Stand-In Mom
“She won’t be happy.”
“She’s been unhappy with me before.”
He grimaced. “I wasn’t referring to you.”
Ginger chuckled. “Thanks.”
“Sure you don’t want me to talk to him?”
“Do I need your approval to date your employees?”
Being a gentleman, he didn’t comment on her wording. This was as far from a date as one could get. “Make sure you call Lisa tomorrow. She’ll be worried about you.”
Which meant he was worried. Her throat tightened. “Sure thing.”
Ginger claimed her coat, finally, looking over her shoulder for Scott. So much time had elapsed, he could have had second, third and fourth thoughts by now.
She spotted him as she approached the gift shop. He hovered by the entrance. Had he seen her with his boss and decided she wasn’t worth risking his job? Joe would never fire him for being with her, but Scott wouldn’t know that, would he?
“I thought you’d left,” she said.
“No.” He looked startled. “Were you hoping I had?”
“Not at all.” Thank God she wouldn’t have to seduce him all over again. “What are you doing in here? Did they not have what we need?”
“Got that.” He patted his pocket.
Ginger laid a hand on his arm. “I have what I need, too.”
Their eyes met, then his stiff posture loosened. He understood she meant him.
He exhaled a huge breath. “Okay, then. Let’s go.”
She laughed. “You sound like I’m going to perform a root canal on you.”
“God, I hope not.” He smiled and walked toward the elevators. “I’m just relieved. It took so long getting your coat, I thought y’all had come to your senses.”
“Nope. How about you?”
“Not planning on being sensible for a while. It’ll feel good.”
“That’s the plan.” Once in the elevator alone, she let him push the button for their floor before she pulled him to her. She ran her hands over his chest as he bent toward her. His lips covered hers, surprising her with his passion. Maybe he didn’t need warming up. She smiled against his mouth, pleased he hadn’t been having second thoughts, after all.
“What?” he asked. “Do I kiss funny?”
She started to assure him otherwise but stopped. “Hmm. I’d better double-check.”
“Is that a challenge?”
“You asked.”
His mouth closed on hers, his lips capturing her bottom lip, then his tongue swept in, arousing, claiming, inflaming her with need. Their breathing grew erratic.
When she came up for air, she shook her head. “Not funny.”
He ran his hands over her back, her hips, her breasts, sending her pulse racing. The elevator dinged as it slowed to their floor, drawing them apart. The doors opened, and they stepped out, heading toward their room. Silent, side by side, but not touching.
He stopped and drew the key card out of his pocket. The lock flashed green.
Scott opened the door and flipped on the light. “Ladies first.”
He breathed in Ginger’s exotic scent as she walked into the room. Something flowery but not cloying. More seductive than sweet. It made him think of hothouses, but maybe that was his overheated body. She’d done that to him, too.
The last time he’d felt an attraction this strong—Samantha, of course, and it was just wrong to think of her now. Not fair to any of the three of them. The similarities between the two women—both physically and in their “seize the day” outlooks—had drawn him to Ginger. But the way her touch made his blood burn led him here. That, and the concern in her eyes when that damned song started. He didn’t need to hear about missing the ones you loved. Not tonight.
Ginger tossed her coat on a chair, drawing his thoughts back to her. Her hips swayed under that silky dress in a way that roused him. Not a chance she wore anything under there. She leaned across the desk in the corner and turned on the lamp, and his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. He trailed his eyes over her backside, thinly veiled by her dress and arched toward him, and he imagined things he could do to her on that desk. As she turned, he took a moment to appreciate the play of the light over her breasts, creating shadows and highlighting exposed skin.
His groin tightened to a deeper ache. She strolled back toward him and only then did he realize he stood like an idiot just inside the door. He’d been so transfixed by the sight of her, seductive and alluring, he hadn’t moved.
He’d noticed her on the dance floor earlier, appreciated her from a distance, and would have been satisfied watching the party girl having fun. Until he saw her standing off to the side in an unguarded moment, watching the others, and seeming lonely and out of place. Something had stirred inside him, recognizing a kindred spirit.
