Perfecting the Odds (24 page)

Karis: Not touching that one, Michael. See you soon.

Michael:
I’d be more than happy to touch it.

Karis
: [glaring with the hint of a smirk]

Michael: [
grinning]

Karis
: A few hours.

Michael:
Thank god
.


             
Michael spent the morning preparing his grandmother’s famous recipe for lasagna cleaning his new house. His last residence, the apartment near Down Under, was small and uninviting compared his new home. Because he was locked into a lease at his apartment, he had stayed there well after his new home was built. He used the time to slowly move in and furnish the home to his liking.

When he purchased the land a few months after meeting
Karis for the first time, he had her in mind. It sounded crazy even to him, but he couldn’t help but build a family home, the promise of more. He relied on hope to get him through most of his life, so why not now?

She’ll
love it.

With
that thought resonating in his head, he left to purchase fresh Gerbera daisies for the table and different wines to complement his meal.

An hour later, he
pulled his truck into the driveway leading to the four-bedroom Cape Cod and studied the house again. Its exterior mimicked the old Colonial full Cape of absolute symmetry, from the four front windows, two each on either side of the prominent white front door, and the pitched gable roof featuring a large central chimney and two doghouse dormer windows. He chose the soft pale yellow siding and maroon shutters instead of wood-shake siding to give the home a modern feel. He decided to maintain the symmetry of the home when he requested two additions on either side of the main house, each with its own gabled roof: one side held the master suite, and the other, a side-entrance garage.

Michael hopped out of his truck
to admire the view. The land captivated the eye immediately. Ending only with the horizon, lush green grass surrounded the entire house, spanning nearly two acres in every direction. He had hired a landscaper to line the path to the house and the porch with modest shrubbery and annuals. 

Walking up the path and into the house, Michael assured himself that
she would love the interior. The spacious foyer opened to a large great room filled with light from the front four windows. Cherry wooden floors gave warmth to the natural brightness and created a path into gourmet kitchen which extended onward to the right. To the left of the living room was the large master suite including a grandiose bathroom with a Jacuzzi tub, an open marble shower, double sinks, and a sitting area. He’d kept the walls neutral and donned them with prints of his favorite artists. The house was a ridiculous choice for a bachelor, but Michael intended to make the house a home, and now his mind filled with thoughts of Karis and her children living here.

By 4:30, he was sitting on t
he couch reading a new book-- but he was pretty sure he read the same damn page four times over. After nearly an hour of waiting, the familiar sound of crunching gravel filled the living room. He sat on the edge of the sofa, awaiting the doorbell.

***

She smiled as soon as the door swung open. “Hello, Michael,” she said, her eyes reviewing his perfectly masculine form standing in the doorway. In only faded jeans and a black t-shirt, images of him on underwear billboards flashed through her mind. She felt her cheeks heat. And when he bent in to kiss her on the corner of her mouth, his sweet, musky scent blurred her vision, forcing her to suck in air.
How does half a kiss and a whoosh of air almost have me fainting,
she mused.

“You look beautiful as always,
Karis.” She thanked him and looked down at her choice, a knee-length navy blue jersey knit dress that clung to her curves and a cardigan, which she quickly shrugged off. He took it from her and gestured for her to enter. Once in the center of the large foyer area, Karis’s entire face brightened.

“Oh, Michael, the outside
is exquisite, but inside”---She grinned as she whirled her head, trying to take in the entire beauty of his home—“it’s just spectacular.”

He beamed with pride. “Come. Let me give you
the grand tour.” He linked his fingers within hers. Looking at their united hands, they both acknowledged the spark that flared between them. A similar thought crossed their minds: would that spark ever end? And silently they both hoped to hell not. He kissed her hand, and they exchanged a smile before starting to move.

He walked her through each room, turning lights on and off, and explaining why he made the choices he did. When they finally returned to the living room and sat down on the couch, a comfortable silence fell. She couldn’t help but swing her head around again, in awe of the beautiful interior.

“So, why did you
purchase such a large home? It must be so much to maintain.”

“When my father died, he left me some money. I figured if I was going to make an investment, it should be for the long term. I don’t intend to be a bachelor for the rest of my life, you know
,” he said, placing his arm on the back of the sofa. He absently brushed his thumb over her shoulder. She allowed her eyes to wash over him again. God, the way he was leaning back, head tilted, muscular legs spread wide like only a guy could, and that damn hot mouth. Her mind wandered to how that same mouth devoured her just a week ago. Why did he have to look so damned sexy all the time?

Karis
cleared her throat and smiled nervously. “No, I suppose not,” she agreed, sighing heavily. “So, what’s for dinner?”

With a
deeper tilt of his head, he narrowed his eyes. “Why are you deflecting, Karis?”

“I-
I’m not deflecting.”

“You are,
sweetheart,” he murmured. “And you stuttered, so you must be nervous or uncomfortable. Talk to me.”

Karis
took a moment to calculate her next comment. His perceptiveness continued to shake her.
Okay, focus
, she demanded of herself. The man built a family home. Considering he doesn’t have a family, she should be concerned. But maybe he was just a good planner. She gnawed her bottom lip trying to decide either to lie or say what was on her mind. Unfortunately, Karis’s blunt, and sometimes brutal honesty prevailed. “Michael--.” She rubbed her lips back and forth. “Um… this is a very large home.”

“And
?”

