Her Dakota Summer (4 page)

In the corner of the main counter, the rice cooker bubbled with purpose. She’d added an extra cup of rice than she usually did to accommodate not only Dakota, but the increased appetites of both her children.
It must be all the exercise that they’re getting.
She turned her concentration back to veggie slicing, determined to have the prep finished by five. As she worked, the sliding door opened and Jackson shot through the kitchen, his towel around his neck, yelling and brandishing a dripping wet lacrosse stick. Malcolm came next, dragging his hockey stick behind him, towel wrapped around his waist. Both of them left wet footprints on the floor.

Celeste glanced up from her cutting board. “Malcolm, make sure you and Jackson take your wet bathing suits down to the laundry room.”

“All right, Mom.”

What happened to
Mommy
? Now it was
Mom
? Celeste turned her attention back to her vegetable prep. It seemed just a year ago he’d been hopping and bopping about like Jackson. Now, he was creeping up on her height and was calling her ‘Mom’.

When Dakota entered the kitchen, she was disappointed to see that he had put a shirt on, but that gorgeous hair was damp and slightly wavy around his shoulders.

Celeste raised her eyebrows. “I expected you to come through with a baseball bat or at least better armed than with mere towels.” She began separating the vegetables, watching him out of the corner of her eye as he bent and mopped the wet floor with the towel. “You’re out-gunned.”

“These towels are weapons enough.” He winked at her. “One good snap, and that’s it.” He glanced over her array of peppers, carrots, scallions and broccoli. “Making stir fry?”

“It’s what’s for dinner.”

“Need help? They can handle changing on their own.”

“What about you?” As soon as the words left her mouth, she realized her error. That and the half-smile that appeared on Dakota’s face only compounded her embarrassment. She hurried to clarify. “I mean, don’t you want to change?”

“I’m fine,” he said. “If you need me, I’m here.”

The worst thoughts raced through her mind.
Does he realize what he‘s saying?
Too many double meanings were flying around, clouding her judgment and her good sense. She should have held out for a petulant woman-child or an old, gray spinster type. Dakota was too much for her to handle. And she suspected he knew it.

“Perfectly all right, Dakota. You go and do what you need to do and I’ll have dinner on the table.” She opened the cabinet where the plates were stored.

“Your wish is my command.” He gave her a little half-bow and left the kitchen.

As soon as he’d cleared the doorway, she placed the dishes on the counter then rinsed her shaking hands. The promise of hot, naughty sex oozed from every pore of Dakota’s body and he wasn’t shy about offering himself up to her. Celeste splashed water on her face. Her skin was hot to the touch and if she closed her eyes, she could swear she felt the whisper of his hands on her arms.

Celeste gripped the stainless steel edge of the sink.
Get a grip! He’s your nanny, not your boyfriend.
His scent lingered in the kitchen and she decided she had to get out of there, at least for a moment. She turned from the sink and remembered she’d wanted to run the washing machine before she cooked. Plus, she had to check to see if the boys had taken their wet bathing suits downstairs.

With these thoughts on her mind, she exited the kitchen, rounded the corner of the hallway and bumped smack into Dakota.

“Whoa,” he said and grabbed her by the arms.

A bolt of hot desire rushed through her that was so strong it left her shaken. “Excuse me,” she gasped and grabbed the edge of the doorway to steady herself. His hands were surprisingly warm and gentle.

“You okay?” He held her arms until she nodded then released her. “Now I see where Jackson gets it from. You move fast, Celeste.”

Ears buzzing, Celeste took a deep breath, wondering if it were possible for her to be having a heart attack. She was certainly in that age range, and the health program she’d watched last week had said women often have no symptoms. Passing out would be the frosting on the cake. She could see it now—passed out on the hallway rug, Dakota giving her mouth to mouth. Maybe he would have to open her shirt to make sure she was still breathing, because at this moment in time she wasn’t sure herself.

“Celeste?” Dakota touched her wrist. “That was a joke.”

The touch was supposed to reassure her, but it served only to accelerate the racing of her blood through her veins.
Hot flashes.
I’m just having a hot flash
.