Ginger caught his eye and flipped off the overhead light switch, casting the room into a dim glow. Her hands slid across his chest, up to his shoulders, and he pulled her against him, his mouth devouring hers. Hot, hard, wet. He had to slow down. She deserved wooing—or at least some patience. Not to be attacked by a sex-starved man.
Her fingers brushed his stomach. His jacket opened as she slipped her hands inside, caressing his chest, sliding the material from his shoulders. She was undressing him, and he’d only contributed hot kisses.
Leaning back, he pulled off his jacket and let it drop to the floor, then ran his hands over her bare shoulders. He bent to taste the freckles there, then kissed his way up her neck, smiling as she shivered. His hands trailed up her ribs, fingers making lazy circles. Ginger pressed against him, her breasts prodding his chest. He let his thumbs trace slowly upward as his lips captured hers, his tongue sweeping inside her mouth. He wanted to savor her, to slow down and relish every second. Lick every inch of her warm skin until she burned as hot as he did already.
He ran the pad of his thumb across her nipple, and she moaned his name. His erection jutted against her abdomen like a heat-seeking missile. He caressed her shoulders, her arms, her breasts, his hands restless over her, learning her shape as he listened for the catch of her breath to discern what she liked. His fingers unhooked the clasp at her neck, and the top of her dress loosened. One shift had it dropping to her waist, trapped by the press of their hips. His breath caught at the sight of her breasts, all creamy skin and feminine curves, and he lowered his head to savor her.
“Scott,” she moaned, pushing her hips against him.
He bent her backward, one hand supporting her shoulders, one cupping her bottom, the lushness there enticing him to caress. The soft warmth of her skin filled his mouth; his tongue flicked over her nipple. Her perfume blended with her natural womanly scent, stirring him. Little noises in her throat urged him on.
She opened his shirt and pushed it down his shoulders. Scott shrugged free of it so she could touch him, then shuddered when she did. Desire burned him. He walked her toward the king-size bed, not letting any space fall between them.
“Let’s get this off,” he said, peeling the dress over her hips. Tearing it off was more likely, but he called on his years of experience to slow down. Despite feeling like a teenager with his first girl in the backseat, he was a man who knew how to please a woman, and he desperately wanted to make this pleasurable for Ginger. To thank her for reminding him how good sex felt, for helping him feel alive again.
He’d been wrong; she wasn’t naked under the dress. His hands revealed a tiny flesh-colored thong, sexier than bare skin. He swallowed the lump in his throat, his fingers moving on their own to his zipper as she shimmied—there was no other word for the wiggle of her body—out of the thong. Bending slightly without losing eye contact, she slipped off her high heels, then stood before him wearing only a small smile and earrings. Naked and alluring; a goddess with a most devoted worshipper.
He kicked out of his pants and his shoes, all patience gone. Heat, need, urgency took control of him. He couldn’t form a coherent thought, but he knew women liked words.
“Y’all are so beautiful. I’ve lost my breath.” His knees quivered so much, he could barely stand. His arms shook as he pulled her close again, but restrained his impulses and reined in his desire. He yearned to thrust into her, bury himself deep and hold her to him until neither could endure another moment without moving.
He encountered a bobby pin in her hair and gently removed it, then set to work on its companions. The barrette baffled him, and after a clumsy attempt, he broke the kiss. “You’ll have to do it. I’m afraid I’ll hurt you.”
Her mouth twisted briefly before her hands rose, drawing his gaze to the outthrust of her breasts. He forgot to question her odd expression as waves of apricot hair fell to her shoulders.
She set the barrette on the table, then lay back, not taking her eyes from his, inching upward on the bed to make room. He yanked off his boxers and her gaze flickered down. Her tongue came out to lick her lips as though her mouth were as dry as his. He swelled with masculine pride, glad he could make a woman this gorgeous want him. Eyes locked on her, he slid his body over her.
He took, and she gave. She took, and he gave. He formed words, but mostly he showed his appreciation in physical ways—ways Ginger approved of with gasps and groans. She moaned when he nipped at the curve of her hip, sighed when he licked her navel, and fisted her hands in his hair when he sucked at her lush breasts.
