The Husband Recipe (15 page)

Even if it wasn’t.

He called all the kids into the living room for a powwow. When they were lined up on the sofa, he said, “Aunt Janet is coming on Saturday.” They remained stoic. They loved their aunt, but they knew very well how she was. Demanding, critical…overprotective to the point of smothering. And it was a regular part of any visit that she inspect their rooms. “We’re going to show her that everything here is hunky-dory.”

“What’s that?” Justin asked.

“Great. Wonderful. Perfect.”

“That means I have to clean my room, doesn’t it?” Hank asked solemnly.

“Yes, it does.” He looked at Meredith. “And we’re going to feed our guest. Start planning a menu. Something simple and easy, but no frozen chicken nuggets. I can talk to Lauren. Maybe she’ll have some ideas…”

“No!” Meredith snapped. “I can handle preparing a meal for Aunt Janet without any help from the woman next door.” She shook her hair in an undeniably defiant gesture.

“Fine. I’ll leave it to you. The house will be clean, you three will be clean and dressed in clothes that match—” he caught Hank’s eye for that one “—and we will convince Aunt Janet that we don’t need any help.” He’d never get Janet out of their hair, and besides, that wasn’t what he wanted. The kids deserved to have something of their mother’s family in their lives on a regular basis, and Janet deserved to have this connection with her sister. What he
did
want was for her to quit implying—and sometimes outright saying—that he was an incompetent parent, that he couldn’t handle his family alone.

Knockout night with Lauren aside, best lunch ever in his rear mirror, he
was
alone. He couldn’t let what he wanted become more important than what his kids needed. Not ever. And at the end of the day, he couldn’t allow himself to need anyone. Not Janet. Not even Lauren.

Hilary was merciless. She called until Lauren finally agreed to meet with the producer who’d chosen her for his show. She still hadn’t decided if she wanted to participate or not—no matter what a fabulous opportunity Hilary thought it would be. Judging by what little she’d seen of reality shows, they’d probably make her construct a meal in thirty minutes using only Spam, orange Jell-O and dried beans. They’d probably make her race for spices, or ask her to turn a box of dried mac and cheese into a meal fit for a king. That was so
not
her.

The producer, Edward “don’t call him Eddie” Mandel, was flying in on Saturday. Lauren had been surprised that he hadn’t asked her to come to him, but Hilary said they’d be shooting footage of all the contestants at home, so he wanted to check out her surroundings.

She spent all afternoon planning what she’d feed Mandel. Planning a meal—what to serve, which plates and glasses to use, what kind of dessert she should prepare—calmed her. She needed to be calm for her brain to work. Did she want this? She did not expect she’d enjoy the show, if she decided to move forward with it, and she didn’t want to win. As much as she wanted a career, television was not in her plans; she wasn’t what one would call a TV-personality type. She was too quiet, too reserved. She’d make a terrible game-show contestant, because if she won a million dollars she’d probably just smile, clap her hands gently a couple of times and mouth a single, quiet “Yay.”

But if the reality show would really increase the sales of her book the way Hilary said it would, shouldn’t she at least give it a try? It wasn’t like she’d be moving to New York permanently.

Would Cole be waiting for her when she got home or would he have moved on to another woman by that time?

A warning bell went off in her head. She barely knew the man. Yes, she was attracted to him; yes, she liked him; yes, he was great in bed. But should she be planning her life around a man just because he made her feel good? Just because when he kissed her she forgot everything else? How often had she let herself depend on a man in the past? Three. How many times had she been disappointed?

Three.

Why should she consider even for a moment that Cole would be any different?

Last night she’d been so sure that they were at the beginning of something grand—lunch had been beyond wonderful—but she couldn’t entirely dismiss this morning’s debacle. Great sex and soul-searing kisses did not a relationship make. She was wild about Cole, in a way she’d never expected to be. He’d come out of nowhere and turned her neat plans upside down. He was a wonderful father—his kids were occasionally wild, but he loved them so much she had to give him points for that—a good neighbor, a great lover.