“I’m fine.” She gave him a smile that felt like more of a baring of teeth than an actual expression of happiness. “Totally fine.” Making an abrupt about-face, she forced her trembling legs to take her back to the kitchen, all thoughts of the laundry room forgotten.

Dakota trailed behind her. “Sit down,” he said, guiding her to a seat. “Relax for a minute.” He filled a glass from the water pitcher and pushed it toward her.

Celeste took a small sip and looked across the table at him. The water kicked her mind back in gear. “You need to wear a bell around your neck,” she said, only half-joking.

“If that’s what you like.” He gave her a wicked grin.

Before she could react to that, a dry Jackson, clad in shirt and shorts, bounced into the kitchen, tugged open the refrigerator and pulled out two juice boxes. “Mommy, we’re going to play downstairs.” He left the kitchen without looking at the two of them.

“I need to get this dinner done, once and for all.”

“I’ll go down and check on the crew, make sure they haven’t unlocked the movie channels yet.”

Malcolm had a skill for guessing her passwords. She was glad that with Dakota there, he wouldn't be tempted to try.

“Of course.” Celeste got up from the table and went to carve up a final carrot that had somehow eluded her knife. But her hands were shaking and the blade slipped, slicing her finger. “Oh,” she said in a quiet voice as the blood dripped into the sink.
Of all the silly things to do.
She frowned at her cut finger, at a loss at what to do. She couldn’t reach the paper towels from where she stood and she didn’t want to smear blood all over the kitchen.

Behind her, she heard Dakota’s voice as he came back into the kitchen and over to the cabinet next to the sink. “I’m just going to get them some— What happened?” He snatched a paper towel off the decorative holder. Turning on the cold water with one hand, with the other he thrust her bleeding finger under the chilly flow. The pain hit her and she pressed her lips together to keep from crying out.

“I just need a bandage, that’s all.”

Dakota gave her a grim smile. “You need a little more than just a bandage. First we have to stop the bleeding and see what we’re working with here.”

The cold water stemmed the flow of blood and Dakota wrapped the paper towel around her finger. “Sit.” He guided her back to the table and sat her down, then left the kitchen.

Celeste sat and stared at the white paper towel wound around her finger. If she could dig a hole and crawl into it, she would. She heard him call down to the boys, checking on them, then he re-entered the kitchen with the first aid kit.

“Let me see.” Dakota peeled off the impromptu dressing and dropped it onto the table. After a moment of examination, he nodded. “It’s not that bad. You don’t need stitches.” He picked up a tube of instant glue and showed it to her. “We’ll put this on first, then apply the bandage.”

“You’re going to glue it shut.” Her voice was flat.

“It’s a slice. They don’t close very easily. The glue’ll keep it closed until it heals.”

Tension stiffened her body and she tried to take her hand back but he held on tight. “Will it hurt?”

“No.” He laughed a little. “It’s not a deep cut, so no.” He pulled the cap off the glue, distributed four dots along the cut and swiped his finger across it, sealing it closed. “Superman or Batman?”

“What?”

“Your bandage.”

“Oh. Ah, Batman.” The application was quick and efficient. She examined her new Batman bandage and grinned like a teenager. “It’s very nice. I like it.”

“It suits you.” He cleaned up the area. “Going downstairs to make sure all is well.”

“I’ll let you know when dinner is ready.”

Celeste sat at the table for a moment to gather herself before she pushed back from the table. Dinner wasn’t going to make itself.

Chapter Six

That night, Celeste lay awake, staring at the rotating ceiling fan. The cool of the central air conditioner irritated her and she closed her door before opening her bedroom windows. Warm summer air drifted in, fluttering the soft cotton of her nightgown and she rubbed her bare arms, remembering the touch of Dakota’s hands as he’d bandaged her cut. The one she wore actually glowed in the dark and she smiled a little at the display. Not wanting to turn on the light, she lay in bed, tossing and turning. Sleep continued to elude her so she gave up, threw on a tank top and a loose skirt then went downstairs to the patio. Tomorrow was Sunday, and she could afford to indulge her night owl tendencies, especially since Dakota was holding it down with the boys. After a short time, the three of them had become as thick as thieves. Jackson insisted on reading his favorite short chapter book to a patient Dakota every night. Celeste was even more amazed when she caught Malcolm—who thought directions were for babies—perusing the instruction booklet for a new model car kit at Dakota’s offhand suggestion.