Despite her slender body and porcelain skin, she was no china doll needing his restraint. She drew her hands and mouth over him, lingering and enjoying. When she encircled him to guide him into her, he nearly came apart. It had been a long time since he’d been touched this intimately.
She pushed at his shoulder, and he rolled with her, delighted to have her atop him with his hands free to explore. He groaned as she rode him, gritting his teeth against the intense pleasure. It almost killed him, waiting to reach his own climax until he’d satisfied her. When she shattered, he barely had a second to congratulate himself before his next thrust pushed him over the edge.
When his heart calmed and his breathing smoothed out, he rolled to the side, pulling her with him. She cuddled close, limp, and he smiled, sated and content that he’d brought her pleasure, as well.
As he drifted, lazy thoughts floated in and out of his grasp. His mind replayed the softness of her body, the textures and scents of her, the sounds of her moans. Great sex, lovely woman.
It wasn’t until later that the fragments formed a cohesive thought. He’d just had the most incredible, hair-catching-on-fire sex of his life.
And he didn’t know the woman’s last name.
Chapter Two
Ginger came awake slowly, aware of a soft prickle against her face and a crick in her neck. What had she slept on?
Realization hit and she stilled. Scott. Her eyes fluttered open. Definitely a chest under her head and curly male hair tickling her nose.
She gave an inaudible groan. She hadn’t meant to actually sleep with him. Sex, sure, that was no problem, but she never spent the night. That led to entanglements. She must have slept like the dead not to have woken up by now. Being in his arms felt natural. A bad sign.
The slender opening in the drapes showed a black sky, but in late December that could mean midnight or nearly dawn. Light from the desk lamp she’d turned on the night before illuminated Scott’s face, serene in slumber.
His arm lay under her head but didn’t encircle her. Although snuggled against him, she could probably steal out of bed without his notice. Testing the theory, she inched her behind backward, then stealthily slid one foot toward the edge, watching his face for a reaction. His eyelids remained closed and his body still. She hated to wrench away from his warmth and considered waking him for a little good morning sex instead.
But the debate lasted only for a moment. She had to get away. Just wanting to stay longer warned her he’d breached her defenses already. He was too nice and his loneliness too touching. A guy like him—fun and kind and attentive—threatened her peace of mind.
Ginger lifted her head from his arm, freezing at a noise from him. Assured he slept on, she slid off the bed and grabbed her belongings from the floor. The bathroom provided a safe haven as she yanked on her clothes. She washed her face, grimacing at the remnants of cosmetics she left on the washcloth. Remembering why she’d gone to bed in her makeup, she smiled. Scott was a heck of a guy, seduction-wise. She scraped wet fingers through her curls, fluffing up or patting down as needed to alleviate her bed-head.
She had to skedaddle before he woke. Never had a morning-after felt so sordid, especially when the night before had been so lovely. Although they were strangers, having sex with him had been powerful and moving. Now it felt as though she’d done something to run from. She couldn’t face him.
So, of course, he woke when she opened the bathroom door. The disoriented expression on his face made him look rumpled and cuddly and dangerously adorable.
“What—?” He cleared his throat. “Where are y’all going?”
“Home.” She kept to the shadows of the room. His accent came thicker in his half-awake state. Why’d he have to be even cuter now? She was supposed to be leaving, firmly walking out the door without a backward glance. Had-a-great-time-thanks-see-you-around, not oh-my-stars-I-want-you-again.
“I’ll drive y’all home. Hold on a minute.” He threw off the covers, revealing his long tanned body as he sat upright.
Seeing him naked while she wore her cocktail dress from the night before emphasized the wrongness of the situation. “No, I’m fine.”
“Oh, do y’all have a car here?”
Ginger shook her head. “I can take a taxi.”
And won’t that cause talk if I’m seen. She glanced at the clock. One forty-five. The Riley & Ross party crowd should all be gone by now. She hoped.
He studied her a moment longer than her composure could take. She glanced around for her purse, spotting it on the desk by the still-lit lamp. Lunging, she grabbed it and turned her back to the harsh light. She felt naked and exposed—and not in a good way.
“Thanks for last night,” she said. “I had a lovely time.”
His eyebrows rose. “And that’s it?”
She lifted her lips in a smile. “What did you need to hear?”
