My Babies and Me. Tara Quinn Taylor
by Laura’s house was a given.
Maybe he should stop in to say hello. Just to make sure they were all right. There were lights on in the front room, and a glow from the television that appeared to be Jeremy’s only solace these days, his only escape.
The front yard was still nothing but a tiny square of hard dirt; the sidewalk was cracked, pieces missing; half the porch sagged. He’d repeatedly offered to set her up in a better place, a better part of town. She’d refused every time. And when he couldn’t stand having her there any longer, when he’d found her a place on his own, made all the arrangements for her to move, when he’d insisted she accept his offer, she’d given him the ultimatum that had ended everything.
Light flickered on the homemade curtains, probably a reflection from the television screen. He wondered if Jeremy was still looking out for his little sister.
Seth had driven by Jenny’s school last month, and the little girl had been off by herself, leaning against a corner of the building while her classmates played. She’d seen too much in her young life to be capable of make-believe. To find any joy in childish antics.
Seth had hoped to change that, too. Just as he’d once thought he’d be able to bring an easy sparkle back to Laura’s eyes. But the bastard who’d helped create that family had done some real work on all of them. The bruises he’d left behind, both physical and mental, were more than Seth had been able to eradicate.
He’d wanted to be their friend. They’d needed more than that. A single-parent family usually did.
Slamming his gloved hand down hard on the steering wheel, Seth sped away from the run-down neighborhood where Laura lived; he didn’t slow down until he’d reached the bar right around the corner from his apartment complex. He could walk home from there if he got lucky enough to be too wasted to drive.
He just couldn’t believe Susan was actually planning a single-parent family. What if she had a boy? Boys needed fathers. Jeremy was proof of that.
He’d given his sister credit for having more sense.
SHE’D COME PREPARED. Slipping into the public rest room in the lobby of the condo sales office in Michael’s complex, Susan quickly took off her suit, bra and panty hose, donning nylons, a garter and a lavender French-cut negligee. She might be pushing forty but her body still looked good—curved in the right places, tight where it should be. Touching up her makeup didn’t take but a second, just long enough to coat her lips with wet luscious red. Her nipples puckered with cold, and probably a bit of anticipation, too, as she slid her overcoat and shoes back on, picked up her weekend bag and sedately reentered the lobby.
She’d brought protection, too, just in case Michael hadn’t replaced the box they’d finished off the last time she was in town. There was no place in her plan for an unexpected pregnancy, no place for manipulation or dishonesty. If she was going to have Michael’s baby, it was going to be with his permission.
An evening sales associate tossed her a welcoming smile as Susan sailed regally past her and into the night, shaking back her hair. Gold with streaks of light chocolate—that was how Michael had always described her hair. Gold and chocolate. Of course, he’d also said it almost exactly matched the oak of her desk, but that was when he’d had her lying on top of it.
Her desk would have been a little cumbersome to bring, so she’d settled for his favorite whiskey—a rich golden Scotch—and a box of his favorite chocolates—all lights. While he’d understand the significance of her offering, he might think her a little odd for bringing him presents on her birthday, but she wasn’t leaving anything to chance. She wanted his senses overflowing. She wanted distraction.
She wanted to ask a favor and she was scared to death he’d think she was crazy. Of course, his immediate answer would probably be no. She’d wait until he was stone-cold sober before she’d accept that decision.
MICHAEL WAS ELATED and instantly hard when he opened the door of his condo to see Susan standing there, coat gaping, his own personal paramour. But he wasn’t really surprised. He’d been thinking of her all day. Needing her. And she was here.
That was just the way it was with them.
“Lady, you read my mind.” He gathered her close, his hands sliding inside the open overcoat, as he kicked the door closed.
“Hello, Michael,” she laughed when he let her up for air.
He kissed her again, tasting her, turned on as much by the familiarity of her as the luscious breasts he felt against him. “Happy birthday, sweetheart.” He nuzzled her neck, her collarbone.
“Thank you.” Her voice wasn’t quite steady. She was on fire, too. Even after all these years, it was still instantaneous combustion. For both of them.
“Mind if I put these things down?”
Michael took her bag and the gifts she held without removing his lips from her body. He set her things on the high-backed wicker chair in the foyer and then, turning, forced her backward toward the stairs that led to his bedroom.
He was damn glad she was here.
“WHERE WERE YOU TODAY?” Susan’s words were soft, sleepy, her finger toying with his nipple as he lay facing her, still inside her.
“Atlanta.”
Her eyes were closed, but her face was taut, her body tense as she continued to play with him. “On business?”
“Later.” At the moment, Michael couldn’t even remember why he’d thought the day’s meeting so important.
“Mmm-hmm.” Susan’s tongue darted out to his lips and then was gone. “Later.”
“MICHAEL?”
“Mmm-hmm?” He’d just been thinking he should rouse himself enough to tell her his good news. As soon as he was strong enough for another celebration.
“We can always talk to each other about everything, can’t we?”
Although he didn’t shift from his position propped on the pillows with Susan cradled against his chest, Michael was instantly alert. Lethargy evaporated to be replaced with caution. And maybe something else. Maybe fear.
“I’ve always thought so.”
“Yeah, me, too.”
Her breathing became more regular as she lay there silently, more relaxed, as though she were going to sleep. Was that it, then? Just a reaffirmation of what they were to each other?
Granted, their relationship was far from traditional, an open-ended friendship with no strings attached. But it worked for him. And for her, too, he thought. Had she just needed reassurance? He was loath to move, to disturb her. Loath to find out there was more.
“So, if...something...changed for me, I could tell you?”
What had changed? “Of course you could.”
Had she found someone else? Someone in Cincinnati? God forbid, someone she wanted to marry?
Michael’s throat was dry, but he tried to be calm, reasonable. She wouldn’t have shown up here tonight, wouldn’t be lying naked in his arms, satiated with a couple of hours of healthy love if there was someone else, right?
Unless...
He thought back to the day—and night—of their divorce. Sex was exactly how she’d said goodbye.
He couldn’t stand the idea of her with someone else.
“So has something changed?” He finally had to ask. Had to know.
“Maybe.”
Maybe? Could you maybe be in love with someone else?
He continued to hold her, to run one hand lightly up and down her naked back.
“You’re not sure?”
The