Bittersweet (11 page)

For
some reason, seeing him now was disorienting and unsettling—as much as that
moment in the boat had been for her, but in a different way.

His
face and body were as attractive and masculine as ever as he sprawled there.
But his chest rose and fell with his slow breathing, and his face looked
unusually relaxed—almost innocent, if that word could ever be applied to a man
with as many layers as he had.

And
her son was asleep on top of him.

Zoe
slipped off her heels, since they made a lot of noise on the hardwood floors,
and she walked silently into her bedroom. There, she found more evidence of the
troubles Adam and Logan had this evening. Toys were scattered around—in what Zoe
imagined were various failed attempts to entertain the little boy—and a ball
that must have been thrown by Logan had knocked over some framed pictures on
the dresser.

Shaking
her head, Zoe picked up the toys and pictures and put them in their proper
places. Then she went back into the kitchen and entryway to pick up there too.
She tried to be as quiet as she could—strangely reluctant to wake up Adam—but
when she returned to the living room and leaned over to pick up one of Logan’s
sippy cups that had rolled next to the sofa, she saw Adam begin to stir.

She
tried to straighten up and move away, so she wasn’t hovering on top of him when
he woke up, but she didn’t move fast enough. Her eyes met his as she was bent
at the waist and reaching down for the cup, her head less than a foot from his.

To
her surprise, he smiled at her, an uncharacteristic fondness softening his eyes
and his expression. He obviously wasn’t fully awake, and none of his normal
defenses were up.

She
couldn’t help but smile back, drawn irresistibly to the warm, groggy man who
smiled at her that way.

Then
Adam shifted, discovered Logan sleeping on his chest, must have realized
exactly where he was and what he was doing. His expression changed. And the
softness of sleep left his eyes, leaving what looked like self-consciousness.

It
was a remarkable transformation, and Zoe was a little disoriented by it. But she
knew Adam would feel awkward about having fallen asleep, so she gave him a
bright smile and whispered, “Here—I’ll put him to bed.”

She
reached out to pick up Logan, gently carrying him to his crib in the bedroom
and taking longer than necessary to settle him there, so Adam could pull
himself together.

After
she’d taken care of Logan, she padded back out into the living room in her bare
feet. Adam was standing up, leaning over to pick up the last of the toys on the
floor.

“Hey,”
she said softly, “Looks like he didn’t behave very well.”

“He
was fine,” Adam replied, straightening up. His expression was his
characteristic one now—composure, control, a hint of irony.

Zoe
gave him a dubious look.

“All
right, he wasn’t terribly happy with my company, but we did all right.”

“Did
he get upset because I left?”

“Yeah.
I think that was it. He started crying then and didn’t want to eat. Then he
didn’t want to play very much either.”

Zoe
could interpret the reality behind Adam’s mild words. Logan must have thrown a
huge fit because his mother left, rebelling against his dinner and refusing to
be assuaged by any form of fun or comfort.  Poor Adam must have tried
everything and nothing had worked.

“Occasionally
he gets in that mood. There wouldn’t have been anything you could do.” She
smiled wistfully. “I’m sorry he was so bad. You probably never want to stay
with him again.”

“It
was fine. Sorry about the mess. I was going to clean up after Logan fell
asleep, but then he was on top of me and I was afraid of waking him up again.”

“The
mess was Logan’s fault. Not yours. You didn’t have to clean up. Thanks so much
for staying with him.”

“Did
you have a good time?” Adam asked, obviously ready to move on to another topic.

“Yeah.
We did. Thanks.”

When
she looked at him again, she caught his eyes scanning her body, lingering on
her bare feet. Something in his expression made her feel ridiculously
self-conscious again. She shifted from foot to foot and tried to think of
something to say.

Then
Adam’s eyes landed on her beautiful heels, left by themselves in the middle of
the floor where she’d taken them off. He shook his head. “Those are ludicrous
shoes, you know.”