Ginger cringed at her harsh phrasing, especially when he floundered, lost for words. But her statement clarified the interaction between them. They’d had great sex. Really great sex. The end.
“I don’t even have your phone number,” he said. “Or know your last name.”
She hid her wince. “Would you really call me?”
He nodded with less assurance than he probably meant to reveal before shrugging. “I’d like to have the option.”
Ginger swallowed her hurt.
“I don’t have a phone installed yet, and I’ll be getting a different cell number with the 816 area code. I came up this week with the movers to get the house settled and meet some of my coworkers.” He ran a hand over his face. “Y’all have no idea what I’m talking about, do you? We didn’t exactly exchange information.”
“You work in the R&D Department at Riley & Ross Electronics. You’re the new guy from Alabama.”
“Atlanta, actually, and how did you know?”
Ah. Being from the most cosmopolitan city in the South explained his lack of a heavy accent. “I asked about you.”
He nodded. “That would be safe.”
As though she’d thought of safety. It had been curiosity, pure and simple. Well, maybe not so pure. And this was turning out to be not so simple, either.
“But I’m still pretty much a stranger around these parts,” he added.
“Not to me.” Ginger closed her eyes even before his surprised grunt of laughter reached her ears. How embarrassing.
“I guess that’s true.”
She bent over the desk and scribbled her name and phone number. “If you decide to call.”
“It might be a while. I have to move more furniture in the next weeks, then get settled in.”
She forced a bright, fake smile. “After the New Year, then.”
“I’m serious, Ginger.”
Exactly the problem. She closed the door quietly behind her. Scott was a serious guy. The kind who’d want a relationship, which, if it worked out, should lead to marriage and a houseful of kids.
Which just wasn’t possible with her.
SCOTT ROSE TO USE THE BATHROOM, shaking his head. Maybe Ginger hadn’t had the same soul-shaking experience he’d had. To her it might have been just sex.
To him … Well, he couldn’t define it. He scratched his chest and picked up the notepad containing her number, wanting to put it somewhere secure. He frowned. She’d only written her first name and a phone number. Didn’t she trust him to know her full identity, even after sleeping together? Would he call the number and reach a pizza joint?
Would he even call the number to find out?
He ran a hand over his jaw as he glanced at the bed, feeling slightly sick at the warm, rumpled sheets with their scent of sex. He’d cheated on his wife. Not in actuality, considering the circumstances, but guilt churned in his gut anyway. He hadn’t so much as kissed anyone except Samantha since they’d met over six years before.
He’d enjoyed the time spent with Ginger and wanted to take her to bed again. Both feelings intensified his shame.
His hand crumpled the notepaper into a ball. The next weeks’ obligations made it impossible to call her anyway. First, he’d be in Georgia, packing up and trying to celebrate one last Christmas with the girls in the only home they knew. He wanted to make this year special, despite the confusion and grief and awkwardness of their changed circumstances. He’d do his best to make it seem normal, to continue the traditions he’d never paid much attention to. Samantha had always handled it, just as she had done everything where the girls were concerned.
Then he would bring his daughters to their new home with him here in Missouri. He’d just enrolled Shelby in second grade and Serena in the day care his boss’s mother owned. He’d endure their tears and tantrums, and Shelby declaring him “the worst father ever” for making her leave her friends in Powder Hill. His kid had a smart mouth for a seven-year-old, he thought with a smile. No doubt her teenage babysitter, whom the girls had spent too much time with during the past several months, had been a poor influence. But that would change now. Everything would change now.
God help them, every one!
“SO, WHO WAS HE?”
Ginger rolled her eyes at Lisa’s question, the smell of yeast making her stomach rumble. Her friend kneaded bread dough in her bakery kitchen, looking like a fifties mom in her patterned apron. She’d scraped her blond hair back into a ponytail that made her appear closer to seventeen than twenty-seven.
Lisa had made a success catering sweets and desserts for parties and special events. The kitchen she’d built in her basement declared it as a place of business: clean, efficient and utilitarian. Stainless steel appliances stood in sleek lines, but touches of Lisa’s personality showed in the bright yellow walls with stenciled cherry stems.