But could she really trust him?

Cole stared at the phone longer than he should’ve. He was never indecisive. He made mistakes, everyone did, but he made his mistakes rushing forward like a bull in a china shop. The kids were outside, the washer and the dryer were both running, breakfast dishes were in the dishwasher. Finally he lifted the receiver and dialed the number he’d memorized. It rang four times, then he got a recording.

Like he was going to leave Lauren a message when he wasn’t entirely sure what he’d say if he got her on the other end of the line.
Thank you? What are you doing tonight? Are you as confused as I am?

No, even if he was confused, he’d never admit it.

He could ask her to help get the house and the kids ready for Saturday’s visit, but they weren’t at that place in their relationship, and hell, might never be. Could you call a couple of conversations, one night of great sex and one out-of-control make-out session a relationship? He did, but what about Lauren? Besides, Meredith would have a fit if he indicated in any way that she was incapable of handling the duties of the woman of the house on her own.

He wasn’t about to leave a stuttering message on Lauren’s answering machine. He’d try her later.

The screams from the backyard went silent; that got Cole’s attention. As much as he sometimes longed for it, silence in this household was rarely a sign of anything good. He could only hope there was no blood, and no broken windows. He walked away from the phone, toward the kitchen door and the backyard.

Before he opened the door he saw the reason for the silence. He watched the foursome through the window set in the door, smiling as Hank and Justin leaned over a plate Lauren held in both hands, the offering held out and down for their inspection. Meredith hung back, but even she eyed whatever was on the plate their neighbor proffered.

Cole was content to just watch Lauren for a few minutes. She’d changed clothes again. Now she wore denim shorts that showed off great legs; a white tank that hugged her curves, such as they were; white sandals. Brave of her to wear white after what had happened this morning. Her hair was pulled up in a ponytail, and his gut tightened as he imagined loosening her hair and letting it down again. Her smile was infectious. Hank and Justin were grinning ear to ear as they each choose a huge cookie from the plate. Even Meredith relaxed a bit as she chose one for herself.

Lauren glanced toward the house, saw him standing there, watching, and the smile changed.

Cole opened the door and walked outside. The kids were devouring their cookies, which were the size of softballs and bursting with chocolate chips. “So, you’re going to feed my kids sugar and then go home?” he said, smiling at Lauren.

“No, I thought I’d stick around and study the results.” She held the plate toward him. “You, too. A new recipe. I thought I’d experiment on y’all before I use it in a column.”

“She can experiment on me any day, Dad,” Hank said enthusiastically. “These cookies are awesome.”

Barely glancing down, Cole grabbed a cookie for himself. The offerings were arranged on a heavy green platter with pink flowers painted around the edge. “Good lord, woman, don’t you own a paper plate?”

“I don’t like paper plates,” she responded.

“Why not?”

“They’re not pretty.”

“I wouldn’t have survived the past few years without paper plates.” If he could only find a way to get the kids in disposable clothes, he’d have it made….

The cookie was awesome, just as Hank said it was. He wasn’t surprised. Lauren didn’t do anything in half measures.

Justin, now as charmed by Miss Lauren as his brother had been from first sight, reached up and snagged Lauren’s wrist. She looked down at him. “Do you want another cookie?”

“Later. Jump on the trampoline with me!”

Lauren shook her head. “Thank you, but I’ll have to decline.”

“Huh?”

Her smile widened. “No, thank you.”

“But…it’s
fun.
” Justin’s argument was simple and heartfelt.

“I’ve never been on a trampoline before. I’m afraid I’d fall off and hurt myself.”

“You’ve never been on a trampoline, not in your whole life?” Hank was clearly horrified.

Again, Lauren shook her head.

“That’s sad,” Justin said sincerely.

