Page 24 of An Unexpected Match
When Brendan descended the stairs sometime later, the hallway had been cleared except for the fledgling mural. He stopped to look at the sketches, then smiled at the coloring that had been started. Did their amateur childish work bother the artist in Arden?
He continued into the kitchen, stopping in the doorway to watch her. She didn’t know initially that he was there. Her back was to him and he enjoyed the view while he could.
Long tanned legs moved back and forth as if she danced to a secret melody, her hips swaying seductively. Her hands chopped vegetables, moving quickly. He hoped she didn’t cut herself. Her blond hair was pulled back, the ponytail swaying with her movements.
The memory of their kiss swept through him, making him forget everything else but the thought of doing it again.
Which was probably the best way he knew of scaring her away. He needed her for his children, not for himself.
“I take it you’re the one I have to thank for the new artwork on my bedroom wall?” he said.
She spun around, knife flashing in the light.
“Oh, you startled me.”
She studied him warily for a minute, then relaxed.
“Yes. Do you like the pictures? I thought the walls needed some more color, and what better source?”
“I never considered myself a connoisseur of modern art, but I guess I can learn.”
She laughed, and he felt a sense of well-being sweep through him. He liked her laughter.
“Not so modern as merely childish. Avery especially likes to mix all the colors until she gets a muddy greenish-black.”
“I noticed. And they seem to be everywhere.”
Arden nodded. “But we rotate them. They paint at the rate of about one per minute sometimes, so we needed to establish a plan. Otherwise, the walls would be plastered from floor to ceiling with paintings.”
He liked the we in her statement. It showed she was relating to the girls. That was good.
“If my unexpected arrival throws off your schedule, I can eat out.”
“Don’t be silly. I’m making stir-fry. I’ll just cut up more veggies and we’ll stretch the chicken. You must be tired. I bet you can’t wait to go to bed.”
Her words startled him. For the first time since Lannie died, Brendan thought about taking someone else to bed–Arden Glover.
The image shocked him. He wasn’t interested in getting close to anyone again. Losing his wife had caused too much pain to ever risk such heartache again.
He had his business, his children. His life was complete.
But he wasn’t sure his body realized that. It suddenly seemed to have a life of its own and insisted he pay attention to the demands it made.
He wanted Arden.
“I suppose you want to talk about it,” she said, turning back to the vegetables.
Talk about wanting her? Talk about taking her to bed? Were his thoughts so obvious?
“The way I’ve altered the schedule you had for the girls,” she said when he didn’t speak.
Brendan leaned against the doorjamb and crossed his arms over his chest. Mentally, he breathed a sigh of relief. For a moment, he thought she could read minds.
“How much have you altered?”
“Quite a bit, I’m afraid. I, uh, am not much into regimentation.”
“Neither am I, but children like routine. Lannie said.”
