The Husband Recipe (8 page)

Cole Donovan probably didn’t even own a teakettle, and likely wouldn’t know what to do with one if it showed up in his kitchen. She imagined his microwave saw lots of use. Something else to hold against him.

Lauren sat at the breakfast nook with her tea and cradled the warm cup in both hands. It was soothing, the way the smell of fresh baking bread or the scent of vanilla was soothing. It made her angry that she felt the need to be soothed simply because Cole Donovan hadn’t turned out to be exactly as he’d initially seemed.

She wasn’t looking for more in her life. She didn’t
need
more. Her life was near perfect, her career proceeding exactly as planned. But as she sat there she still felt, inexplicably, as if she’d lost something.

Chapter Six

S
omehow the noise from the neighbor’s backyard wasn’t as distracting as it had once been. Just a few weeks ago the screams and laughter and thumps had dragged Lauren completely out of the zone she needed to be in to work. Maybe she was just used to the commotion, and had relegated it to another part of her brain. As long as they didn’t break another window…

She was almost finished with her article about squash recipes, which included a story about Sunday dinner at her grandmother’s house. Newspaper sales were down, but the paper she wrote for maintained a healthy circulation, their website was popular, and the ads on her own website added to her income. If the book she’d written was a success, another would follow in two or three years and she’d be in great shape, financially. Maybe she’d never be rich, but she could make a very nice living doing what she loved. More than anything, she wanted to be self-sufficient. She didn’t ever want to have to depend on a man—or her family—to take care of her. She’d take care of herself, thank you very much.

Maybe one day she’d meet a man who wasn’t a snake, one who would accept that she had a career she intended to nurture, that she was a little old-fashioned, that she wanted things in her home and her life to be a certain way and while she was willing to compromise she
wasn’t
willing to change for any man. Was it too much to ask that a man not drink out of the milk carton, that he put his socks in the hamper and for goodness’ sake put the toilet seat down when he was finished?

Her list of requirements changed and morphed as she grew older. No jocks, no kids, a height of less than six feet tall—wait, that was now five foot ten—neatness, a sense of humor. Good strong genes, an awareness of his own health—she could not abide a man who lived on cheese doodles and beer—and they really should be sexually compatible. It wasn’t enough to know what went where; she wanted fireworks in the bedroom. She wanted a man who could blow the top of her head off.

Nearly thirty years old, and she’d had two serious relationships and one that
could’ve
been serious if it had lasted more than six months. None of them had come even close to fulfilling all her requirements. She was always disappointed. Did she expect too much? No, she didn’t think so. Compromise was a part of life, but when it came to the all-important choice of a life mate, compromise was not a good idea. She’d tried that, hadn’t she? It was like a recipe and though there was room for experimentation, using the best ingredients gave the best results.

No one had ever come close to blowing the top of her head off.

The current train of thought was
not
helping her to finish her article.

Lauren had to consider the possibility that she’d never meet the right man, that she was too demanding, too difficult, too set in her ways to make room for any man in her life. She hadn’t relaxed her standards in recent years. In fact, the list of requirements was growing longer, not shorter. Perhaps she should just settle on remaining unwed and devoting herself to her career. It wasn’t like she was lonely. She had friends, family, coworkers she didn’t see often, since she did most of her work at home. All she was really missing by not having a man in her life was sex.

Yes, she missed sex, but she wasn’t willing to sleep with just any man to satisfy that particular itch.

Naturally, thinking of sex took her mind directly to Cole Donovan. In fact her mind whipped in that direction entirely, and her hands quit moving over the keyboard. She could not think of squash casserole and hold the image of her neighbor naked in her mind at the same time. Not that she had the actual memory to hold on to, but her imagination was quite vivid, and she
had
seen him shirtless. Once. The way his jeans fit gave her a very good idea of the shape of his butt, the strong thighs, the narrow hips. Those memories gave her more than enough to build on, a solid base upon which to expand. The resulting imagining was enough to take her mind off squash and Gran’s Sunday suppers.

It was true enough that she didn’t have time for a romantic relationship, and goodness knew Cole had his hands full with…life. He already had girlfriends, plural, and she was not one to put herself in a position where she had to compete for a man. But at the same time, it would be a shame to ignore what they obviously felt. Her mind took a huge and unexpected leap. Was it possible that they could be neighbors with benefits?

Lauren took a deep breath, dismissed the thought from her mind, and did her best to return to the subject of squash casseroles. What was wrong with her? Cole Donovan had a series of girlfriends, and she wasn’t about to try to compete with the gorgeous Tiffany. Or any of the others. If he wanted benefits—and what man didn’t—he didn’t have to turn to her. He had options. Besides, even though her mind had taken that unexpected leap, Lauren wasn’t the type of woman to get involved in casual sexual relationships. Never had been. Honestly, without love, why bother?

Not that Cole was interested. Even though there had been a moment—okay, more than one moment—when their eyes had caught and she’d felt a wash of something unexpected and exciting, Cole hadn’t come over or called since Justin’s accident almost a week ago. He’d left the lasagna and cobbler dishes on the front porch and departed without even ringing the bell. She’d just found them sitting there, scrubbed clean and waiting for her to discover them when she went out for the mail. He’d walked into the backyard to talk to the kids a couple of days ago, while she’d been working in the garden, and he hadn’t even called out a neighborly hello. She’d peeked at him out of the corner of her eye, but all his attention had been on his children. Which was as it should be, she supposed, but still, was a wave of his hand in her direction too much to ask for?

