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She let out an exasperated sigh. “Come on, Baron. It’s not a big deal. Can’t you just drop it?”

  “Maybe it’s not a big deal, but I’d like to know what’s going on. Or at least why you feel you can’t tell me about it.”

  He was annoyed now. She could tell by the chill in his voice. He didn’t get flustered and irritable like she did. He just got cold.

  “You don’t have to get grumpy about it,” she complained, slumping down onto the bed. “It’s just my ex being an ass. It’s nothing for you to worry about.”

  Baron just looked at her.

  “Fine,” she groaned, relenting, not having the energy to be as stubborn as he was. “He wants the girls for Christmas.”

  Baron’s expression changed. His frown grew darker. “He can’t do that.”

  “I know! I told him that. But he’s acting all pouty, like he never gets to see them. But he was the one who didn't come visit them here when he was supposed to, and he was the one who canceled Thanksgiving with them. Now he’s trying to guilt me about not letting them go.”

  “You have nothing to feel guilty about. If you’d arranged to have the girls for Christmas, then you shouldn’t have to rearrange all your plans just because he changed his mind.”

  “I’m not going to rearrange my plans. I’m not about to give them up for Christmas just so he can...” She trailed off, wishing she hadn’t started that thought.

  “So he can what?”

  When she didn’t answer right away, he gave her that look again. She made a face at him. “Has anyone ever told you you’re obnoxiously stubborn?”

  To her surprise, he let out a breathy laugh. “Not to my face.”

  His amused, affectionate tone eased a lot of her jittery angst. She leaned against the pillows and smiled at him. He was still looking quite yummy, dressed in nothing but the towel.

  “Why do you think he wants the girls for Christmas?” he asked.

  “I don’t know, but I think he wants to act all domestic with his new girlfriend.”

  “You don’t think he really wants to spend time with them?” His tone was matter-of-fact—not accusatory or incredulous.

  “I don’t know. I just don’t know. Maybe he does, but it seems so easy for him to just turn off his interest in them. They’re my whole world. I can’t imagine life without them. While he seems to function fine without them, only wanting them when it’s convenient for him.”

  Baron didn’t respond. Just moved beside her so he was lounging against the pillows on the bed too.

  “How can he not want to be around them all the time?” she asked hoarsely, finding it impossible to imagine and hating Rick for even the possibility of his not loving her babies the way he should.

  “He’s an idiot.”

  She turned to look at Baron with a jerk of her head. He was glaring at a spot in the air like he could wring its neck.

  For some reason, the fact that Baron was obviously so irate at Rick’s failures as a father eased the tension in Leila’s chest.

  Baron was just as baffled and just as angry at the thought of anyone not appreciating the girls as she was.

  He loved them.

  Thinking back, she realized that not once since he’d met Jane and Charlotte had Baron not done what he told them he would do, not shown up when they were expecting him, not followed through on his word.

  Baron might not have any experience in healthy relationships, but he understood commitment. It was part of who he was.

  And to think she had assumed he’d become some kind of heartless playboy who would only ever use women like trash.

  She crawled under the covers and then leaned over to kiss his jaw. “Are you ready for bed?”

  “Yeah,” Baron said, reaching over to the lamp on the nightstand. “I’m kind of tired.”

  “Me too.” She turned off her light too.

  As he pulled up the covers and reached out for her, he asked thickly, “How tired are you?”

  She found the edge of his towel and pulled it off under the sheet. “Not that tired.”

  He rolled on top of her and they kissed for a while. Then they made love in slow, needy silence. And as she arched beneath him, coming in shudders and gasps, she had to bite her lip to keep from saying what wasn’t quite ready to be spoken aloud.

  As she lay tangled with him afterwards, warm and comforted and replete, she peered up at his face in the dark. He wasn’t smiling but his eyes were soft.

  “Hi,” she said, rather stupidly.

  He laughed softly, stroking her back and bottom with his palm. “Hi.”

