his bachelor-pad life for a million years.
They took a seat on the sofa in her living room, at opposite ends, though he was still close enough to catch a hint of her perfume—warm and flowery with a hint of spice. It buzzed inside him like a firefly, making his nerve endings tingle.
Wendy tucked her bare feet beneath her and he noticed her tattoo again, along with her pink-painted toenails. Thoughts of kissing said toes until she moaned his name had him looking away fast. This whole not-a-date thing was going to be tougher to remember than Tom had imagined.
“So. Things between you and Sam seem to be thawing a bit.” Wendy watched him over the rim of her glass as she relaxed back into the corner of the sofa. “That’s good.”
“Yeah, it is.” Her soothing tone eased his stress and helped him open up. The wine he was guzzling didn’t hurt either. Tom rested against the overstuffed cushions. “Thanks to you. I was at my wits’ end there for a while.”
“No!” Wendy gave a mock gasp and he chuckled.
“I tend to keep things bottled up inside. I’m a bit of a control freak sometimes, especially when I’m stressed.”
“At last the truth comes out.” Wendy winked, and something tightly coiled inside him unfurled. “How did you ever end up with Sam’s mother?”
“There was something about Nikki. Maybe it was the whole opposites attracting thing but, whatever it was, I threw caution to the wind for once in my life and, well...you’ve seen how that turned out.” He shrugged and downed the last of his wine. Before he knew it, Wendy was back with the bottle from the kitchen, topping up his glass and her own.
“Nikki worked as a barista at a coffee shop around the corner from my medical school to pay the bills. We dated a few times, and by dated...” he gave Wendy a pointed look “...I mean we had sex. It was fun, letting loose and not caring. We were so happy at the beginning. She made me forget about all my responsibilities and cares. She had a talent for that. I did my best to make her happy.
“One night we got drunk and flew to Vegas and woke up married. Not exactly a match made in heaven. Afterward, we fought. A lot. I needed to focus on my studies. I set a schedule so I could fit everything in—our relationship, my career. But Nikki hated it. She hated rules and order of any kind. After a while, she hated me too.
“She walked out on me eighteen months after our wedding and filed for divorce. She was six months pregnant at the time. I continued to send her money when I could to help with the birth. I wanted to be there, but she refused. After Sam was born, she ended all communication. First call I received after more than a decade was from child welfare, informing me Nikki had died of an accidental drug overdose and asking me to come and pick up Sam.”
“God, I can’t even imagine what that must’ve been like.” She watched him closely.
Tom squeezed his eyes shut against the ache in his heart, reliving those awful memories of his return to Boston, the funeral, the dark days that had followed as he’d brought his child across the country to live with him, taking her away from the only home she’d ever known. “What I know for sure is that Nikki led Sam to believe I didn’t want her. I’ve done my best to prove otherwise. Hopefully, someday my daughter will believe me.”
“She will.” Wendy reached over and clinked her glass against his. “We’ll make sure of it.”
“We will?” That came out more like a question than the definitive answer he’d wanted. Tom straightened, warmth from the wine and the beauty of Wendy’s smile shimmering through him. “No. You’re right. We will.”
Tonight, this was exactly where he wanted to be, he realized. It had been so long, too long, since he’d felt comfortable, relaxed, unburdened with stress and worry. He and Sam were making progress together. Why, just this morning they’d had breakfast together, discussed their days. There hadn’t been an eye roll or even a smirk in sight. Now he was with the woman who’d spiked his attraction for weeks. The woman who’d made it all possible. Yes, he needed her help with Sam, but he also enjoyed Wendy’s company and sensed the friendship between them growing stronger. Maybe more.
More.
A month ago, he’d have denied wanting more. Even last week, he’d planned to decorate Sam’s room, then walk away from Wendy and whatever this was brewing between them. He liked her. A lot. And, sure, he wanted her too. In truth, he’d been in a constant state of heightened arousal since they’d first met, but he had no idea how she felt about him. She seemed to like kissing him, but did she want more too?
After she’d shared the news of her mother’s Huntington’s disease with him, he knew he’d need to tread lightly around her. She was skittish, for good reason. Until she got those test results, her future was on hold. But perhaps that’s the way she wanted it. Perhaps she was more terrified of knowing than she was willing to admit. Perhaps he could help her through that, like she’d helped him.
And perhaps he shouldn’t worry about that tonight and concentrate on the now.
The alcohol fizzed through his system, releasing his inhibitions. He stared at the base of her throat as he sipped more wine, the fluttering pulse point there nearly making him groan.
His control slipped a little bit more.
Dinner was the focus here, he reminded himself. Food, wine, talking, putting together the perfect surprise for his daughter. He didn’t do flings, he didn’t do dangerous, wild, wicked. That had all ended with Nikki.
But fooling himself was getting harder and harder.
The truth was, Wendy made him want to be reckless.
She set her wine aside and bent to grab something off the coffee table, giving him a view right down her V-neck sweater. He nearly swallowed his tongue at the sight of her pretty lace bra.
Wendy grabbed an advertisement from the newspaper and handed it to him. “I found the perfect comforter set and accessories for Sam’s room. I went ahead and ordered them. They should be delivered before the weekend. Of course, if you hate them or they’re too expensive I can cancel the order. Or I’ll pay half. Or all if necessary. Honestly, I want her room to be amazing. The kind of room a girl would love to spend time in. A room she’d want to invite her friends over to see.”
