A Mother For His Adopted Son. Lynne Marshall
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He sat, but not before removing the dishes from his tray and balancing that against the leg of the table. From this angle he could see the book was a biography on the artist Jackson Pollock. “Reading picture books, I see. No wonder you and Dani got along so well.” He could always manage superficial conversations easily enough, had learned early on it was a survival technique in the foster care system, which had been pointed out to him by his “mom” when he’d tried the old you-can’t-reach-me routine at first. The quiet and withdrawn kids got moved around more than the ones who knew how to socialize. All he wanted to do was prove he was worth keeping. That was the truth.
She rolled her eyes at his awful attempt at humor. “America’s cowboy artist. Our very own van Gogh, torment and all.” She closed the book and gave all of her attention to him. He liked that. Her naturally beautiful eyes were less distracted by makeup today, which he definitely also liked.
“How’s our project going?” He pushed around the green beans rather than taking a bite, then decided to pile them on top of the piece of fish, thinking it might help the bland cafeteria food have a little more flavor that way.
“I’m off to a good start. I’ll need to see Dani again, though, to exactly fit the wax mold.”
“I can have my sister bring him by this afternoon, if you’d like.” Yeah, piling the food together hadn’t helped enhance the flavor at all, but watching Andrea, hearing her voice, made the taste far more palatable. Next he dug into his salad.
“I should be able to work that in. Can she bring him around two-thirty?”
“I’ll see.” He got out his mobile phone and texted Cat, his foster sister, the one he felt closest to. Being a mother of two toddlers herself, plus the fact she lived five miles from him, it’d made sense to ask her to be his child-care provider when his parental leave came to an end and he had to go back to work. Not to mention the fact that her husband, Buddy, a welder, had agreed to her staying at home with their kids. They lived on a tight budget, and she could use the extra income that watching Dani brought. The way he saw it, it was a win-win situation.
Andrea took a dainty bite of her salad, and he smiled at her, then tore into his roll, slathering it with butter, then taking a bite. “So, do you eat here every day?”
“Not usually, but I came in early today to start Dani’s mold and forgot to pack a lunch.”
“Thanks for that.” He got a return on his text. “She’ll be here. Now I’ll have to explain that you’re located in the dungeon next to the ghoulish morgue.” He finished his text and looked up to see her studying him. Had he been insensitive about her department and its location? Had he insinuated that hers was an inferior department? Hell, it didn’t even have windows, even when right at this moment in time it was the most important department in the whole hospital for him and his son. “I’m sorry if that sounded mean. I have jerk tendencies. I blame it totally on the influence of four brothers.”
“You do have a big family, I can’t argue with that.”
“Crazy big, but it made me who I am. Major flaws and all.” He grinned at her and really liked what she returned. “Sorry.” If he’d offended her about her department being in no man’s land, she’d easily forgiven him, judging by the sweet smile that highlighted those gorgeous lips. He allowed himself a moment or two to check them out. And when was the last time he’d gotten carried away with wild ideas by a woman’s mouth?
He took another bite of his food to distract him from thinking of what it would feel like to kiss her. “This has got to be the worst lunch I’ve had in a long time,” he said, to cover his real thoughts. But thanks for that luscious mouth of yours.
“The salad’s not bad.”
He pushed his plate aside and pulled the salad bowl closer, deciding to take her up on her tip and stick with that and the roll. “Right about now I’m dreaming about Thai food.”
“I love Thai food.” She matched him bite for bite with the salad.
“Yeah? You like pineapple fried rice? Pad Thai?”
“Love it, and satay, peanut sauce, all of it.”
“But have you ever had coconut curry with braised chicken and egg noodles?”
“No, and now my mouth is watering, thank you very much.” She played with her salad, no longer taking bites.
“Sorry. Didn’t mean to ruin your lunch, but sometime I’m going to have to take you to Hollywood Boulevard for my new favorite dish.”
She tossed him a questioning glance over the vague remark. And, yes, he was testing the water. Playing it safe was a knack he’d developed, and always preferable to getting rejected.
“Uh, yes, I guess theoretically that was an invitation. You interested?”
“Well, you can’t very well dangle coconut curry in front of me like that without inviting me. Theoretically speaking, that is. It wouldn’t be polite.”
“Agreed. And we both know I’m nothing if not polite.” Considering their rocky beginnings, with his being pushy, demanding and rude and her giving him a taste of his own medicine right back, his absurd comment hit the mark and she laughed. He joined her. Good. She had a sense of humor. He’d try to keep her smiling, because she really was gorgeous to watch that way. “Truth is, since adopting Dani I don’t get out much anymore. So are you really up for this?”
“Absolutely. But who’ll watch Dani?”
Thoughtful of her to wonder. “I’ll ask Cat again, since I haven’t introduced him to Thai food yet.” And I’d like time alone with you.
“Okay. Theoretically, that sounds good.”
“Yeah, some Dutch beer, coconut curry—heaven.”
“I know it’s a gazillion calories, but I prefer Thai iced tea.”
“Chicks.” He tossed his paper napkin across the remaining half of his salad. “Only a lady would pass up good Dutch beer for sweet tea.” He wasn’t sure why he liked to tease her so much, but the instant she grinned he remembered. They were having something he’d almost forgotten. Fun.
“My prerogative.” She feigned being insulted. “And guys. Always competitive. Please, don’t tell me you’ll force me into a hot curry tasting contest. I’m not one of your brothers.”
He leaned forward and gazed into her truly enticing eyes. “How do you know us so well? You have a bunch of brothers, too?”
She shook her head. “Nope. I’m an only child.”
“Really? I don’t know many of those. What’s it like to have a house all to yourself. To know what the sound of a pin dropping is? To never have to cross your legs and dance around in the hallway, waiting for the bathroom?”
After a brief and polite smile on the last comment she went serious, met his gaze and held it. “Lonely?”
That answer made him sad. He knew that kind of loneliness, plus fear, having been left alone at night for a couple of years before he’d been taken away from his mother—he hated the memory and tried to suppress it as much as possible—plus, he wanted to put a positive spin on the conversation to keep things upbeat. “And quiet. I bet it was really quiet at your house, you lucky dog.” Though the quiet used to scare him to death as that left-behind kid.
She’d finished her lunch and moved her salad bowl away to prove it. “So you grew up in a noisy house, big deal. Isn’t that why they invented earbuds and playlists?”
Being around her kept him from going to that old and awful place in his mind.
“Headphones back then at my house with portable CD players. And anytime I used them one of my brothers would sneak up and pull them off my head. Made me all flinchy, waiting. Couldn’t even enjoy the music.”
He’d made her laugh lightly again