“Well, quite
frankly”--clearing her throat--“Forget I said anything. Let’s just have dinner. It smells wonderful.” She grinned and began to stand before he grabbed her wrist, heating her blood from the pulse point to her toes.

“Sit,
Karis,” he demanded.

She
pressed her lips together, trying to squelch her quickening breath. When he wanted something, his voice carried a subtle dominance that Karis couldn’t resist.  His was in full-out Apollo mode. His gaze penetrated her like a dagger to her inner thoughts, peeling back the layers of sliver by sliver.

“It’
s a lovely home,” she said before sucking in her lower lip.
Crap
. The right words weren’t forming quickly enough. Her mouth went dry, and she wet her lips.

“
Karis, if you don’t stop doing things to that delicious mouth, this conversation and dinner won’t happen until after I’ve had my way with you. Continue…please.”

She flushed and quickly released her lip.
Why did he say things like that? And why did it take my body from 0 to 60 in mere seconds
. If she didn’t want to hear the answers to her next questions so much, she would have continued to bite her lip, just to drive the intuitive bastard crazy. She let out a huffed breath.

“Okay, fine. Do you have an ex-wife or something?
Take in foster children? Keep a harem, perhaps? Because this is a family home--for a family—like more than just you. Please tell me you at least have a dog?” She looked down as she fiddled with her fingers, trying to hide her shame. Not only had she just rambled boorish accusations, she also curbed on arrogant. Maybe he just wanted a big house, like he said, an investment. He set his face earnestly as he made circles with his thumb over the inside of her wrist. God, he could probably feel how hard and fast her blood was pumping.

“And if I said I built the home because I wanted
a family to live here, what would you say?” His voice lost its edge. And it was her opening, the perfect segue.

“I would say you
deserve to have the family you want. I would say you deserve someone who can reciprocate all the kindness and compassion you give. You will be an amazing husband and father,” she whispered as his grip tightened on her wrist. The lump in her throat started to choke her, so she gulped it down. She couldn’t hide if she wanted to. “But Michael, I would be lying if I didn’t tell you I think I know which family you want to live here…and that scares the hell out of me.” She paused to collect herself as his grip released a bit.  “You do know it’s
never
going to happen, right?”

“
Aren’t you the one who says avoid absolutes,” he asked wryly.

She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, well, apparently, I break all my rules when I’m around you.”

He laughed. “Karis, I waited three years to see you again. I’ll wait as long as you need. No pressure.”

She
gaped a him for a moment, and he laughed again. “Yes, you will, Michael. That’s all you do is pressure. You and your pressure distract me continuously,” she admitted as heady images of Michael’s mouth and hands swirled in her head again. “Anyway, this conversation is way too heavy for a third date. What did you make me in that gorgeous kitchen?”

Seemingly c
ontent with how the conversation ended, Michael answered, “Lasagne. It’s my grandmother’s recipe. I think you’ll love it.” He jumped up and kissed her on the nose.  She relished in his sudden boyish demeanor, as if feeding her this dish was like sharing a family secret with her.

Michael poured two glasses of Pinot
Grigio, and they began to talk about the past week as he prepared the rest of the meal.

Karis
watched him move within the kitchen. He was so at ease, and for a moment, she felt like she could do this every night.
What woman doesn’t find a man who knows his way around the kitchen sexy as hell?

Once dinner was ready, they sat down enjoying each other’s company as if they’d been friends for years.
This time they discussed current trends in education and even teetered on the line of educational politics. What’s more, they didn’t fight. They debated intelligently without one fallacy or stab to make a point. Karis still couldn’t get over how easy he was to talk with and how he met her eyes with every word she spoke, like he was genuinely interested in her opinion, her passions, and her beliefs.

***

“So, was your father a Marine as well,” Karis asked, using her appalling segueing skills. If Michael wasn’t so taken aback by the topic, he may have laughed. A slow fear crept within him.

“Yes,” he answered.

“What kind of man was he,” she asked before taking another sip of wine. Fuck. The loaded question felt like a growing mass in his brain. She was nearing dangerous territory, a place where secrets lie and fester, miles away from his heart. Until now, it seemed.

“Tough,
intelligent, kind,” he answered curtly, staring at his plate of half-eaten food. She would notice his reticence, especially since this was the first time he truly could not look into those emerald eyes.

“Did he mind that you loved books so much?”
Her voice was quiet, and he noticed she had leaned down a bit to try and capture his gaze. His glanced at her momentarily.

“Not really. He was an avid reader, too.”

“Bookworm Marines. Strange combination.”

“English teacher
baker who curses like a Marine,” he said before taking another bite of his meal.

“Touche,” she said with a smile.
“So how did your father pass away?” His mouthful sat at the back of his tongue as the bile made its path up his throat. He stopped chewing to avoid the gagging collision. It wasn’t that the question was inappropriate. Hell, she had been open about her parents’ death last week. She had a right to know about his family, their misfortunes. But he had to tread lightly. It edged too fucking close to their destruction.

He
grabbed for his wine and mingled the warm red tartness with the spicy mass still lingering on his tongue. He swallowed and bolted down another swig. He found her eyes but saw only determination in her eyes, not concern.

“Lung
and brain cancer,” he replied, his voice strained.

She lightly placed her fork on her plate,
her eyes latched into him. “Was he a smoker?”

“
No.”

“Did he have a long
battle?”

He shook his head.

“Do you not want to talk about this, Michael?”