Susan Mallery Fool's Gold Series Volume One: Chasing Perfect\Almost Perfect\Sister of the Bride\Finding Perfect (62 page)

“Spike my drink?”

He grinned. “You got it.”

* * *

D
INNER AT THE
H
ENDRIX HOUSE
was loud and fun and delicious. By the time the kitchen had been cleaned up—a job complicated by too many people trying to
help—dessert eaten and more pictures viewed—this time of Ethan as a boy—it was nearly ten.

Ethan insisted on walking them all home. There were hugs for Denise and the triplets, promises to do this again soon, and then they were out in the cool, clear night.

Once they arrived, Liz herded the kids upstairs to get ready for bed, then turned to Ethan.

“We all had a great time,” she began. “Please thank your mom for the—”

Anything else she'd been planning to say was cut off when he kissed her. He cupped her face in both his hands, then pressed his mouth to hers. She reacted instinctively, moving closer, parting her lips and hanging on because kissing Ethan was always a hell of a ride.

He didn't disappoint. After dropping his hands to her waist, he hauled her against him. His tongue invaded, taking and teasing, exploring and exciting. She felt the heat pouring through her body, the wanting. Just being near him was tempting enough, but actually touching him made her knees weak. She was hungry, but not just for sex. What burned inside her was need for this specific man.

She leaned into him and deepened the kiss. He responded in kind, their tongues stroking frantically. He moved his hands to her breasts and cupped the curves. His thumbs brushed against her tight, sensitive nipples, making her groan.

There was a noise from upstairs. As if something had fallen. They weren't alone.

Reluctantly, she pulled back and he let her go. They stared into each other's eyes, their breathing hard.

“Damn,” he murmured.

“Double damn.”

She thought he might ask to come back later, but he didn't, which relieved her. Given the fact that she was still sleeping on the sofa, that there wasn't any privacy in the house and that things were still unresolved, she knew making love would be a mistake.

“I should go,” he said.

She nodded.

“I had a good time tonight,” he told her.

“Me, too. And I didn't expect to.”

He grinned. “I won't tell my mother.”

“Thanks.” She raised herself up on tiptoes and brushed her mouth against his. “I'll see you soon.”

“I look forward to it.”

He released her and left. She waited until she was sure he was gone, then stepped out on the porch into the darkness.

The night air cooled her heated skin. She brushed her fingers against her lips, as if she could recreate the feelings. But nothing would be the same as kissing Ethan. Reluctantly, she went back inside and started up the stairs to say good-night to her family.

* * *

S
UNDAY MORNING
L
IZ DUG OUT AN
old waffle maker and mixed batter. Tyler rose early, as he always did, while the girls slept in.

“Last night was fun,” he commented as he set the table, then carefully poured juice. “Did you see those old pictures of Dad? I really look like him.”

“I know. That's what I thought when you were a baby—that you looked just like your dad.”

“We're going riding later,” her son continued with a grin. “He's showing me some really sweet tricks and stuff. He says I've got talent. I don't know if I want to get serious and race professionally, but it's so much fun.”

Tyler glanced down, then back at her. “In a couple of years, I'll be old enough to go to racing school. Dad knows Josh Golden. He's this really famous racer and he runs the school and everything.”

Hero-worship, she thought wryly. That was new. “I know Josh. I went to high school with him.”

Tyler's mouth drooped. “So he's like really old, huh?”

Liz winced. “Hey, not so old. Although he's a couple years older than me.”

“But he could still teach me stuff. Only if we don't live here, I guess I couldn't go.”

Great. So now it wasn't just Melissa and Abby who didn't want to move. “You can't go to the school for a few years, so let's not worry about that now.”

Tyler hesitated. “But if we moved here, I could.”

“Yes. I get it. Let's move on.”

Her son sighed, then nodded. “Dad says because I'm so good in math and science, that I could study a lot of different things in college. Like engineering or maybe do research.”

They were discussing his college plans?

“Maybe you should think about finishing high school first.”

“Oh, Mom. Plans are important. And goals. It's a guy thing.”

“Girls don't have goals?” she asked as she poured the batter into the heated grid.

“I guess some do, but some just want to be pretty.”

“And some guys are only into playing video games and partying.”

“Sure, but that's different.”

Her son, the sexist, she thought, faintly annoyed. Apparently there needed to be more conversations about equality and tolerance. Perhaps Ethan should be the one doing the explaining. Then he could be more than the fun parent.

While she appreciated that Ethan and Tyler got along so well, she knew they were a long way from being father and son. Right now Ethan was entertaining and new. He'd yet to have to make any hard decisions, to stand up to Tyler or punish him.

“How is it different?” she asked.

“Guys don't care about how they look and girls don't care about computer games. Melissa takes forever in the bathroom.”

“Abby plays with you.”

“But there are more girls like Melissa than there are like Abby.”

“You know this how? Did you take a survey?”

He frowned. “You're mad. Why?”

She checked on the cooking waffles. “Because you're making statements about people that may or may not be true. You're assuming a lot. It's easy to say a group of people always acts a certain way, but it's not accurate.”

“But why does it matter?”

“Because people are a lot more alike than they are different. The biggest problems we have in this world are because of what we assume about each other. People make decisions based on appearance or gender or race, without getting to know anyone in that group. Or they have a very limited sample. Then they say things and other people hear them and start to believe them. Pretty soon we have a cultural bias that affects all kinds of decisions.”

Tyler stared at her blankly.

Liz shook her head. “Let me try it another way. When Melissa and Abby move to San Francisco with us, Abby will be in your school, right?”

He nodded.

“She's from a small town. Let's say a few students and teachers think that people from small towns are stupid. So they find out about Abby transferring and they tell everyone at the school that Abby is stupid. Is that right or fair?”

