knowledge that the tingle was going to get a whole lot stronger later this evening.
Tommy proudly presented his baking effort for dessert, an angel food cake with lurid green icing made from whipped topping, food coloring and vanilla pudding. He’d seen the frosting recipe in his Sesame Street magazine, he informed Ronan, and Bert an’ Ernie made it. Ronan had no idea who Burton Urney was, but he thought the guy should be drawn and quartered for teaching little kids to make disgusting-looking things like that. He tasted it gingerly and was surprised to find it was pretty darn good.
Murphy began to bark as Ronan was finishing his second piece of cake, and Deirdre’s mother breezed in the back door. She stopped dead when she saw Ronan sitting at her daughter’s kitchen table with Tommy on one knee and a smear of green icing on his cheek.
“Good evening,” she said, eyes as striking as her daughter’s sweeping over him from head to toe. Though she was quite polite, he could sense the curiosity radiating from her.
Ronan set Tommy on a chair and rose, politely offering his hand. “Hello. I’m Deirdre’s tenant, Ronan Sullivan.” Deirdre’s mother was no taller than her daughter, with an amazingly trim figure for someone he figured had two-plus decades on her. Her hair was snow-white, carelessly anchored in a bun at the back of her head from which stray tendrils escaped and wisped around her head. He was looking at Deirdre in thirty years, he realized.
It wasn’t an unpleasant thought.
“Ronan, this is my mother, Maura Halleran,” said Deirdre.
“My pleasure, Mrs. Halleran,” he said.
When she smiled at him, his heart was lost. “Sullivan,” she said, “A good Irish name. When did your family come over?”
“Come over?” As far as he knew, his parents were still safely ensconced in their condo.
“From Eire.” Her green eyes were deadly serious. “My grandmother O‘Leary was born there. We O’Learys haven’t been away that long. The Hallerans abandoned—”
“Mo-ther.” Deirdre had obviously heard this before. “Take my children and go before you scare Ronan away. He’s a good tenant and if he leaves, who knows what kind of maniac I’ll wind up with.” She kissed her mother’s cheek and herded her and the boys toward the door. “Could be someone like you.”
He was still laughing to himself when the boys hollered goodbye and disappeared around the corner of the house with their grandmother, after retrieving the amazing alligator from Tommy’s room.
“Wait a minute,” he said, belatedly remembering something. “They didn’t pack anything. Don’t kids still need suitcases?”
“Not for a night at Gramma’s,” Deirdre said. “She keeps extra sets of clothes there all the time. The only thing that can’t be replaced is the alligator.”
“Ah.” Another tidbit to file away. He never knew when a reference to a grandmother might come in handy in a story.
Deirdre was hovering nervously in the middle of the room and he patted the seat beside him. He’d been anticipating this moment ever since she’d announced before dinner that the boys would be going to their grandmother’s house. “Come sit down. I imagine you don’t get many chances to put your feet up when those two are around.”
“You imagine correctly.” But she didn’t sit down. Instead, she began gathering plates and flatware and fitting them into the dishwasher. “I’m sorry about my mother. She’s always been interested in Irish history. Well,” she added, “that’s the polite way to phrase it.”
“I liked your mother,” he said mildly as he rose and gathered glasses, carrying them to the sink. If she needed some time to ease into his arms, that was all right.
“You don’t have to do that,” she said.
“Sure I do. You cooked. It’s only fair that I help clean up. Besides, the sooner the table is cleared, the sooner you’ll sit down and relax.”
He didn’t imagine the startled glance that came his way as she quickly put away the remains of the meal. But she didn’t comment, just bent and hauled an enormous dog bowl out from beneath the sink. “I have to feed the big guy first.”
He was riveted to the spot by the sight of her rounded bottom straining against the seat of her overalls when she bent over. He could hear his blood roaring through his veins, could feel his body reacting and he resisted the strong impulse to grab her by those lush hips and pull her back against him, to tear off first her clothes and then his, to plunge into her and let his flesh pound against those smooth buttocks that would be as porcelain white and soft as the rest of her until they both were satisfied.
He was hard as a rock now, distinctly uncomfortable in the shorts that had seemed plenty roomy when he’d put them on. Turning his back to her, he spotted the wine still on the table, and on the pretext of retrieving it, used the opportunity to tug himself into a more comfortable position. Even the touch of his own hand made his flesh leap and he closed his eyes, forcing himself to think of his story, the apartment, his agent’s phone call earlier in the day... anything to keep him from giving in to the primal demand to turn back to that enticing little body this very minute.
His hand shook as he reached for the bottle and the two glasses. “I’ll take the wine out on the porch.”
“I’ll join you in a moment.”
He hoped it was a long moment. He hadn’t had a reaction like that to a woman since he was about seventeen; he wasn’t sure he liked it. But he guessed it made sense. Deirdre had been in his mind for a long time. He’d never expected that he’d ever even see her again, much less be invited into her bed. Well, strictly speaking, she hadn’t invited him yet, but why else would she have sent her children away overnight? She wasn’t the kind of woman who would carry on with her kids sleeping in the next room, even assuming he would have, which was assuming an awful lot.
The object of his lustful thoughts backed through the screen door then, carrying the dog bowl. Murphy was attached so closely to her side Ronan was sure she would fall over him. But she set down the bowl without incident, and he watched, fascinated, as Murphy gobbled down his dinner in less than ten seconds.
Deirdre shook her head fondly. “Murph, you’re a big hog, do you know that?”
The big hog wagged his tail and made a peculiar noise, not a howl, not a growl, more a ridiculous “ru-ru-u,” a definite answer to his mistress.
Ronan laughed, and she smiled. “He thinks if he’s charming enough, someday I’ll give in and let him have more.”
She turned and came toward Ronan, and he picked up her wineglass and handed it to her as she sat down beside him on the sturdy, old-fashioned glider. Murphy, seeing his hopes of additional chow dashed, wandered out into the yard to make sure no other dog had invaded his territory.
Deirdre tucked one foot beneath her; the other, he was amused to see, didn’t reach the floor. He gently pushed against the floor, setting the glider into a gentle motion.
She didn’t speak, neither did he. It was after eight, and the warm June day was finally drawing to a close, the sky dimming and night sounds beginning to filter through the air. A bird called plaintively a time or two, and the rasping of a cricket’s wings rose. From a distance the demanding bellow of a frog rhythmically boomed beneath the softer noises.
“It’s so beautiful out here.” Deirdre’s voice was hushed and reverent. “Sometimes I feel like the luckiest person in the world, sitting out here after the boys are in bed, enjoying the peace.”
Coming from someone who’d been through what obviously had been a hellish marriage, he thought that was a telling statement. “You feel safe here.”
Beside him, she was silent, and he could almost feel the air around her withdrawing. “Some people take safety for granted,” she said. “To me, it’s a gift.”
“How did