Zoe
gasped, completely forgetting her self-consciousness in her outrage. “They are
not!”

“If
I were wearing them, I’d make every effort to go barefoot too. It’s a wonder
you don’t sprain your ankle.”

Zoe
huffed as she retrieved her beautiful shoes. “I will assume your insult to my
shoes is a response to Logan giving you a hard time this evening, so I’ll try
not to hold it against you.”

“Logan
didn’t give me a hard time,” Adam insisted, in what would have been a very
convincing lie if she hadn’t seen evidence to the contrary. “We did fine.”

For
some reason, Zoe was deeply touched by his stubborn refusal to admit what she
knew to be true. So, without thinking, Zoe reached over and pulled him into a
soft hug. “Thanks, Adam,” she murmured, her mouth close to his ear, “you’re a
really good uncle.”

Adam
hugged her back, his arms strong, his body lean and hard. He smelled
delicious—warm and masculine. He didn’t say anything in response, but he didn’t
really need to.

He
left shortly afterwards, and Zoe got ready for bed. And she went to sleep
thinking that it was really nice that Logan could have Adam for an uncle since he’d
never know his father.

She
hoped, even after Logan's bad behavior, Adam would want to babysit again.

***

Zoe tried to
drown out the sound of Logan playing with the ludicrously expensive 20-piece
set of toddler musical instruments that Adam had bought the boy for his first
birthday. At the moment, Logan was hitting the drum and blowing on the trumpet
simultaneously while Zoe was trying to get dressed.

The
resulting clamor delighted Logan as much as it drove Zoe crazy. It would serve Adam
right if Logan made this sort of racket with the instruments the entire time he
was babysitting this evening.

Adam
hadn’t stayed with Logan since that first time two months ago, when Logan had
thrown the temper-fit. Zoe had evening plans only once since then, and Adam had
been out of the country on business that weekend.

So
Zoe was praying that Logan would behave himself this time. He was two months
older now, and he seemed to adore his uncle. And Zoe really didn’t want Adam to
have to suffer through another miserable evening of Logan’s tantrums.

As
soon as Zoe pulled on the sleeveless, wine-colored top, she started to pull it
off again. The low v-neck and slinky fabric was very flattering, highlighting
her figure and her fair skin. But it was much sexier than anything she’d worn
in a really long time.

She
wouldn’t have given it a second thought a couple of years ago, but now the
overt sexiness made her feel uncomfortable.

But
Jane had told her to wear something appropriate for a night on the town, and
the top did look really good when paired with the dark jeans Zoe wore and with the
gorgeous heels she’d bought last week. Zoe smoothed down her hair, put on some
lipstick, and was unexpectedly thrilled by how great she looked.

It
was a warm evening, but she put on a thin silk cardigan sweater so she wouldn’t
feel so self-conscious about her revealing top. She buttoned the cardigan in a
way that covered most of her cleavage, deciding she’d unbutton it later in the
evening when it felt more appropriate.

Satisfied
that she was suitably dressed for an evening out with Jane and a few other
friends to celebrate the fact that she’d gotten a job, Zoe crouched on the
floor next to Logan and said cheerfully, “Do you want to play with Uncle Adam
today?”

Logan
paused in his enthusiastic blowing of the trumpet and looked at her gravely.
“Cla Lala.”

“Yes.
Uncle Lala. Do you want to play with him this evening?”

“Cla
Lala!” Logan exclaimed, this time with enthusiasm. He heaved himself up and ran
out of the bedroom and toward the main door of the apartment.

Zoe
followed him, watching as he fell and picked himself up once on his way to the
door. “He’s not here yet,” she told him.

Logan
stood at the door and looked back at her over his shoulder. “Lala.” His mouth
wobbled a little, and Zoe hoped she hadn’t gotten him keyed up about Adam’s
arrival too soon.