He wouldn’t even look at her, much less…

Just as well. Cole probably never put the seat down, and she was almost positive he was the kind of man who drank out of the carton. He failed miserably in regards to several very important details on her list—in fact, he was the antithesis of her list! His life and hers were so different, they were so entirely incompatible, that it was foolish of her to sit here and imagine him naked.

She tried to turn her thoughts to squash, again, but her mind continued to wander.

Sadly, she’d really hoped to catch a glimpse of Tiffany, or one of the others, just to see for herself what Cole Donovan’s type was. She expected big hair and big boobs. She’d seen nothing. Maybe he waited until his kids had gone to bed before he had his women over. It was the least he could do, in her opinion. Unfortunately that meant such visits were also made past
her
bedtime.

Lauren almost decided she should probably—maybe—let Gran set her up with the grandson of one of her friends at the retirement home, maybe the divorced lawyer, Buddy Whatshisname…. Fortunately, she wasn’t yet desperate enough to allow herself to be set up by her grandmother.

The operative word being
yet.

Lauren was momentarily distracted by a particularly piercing scream from next door. Not only did she not jump out of her skin, she didn’t even bother to go to the window and look outside to see what had happened. Already she could distinguish the screams of pain from the screams of delight, even though there was little difference in pitch and volume. That scream had been one of joy. Hank, if she was hearing correctly. The one child of the three who actually liked her.

Yet another reason to keep her distance from Cole Donovan. His life was complicated. Nothing and no one would ever come before those kids, and she could only admire him for that. Still, she was very aware that there was no room in his life for her. Not even as a neighbor with benefits.

Her life wasn’t entirely bereft, socially. Tomorrow night she was having dinner at Summer’s house, just a little something to make up for the fact that Lauren had missed the neighborhood barbecue because she’d run off to help Cole when Justin had been hurt. Summer had two girls and a full-time job, so they didn’t get many chances to really talk.

Lauren never went to anyone’s home for a meal empty-handed. She’d told Summer that she’d provide the dessert. Chocolate cake, maybe. Or banana pudding. Maybe she’d make another peach cobbler. Maybe all three.

Once this article was off she’d need something to do, something that required all of her brain cells in order to keep her mind off Cole Donovan. Her grandmother’s recipe for double-chocolate triple-layer fudge cake would require a trip to the grocery store and hours in the kitchen. Just what she needed—a high-calorie distraction.

Cole wasn’t looking forward to dinner at Tim Schuler’s house, but Tim was on the school board, and as a new employee it would probably be unwise to refuse. He’d already turned down two previous invitations. Since Tim’s wife had arranged for a babysitter who came with stellar recommendations—to Meredith’s horror, since she thought herself too old for a babysitter—Cole could find no reason to refuse this time around.

It was a mild night, and the Schulers lived just a few houses down. Cole took his time, not hurrying but enjoying the quiet walk, the moment of peace. It wasn’t yet dark, but the sun had set and the neighborhood was still. He smiled. Maybe the neighborhood was quiet because his kids were inside for the night.

He glanced at Lauren’s perfect little house as he passed by. There were no soccer nets or trampolines in her yard, no toys cluttering her porch. The mature trees in the front yard looked as if they’d been painted on canvas, they were so perfect. No blemish marred the trunks of those trees, no split or dying limbs hung dangerously overhead. There were no brown leaves on any of her plants, no dead or wilting roses on the bushes out front. She probably went out early in the morning while the rest of the neighborhood was asleep and pruned everything so no brown spots would ruin the pretty picture, so no damaged leaves or blooms would dare to mar the perfection of the pink and red roses. Her picture-perfect home came complete with everything but a white picket fence.

So, what were her boyfriends like? Were they as perfect as her lawn and her neat little house? He’d kept an eye out for them, out of curiosity, but hadn’t seen anyone coming or going. Maybe she met up with her gentlemen callers at their places. He could not imagine Lauren opting for a seedy hotel.

He felt like kind of a heel. After Lauren had driven him to the hospital, he should’ve done something to thank her. He’d thanked her that night, but it didn’t feel like enough. If he cooked, he might offer something along the lines of her lasagna and cobbler. At the very least, a phone call or even a thank-you note. She probably would’ve done all three if the situation had been reversed. Even if she did have boyfriends out the wazoo, it would’ve been the right thing to do.

But he realized to his core that to encourage any sort of relationship with Lauren Russell would be stupid. He liked her too much, she made him lie in bed imagining intriguing possibilities. How soft was her skin? How would her lips taste? Was she a tiger in bed, or was sex for her as neatly arranged as the rest of her life? He wanted to know. He really,
really
wanted to know.

If Lauren had any idea where his mind took him when he thought of her, she’d probably move.

The truth of the matter was, these days there weren’t many young, pretty women out there looking to hook up with a man who had three children, a man who always put his kids first, who frankly had no time for a romantic relationship. In the old days, when he’d still been more Whiplash than Cole, it had been another story, not that any one of those predatory women had done anything for him.

The series of bad dates he’d endured a couple of years ago had convinced him that he was on his own, for the time being.

Still, just watching Lauren pick tomatoes or weed her herb garden made his mind turn in that direction. She had a nice ass, a totally feminine way of walking, of turning her head or lifting her hand. And when he’d walked into the E.R. waiting room and seen her sitting there with one child’s head on her lap and another holding on to her arm…impossible thoughts had sprung into his mind. It would really be best if he and Lauren never saw one another beyond a distant wave across their yards.