Almost a Family

“I’ll be right back.” She left him spraying a prewash treatment on his pants.

Upstairs she found his room. It was dark in the late winter afternoon and she flipped a switch, which turned on a bedside lamp. The bed was made haphazardly; the covers thrown over top of the pillows without much precision. Molly ran her hand over the end of the spread before going to the dresser.

Had he said second or third drawer? Molly hesitated, then curiosity got the better of her and she pulled open the top one. It was, as she expected, his underwear drawer. Cotton briefs, a jumble of sports socks and three neatly folded pairs of dress socks looked up her. Rapidly she pushed the drawer back in.

She opened the next drawer. It was filled with scrubs, some green, some dark blue. She pressed her hand down on the pile of shirts, hitting something hard and square with her hand. She dug beneath the clothes, pulling out a black velvet box. It was familiar—too familiar—and her heart began beating a strange tattoo.

With shaking hands she lifted the lid. The hinge creaked softly in the twilight. Nestled inside was the engagement ring he’d bought for her all those years ago.

It winked up at her, a shining, painful reminder of that day years before when he’d offered it to her and she’d turned it away. That was the one fight they’d had that hadn’t been resolved. Yet he’d kept the ring all this time.

With a trembling finger she reached out, touching the bright diamond in the center, flanked by two smaller ones. Why had he kept it? It was an uncharacteristically sentimental thing for him to do. He’d been so angry. She’d always figured he’d gotten rid of it right away. But here it was, sitting in his dresser. A lover’s memento. Or a hurtful reminder of mistakes.

He was waiting for his shirt, she realized, probably wondering what was taking her so long. Not wanting him to catch her with the ring, she hurriedly closed the box and shoved it back under the shirts where she’d found it. She grabbed a T-shirt from the next drawer and exited the room, leaving on the light.

At the bottom of the stairs, she halted.

She could see Jason still in the laundry room. Transfixed, she watched as he peeled the scrub shirt over his head and tossed it in the washing machine.

His upper body was absolutely stunning. Each muscle curled into the next, all shadows and curves and dips. He’d always been lean, but in the intervening years he had indeed filled out to be…most impressive.

Her hand gripped the banister as a grand rush of desire flooded through her. This was not supposed to be happening. They were still as different as they ever were, perhaps even more so. Hers was a life of power suits, of legal briefs and corporate dinners, while his consisted of scrubs and labs and fast food on the run. His house was comfortable with curtains that didn’t quite match and cookie jars that stood empty.

Her condo was done by a decorator with coordinated accoutrements.

Her life was across the country and his was here. But knowing it didn’t stop the wanting. Didn’t stop the wondering of why he’d kept her engagement ring, or what that could possibly mean.

Taking a breath, she descended the last three steps, gripping his shirt in her fingers.

He looked up at her approach. Mesmerized, she took one step, then another, closer to him until they stood face to face. She could feel his breath on her skin; see the rise and fall of his chest as his breathing quickened, matching her own. In that moment she regretted, for the first time, the decision she’d made six years ago. This body, this man, this heart—the one she would swear she could hear beating—could have been hers all along.

“I brought your T-shirt,” she whispered, then stared at his lips. They were perfectly bowed and slightly open, and the fleeting memory of them on her skin haunted her.

He took the clean shirt out of her hands, then dropped it to the floor. Without missing a beat, he framed her face with his hands and pulled her roughly to him, staring at her lips so intently it was almost as though he were already kissing them.

“We shouldn’t…” she breathed.

It was like dousing a fire with kerosene. His fingers slid down her neck and dug into her arms as he plundered her mouth with his. No niceties, no gentle tugs and starts, just raw, pent-up passion.

He danced her across the floor until they reached the laundry room door. Blindly, his mouth still fused to hers, he shut it and turned the handle, locking it.

She had no choice. Her hands slid over the skin on his chest, devouring it, memorizing it. It was different. Bigger and harder and, dear God, much more manly. The man he had been was but a shadow of the one he’d become…and she’d loved the first with all her heart. As his hands cupped her breasts, she knew it would be even harder to walk away from the man he was right now.

His fingers left her breasts and reached for the button of her jeans. She sucked in her belly, allowing him access, moaning as he licked her neck and plunged his hands down inside the backside of the denim. He pulled her closer, moved to untie his own drawstring and she panicked.

Molly pulled away frantically. The kiss at the hospital had been a surprise and the one earlier had been a misguided response to a tense situation, but this one wasn’t right. Despite the demands of her body, the need that pulsed through her at this moment, it would be a mistake. It would change nothing for her… She was still Molly the Lawyer who was here only for three weeks. But for Jason—he still kept the ring he’d given her so long ago. She wouldn’t, couldn’t, trifle with his feelings. She knew as surely as she knew she wanted him that to give in would cause regret on both sides.

“No, Jason.” She put a few feet between them, her chest rising and falling heavily with repressed desire. In the intervening years, her temperature had never risen to this level, not with any man. Jason had only begun to touch her and she was feeling like she was ready to combust.

“Are you saying you don’t want this?”

She tried to laugh but it came out shaky and far sexier than she wanted. She clamped her mouth shut, trying to think of the right response. “I’ll admit my body says yes,” she said fi

nally. “But my heart and my head won’t let it go there.”

He came closer and she backed away, finding herself pinned between his body and the wall. “Jason,” she warned.

He leaned forward, teasing his lips over her earlobe. “Just one more kiss, Molly,” he whispered, making all the fine hairs on her body stand at attention.