Chapter Fourteen
The rapping barely penetrated Michael’s brain, but Jillian jerked away and then he heard it. His hands and hers tangled briefly in clothing before they managed to pull free of each other.
The knock sounded again, coming not from the door joining her apartment to her parents’ house, but from the outside door of the apartment.
She tugged down her sweater, shot a panicky glance at Michael, and hurried down the short hall. He heard her exchanging Christmas greetings with Jordan’s mom. He’d met Marjorie the other day, when the boy came along with him and Cole to Spirit Bluff Park.
Michael went to the kitchen sink where he shoved up his sleeves and splashed cold water on his face. Drying off on a hand towel, he heard Marjorie saying she’d come to pick up her son because they were going over to his grandparents’.
“They’re in Mom and Dad’s front room.” Jillian’s voice was higher pitched than usual. “Come on in.”
Michael joined them, exchanging holiday greetings with Marjorie, and went with them to Jillian’s parents’ gift and paper–strewn living room.
When Marjorie told the boys it was time for Jordan to go, they whined. She rolled her eyes and said, “There’ll be more presents at your grandparents’ place,” which had her son scrambling up from the floor.
When the pair had departed, Cole said, “Michael, come play with me.”
Michael glanced at Jillian. Obviously, this wasn’t the time to continue their sexy encounter, and he knew she had a couple of afternoon flights. They’d arranged that he would look after Cole while she was at work and her parents prepared the meal and tidied the house. Later this afternoon, Jillian’s brother and his family would pick up Cole’s great-grandparents and they’d come over for more gift exchanging and to share the turkey dinner.
“You two can take Cole’s new toys and games over to our place,” she said, “and get out of Granny and Gramps’s hair. But first, I need a minute more with Michael.”
Oh yeah, he could use a minute more, though an hour would be even better. But when they returned to the apartment, she didn’t step back into his embrace. Instead, she moved away from him, to stand with her back against the kitchen island. “That can’t happen again.”
“Not when Cole’s around,” he agreed, leaning a hip against the table.
She shook her head. “Not at all. It’s not a good idea.”
It had sure felt good, and he knew he hadn’t been alone in that. “Why not?”
“It would confuse things. You’re here for Cole. This isn’t about us.”
“Can’t we do both?”
“That’s not a good idea.”
“You’re repeating yourself.” Clearly, she felt strongly about this, but he didn’t understand why she thought it was a problem.
“Damn. I can’t think straight.” She rubbed her forehead. “Right, that’s exactly it. When you kiss me, it scrambles my thoughts. I need to be clearheaded and logical, and so do you. We agree that what counts is Cole’s best interests, so—”
“How’s it going to hurt Cole if we kiss and”—he winked—“do what naturally follows?”
“Lust is selfish and it’s distracting. Look what happened the last time we gave in to it.” She waved a hand. “Not that I’d ever wish Cole away, you know that. But we could do something stupid again.”
This felt a whole lot different from university days. “What if it’s not just lust?”
“What?” Her gaze scanned his face, flicked down his body. “But I . . .”
“It feels to me like something more.” Those words—something more—felt a little scary. For his sake, and Jillian’s, he hurried to clarify. “I mean, we’re older now. It takes more than just physical attraction to want to spend time with someone, right? You have to like them, be interested in them, feel some kind of connection.”
“Ri-ight.” She drew the word out, as if considering whether it sounded accurate. “Yes, you no longer leap into bed with someone right away. At least I don’t.” She cocked an eyebrow.
“That’s what I’m saying. I don’t either. It stopped being fun, waking up with some woman I didn’t know.”
“Okay.” Her brow furrowed. “So we like each other. This is a good thing, because it’ll make it easier to be good parents to Cole. But if you and I, uh, dated or whatever, that seems more complicated than dating someone else. Which, for me, is complicated enough. I always have to think how he and Cole would get along, where the relationship might go, how Cole would be affected if it does or doesn’t work.” She gave a dismissive shrug. “It’s easier to not date. Besides, I don’t have time for it.”
She didn’t date? That sounded lonely.
“And if you and I,” she went on, “had some kind of intimate relationship, it could have a negative effect on Cole.”
“In what way?”
She snorted. “Let me count the ways. He could feel shut out. Or, d’you remember what he said when we told him you’re his dad? He jumped to the conclusion that you might move here and we’d get married. We don’t want to reinforce that hope.”
“No, that’s true.” Although, having spent time with his son and with Jillian, he’d felt a real sense of family. More than he did with his parents.
“And intimacy leads to expectations and all sorts of possible conflicts. If our personal relationship tanked—which it’s bound to do—would that lead to disagreements about Cole-related decisions? Would it be harder for all of us if you came to visit?”
“Why are you so sure we’d tank?”
“You live and work in Toronto. I’m here. Long distance relationships are hard. You’d probably want to date when you’re back home.” She frowned. “I wouldn’t like that. If I’m in a relationship, I want exclusivity. I can’t imagine that working for you. Can you?”
He’d been in exclusive relationships, but with women he saw regularly. Not ones who lived so far away, whom he’d only be able to get together with at most a few times a year. “I guess not,” he admitted.
She nodded. “Once emotions are involved, things get really complicated.”
He was growing to hate that word. But he saw her point. “Cole is more important than our attraction to each other,” he said slowly.
The tension in her face relaxed and she smiled. “Yes. So we’ll be friends. Just friends.” The smile faded when she added, “No more kissing.”
“No more kissing,” he echoed regretfully.
She was right, but something inside him ached all the same.