really, to steal around his own kitchen in the dead of night eating leftovers when he could have sat down at the table earlier with Leah and Gracie like any sensible person. But he’d set the pattern Monday night, and he wasn’t sure how to break it without seeming obvious. Though obvious about what, he didn’t know.
He’d had a perfect right to join Leah and Gracie for dinner each of the preceding evenings. Not that anyone had kept him away except himself. After the time he’d spent with them that morning, he’d wanted to come home much sooner than he actually had.
He’d gotten sidetracked at the university lab, though, coping with first one unanticipated problem and then another as the afternoon wore on. He’d retreated to his office at last, when everything seemed to be under control, only to have his attention diverted again as he’d made an attempt to clear away part of the mountain of paperwork that had accumulated over the past several months.
It had been almost eight by the time he’d noticed the deepening shadows in the corners of his office and glanced at the clock on his desk to check the time. He could have left then, but all the mowing and raking he’d done earlier in the day finally seemed to have caught up with him. Suddenly he’d felt too tired to do more than stretch out on the old sofa he’d installed for just such an occasion. Just for a few minutes, he’d assured himself, only to awaken several hours later, rested and ready to eat.
The scent of Leah’s chicken and vegetables wafted from the microwave oven, making John’s mouth water and his stomach growl. He opened the door before the timer could beep, grabbed the plate and almost dropped it when the hot china burned his fingers. Muttering a curse, he jostled the plate from hand to hand until he could set in on the table, then he dug a knife and fork from the silverware drawer and grabbed an icy cold beer from the refrigerator.
He really had to try to get on a more reasonable schedule, he admonished himself, twisting the cap off the bottle. He’d be lucky to get back to sleep by three, and then, if their pattern continued, Leah and Gracie would be up at six, waking him, as well.
With a groan, half in pleasure at the wonderful taste of the chicken and half in anticipation of yet another bleary-eyed morning to come, John reached for his beer, tipped it back and took a long swallow, then another. A flicker of movement at the doorway to the den caught his eye, startling him.
He jerked with surprise, and the second swallow of beer went down his throat the wrong way. Eyes watering, he started to cough. Several moments passed before he managed to get his breath back. Then, as he wiped the tears from his eyes with the back of his hand, he realized he was no longer alone in the kitchen.
Leah stood in the doorway, a look of concern in her sleepy eyes. Her shiny brown hair was tousled in an enticingly touchable way, and she wore only an oversize black T-shirt with a silver lightning bolt across the front. The garment barely came to midthigh, accentuating her long, slender legs. To John, it looked sexier than any silk-and-satin nightgown might have.
First short denim shorts and a red tank top without benefit of a bra, then a black T-shirt that should have at least covered her knees. She was making him hot for her, hungry for her, in ways he couldn’t afford to be. And she was doing it innocently, without any overt provocation, because she wouldn’t know, couldn’t know from his behavior toward her so far how swiftly her place in his heart was being restored.
Eight years ago John hadn’t realized that with only the slightest shift in his awareness of Leah, his feelings for her would have quickly exceeded the normal bounds of friendship. He was older than she by several years, so he had assumed the role of her protector early on in their relationship and had taken her quiet, steady, faithful companionship not only at face value, but also for granted.
Then, just as he’d begun to realize Leah was no longer a girl, but a vibrant young woman on the verge of adulthood, Caro had come into their lives, so bright and so beautiful. He’d been dazzled by her, too dazzled to see the recklessness and irresponsibility in her nature, and the constant need to be amused, as well as amusing, that were also a part of her personality.
Even though Leah had been only eighteen, she’d actually been the one who embodied all the things he’d really needed. But imperceptive as he’d been at the time, not to mention ruled more by hormones than common sense, he’d wanted only Caro, and much to his later dismay, Caro had been the one he’d gotten.
“Hey, are you okay?” Leah asked, her soft voice filled with concern.
Instead of scurrying away as he’d thought she would, she joined him in the kitchen, obviously unaware or uncaring that she was intruding on his privacy. Considering her behavior the past few days, John would have bet on the latter. She’d toughened up quite a bit over the past eight years, his little Leah. Only, she wasn’t little anymore, and she certainly wasn’t his.
“I didn’t mean to wake you,” he said, allowing a gruff note into his voice, hoping to chase her back to bed.
“I made the mistake of falling asleep on the sofa earlier,” she replied. “By the time I got into bed, I wasn’t really that tired anymore, so I was half-awake already when I heard you come in.”
She sauntered past him, leaving a hint of lavender scent behind to tease him, opened the refrigerator door, then bent over gracefully to retrieve a beer for herself.
John sat frozen in place, his gaze riveted to the display of lacy panties her pose revealed. Only when she straightened again was he able to look away and quickly take several more slugs of his beer. By the time she’d pulled out a chair and joined him at the table, he had as much of his attention as possible focused on his plate of food.
“There’s some rice to go with the chicken if you want it,” she said. “I can get it for you. It’s in another container.”
“No, thanks. This is fine,” he hastened to assure her, not trusting what he might be tempted to do if he had to watch her bend over in front of the refrigerator again.
He ate another mouthful of chicken while she sipped her beer, then shot a glance her way and saw that she was watching him, not only openly, but intently. Though she was fully awake now, she still looked ready to be dragged back to bed. Feeling the heat rise in his cheeks, he looked down at his plate again.
He had never once thought of taking Leah to bed in the past. Well, he had a few times in the months just before he’d lost what wits he had over Caro. But he’d never let Leah know it, either by word or deed. And that had been years ago.
Even if he could justify initiating a sexual relationship after such a long time, he wasn’t foolish enough to think she’d agree to it. For one thing, her life was in Chicago, and for another, there surely had to be someone special with whom she shared that life—though John couldn’t imagine any man allowing Leah to go off to Montana for an entire summer without pitching a fit.
“Are you sure?” she asked, interrupting his train of thought.
“About what?” he shot back, afraid he’d missed something important she might have said.
“The chicken.”
“Oh, yeah, it’s fine, just like I said. More than fine. It’s really very, very good. Why?”
“You had a funny look on your face, that’s all,” she replied.
“It had nothing to do with the chicken or anything else important,” he assured her, desperate to ward off any further questions concerning his current state of mind. “You’re really quite
