The Friends We Keep

When Kristie had called to say she’d unexpectedly come down with food poisoning, Nicole hadn’t been worried. She could easily take over the early-evening classes. What she hadn’t counted on was that none of her usual sitters were available. Cecelia was helping out another family. Pam was traveling. Neither Gabby, Hayley or Shannon were picking up their phones. Not knowing what else to do, she’d put in an emergency call to Jairus who’d instantly agreed to watch Tyler.

Jairus opened the front door. “Go,” he said with a smile. “We’ll be fine. Call every fifteen minutes, if it makes you more comfortable. We’ll be right here. I promise.”

She couldn’t remember the last time a man had promised her anything, she thought suddenly, then shook her head. She didn’t have time for this.

“Thanks,” she said as she ran down the walkway toward her car. “Tyler, be good.”

“I will, Mommy.”

Three classes and a quick drive home later, she was back. Despite his offer to field her calls every fifteen minutes, she’d forced herself not to check in with Jairus. Tyler knew her work phone number. He would have called if there was a problem.

As she stepped into the living room, she saw there were a couple of lamps on, along with the TV. Several things occurred to her at once. First, that Tyler was still up. Well, not up, exactly, but curled up next to Jairus, asleep, rather than in his bed. Second, her pajama-clad son looked amazingly comfortable with the man, as if he trusted him completely. Which Nicole supposed he probably did. Third, Jairus and Tyler looked good together. Connected. As if they had a close relationship that made them both happy.

Last, and maybe not least, the second her gaze locked with Jairus’s, she felt something sexy and liquid and hot deep down inside her. The sensation had been absent so long, it took her a bit to recognize it.

Desire.

The information shocked her. Sure, they’d kissed and it had been nice, but she’d been careful to keep things light. While he always joked about wanting her, she figured that was just a reflex rather than actual information. But what if she’d been wrong? What if he felt this way, too?

She lost herself in a nanosecond-long image of tangled arms and legs, of his body easing into hers. Her breath caught and she looked away to get a bit of control. Only to notice what was paused on the television.

Wanting fled as humiliation flooded her. She groaned. “He didn’t.”

Jairus smiled. “He did. Tyler told me about how you were a beautiful dancer and then offered to show me proof.”

The DVD they’d been watching was a familiar one—a compilation of her various dance auditions and performances. They were years old and mostly silly. But at the time she’d thought maybe she could have a career as a dancer. Just one more thing she’d been wrong about.

“You could have stopped when he fell asleep,” she whispered.

“I was enjoying myself. How were your classes?”

“Good.”

Jairus shifted so Tyler stretched out on the sofa. He turned and picked up the boy, then carried him toward the bedrooms.

“He brushed his teeth already. We’d agreed on just one more minute when he fell asleep.”

“Once he’s out, he’s out,” she murmured, following them to Tyler’s room, then scooting ahead to fold back the covers on his Brad the Dragon bed.

Jairus lowered him to the mattress, before stepping back to give her room to kiss Tyler good-night. When she turned to leave, she saw that progress had been made on the mural.

Most of the scene was outlined in black paint. Parts of Brad were painted in red and judging by the uneven brush strokes, she could guess who’d been doing that painting.

“You let him help,” she said as she closed the door.

“He did a great job.”

They returned to the living room. Jairus switched off the TV.

“The dancing was cool,” he told her, his dark gaze settling on her face. “You’re talented.”

“Not really, but thanks for saying it anyway.”

“Why do you have so much trouble accepting a compliment?”

“I don’t.”

He moved closer. “Yeah, you do. You deflect them.”

Maybe, but if that was true, there was no way she wanted to talk about it. “I tried to make it as a dancer, but couldn’t. I nearly starved to death in New York one winter. What I do now is better.”

“But you’re still a dancer at heart, I think.” He smiled. “Tango Girl. That’s how I thought of you after our first meeting.”

“The costume makes an impression.”

“Tell me about it.” He reached up and stroked the side of her face. “Still scared?”

She knew he wasn’t talking about her dance career. They’d switched to a more intimate topic. “I’m not scared.”

“Sure you are. It’s okay. I’m nervous, too. It’s been a while, so hey, what if I’ve forgotten how? Plus, there’s the whole ‘it’s you’ part.”

Sex, she thought frantically. They were talking about sex. Because they were going to do it? Was she ready? Would it be okay? What underwear had she put on that morning?

“Me?”