“If she doesn’t want to get on the trampoline, leave her alone,” Meredith said, her voice cool. She wasn’t looking out for Lauren’s well-being, Cole knew. She wanted their neighbor to go home ASAP.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Cole said casually. He took a bite of the cookie. It melted in his mouth. “It doesn’t seem right that Miss Lauren has never been on a trampoline.” They worked in concert, Cole taking the plate of cookies, Justin taking her hand, Hank leading the way. Only Meredith hung back, uncertain. Unhappy. Looking every bit the sullen almost-teenager. He still wasn’t sure what to do about that, but walking away from something promising didn’t seem to be the way for any of them.

Lauren argued halfheartedly as Justin all but dragged her to the trampoline. “I wouldn’t even know what to do.”

“You just jump,” Hank said. “It’s easy!”

Justin added, “Dad tells us that when he says
jump
we’re supposed to ask how high, but he never actually tells us to jump so I don’t know why he says that.”

Lauren glanced over her shoulder, caught his eye and laughed.

She was a good sport; he shouldn’t have expected anything else. She kicked off her shoes and got onto the trampoline, taking careful steps as she worked her way to the center. The boys yelled, “Jump! Jump!”

Lauren took a very small jump, looked at Cole, and asked, “How high?”

And then she put everything she had into a motion that threw her high into the air. She laughed, and screamed…and yes, she jiggled nicely, here and there.

The boys laughed. Even Meredith smiled, as she walked closer to snag another cookie from the platter. To be honest, Cole had never expected to watch Lauren let loose this way. Then again, he hadn’t really expected last night, either. And when he’d gone to her house for lunch he certainly hadn’t expected her to all but devour him in her perfect kitchen.

He couldn’t help but wonder, as he watched her, what next? Just when he was certain his life held no more surprises, here it came. Here
she
came.

Surprise.

Chapter Ten

W
here Lauren was concerned, things were happening too fast. His plan to take things slowly hadn’t lasted long at all. Cole understood that he couldn’t afford to jump into a relationship with both feet. There was too much at stake, too many ways things could go wrong. She had to understand that, too, but neither of them seemed interested in taking it slowly.

Summer Schuler invited the kids to go to the movies with her and her bunch, then out for pizza afterward. They’d all met at the barbecue—before the disaster and the trip to the E.R.—and the kids had played together a time or two since then, since summer days were long and there was a trampoline in the Donovan backyard. The boys jumped on the offer, tempted by the movie and totally sold by the pizza, but Meredith hesitated. In the end it was the movie that pulled her in.

Considering the way the day had begun, with Lauren getting a face full of mud and a spritz with the hose, he should’ve made them stay home, properly grounded. But a little time at Lauren’s
without
a baby monitor might not be a bad thing. As they were getting ready to leave, Justin’s face fell. His eyes got big and sad, his lower lip quivered. “Dad will be here all alone.”

Cole had to work not to smile. To Justin, being left at home alone would be traumatic. For Cole—for any child-rearing adult who found him or herself with a few precious hours of alone time—it was a rare gift.

“I’ll be fine,” he said solemnly. “There’s a movie I want to watch on TV, then I’ll eat some supper and work on the plans for my history class.”

“We won’t be too late,” Justin said, forcing a bright smile.

“I can stay…” Meredith began, but Cole stopped her.

“I’m sure Mrs. Schuler will appreciate your help with the little kids.”

Meredith agreed with a nod of her head. Her favorite actor was in the movie, and she was anxious to see him on the big screen.

Cole had to wonder if Summer Schuler had invited his kids along in order to give him and Lauren some time alone. How much had Lauren told her friend? Anything? This could be simply another attempt at blatant matchmaking. Summer and Lauren might’ve planned this together. It could also be just what it seemed to be, an invitation to the movies for a couple of neighborhood children. There was no reason to read anything more into it.