Here in the warm summer air, she could relax. The bundles of citronella and various dried plants she’d hung around the patio to repel mosquitoes, lent the summer night a cozy, herbal smell and she sank into her favorite padded chair. It was quiet enough to hear Jackson if he called out in his sleep. Other than that, she doubted she would be disturbed.

The rasp of the sliding door in its track awakened her and she jumped to full alert. She started to call out in panic until she recognized the long-haired silhouette as Dakota’s. He was carrying something that he set down on the deck steps. Even as she settled back in her chair, she planned on saying something cheeky about not being able to sleep. In fact, she actually leaned forward to speak when he stopped at the edge of the pool, peeled off his shorts and dove in naked.

In the dark corner of the patio, her eyes widened in shock. The lighted pool and the similarly lit landscaping around the backyard left nothing to the imagination. Celeste remained rigid in the lounge chair, feeling both as if she were the worst kind of peeping Tom and the winner in a dream-come-true contest.

He’d entered the water without making a splash. If she’d been in her room overlooking the pool, she wouldn’t have heard it at all. Though she was not one for poetry, he swam like a dolphin gliding through the water. Dark hair streamed behind his head like a tail on a comet.

Celeste sat back in the chair and put her hand over her mouth. She didn’t want to make any sound that would alert him to her presence. How embarrassing would that be?

Dakota swam four flawless laps of her pool before he emerged naked and glistening. The images of him she’d gotten during the day were nothing compared to now. She could see every single muscled inch of his body. He swiped his hair out of his eyes, only to have it fall forward when he bent and slid into his shorts.

Celeste closed her eyes for a brief moment to burn the image of his lovely nakedness on her mind. The next thought was how she was going to get out of there before he saw her, but she suspected it was too late.

He walked up the three stairs to the deck, retrieved whatever he’d left there and walked over to the table.

“Hey, Celeste.” He held up two bottles. “Would you like a beer?”

* * * *

Truth be told, he hadn’t known she had been sitting in the corner of the patio until his second lap. Unperturbed by her presence, he’d finished his laps, got out of the pool and dressed, then did what any gentleman would have done—offered her a drink.

Dakota pressed a towel to his wet hair and sat down at the table. He placed a cold bottle in front of Celeste and twisted the cap on his own beverage.

“Hot night, yeah?” He tipped the bottle back and let the beer cool his parched throat. “Less mosquitoes than during the day.”

Celeste hadn’t moved or spoken since he’d sat down and he feared he might have been talking to a shadow. But at his remark, she reached out and took his offering. There was a faint
swish
as she opened her bottle.

“I have to apologize.” She spoke in a shaky voice. “I disturbed your evening swim.”

“Not at all,” he said easily. “I think I might have disturbed your evening meditation.”

“Oh.” She giggled and took another swallow of beer. “Not quite.”

He placed his bottle on the table. “When I worked at the law firm, this was when the magic happened. I’d sometimes have been up since about six or seven in the morning, come in, prepare papers for whatever lawyer was going to court, sit in on depositions or meetings, and work through lunch. I’d catch a quick nap about three, something to eat if I could snag it….work through till about twelve.” He breathed in the herbal scent of the bug repellent bags she had around the deck. “But it was only after midnight when the breakthrough happened. I could be working on a brief all day, struggling with the research, half asleep, bored out of my mind…but when the clock struck one, it was as if a switch had been flipped. I tore through four hours of work in half the time. It wasn’t like that every day, but it helped to be able to do it when I needed to.”

“You must be a night person,” she said, her voice polite and formal. “A lot of people work better when there are less distractions. You must have been a valuable asset for your firm.”

If only that had been the case, he’d still be working there.
“According to them, not so much. Long story short, I wasn’t billing enough hours.”

“So you’re not into law for the money, I take it?”

He couldn’t see her face, but her tone was teasing. “I don’t know. First year out. It wasn’t what I expected.”