A Million Little Things. Susan Mallery

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was a good detective.”

      “He is. He’s well respected. Kirk was really happy when they were assigned together. I just think he’s a bad influence. All those women. Kirk’s married.”

      “You think Lucas will try to influence Kirk into—” She glanced at Jack. “You think he’s pushing Kirk to have an a-f-f-a-i-r?” She spelled the last word.

      “I don’t know. I hope not.”

      “Kirk wouldn’t do that.”

      “Not every guy is as great as Dad.”

      “Is Kirk giving you reason to think he would do that?”

      Jen wished she hadn’t started down this path. “Not exactly. It’s just, he’s busy and I’m busy. We have Jack. Things are different now.”

      Her mother turned to face her. “Jen, are you and Kirk having regular sex?”

      “Mom!” Jen glanced around, but they were pretty much by themselves on their side of the carousel. “We can’t talk about that here.”

      “Why not? This is important. You can’t let life and work and the baby come between you and your husband. Women show love through words and actions. Men are different. For a lot of them, sex is an expression of love. In a marriage, sex is bigger than a man having needs. Of course he does, but without lovemaking, there’s often no way for him to demonstrate how he cares. You both need a strong, vigorous sex life.”

      “Stop, I beg you. I don’t want to have this conversation with my mother.”

      “You’d better be having it with someone.” Pam looked at her. “This is serious.”

      “I know.”

      “Your father and I always had a great sex life.”

      Jen squeezed her eyes shut. “Stop. You have to stop. No one wants to know this. I can’t handle thinking about my parents’ sex life.”

      “Fine, but just know this. Sex is an important part of any successful marriage. Don’t forget that. Kirk sure hasn’t.”

      “Fine. You’re right. I get it. Can we please talk about something else?”

      Her mother hesitated, then nodded. “I have a new client at MWF. I like her a lot.”

      “That’s nice. What kind of business does she have?”

      Pam talked about a nail salon, but Jen was only half listening. Part of her was still weirded out, thinking about her parents doing it. But the rest of her was more concerned about what her mother had said about men and sex. She and Kirk weren’t doing it much at all. Between his job and Jack and her being tired all the time, they’d fallen out of the habit. To be honest, she didn’t even miss it. But what about Kirk? What did he think?

      Damn Lucas, she thought. Damn him and all those young women. She knew he was giving her husband ideas. She just knew it. If she didn’t want to lose her husband to some young bimbo, she was going to have to do something. The question was what.

      * * *

      Four o’clock on Wednesday afternoon, Zoe sat in the shade of her patio and stared at her backyard. She’d always imagined the space with raised plant beds—the kind that would allow her to grow fruits and vegetables. But she had no idea where to place them or how to install them. She supposed she could ask some gardener person, but it seemed like the kind of project she should do herself.

      Her phone rang. She glanced at the number and didn’t recognize it.

      “Hello?”

      “Zoe? It’s Steven Eiland, Jen’s brother.”

      The information took a second to fall into place. Steven was also Pam’s son. Zoe had met him several times, including Jen’s wedding, where Zoe had been the maid of honor and Steven had been the best man.

      “Oh, hi,” she said. “What’s up?”

      “I was talking to my mom and she mentioned you’d bought a house. Congratulations on that.”

      “Thank you.” Why on earth would Pam be talking to Steven about her and her house? Before she could ask, he answered the question.

      “She told me your attic stairs are sticking and thought I might be able to help with that. I’m actually in the neighborhood. Mind if I stop by and take a look?”

      The unexpected request caught her by surprise. She hesitated before saying, “Uh, sure. That would be nice. Thank you.”

      “Great. I have the address. See you in ten.”

      “Okay. I’ll be here.”

      She hung up. That was odd—sweet of Pam, but strange. Still, Steven worked in the family plumbing business. No doubt he’d been raised to be handy. If nothing else, he could explain how big the job was going to be and what she should expect to pay when she hired a handyman. At least that way she wouldn’t have to worry about being screwed by someone.

      She scrambled to her feet and called for Mason. Her cat was lying in the sun and didn’t bother so much as flicking an ear in her direction.

      “I know you heard me,” she told him. “Let me be clear. I won’t be letting you in the house fifteen seconds from now.”

      The tip of his tail curled slightly. She had a feeling that was feline for “No one believes that. Least of all me.” Sadly, he was probably right.

      Zoe went into the house and wondered what she should do to get ready. The stairs were where they always were and it wasn’t as if she kept a bunch of stuff in the small hallway. Steven would have clear access to the attic.

      She knew Pam was behind his offer to help. Talk about a sweet mom-thing to do. Jen was so lucky to have Pam in her life. Zoe allowed herself a couple of minutes of missing her mother, before hearing a knock at the front door.

      She opened the door, prepared to greet Steven. After all, she’d known him for years. He was her best friend’s brother. She knew Steven was a couple of years younger than Jen, worked in the family business and that he always had a different woman on his arm. Beyond that, she didn’t know much of anything about him.

      Now, as she looked into his blue eyes, she realized that what she’d apparently forgotten was how good-looking he was. Had he always been so tall? So muscled? Had his smile always been so sexy?

      “Hey, Zoe. How’s it going?”

      She was aware of the sunlight kissing the top of his head and way he filled her until-this-moment-perfectly-big-enough doorway. He had on jeans and a long-sleeved shirt. She was in ratty cutoffs and an oversize T-shirt that might or might not have stains. Dear God, she hadn’t even bothered to comb her hair! Or shower!

      “Um, good,” she said as she stepped back to let him into the house. She’d always been on the short side and next to him, she felt positively dainty. As he moved past her, she caught a whiff of something yummy—like soap and pine and man. Her stomach clenched, her heart rate increased and she had the strangest need to start

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