Last night he’d gone to Lauren’s house with a baby monitor and a few condoms. This afternoon he hadn’t been able to keep his hands off her. They’d started something, something unexpected and powerful, but still, he was going to look like a complete ass if he knocked on her door expecting…well, anything. He couldn’t just run next door whenever he got an itch he wanted Lauren to scratch, whenever it was convenient.

Could he?

No, she deserved better than to be convenient. But it had been so long since he’d had a woman in his life, he wasn’t sure what came next. All he knew was that he could still remember how Lauren felt, how she tasted, how she moaned… He was getting hard just thinking about her.

Summer collected the kids and they left in a rush, piling into the Schuler van and taking off, kids waving wildly. Cole, standing in the doorway, waved back. After they rounded the corner he turned his attention to the house next door, staring at the front porch and the inviting door there.

He didn’t know what Lauren was to him, not yet. He had no idea what he might be to her. But the idea of just sitting here alone while she was right next door—also alone—made his brain itch. What did he have to lose by making a move?

Nothing.
Everything.

Lauren had changed her upcoming Saturday menu plan five times. She wanted to impress the producer, even if she wasn’t sure she wanted to be on his reality show. She was a professional. Impressing people with good food and Southern hospitality was what she did best. It was her job.

Should the meal be simple and hearty, or elegant? She didn’t know the man who was coming to her house, so she should be sensitive to food preferences. No seafood, pork or red meat. Chicken, then. That narrowed her choices considerably.

She was flipping through her recipe cards, searching for a proper chicken recipe, when the doorbell rang. The mail had already run and she wasn’t expecting a package. That left limited possibilities. A child selling something she didn’t want or need, which was unlikely since school hadn’t started yet and it wasn’t Girl Scout cookie season; someone trying to convert her to their religion; a neighbor with a petition; or Cole. At the front door, this time?

Lauren thought about straightening her hair as she walked slowly to the door, but then she restrained herself. There was no reason for her to make an effort to look her best for a man who had already seen her in spectacular disarray. Mad sex did nothing for her hairstyle or makeup. Nothing good, anyway.

She peeked through the security viewer, saw the man she’d pretty much expected to be there, then sighed long and too loud. He really had come out of nowhere, and she didn’t have any idea what would happen next. To find out, she’d have to open the door. In spite of the fact that he’d muddied up her plans, she very much wanted to know what might come next.

Cole Donovan stood there, smile on his face, an anonymous-looking and large brown bag in his grasp. “Do you like Chinese?”

“Sure.” She looked behind him. “Where are the kids?”

“Out for the evening with the Schuler family.”

She still hadn’t invited him in, and she wasn’t sure that she should. Cole was a complication, and even though they were amazingly compatible—at least in one way—she didn’t want to be taken for granted. She didn’t want him to think of her as the easy and overly eager next-door neighbor. “There’s enough food in that bag for many more than two.”

“I wasn’t sure what you liked. Besides, it’s not like leftovers go to waste in my house.”

Lauren had a very bad feeling that she could fall in love with Cole Donovan with very little encouragement. She was already halfway there, and that was bad. Very bad. He wasn’t falling in love with her; it was too soon, and besides, he had his hands full with his children. She was just a distraction, nothing more. She’d been an idiot to think they could be neighbors with benefits. Heaven above, she could see it so clearly. He’d be perfectly happy with a relationship that was strictly physical. In spite of herself, in spite of the fact that she’d been the one to insist that all they had was sex, she wanted more. She wanted everything.

But he was her neighbor, and no matter where this went they were going to have to find a way to get along.

She still hadn’t finished her list regarding his children. She’d gotten as far as
no mud
and
stay out of my garden
before setting it aside.

“Chinese, yes,” she said. “Sex, no.” She felt a hot flush rise on her cheeks. “Just in case that was what you had in mind. We really need to talk first.” She felt like she was cutting off her nose to spite her face, considering how much she wanted him, but there was so much unsaid, so much still to do…and she still hadn’t told him about the television deal. Would he be happy for her or annoyed that she was leaving? Would he even care?