  She shifted to get more comfortable in his arms.

  “Why wouldn’t you tell me about the phone call earlier?”

  Leila adjusted again, this time from a different kind of discomfort. “I don’t know. It just makes me feel...icky. Talking about Rick to you.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know. It’s just embarrassing or something. That whole part of my life still feels like a mess.”

  “And you think I wouldn’t understand part of your life being a mess?”

  “No,” she said quickly, “I didn’t mean that. I just...” There was no way to adequately explain it because the feeling wasn’t rational.

  The truth was simply this. Sometimes she worried that, if she was too high-maintenance, if she brought too many of her problems, too much of her mess into her relationship with Baron, it would be too much for him and he would just go away.

  It wasn't rational, but she sometimes felt that way.

  So she told him again, “I’m sorry. I’ll try to do better.”

  When he didn’t reply, she checked his expression in the dark. He’d had a long day of work today, and he was trying to deal with this thing with his brother. She hated to think that she’d added to his stress with her little insecurities and hang-ups about her ex.

  She couldn’t read his expression, so she asked, “Are you disappointed with me?”

  Baron laughed again and leaned over to kiss her. “Yes,” he said, his tender tone belying his words. “Terribly disappointed.”

  Leila laughed too and curled up against him. He was naked and incredibly warm, and she felt drowsy and content. She was almost sure he felt the same.

  She wondered if it was too early to hope, to dream, that they could always go to sleep together like this.

  Ten

  Baron woke up hard.

  It wasn't an unusual situation, although it wasn’t a daily occurrence the way it been when he was younger. Now, sex was often the last thing on his mind when he opened his eyes in the morning.

  But this morning he woke up hard.

  It was dark in Leila’s room, and he could see by the bedside clock that it wasn’t even six yet. Leila was still asleep beside him.

  When he turned his head toward her, he could see her face in the dim light. She was curled up on her side, her hair tangled around her face and her eyelashes fanned out across her skin. As his eyes adjusted more, he could see the curve of her hip beneath the covers and the swell of her breasts through her thin tank top.

  She’d worn a pair of flannel pajamas to bed, since winter had come full-force to Boston, just in time for Thanksgiving, but Leila must have gotten overly warm in the night and taken off the flannel top.

  She was a very active sleeper, he’d discovered in the last few weeks since he’d started occasionally spending the night with her. One night he’d been jarred awake by a fist on the side of his head, as she’d flailed her arm in her sleep and accidentally punched him. She was lying still at the moment, her legs drawn up toward her middle and her arms pressed tightly against her chest.

  Baron closed his eyes to see if he could doze off again, but the pressure of his groin was too great a distraction. Maybe Leila would wake up soon and help him do something about it.

  It had been a week and a half since they’d had sex last. Baron had been traveling for work the weekend before, and when he’d returned, Leila had been swallowed up in pap
ers to grade, which evidently put her in a very bad mood. They’d argued for the last couple of days—mostly about stupid things—and they’d both been too tired to have sex yesterday evening.

  “Your stare is disturbing my slumbers,” Leila said, not opening her eyes despite her words.

  “Then maybe you should consider waking up.”

  “Don’t wanna,” she mumbled, curling up in a tighter ball. “Today’s the first morning of Thanksgiving break. Wanna sleep.”

  Baron smiled at her stubborn attempt to remain asleep, when it was obvious that she was waking up. “I can think of another way to celebrate the beginning of your break.”

  Leila groaned, her eyes still tightly shut, and reached out to blindly feel down his chest and belly, fumbling until she found his erection beneath his thin pajama pants.

  Baron’s breath hitched with undisguised pleasure when she squeezed.

  “Oh,” she said, still not opening her eyes. Her lips quivered in suppressed amusement. “Have fun with that.”

  Then she turned over onto her other side and curled up again, this time with her back to him.

  If he hadn’t seen the quiver of her lips, he might not have pushed, but he had seen it. He wasn’t at all convinced by her ostensible rejection.

