To Love An Older Man. Debbi Rawlins
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her. As she’d pointedly informed him, she was not a child. She could take care of herself, even though she looked as if she were fifteen.
He knew what was really bothering him. His birthday was coming up next month. The big one. And his mother had some awful notion that she should have a huge party for him. As if turning forty was something to celebrate.
Well, there wouldn’t be any damn party, even if he had to take off to Hawaii for the weekend. He glanced over at Beth, who’d turned back to staring out the window. Maybe she was just the distraction his mother needed.
He slowed as they approached the security gate at the bottom of his driveway. Beth gasped when he started to punch in the code to let them in, and he darted her a look.
“You live here?” Her eyes were wide with surprise, her lips curved.
He followed her gaze toward the house, or at least what could be seen of it through the trees and darkness. There were a lot of lights on but he wasn’t sure what had interested her. “This is home, all right.”
“It’s huge, and there are so many lights and windows. Can you see the ocean from there?”
“It’s built into the hill but we have a pretty good view of the bay from most rooms.” He finished putting in the code and watched the gate slowly swing open.
As he drove up the winding driveway his gaze drew to the house. He’d had it built as high on the hill as possible for maximum view and privacy with more windows than was probably prudent. He had to admit, the place did look quite impressive with all the lights blazing through the trees. It had been a long time since he’d noticed or appreciated its simple beauty.
“Gosh, this is incredible.” Beth continued to stare, wide-eyed as they rounded a curve into a clearing before the garden crawled up the slope to the house. “Keeping this place in shape must take all your weekends.”
David laughed, but then realized she was serious when she darted him an odd look.
She made a face. “That was silly of me. Of course you have someone to help you with all this.”
Help? He cleared his throat. Not only had he never set foot in the garden, he couldn’t tell one flower from another. He hit the garage-door opener and impatiently edged the car in while the door lifted.
As soon as they got inside, Beth would be his mother’s problem. She’d love every second of the fussing, and he could get to work. In his den. Alone. The thought held enormous appeal. Not that Beth was a bother but he liked routine, and having her beside him for the past half hour was anything but normal.
He parked, turned off the engine and unfastened his seat belt. Beth sat motionless. He glanced over. She was pale.
“What’s wrong?”
She winced. “Nothing, really.”
“Why are you holding your stomach?”
“It’s nothing.”
David hesitated, unsure what to do. Should he press her? Assume it really was nothing? Where the hell was his mother?
Beth laid a hand on his arm. “Don’t worry. It’s not the baby or anything. I’m just a little carsick.”
Her touch was gentle, featherlight, yet it sparked an odd sensation in him. Quickly he shifted away and got out of the car. “I may have taken the curves too fast. I wish you’d said something.”
“I’m sorry.”
“No need to apologize. I didn’t mean to—” He shook his head and went around the car to open her door. First opportunity he got, he was going to fire Tom Snyder’s ass. The guy had been such a jerk to the poor girl; she thought she had to apologize for getting sick.
She’d already opened her door and swung her legs out of the car by the time he got there. He stopped and stared at her shapely calves and slim ankles. She was short but all legs. Great legs.
Fortunately she was too busy trying to hold her stomach and lift herself out of the car to notice him staring. His reaction disgusted him. He had no business wondering what the rest of her looked like under that big coat. None whatsoever.
“Here.” He offered her a hand.
“I’m okay, but if you’d get my bag I’d appreciate it.” Her gaze warily slid up the stairs going to the kitchen door.
Hell, he’d forgotten about that. The garage had been built under the house and his mother sometimes complained the stairs were too steep.
He stood aside while she got out by herself but as they approached the stairs he took her elbow.
She didn’t protest, but simply held the railing with one hand and her tummy with the other. He hoped she was right, and that her queasiness was a result of carsickness. That would pass within an hour.
“I’m really not such a wimp, you know,” she said, a little breathless, as she looked over at him.
Her eyes were the clearest blue he’d ever seen and her skin was nearly flawless. Her face was still pale but some rest and a good meal would probably take care of that.
“Not for a moment have I thought of you as a wimp. Watch your step.”
“Oops.” She faltered, but he tightened his hold on her elbow and she leaned into him.
A subtle fragrance drifted up from her hair. Jasmine. Or maybe gardenia. He inhaled deeply. Definitely jasmine. “Okay?”
She nodded and straightened. “My coat’s too big. I almost tripped on the hem.” She looked up at him, her eyes so innocent and blue and something stirred inside him.
“We’ll have to do something about that,” he murmured, thrown off balance by the sudden urge he had to pick her up and carry her the rest of the way up the stairs.
“David?”
At his mother’s voice, he looked up at the top of the stairs. She stood at the open door, a perplexed look on her face as her gaze slid between him and Beth.
He quelled the asinine impulse to release Beth. But they’d done nothing wrong. “Hi, Mother, I hope I’m not keeping you awake.”
“Nonsense.” She smiled at Beth, and then stepped back to hold the door open for them. “He didn’t worry about keeping me awake forty years ago,” she said, winking at Beth. “The little monster kept me in labor for thirty-two hours.”
Beth darted a surprised look at him.
He glared at his mother. He wasn’t forty yet.
“Mother, this is Beth—” He stopped when he realized he had no idea what Beth’s last name was.
“Anderson.”
“I’m Maude.”
He breathed a sigh of relief as the women took over. Or more accurately, his mother had taken charge. She ushered Beth through the laundry room to the kitchen, sat her down and got her a glass of water. Ida was already in the kitchen, stirring something in a pot. It smelled like her homemade chicken soup. David hadn’t had any in ages.
“Be a love and put Beth’s bag in the blue guest room,” his mother said, “and then come back down and have something to eat.”
She gave him only a brief glance and then all her attention went back to Beth who looked a bit overwhelmed. David didn’t bother telling her he’d had a late lunch and would have a snack later while he worked in his den. He seldom got home early enough to eat dinner at home. Anyway, she was already busy tending to Beth, looking more animated than he’d seen her in a long time.
He carried the bag to the first floor guest room, and then went to his own room upstairs to get out of his suit. At least two hours of work waited for him in his briefcase and…
His briefcase—he’d left it in the car.
Dammit.