“Yes. That’s what I want too, no matter the cost.” Tom reviewed the results of what must’ve taken hours of research on the internet, grateful for the distraction.
“And I thought we could paint one wall this color.” She held up a paint color swatch she’d gotten from the home improvement store and pointed to a shade marked with a red X. It reminded him of bubble gum. Not his thing but, then, he wasn’t a preteen girl either. Whatever his daughter wanted was fine with him. “Sam told me you have hardwood floors, so this throw rug will offset the deep coloring of the wall perfectly.” She pointed to a picture of a colorfully designed rug. “I couldn’t find it in stock anywhere locally, so I had to order it too.”
“Cool,” he said. “What else?”
“Your daughter’s favorite color is pink, for future reference. I say we paint the wall behind the bed solid pink then hang a few pictures and shelves to break it up. Like this.” She pointed to the advert again. “She’s going to love it.”
Tom glanced down at the photos. “You’ve put a lot of time into this, huh?”
“No biggie. I told you, I like reality TV. Mainly the MedStar Network and the Home Channel’s renovation shows. I picked up a lot of pointers there.” She shrugged. “It’s fun to have an outlet for all my pent-up creativity.”
Tom could think of a few other pent-up things that it would be fun to release. With her.
He forced his attention back to the matter at hand.
“I like it. All of it.” Tom studied the advertisement again. “Sam can do whatever she wants in her space. I want her to feel at home and welcome. I want her to be comfortable.”
She considered him a moment. “You’re a good dad.”
“Really?” He shook his head. “Doesn’t feel like it. Most of the time I feel like a failure.”
“That’s because you’re way too hard on yourself. No one’s perfect. Not even Tom Farber.” Wendy met his gaze direct, her dark eyes sparkling with determination. “What do you want?”
You. He coughed and countered, “What do you mean?”
“Beneath all your rules and your perfectionist tendencies, what makes you happy?”
“Happy?” The word creaked out of his throat like an old floorboard, sounding as foreign as it felt. “I’m perfectly happy.”
“Are you, really?”
When he didn’t answer right away, too stunned by the words, Wendy must’ve taken it as a rejection. “Fine. Whatever. I’ve done what you asked me to do. You have pictures, store names and confirmation numbers on the orders I’ve placed. My work’s done.”
She started to get up, but he caught her arm.
“Wait,” he said, unable to look away from her lips. “I know what I want.”
Wendy stopped, her breath hitching.
He watched her watching him.
Hungry tension sizzled between them. Even the cat, sauntering past them, seemed to notice, and dashed in a new direction. Cars rumbled past outside, and field lights suddenly burst to life from the Little League game at Tikishla Park down the street. Their glow added a surreal shine to Wendy’s eyes, fixed on him as he finished the rest of his wine in one long gulp.
He closed the space between them and slipped an arm around her waist, setting his empty glass aside then taking hers too, his touch gentle to avoid spooking her. He tightened his hold on her, his other hand splayed against her back between her shoulder blades. “I want you.”
Her lips parted and, instead of pulling away, Wendy climbed onto his lap, straddling him. The friction set his entire body abuzz. With one finger, she traced a lazy path from his eyebrows, down the bridge of his nose. The rush he’d felt since the second they’d first met turned on a dime.
Tom kissed his way across her cheek to nibble on her earlobe. She felt so amazing against him. He sighed, raising his hand to cup her breast, her nipple pebbling under his touch.
Wendy stroked him through his clothing and he inhaled sharply. “I want you too.”
“You do?” he asked, still not quite able to believe this was really happening.
“Oh, yeah. I do. Have for weeks.”
At her admission, he gave in to his desire and kissed her deeply. She tasted of sweet wine and sinful promise. Delicious. “What about dinner?”
“Dinner can wait.”
Tom laughed and stood, helping Wendy to her feet beside him. Yes, this was nuts. Yes, they’d only known each other a short time. Yes, it felt wild and dangerous and wicked, and Tom couldn’t remember ever needing anything or anyone more in his life. He began tearing off his clothes, unbuttoning his blue oxford shirt, his normally precise and efficient fingers fumbling.
As he slid the shirt off his arms, Wendy joined him in disrobing, pulling her top off in one smooth motion, throwing it onto the sofa beside her. Her pants soon followed. The silken lilac bra and panties were so feminine and achingly delicate, he wanted to strip them off her with his teeth. Holding back, he drank in the vision of her instead while she did the same with him.
They both seemed to like what they saw.
He nodded. “Go ahead.”
She frowned, hands on hips. “Go ahead what?”
“The bra.”
“What about it?” she asked, looking down at herself.
“Take it off, please.”
She frowned, as if considering his request, then darted down the hall. “Only if you catch me!”
Tom chased her, his legs constrained by too-tight pants.
Her bedroom was nicely decorated, homey, with large bedside tables and a multicolored silk scarf suspended from the ceiling, covering a light fixture. The last of the day’s light poured in from the windows. Dusk would fall soon. He planned to be here as long as she’d have him.
Wendy’s breath hitched as Tom caught her and undid the clasp on her bra.
Her gaze met his as it fell to the floor.