“Soon,”
she said with a smile, “He’ll be here soon. Are you hungry?” She put her
fingers to her mouth to emphasize the word. “Hungry.”

Logan,
easily diverted by the promise of food, followed Zoe eagerly and rather
clumsily into the kitchen. She was about to put him in his chair when the
doorman called up to tell her that Adam had arrived.

So
they went back to let Adam in.

“Hey,”
she greeted him with a wide smile. “Thanks for coming over.”

“No
problem.” He gave her a quick once-over and then his eyes shifted down to Logan
beside her. “Hi, Logan.”

Thus
prompted, Logan burst out into a long, babbling tirade that was earnest and
loud and absolutely incomprehensible. It was punctuated by a few gestures toward
the kitchen and several hits of his mouth with his little hand.

When
there was a pause in the monologue, Adam arched his eyebrows. “Is that right?
It sounds like you’ve been sorely put upon this evening. I'm sorry to hear it.”

Logan
gasped out some more wordless syllables and started running toward the kitchen.
He fell onto his hands and knees, hauled himself up, turned around and ran back
to Adam, tugged at his pants, and then turned back around and ran toward the
kitchen.

“I
believe my presence is required in the kitchen,” Adam said at last, after
having observed this performance with focused attention.

“He’s
not pleased that your arrival delayed his supper,” Zoe explained. “I was just
starting to get things out for him.”

Adam
chuckled. “I would be displeased too.”

They
went back into the kitchen, and Zoe finished putting out Logan’s dinner while Adam
swung him up into his chair in a way that made the boy squeal with excitement.
Determined to do better this time, Zoe kept her instructions and explanations
for Adam to a minimum, since he knew his way around the apartment and knew how
to contact her if he needed her.

“Do
you know where you’re going?” Adam asked, as Logan began to eat with deep
concentration the green beans Zoe had given him.

“Jane
is planning the evening. I’m just along for the ride.” She leaned down to pick
up a green bean Logan had dropped and tossed it into the trash can. The move
caused the remaining button on her cardigan to come undone and the silk sweater
fell open. She hardly registered the fact until she turned back around toward Adam.

She
saw his black eyes widen as they took in her appearance, lingering on her
generous cleavage. His whole body tensed palpably. “You’re wearing
that
?”
he asked, his voice thicker than normal.

Zoe’s
spine stiffened. “What do you mean? Of course, I’m wearing this. What’s wrong
with it?”

“It
might be appropriate for the bedroom,” he said, an inexplicable intensity
smoldering in his gaze and disapproval in his expression, “but hardly for an
appearance in public.”

Zoe
gasped indignantly at both his presumption and his censure and had to force
herself not to rebutton her cardigan to hide her offending cleavage. “It's not
that bad. Don’t be ridiculous. It’s a perfectly normal outfit for an evening
out.”

Adam
opened his mouth to make further objection, but then he cut himself off with a
jerk of his head. He looked away, breathing rapidly, his face slightly flushed
with his annoyance.

Zoe
was deeply upset by his reaction. She'd thought she looked really good. She’d
been excited about feeling pretty and sexy again, and he was acting like she
was a naughty preteen trying to dress up like a grown-up.

Her
voice was slightly hushed when she spoke again. Although Logan probably
couldn’t understand anything they said, she still didn’t want him to hear. “I’m
allowed to act and dress like a normal woman.”

Adam
swallowed so hard she saw it in his throat. He still wasn’t looking at her. “I
know you are.”

“Sometimes
I feel like I’m…like I’m betraying him every time I try to start my life again,
but I have to. I
have
to.”

“I
know you do.” His voice was still thick and hoarse, but it didn’t sound angry
anymore. “I didn’t mean to imply you shouldn’t.”

“It’s
not like I’m going to pick up some guy at a club. I just want to look…look
good.”

“You
do look good.”

He
wasn’t even looking at her, so she wasn’t sure whether she should believe him
or not. But at least he wasn’t acting so disapproving anymore.