Tyler's eyes widened. “Abby's not stupid. She's really smart and nice and fun. She's my friend.”

“I understand that, but so what? You said it didn't
matter if you said something about someone that wasn't true.”

He was quiet for a few seconds. “They'll hurt Abby's feelings and I'll get mad. And if I act out because I'm mad, I could get into trouble. And all my friends will help me and they'll get in trouble.”

“That's a big mess,” Liz said as she used a fork to pop the waffle onto a plate. “All because someone believed something that wasn't true.”

“I guess it does matter what we say, huh?”

“Yeah. And a little word can have a big impact. The difference between
all
and
some.
‘All girls don't care about computer games' is really different than ‘Some girls don't care about computer games.'”

“Okay. So when I said girls don't have goals, I was wrong. Some boys don't have goals.”

“Exactly.” She passed him the waffle.

He grinned at her. “You're really smart.”

“Thank you.”

“You're probably the smartest mom in the whole world.”

She laughed. “That's very possibly true.”

* * *

L
IZ HAD LIVED THROUGH CABINETS
being torn out, carpet being ripped up, drywall installation and insistent banging of hardwood floors being laid. But the noise that finally drove her out of the house was the high-pitched scream of a tile saw.

She took her laptop and a blanket to the far end of
the yard and stretched out in the shade of a tree. The sound was still intense, but not so distracting.

She glanced up at the house. Even from here, she could see the changes. What had once been poured foundation and a few attempts at framing had become a real room attached to the house. The master suite was nearly complete. When it was, she might think about moving off the sofa.

Inside, the kitchen gleamed, the fresh paint added a brightness and the carpet was plush. The house had come a long way since she'd first arrived in town. It was practically new.

But no matter how many changes occurred, she couldn't seem to shake the sense of doom and defeat when she walked inside. Maybe the memories were just too strong. Whatever the cause, this house would never be her home. Staying or leaving, she would move out as soon as possible.

She returned her attention to her computer. After loading her word processing program, she started to read the pages she'd finished the previous day.

It only took a few minutes to get back into the story. She glanced at her plotting notes, then began to type. The serial killer in this book targeted teenaged boys. The scene took place at a high school basketball game and she closed her eyes to imagine what it would sound like and feel like to be in that gym during an important game.

Two hours later, she leaned against the tree. The scene was nearly finished, her back ached from the un
comfortable position and the tile saw had grown mercifully silent. All in all, a pretty decent morning's work.

The back door of her house opened and Ethan stepped onto the patio. He had a bottle of water in each hand.

God, he looked good, she thought as she took in the faded jeans, the long legs and narrow hips. He moved with an easy masculine grace—a man comfortable in his own skin.

“Couldn't stand the noise?” he guessed.

“They defeated me with the tile saw.”

“And here I thought you were indestructible.” He offered her a bottle, then settled across from her on the blanket.

“Not all the time.” She glanced at the house. “They're doing great work. Thank you for that.”

“You're welcome. I have a good team.” He pointed at her computer. “How's the book going?”

“Good. I'm finally into it enough to make the writing easier. The beginning is always a nightmare. Figuring out who everyone is, why they're doing what they do. That sort of thing.”

“You make it sound like work,” he teased.

She mock glared at him. “Don't make me hurt you. We both know I could.”

“I'm trembling in fear.”

They smiled at each other and she felt a quiver low in her belly.

“Are you going to keep killing me?” he asked.

“I wasn't, but I've changed my mind.”

“What did I do?” he inquired, looking all innocent.

“What didn't you do? You're raising my son to be sexist and judgmental when it comes to women.”

Ethan stared at her. “What are you talking about?”

“Girls don't have goals? Since when? I know he got that from you.”

Ethan groaned. “I didn't mean it like that. We were talking about how important it is to set goals. To figure out what you want and just go for it.”

“And?”

He shrugged. “I might have said something about girls not being interested in anything but fashion and talking on the phone.”

“If I didn't need my laptop, I'd throw it at you.”

“I'm sorry. It was just one of those things guys say to each other.”

“Tyler isn't a guy. He's a kid and he adores you. As far as he's concerned, everything you said to him is ultimate truth.”

Ethan looked both pleased and chagrined. “Okay. You're right. I need to think before I speak.”

She opened her mouth to say more, then closed it. “Excuse me?”

“You're right. I shouldn't have said that. In fact there's a lot of things I regret. Like the injunction. I should have talked to you first. I was upset. That's not the best time to make an important decision.”

“Well, damn. If you're going to take responsibility and express regret, how can I keep yelling at you?”

One corner of his mouth turned up. “You'll find a reason. Then you can kill me off in your book again.”

She smirked, raising her eyebrows. “Maybe I already did.”

He laughed, then took a drink of water. “You're good, you know. Those books. They're extraordinary.”

His compliment warmed her. “Thank you.”

“You have a detective you talk to?”

She nodded. “I met her at Tyler's preschool. She was picking up her daughter and we started talking. She reads my manuscripts and tells me where I get it wrong.”

“She's a mother?”

Liz put aside her laptop, stretched out her arm and slapped him on the shoulder. “What is it with you? Nevada is female and she's an engineer. Why is that okay but you're a pig about other women?”

He grabbed her hand and pulled her onto the blanket next to him, then rolled her onto her back.

“I don't have a problem with women,” he said leaning over her. “I said mother not woman. I never thought of a detective as having a family.”

“You wouldn't. They usually don't show the home life on TV.”

“Are you saying I'm shallow?” he asked with a grin. “You're awfully arrogant for someone completely in my power.”

“You only think I'm in your power.”