Dena knew better. Giving Miri a hard stare, Dena set bowls of soup at each place.
“Can I pretend that it’s Japanese soup?” Jack asked. He stood on a chair to peer into his mother’s face.
She looked into her son’s round brown eyes, so like Steve’s, but his open expression belonged only to Jack.
“I want you to try to use the spoon rather than pick up the bowl, okay?” Dena ruffled his hair, then checked the table, moving a couple of misplaced forks to their proper locations. “Sit down, please.”
Alex chopped a tomato. “How soon is dinner? I’m ravenous.”
“I bet, especially since you haven’t had a decent meal for a long time. Did you also quit running?” Dena tried to check out the bod under Alex’s fitted vest, shirt and trousers. He looked as though he was still in pretty good shape, despite his unhealthy diet. Wide shoulders tapering to slim hips and tight buns. Yum.
What was she thinking? She returned her attention on her children, where it belonged.
“Um, well, I’ve been concentrating on my work lately. I should probably start to jog again.” He put the salad bowl on the table and sat in one of the empty chairs.
“That’s Mommy’s place,” the twins chorused.
“Sit there.” Miriam pointed an imperious finger.
Alex obeyed.
Dena drew in a breath. Unwittingly, Miriam had seated Alex at the head of the table, the spot Steve had occupied. Alex looked great in her husband’s place, as though he belonged in it.
Dena swallowed. “Work. Right. Are you using work to, um, escape?”
He picked up his plate, examining it. “Kind of. You know, I like this Beatrix Potter china.”
Dena noticed he’d quickly changed the subject.
“You gave it to us, Unka Alex. When we was three.” Miri tapped her spoon against her plate.
“Were three,” Alex said.
“Were three,” Miriam repeated obediently. She must have liked the ringing noise, because she whacked harder.
Dena took the spoon away. “No.”
Miri pushed out her lower lip.
“Miri, you’ll get the spoon back if you eat your soup like a good girl.”
The lip retracted. “Okay, Mommy.”
Finding Miri unusually cooperative, Dena eyed her daughter with suspicion. Was her baby girl coming down with something? Dena felt Miri’s forehead. She seemed fine. Maybe she was on her best behavior for Alex. If so, “Unka Alex” would be asked for dinner more often. Dena beamed at Alex.
Alex smiled back, unexpectedly cheered. Dinner proceeded without either twin swimming in the soup or even getting messy. Alex found himself both surprised and impressed by Dena’s parenting skills. He’d been reading about the subject because he didn’t want to repeat the mistakes of his mother and father. He could tell that Dena did many things right. Maybe it wasn’t her fault that the twins occasionally acted up.
His thoughts strayed to Dena’s ex. Steve, whom Alex had considered a nice guy, had shocked everyone when he disappeared into the Arabian desert. How could he have left his family? Alex looked around the table at three happy faces. He’d wanted this all his life.
Miriam stabbed a carrot with her fork and held it up to the light. “Carrot,” she solemnly told her mother.
“That’s right, Miri. Tell Uncle Alex about the carrots you grew, honey.”
Miriam turned to him. “We grew carrots, Unka Alex. In preschool.”
Alex said, “Were they nice carrots?”
“No.” Miri shook her head in a decisive motion. “They was freaked.”
“They were forked. ” Dena’s girlish giggle blended with her daughter’s. “Do you remember why?”
“Mommy said the ground had rocks. The carrots grew around the rocks. They went weird.”
Jack thrust out his little chest. “My cokes was perfect.”
“Your cokes?” Alex was mystified.
“Cukes,” Dena said. “Miriam, are you going to eat those carrots?”
Miriam, who’d been toying with her food, dropped her fork with a clatter and a guilty expression. “No,” she said, sounding firm.
Alex wondered what Dena would do. Forbid dessert? Force Miriam to stay at the table until all her food was gone? He prepared to mentally take notes.
“Umm. Maybe I’ll eat your carrots, then.” Dena reached for Miriam’s plate.
Miri frantically waved her hands. “My carrots!”
“Maybe Jack wants some more carrots.” Dena looked at her son’s dinner. “He’s finished all of his.”
“No no no no no!” Dragging her plate closer to her, Miriam enthusiastically crunched a carrot.
“Nice job, Dena.” Alex swallowed a bite of the delicious chicken.
She winked at him, then put a finger to her lush lips in a hushing motion.
Was her sassy wink deliberately flirtatious?
No. It couldn’t be. Alex decided he was dreaming.
“I’m done, Mommy.” Jack took his plate over to the sink and carefully pushed it onto the counter, several inches higher than his head.
“Thank you, Jackson. You may go pick a book.” Dena glanced at Miriam.
“I’m done, too. See?” Miriam pointed.
Using her fork, Dena flipped a lettuce leaf away from a corner of Miriam’s plate. Beneath it hid a piece of chicken.
“Have you had enough to eat?”
“Uh-huh.” Miriam batted green eyes, very like Dena’s. She had Steve’s dark hair combined with her mother’s eyes and skin. One day, she’d break hearts. Did Dena break hearts? “I want to go now.”
Alex saw a frown crease Dena’s face. “Well, you had enough chicken and salad, and you drank your soup without making a mess. Okay, you can go. I’ll be in soon to help you brush your teeth.”
Miri left, and Alex asked, “Will they be all right wandering around unsupervised?”
Dena laughed. “They don’t generally get into much trouble inside the house. This place is child-proofed, and their routine is to look at books quietly after supper.” She adjusted the opening of her robe over the upper curves of her breasts.
The pink chenille robe warmly hugged her generous body. He bet Dena was a cozy, snuggly handful. He looked away. “Miriam didn’t eat all her food.” He hoped he didn’t sound critical, especially since he and Dena seemed to be getting along so well…as long as he didn’t ogle her. “Is that all right?”
“Yeah, it’s okay. I probably gave her too much.” She didn’t appear to be offended. “They eat what they need. They’re healthy. Eating lightly once or twice won’t hurt them.”
Alex picked up their now-empty plates and took them to the sink. “Can I wash up?” He figured that if he was a good guest, he’d be invited back. He wouldn’t dwell on his earlier risqué fantasies. They were an aberration, nothing more.
“Oh, just stack them in the dishwasher. I’ll turn it on later. Want to help me tuck them in?”
“Don’t they have to brush their teeth?”
“First we brush