Ginger stood on the outside of the wraparound counter and watched Lisa move with unconscious grace and skill. The question didn’t surprise her; after leaving the party the night before, she owed her friend an explanation and reassurance. That didn’t mean Ginger had to like it. “What makes you think there was a ‘he’?”
“Joe told me.”
Of course he had. Ginger had expected no less. “It was the new guy in Dylan’s department. Scott.”
“I figured, since that’s who you’d set your sights on.” Lisa punched the dough with a strong fist. “And? What’s he like?”
“Really, Lisa. Comparing notes this early in your marriage? I doubt Joe would thank me for telling you.”
“Don’t be snotty.”
“You know I don’t kiss and tell.”
Lisa peered at her. “Did you do more than kiss him?”
Ginger didn’t speak as memories flooded her: Scott’s strong, tanned hands caressing her body, his lips delighting every nerve ending, his careful tending to her needs before his and his gentle ways of loving.
Lisa stilled. “Ginger, I worry about you. It was no big deal when you took home guys you’ve known all your life. But this …”
“It’s my own business who I go home with.”
Lisa glared at her. “I’m your friend. I love you enough to make you mad at me. Even to lose your friendship if it’ll keep you safe.”
“I’m safe.”
“I’m not talking about safe sex, although I’m glad to hear you haven’t completely lost your mind.”
“Gee, thanks.” Ginger would be angrier if she hadn’t been thinking the same thing. Especially since sleeping with Scott a few hours before. That had been a huge mistake, although she didn’t regret having earth-shattering sex. But the shattering of her peace of mind since then worried her. She didn’t want him to know about the guys she’d been with in the past year, trying to appease her loneliness. Being with someone occasionally had helped her get through Kyle’s leaving.
They had been married, happily she’d thought, for four years. Now she was alone. If hooking up with a nice, single guy once or twice a month alleviated her melancholy for a few hours, who did it hurt?
But being with Scott changed that. She cringed to think he’d find out she’d been what her mother would call “loose with her affections.” Not that she had. She’d kept a tight rein on her heart, or rather, the pieces of it she had left after Kyle rejected her.
Because she couldn’t have children.
Ginger tried to suppress the constant ache the thought produced. She couldn’t forget. Her infertility was as much a part of her as her arm. Sometimes when she was with a man, she could shove the reminder from the forefront of her mind. The guys she spent time with didn’t care. They desired her, laughed with her and appreciated her as a woman.
She scowled at Lisa. “You couldn’t possibly understand.”
Lisa raised an eyebrow. “My first husband left me, in case you’d forgotten. For a younger babe he’d been sleeping with since she turned legal.”
“But you have Joe now.”
Her face softened. “Yes, I got extremely lucky.”
“And you’ve got Abby and Bobby and can have more kids.”
Lisa’s wide gaze darted to Ginger’s at the mention of another baby.
“Don’t wait,” Ginger said, watching her friend read her expression. It never failed—at the mention of babies, Lisa walked on eggshells around her. “I know Joe loves Abby and Bobby, but he’ll want his own children.”
“He’s not like that. He’s a great father already.”
Ginger nodded. “But men like their own genes passed on. That’s why Kyle wouldn’t even talk about adopting.”
The instant she mentioned the word, Ginger realized her mistake. Lisa would ask.
“Have you heard anything from the adoption agency?”
Ginger looked away. She knew she’d have to tell Lisa eventually, but saying it out loud would make it more real.
“Oh, no,” Lisa said, obviously reading her face. “What happened?”
“I got turned down for a home visit.”
“When?”
“Yesterday afternoon. Before the party.” She could almost hear Lisa’s thought process: So that’s why you went looking for comfort with Scott.
“That’s so unfair,” Lisa said instead. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
Ginger shrugged. “It’s the holidays. Why should we both be depressed?”
“You weren’t seriously thinking of keeping this to yourself for two weeks, I hope.” She rounded the counter and hugged Ginger. “I’m so sorry. It’s just not right.”
“I know that and you know that.” Her yearning for a child was even stronger now than when she and Kyle had gone to the fertility clinic to discuss options. “The adoption agency is concerned about me providing for a baby. The money, a sitter, the whole shebang.”