Hope Smolders

Page 4

She laughed. “I’ll bet. It’s not one of my favorite things, either, as you can probably tell from the prairie in my front yard. I really need to get to that.”
“Well, you do have a lot on your plate.”
“Speaking of plates, thanks for bringing pizza tonight. You didn’t have to.”
He noticed she shifted the topic when he brought up how overwhelmed she was. “You’re welcome. I wanted to. Normally I go home to my empty apartment. Trust me, this was way more fun.”
“Oh, sure it was.”
He shifted on the sofa so he was fully facing her. “You think I’m lying? You have great kids, Jane. Very polite and animated and fun to talk to. You should be proud of them.”
She looked down for a second, then back at him. “Thank you. They’re everything to me. My whole life. Which is why I can’t go out with you.”
He cocked a brow. “You can’t go out because of your kids?”
“I have to see to their welfare.”
“Not twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. What about your welfare?”
She swallowed. “There’ll be time for me. Someday.”
He grasped her hand, and the surge of electricity between them hit him hard. He didn’t know if Jane felt it, but judging from the way her eyes widened and her lips fell open, he’d say she did.
“Someday is now, Jane. It’s been two years. It’s time you get out and have a little fun.”
She inhaled and let it out on a shaky sigh. “I shouldn’t.”
“Give me a good reason why not.”
She opened her mouth, and before she could object, he swooped in and took her mouth in a kiss he’d been thinking about ever since he first saw her walking down the hall in that stupid hat, her gorgeous legs peeking out of that hideous swimsuit cover-up.
She tasted like lemonade and cinnamon, and he knew her kids were just down the hall, but he wanted to delve deeper. He slid his tongue inside, and she moaned, clutching his shirt as if she was going to fall right off the couch if she didn’t hold on to him.
Oh, yeah. He liked that response, liked the taste of her, the softness of her body as she yielded against him. He wanted a lot more of this, wanted to put his hands on her, but resisted, because if one of the kids—
“Hey, Mom?” Ryan called from his room.
Like someone had thrown cold water on them, Jane shoved away from him at the sound of Ryan’s voice. She looked down at Will, regret and desire in her eyes.
“Yeah, sweetie?”
“I need help with this math.”
Despite the hard-on raging against the zipper of his jeans, Will stood. “That’s my cue to get out of here.”
Jane stood, too, and met his raging erection with her heated gaze. She finally met his gaze with a look of regret. “I’m sorry.”
“I’m not.” He hauled her into his arms for another kiss, brief but just as damaging as the first. And just like the first, she gave as good as she got, kissing him with a pent-up fury that he knew, once burst, would be explosive. “It’s going to be a painful walk to my car.”
She licked her lips. “Thanks again for the pizza.”
“Thanks for letting me come over.”
She walked him to the door.
He turned. “Jane?”
“Yes?”
“Do you have a phone?”
“Yes. Of course.”
He pulled his out. “What’s the number?”
She gave it to him. He entered it into his and smiled. “I’ll call you for that date.”
She seemed hesitant, then nodded. “Okay. Good night, Will.”
“’Night, Jane.”
He walked out, uncomfortable, hard, and grinning.
CHAPTER FOUR
“You’re going out with Will Griffin?”
Jane looked around. “Shhh. I didn’t say that. And I don’t want anyone to know.”
The one thing Jane knew about the teacher’s lounge at the high school was that it was the worst place to tell anyone anything, because teachers were the most horrible gossips in town. And in Hope, once word got out about something, everyone knew.
But Jane had to tell someone, and who else but her best friend, Chelsea, who coincidentally used to be Will’s girlfriend.
“I wasn’t going to tell you at all, considering your history with Will. I wasn’t sure how you’d feel about it.”
Chelsea waved a hand at Jane. “Don’t be ridiculous. Will and I were ancient history three years ago. And we’re still friends, so it’s not like I’d hate you for going out with him. Hell, you need to go out with someone.”
“Come on. Do I look that desperate?”
“No. And that’s the problem. You look resigned to your fate, like you don’t deserve to go out. And that’s just sad, Jane. When Will and I broke up, did I sit at home and waste away?”
Jane laughed. “Hardly. But you’re a stacked redhead and you’re never lacking for offers. Besides, you broke up with him.”
“Hey, we dated for a year. It hurt when we broke up. But we never saw each other. He worked nights, I worked days, and I like a social life now and then. It didn’t mean I didn’t care about him, you know.”
“I know, and I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make light of your breakup. I remember how hard it was on you. I know you cared about him.”
“I did. But it was nothing like you and Vic, and I realize that. I wasn’t left by a husband, and I don’t have kids. It’s not the same thing at all. But even if it was, that doesn’t mean I’d have to stop living. You might be a mother, and yes, that’s a priority for you, but you’re still a woman, Jane. You have needs.”
Chelsea emphasized the “needs,” and after last night’s kiss, those needs had been reawakened. Boy had they ever been reawakened. She’d lain awake practically all night, sweating and flopping around on her bed, her body tingling in places it hadn’t tingled in a long time.
Even before Vic had left, there’d been no sex. He’d been too busy boozing it up and hanging out with his drug buddies all night long, and she’d spent all her time worrying about him. When they’d been together, there’d been arguing. She’d gone so long without a man she’d forgotten what it was like to be held and stroked and—made love to.
“I’ve probably forgotten how to do it,” she said to Chelsea.
Chelsea laughed. “I don’t think you forget how to have sex, but trust me, if you need instruction, Will’s very good at it.”
“This is bizarre, talking to you about ha**g s*x with someone you’ve had sex with.”
“Like I said, honey. Ancient history.”
“Apparently not, if your memories are vivid.”
“Hey, a girl never forgets great sex.” Chelsea waggled her brows.
