‘You played professionally—I remember. Why give up?’
Her gaze left the house to cruise his shoulders and chest, headed lower. To his thighs.
At least that was where he presumed her intense gaze was now fixed. Even if it was the concrete he stood on, his groin had tightened anyway. He cursed silently.
For the second time that day he explained. ‘Rugby wasn’t a career that’d take me into old age.’
The left side of her mouth lifted. His belly joined in on the tightening act.
‘Can I carry anything?’ she asked as he juggled Aaron and the bag of necessities that went everywhere his nephew did.
‘I’ve got it.’
‘You’re a dab hand at this,’ Steph quipped as he managed to unlock the front door and not drop child or bag. ‘Had lots of practice?’
There was more to that question than the obvious. ‘Only with this guy.’
That should stop any ideas she might be getting about him and any kids he might have.
The wind rustled the bushes and the drizzle got wetter. ‘Come inside before it starts bucketing down.’
‘I want Bugsy!’ Aaron cried.
Oh, hell.
When he should have been retrieving the toy he’d been focused on watching Stephanie clamber out of her car, noting those legs he had X-rated memories of and that perfectly rounded butt.
‘Bugsy!’
‘Hang on, buddy. I’ll get him in a minute.’ First he had to unload onto the entrance table.
‘Something I can do?’
‘There’s a stuffed monkey in the back of my car. Under my seat, I think.’
‘I’ll grab it.’
‘Thanks.’
Car tyres squealed on his driveway. Chantelle. And in a foul mood, judging by the flat mouth and glittering eyes. Stephanie was about to learn more about his private life than she’d ever wanted to know.
‘Michael, when are you going to stop interfering in my life?’
‘Mummy!’ Aaron wriggled out of his arms and trotted to Chantelle.
‘Hey, baby.’ Chantelle might be angry with him, but there was only love in her eyes when she swung her boy up into her arms. ‘How’s my darling?’
‘Chantelle, I want you to meet—’
The love dipped as she yelled, ‘I didn’t ask you to pick him up. So I’ll say it again. When are you going to stop interfering in my life?’
When you stop expecting me to... When you stand on your own two feet all the time.
‘They phoned from the daycare centre to say you hadn’t turned up and they couldn’t get hold of you.’
He held on to his own temper, knowing from experience that losing it wouldn’t help a thing—especially when Chantelle was in one of her rages. A quick glance across to Stephanie and his stomach curdled at her shocked expression.
‘Chantelle, can we—?’
‘That doesn’t mean you can charge in and take over. I got there before they closed. That’s all that matters,’ Chantelle ranted.
No mystery about where Aaron got his lungs from.
Michael closed his eyes, dug deep for composure—because right about now he was going to lose it, and that couldn’t happen. What sort of example would that set for Aaron? Plus, he most definitely did not want Stephanie seeing him getting angry.
‘Mike, you’ve got to stop taking charge all the time.’
The octave levels had dropped, and Chantelle was using ‘Mike’, meaning he was in for a lecture.
She began placing Aaron in the car seat in her own vehicle. ‘I’m a good mum. You’ve said so yourself. I hadn’t forgotten Aaron—I just got caught up with a tutor going over my last paper and time got away. It happens—and not just to me.’ She stabbed the car’s rooftop with a finger. ‘I never forgot about him, and I knew I had to get to the centre before six-thirty.’
He lived with the dread that his beautiful sister would start the slippery slide back into hell and this time take his nephew with her. But she had a point. She was an excellent mother and she didn’t neglect Aaron—she loved him to bits.
‘I’m sorry.’
‘Yeah, yeah.’
The door slammed, and then she was belting herself into her seat and revving the engine. At least she had the sense to back out slowly, and her speed down the drive was careful. Just as it should be with a three-year-old on board.
Stephanie stared after the car as the tail-lights disappeared out of sight. ‘What just happened?’
‘You haven’t met my sister.’
Her eyes widened as she turned to look at him. ‘That was your sister?’ Disbelief echoed between them.
‘We’re not alike.’ At all. Same father—nothing much else to show a connection. Though that wasn’t true. They had the same colouring. The same wariness. Had learnt the hard way about sharing themselves with outsiders.
‘You okay that you’re not getting time with your nephew?’
‘I’m good. I’d better order that pizza.’
He didn’t move, suddenly exhausted. Watching out for his sister did that to him sometimes. He needed time out. Strange, but he knew Chantelle would be the first to tell him to go for it.
Stephanie was making him uncomfortable with her intense scrutiny. ‘I’ll take a rain-check. You look like you could do with some alone time.’
‘Can’t say I’m hungry any more. Sorry.’
Her hand gripped his arm. ‘Michael, it’s fine. Truly. We can catch up another time.’
‘Thanks for understanding.’
‘Who says I did?’
Her smile kicked him in the gut.
‘See you tomorrow.’
* * *
Steph slid into her car, clicked the belt in place, watching Michael standing there, waiting patiently for her to leave. Wanting her to leave.
Would he phone his sister and have it out with her? Or did this happen often enough that he’d let it wash over him? He didn’t look comfortable—had been tense from the moment that car had flown up the drive and Chantelle had leapt out. Talk about a human tornado...
Putting the gear in reverse, she started to back away. Hunger pangs hit her. The idea of something nuked made her wince. It wasn’t the way to look after herself. Was there a restaurant on the way home that’d do a takeaway for her?
Something banged lightly on her window. She braked and Michael appeared at her door.
‘Come inside. I invited you here and now I’m letting you go without feeding you.’
If she went inside with him his sister’s accusations would follow them, hold them back from relaxing over easy conversation.
‘Not tonight.’
But they both needed to eat. An idea struck.
‘Get in. We’ll go for a beer and a meal at the