  He scooted over in the bed until he was pressed up against her back, pushing his arousal against her soft ass.

  “Baron,” she grumbled half-heartedly, “I’m sleeping.”

  “Are you?” He stroked her belly, slowly sliding his palm up to cup her breast, where he leisurely fondled the nipple.

  He felt a ripple of satisfaction run through him when she gave a throaty moan of response.

  Encouraged, he continued to stroke and caress her. And, after a few minutes of work, she was shifting and then squirming in his arms.

  Finally, she opened her eyes. “That’s cheating, you sneaky bastard.” Her voice was unabashedly fond.

  Baron smiled when she turned her head over her shoulder to kiss him.

  He’d been pressing his erection into her ass, and he was doing his best to restrain his need to thrust and not intensify his rhythmic pushes in too demanding a way.

  But he really hoped she was ready for sex.

  “Okay,” she said, reaching behind her to stroke his face with gentle fingers. “This might be a reasonable way to celebrate Thanksgiving break.”

  Baron tried to chuckle, although it came out as more of a groan of relief. His body was tense now, vibrating with arousal. “Glad you feel that way.”

  "Not as good as sleeping, of course."

  They fumbled with their clothes until they were both naked and spooning again. Then Baron was finally able to push into her from behind.

  Her hand reached back to clutch at his neck urgently, and they rocked together in a hungry rhythm.

  Baron loved how soft and pliant and shuddering she was in his arms—loved her naked gasps of pleasure and the tight, hot grip of her around him.

  It was still early morning, and they weren’t loud, rough, or frantic. But soon their urgency took on momentum, and they were both breathless and shaking. Baron reached around Leila’s body until he could fumble at her intimate folds, rubbing her off until she arched back against him, gasping his name as she came.

  Baron let himself go too as he felt the rhythmic spasms of her climax.

  He'd grown soft again when he finally slipped out of her. Leila’s breathing had evened out, and her body had relaxed so much he wondered if she’d actually gone back to sleep.

  “That was good,” she mumbled, reaching back to stroke his face again. “Excellent way to begin break.”

  Baron laughed softly. Kissed her on the cheekbone, which was the closest to her mouth he could reach. Then he slipped out of bed, feeling hot and sticky and in need of a shower.

  He showered quickly, trying not to think of all the work he needed to do today. Every morning, the bleak thought of his schedule—every single minute planned out with more work—made him vaguely ill.

  He pulled on his clothes from the day before, mentally composing the first email he needed to write when he got to the office as he came back into Leila’s room.

  To his surprise, she was sitting up in bed, the covers rumpled around her. She’d put her pajamas back on, and she was frowning at him.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked, immediately recognizing that her frown was prompted by something he’d done.

  “Are you leaving?”

  “Yes. I need to head back to my place and change clothes before work.”

  “You don’t always have to leave before the girls get up, you know.”

  “I know.” Baron glanced at the clock. He really didn’t want to have this discussion this morning. “But I’ve got a lot of work to do.”

  “I was hoping maybe you could take the day off and spend it with us, since the girls and I don’t have school.”

  Baron let out a thick exhale, torn in several different directions at once. He liked to spend as much time with them as he could, but he was already in work mode, readying himself for the day. He automatically glanced at his watch, although that told him nothing he didn’t already know. “Why didn’t you ask about it before?”

  Leila’s shoulders drooped. “I’m sorry. I just thought of it. I know you have a ton to do. I shouldn’t have just expected you to drop everything like that.”

  Now Baron felt guilty for hurting her feelings, which made his voice colder than it should have been. “If it’s important...”

  “It’s not important. I’m sorry. Really. I didn’t mean to make you feel guilty. It was just a passing thought.”

  She looked genuinely distressed, so he had to assume she was speaking the truth. She wasn’t trying to lay a guilt-trip on him. She’d just had an idea she thought was good, and he hadn’t jumped on board like she’d hoped.

