Dirty Distractions (Afternoon Delight 1)

She elbowed him and grabbed his iPhone off the side of the tub. “I need new music.”

Reluctantly, he slid his hand away from the juncture between her legs. But damn, it called to him. “Don’t the classics mean anything to you?”

“Not when I’ve heard them fifty times in a row. I think ‘Ticket To Ride’ might cause an inappropriate reaction in me from now on.” She frowned at his list of playlists. “You have anything good on here? Metal Magic. Uh, no. Fuck Rock?” She shot him a look. “Nice.”

He shrugged. “Short and sweet.” Remembering the other playlist on there, he grabbed the phone. From the look on her face, it was too late.

“Babymaking music? Really?”

“Babymaking’s a euphemism for sex,” he muttered.

“Thanks for the heads up. I can’t imagine you using that term.” She lowered her lids then looked up again, her eyes darker than he’d ever seen them. Logically he knew the color hadn’t changed, but the heaviness in them had sucked out all their light. “I could see you with kids.”

“Okay,” he said slowly, unsure where she was going.

“Do you want them?”

“Kids?” He jerked a shoulder. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

She nodded and swiveled around, suddenly taking an interest in some hidden spot behind her knee. Her fingers moved restlessly while his sluggish, still oversexed brain finally figured out her point.

Shit.

“But maybe not.” He rested his chin on her shoulder. “I’d be happy either way.”

“No, you wouldn’t. A guy like you is built for kids. You’d be cheating yourself.”

Brad wrapped his arms around her and kissed the side of her face, not stopping even when she went rigid in his embrace. “Since the Beatles are out, what do you feel like listening to?”

“I don’t care. Anything’s fine.”

“Sara. Look at me.”

She didn’t.

“Sara.”

“Look, it’s no big deal. I forget sometimes that we’re only fooling around, even though in my head I know we are. You’re just starting everything and I’m on the other side. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, but it’s reality. And I need to remember it.”

He gripped her chin and turned her face toward his. “You might just be fooling around, babe. If so, that’s your deal. I’m not. I’ve never been anything but serious as a heart attack about you.”

When moisture gathered at the corners of her eyes, he blinked, sure he was mistaken. She didn’t cry. Ever. Not during sad movies, not when she fell and scraped her shins raw on uneven concrete. Definitely not when she was talking with her boytoy lover she couldn’t even acknowledge having real feelings for.

“You made that playlist when you were with your wife, didn’t you?”

“I didn’t make it. She made it on our honeymoon. Said it was all the songs we’d had sex to.” Despite his effort to keep his voice even, he knew he’d failed when her gaze swung sharply to his. “More lies, since I don’t recognize half of them, and I sure as hell never fucked her to ‘Mmm-freaking-Bop’.”

“You were trying to start a family.”

“No. I thought we already had.” At her quizzical expression, he shoved a hand through his hair. Only Darla could ruin his night with Sara when she wasn’t even around. “I married her because she told me she was pregnant. She wasn’t. End of story.”

Chapter Eight

Sara shifted away from Brad, sliding toward the other side of the tub. He didn’t protest her slipping away. Actually he seemed to welcome the distance.

He’d almost been a father. Or he could have been. Obviously he’d wanted to be, enough to marry the mother of the child he believed he would have.

He hadn’t left Darla because he wanted to be with other women, as the rumor mill had suggested. Hell, maybe as Darla herself had suggested enough times until the gossips in town accepted it as fact.