“Seduction by fried rice.” He smiled. Maybe there was a little disappointment in his expression, but he didn’t run away, taking his fried rice with him. “I’ll be happy for the company.”

Lauren stepped back and let him into her house. He knew the way to the kitchen, and walked ahead of her, unerringly headed in that direction. She couldn’t help but stare at his butt—just a little. It was a nice butt, tight and perfectly shaped in those snug jeans. And out of those jeans, as well. She remembered. How could she forget? Maybe she’d made a mistake. Maybe she should’ve sent him away. But where was the danger in a shared meal and a little conversation?

There was none. No danger at all.

He and Lauren had talked before, but not like this. Alone, kidless, no pressure, no timetable. There was sexual tension but it wasn’t like before, when he’d been about to burst with wanting her. This was more like a slow simmer. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to sleep with her again. He did. Maybe one day he would. But she’d made it very clear—not tonight.

Strangely enough, he didn’t mind all that much, even though he’d stopped at the drugstore when he’d gone out for Chinese. If it was right, in time it would happen again. And again.

They got to know one another a little better over shrimp and broccoli and honey chicken. And fried rice. The two of them barely made a dent in what he’d bought, but that was okay. He hadn’t been lying when he’d said leftovers didn’t have a chance in his house.

He loved Lauren’s kitchen. It was always clean, always in perfect order. It always smelled good, like lingering cinnamon or vanilla. And she was usually in it.

They’d covered the basics. Childhoods, schools, most embarrassing moments, favorite foods, movies, books. He’d been a little surprised to find out that she’d been a bit of a nerd in high school. She’d played clarinet in the band, had belonged to the Future Homemakers Club—that wasn’t a surprise at all—and she’d volunteered in the library. Naturally she’d been a straight-A student. If they’d gone to the same high school, would he even have noticed her? He’d been the star baseball player who did just enough to get by in class. He hadn’t done clubs at all.

After a while he’d even talked about baseball, a little. He didn’t do much of that these days. What was there to say? Playing baseball was a part of his past; he wasn’t big on reliving the past, but he didn’t mind talking to Lauren about it. She was curious without being
too
interested.

Leaning back in her chair, Lauren took a deep breath and looked him in the eye. “So tell me, are you ever sorry?”

“Sorry about what?” He shoved back his empty plate. There was no way he could eat another bite.

The easy expression Lauren had worn all evening was gone, replaced by uncertainty and tension. And that was how he realized the true meaning of her question.

“Do I regret giving up baseball to raise my kids?”

She shook her head, making her thick ponytail dance. “I have no business asking that. It’s just, when you talked about playing baseball your face lit up. Leaving was a huge sacrifice, and you know very well that not everyone would’ve made the decision you did.”

He hadn’t talked to anyone about this in a very long time, and he had never been completely honest. He’d never been open. Publicly, he made sure everyone knew he’d never suffered a moment’s regret. Privately, it was another story.

“There were times when I was certain I’d made a terrible mistake. Usually when the flu was making a rampant run through the house and one kid had thrown up in the hall and the other one hadn’t made it out of the bed. Or when Justin would cry for no reason, screaming for hours, and I couldn’t comfort him. When Hank decided he could fly and jumped off the top bunk and broke his arm, and when Meredith needed her first bra.” He caught Lauren’s eye and held it. “I suspect you’re the kind of woman who never feels inadequate, but there have been times, many times, when I felt like a completely useless parent. Baseball is easier.”

“Almost everyone feels inadequate at one time or another,” she said. And then she smiled. “And then there are those who
should
feel inadequate but never do.”

“I’ve met a few of those.” The mood had lightened, which was fine with him. He didn’t want this conversation to turn maudlin.

“You know, that’s one of the things I like about you,” she said casually.

He got a weird flutter when she admitted that she liked him. But his voice was cool as he said, “What’s that?”