  “I can’t take the day off. I have too much to do.” He quickly sorted through what he could remember of the day MaryAnn had scheduled out for him. “But we could go out to breakfast, if you want.” His tone lifted at the end, making the words a question.

  Leila beamed at him, her face transformed by the sunny smile. The transformation always seemed like a miracle to him—like all the light had suddenly come on in the world—and he couldn’t help but smile back now. “That would be great," she said. "Are you sure?”

  He nodded, forcing himself not to glance at his watch again and not to think of MaryAnn’s appalled face when he called her in a minute to tell her he would be late to work.

  No wonder his parents’ marriage had been a flop. There was no way someone could commit to this kind of work schedule and also commit to building a relationship.

  * * *

  Jane woke up while Leila and Baron were both at the dining room table, drinking coffee and doing email on their respective laptops.

  Jane wore a pair of purple pajamas, fuzzy slippers, and tangled blond hair. She looked sleepy and a little grumpy, but her expression changed when she saw Baron.

  “Mr. Baron!” she exclaimed, running over to lean against his shoulder. “You’re here!”

  “I’m here. Good morning.”

  “Hi, Mommy,” Jane mumbled, leaning over to kiss Leila. “Is Mr. Baron going to play with us today?”

  “He’s going to take us all out for breakfast,” Leila said, stroking her daughter’s messy hair.

  “Oh!”

  “Why don’t you wake Charlotte up? Then you both can hurry and get dressed.”

  Jane immediately ran into the bedroom, and in less than ten minutes both girls were dressed in their favorite red and purple corduroy dresses.

  Charlotte was holding Baron’s hand as they left the building, while Jane was gripping Leila’s hand and telling them all what kind of pancakes she wanted for breakfast.

  Baron felt a ridiculous thrill of belonging and possession. As if, for the first time he could remember, he was actually part of a family.

  Like this woman and these girls could real
ly be his.

  “Daddy!” Charlotte cried out of the blue, pulling her hand out of his as she stared across the street at the dark-haired man who was getting out of an SUV.

  “Daddy!” Jane gasped, clasping her hands together with a look of absolute joy.

  Baron stared at the approaching man—tall, broad-shouldered, well-dressed and smoothly confident—and then looked quickly over to Leila’s face.

  Her expression was dumbfounded. “Rick?”

  Something tightened and revolted in his chest as Baron watched Charlotte and Jane run down the sidewalk with squeals of delight to be swept up and hugged tightly by their father.

  Baron pressed his lips together and tried to control a surge of resentment, so intense it momentarily blurred over his vision.

  What the hell was Leila’s ass of an ex-husband doing here?

  ***

  Rick was about the same height as Baron and about the same breadth across the shoulders. But, long ago, Baron had realized that a man’s physical stature had little to do with authority or intimidation.

  Baron did wish he wasn't still wearing yesterday's clothes. His dress shirt and black trousers weren't dirty or wrinkled, but Baron felt less than polished this morning—and that wasn't the way he would have preferred to confront Leila's ex-husband for the first time.

  After he returned the girls to the sidewalk, Rick greeted Leila with a kiss on the cheek—an obnoxiously possessive one, in Baron's opinion—and then reached a hand out to Baron with an easy grin. "Rick Luther."

  Baron shook the man’s hand with the cool civility he usually reserved for unpleasant business associates. He didn’t give his name. He assumed Rick would know who he was.

  “I’d heard that Baron James was spending time with my family,” Rick said, in a laidback, conversational tone that Baron was sure was put on intentionally. “But I didn’t expect to run into you.”

  Baron didn’t dignify that comment with a response, although the "my family" comment made him want to bristle. Instead, he just nodded and did his best to hide his rising anger, so he wouldn’t upset the girls, who were happily clinging on either side of their father.

  “What are you doing here?” Leila demanded, her expression conveying both confusion and an underlying annoyance.