“If it was that great, why don’t you start seeing him again, now that he’s working days?”
Chelsea shrugged. “He was great and all, but we’re just not a match. We’re better as friends. I can definitely see the two of you together, though. There’s a tender side to him that matches well with you.”
Jane picked up a carrot and mulled it over while she munched.
“Maybe I should take a walk on the wild side.”
“Now you’re talking,” Chelsea said.
The lunchroom had cleared out, so Jane felt freer to talk. “Just one good orgasm and I’d be good for a year or two.”
“There you go.”
She thought about it for a minute. “Then again, maybe he just wants to take me to a movie.”
“Honey, the way you described that kiss? I don’t think ‘just a movie’ is what Will has in mind.”
Jane smiled. “Maybe not.”
“So that’s a yes?”
“Yes. As soon as I lose ten pounds. Because no man is going to see me na**d the way I look now.”
“Jane,” Chelsea said, giving her a hard stare. “You’re hot and curvy and you have legs a mile long. You’ve always been way too harsh on yourself. I’m going to give you an assignment. Tonight, get na**d and stand in front of your mirror and tell yourself how lush and gorgeous you are.”
Jane laughed. Chelsea didn’t.
“You’re kidding, right?
“Nope. Do it. Tonight.”
“I do not look at myself na**d.”
“Why the hell not?”
“Because…because it’s stupid.”
“It is not. Every woman should look at herself na**d and tell herself how gorgeous she is. Pick out your good points and highlight them.”
Jane stared at Chelsea, who had the most beautiful red hair that didn’t come from a salon, the most gorgeous br**sts that any human—man or woman—could appreciate, and a tight, toned body that Chelsea worked on with yoga. Of course she had no problem looking at herself na**d. Jane, on the other hand?
“I don’t think so.”
“I do think so. You just haven’t looked at yourself in so long, and haven’t had a man appreciate that beautiful body of yours in so long, that you’re picking out imaginary flaws. Tonight that ends. Get na**d. Do inventory. And tell yourself that you’re beautiful. Because you are. Obviously Will thinks you’re hot or he wouldn’t have been kissing you last night.”
“I’m…mushy.”
“You are not. You run around like crazy after those kids and at school. You get more exercise than the average woman. I think when you give your body a critical look, you might be surprised.”
“I think I’ll be depressed.”
Chelsea huffed out a frustrated breath. “Do it. That’s an order.”
She sighed. “Fine.”
“And when Will calls you for that date, you say yes.”
She would, but she still wasn’t sure about the sex part.
* * *
When she got home that night after working at the gym, something was different, but she couldn’t put her finger on what it was.
“Did you hire someone to mow the lawn, Mom?”
Leave it to Ryan to figure it out. Someone had mowed the lawn. And weeded, too.
“Uh, no, I didn’t.”
So, who had? She hustled the kids inside and asked Bill Doughty, one of her neighbors, thinking he’d probably gotten tired of her extra-long grass. She’d meant to get around to mowing it, but it was her least favorite chore and she always left it ’til last, which only made it harder to mow. She knew that, of course, but she still procrastinated.
Bill said he hadn’t done it, but he told her Will Griffin had come by with his mower and weed eater on the back of his truck and had taken care of it this afternoon. Then Bill’s wife, Claire, had come outside and asked if Will was Jane’s new boyfriend.
Jane had smiled politely and thanked them for letting her know. She wasn’t about to give Claire, a very nice woman but one of the worst neighborhood blabbermouths, any information.
She fed the kids, they did homework, and after they went to bed, she graded papers, took a shower, then opened her closet door where she hid her full-length mirror.
This was stupid. She rarely looked at herself na**d. Typically after she showered she slathered on lotion, always trying to avoid catching sight of herself in the bathroom mirror. She knew what waited for her there—disappointment. After Vic left, she’d stopped caring what she looked like because there was no one around to impress.
But Chelsea was right. It was time to take a critical look at her body, especially if lean and muscled Will was possibly, maybe going to be touching it.
The thought made her squeeze her eyes shut and cringe. She was thirty-two years old. She’d had two children. Will was single and no doubt used to smooth, unmarred bodies that hadn’t delivered two babies.
Yikes.
Might as well get this over with. She hit the big light and threw her eyes open.
Wow. She desperately needed a haircut. That was a mess. And her eyebrows had nearly reached unibrow status and were in desperate need of waxing. Taking a glance south, she realized other parts of her could use a waxing, too.
Ugh. Being single and without a man had definite advantages. Dating required grooming. Making a mental note to call her hairdresser, Phoebe, for an appointment tomorrow, she took a deep breath and continued the self-perusal.
Breasts—full and not too saggy, yet. In fact, since she frequently lugged around heavy textbooks and Tabby still liked to leap into her arms and be held and carried, she had good shoulders and strong arms and her boobs were still in really good shape. Yay for perky boobs! Though there were stretch marks there, because she’d breast-fed. She was proud of those marks, as well as the ones on her stomach.
She splayed her hands across her belly, remembering being pregnant with both her kids. She smiled and she defied any man who didn’t appreciate the work she’d gone through bringing her children into the world.
Her waist was indented, her h*ps swelled out nicely, and—what do you know about that? Chelsea was right, she thought, as she turned this way and that. She was tall, so she had long legs. Long, still shapely legs. She still thought her thighs were a little on the thick side, but screw it. She turned to the side and decided her butt was nicely rounded. And bigger butts were the in thing now, weren’t they?
If a man couldn’t appreciate her body, he could shove it. It wasn’t as bad as she’d thought, and maybe she needed to start dressing better to appreciate it. It was time to do a little shopping—at Goodwill, which often had killer clothes at bargain prices. People threw out awesome clothes that they barely wore. She might not have a lot of money, but she knew how to shop.