Melting Into You (Due South Book 2) (18 page)

He removed his hand and held up a finger. “Short, easy-to-understand answers. I haven’t had coffee yet.”

She nodded.

“Why is there a dog on my bed? Wait. I know the answer. Sparky goes everywhere with you.”

“Corrrrect.”

“Next one. Why are you dressed already?”

“Because we have to go to Kezia’s house.”

She blinked at him as if her answer made perfect sense. With a groan, Ben flopped back and pulled the pillow over his face. “Why would I want to go to K
ezia’s at the butt-crack of—what time is it, anyway?” He lifted a pillow corner to watch her examine the digits of his nightstand clock.

Shallow creases lined her forehead and she tilted her head. “Seven-oh-five.”

“Uh-huh. And on what planet do I ever get up on a Sunday morning before nine?” He pulled the pillow over his face again. Tried not to think about Kezia in bed.

The pillow ripped out of his hands and sailed across the room. “
Daaaad. We have to go to Kezia’s because it’s Mother’s Day.”

Ben peeled an eye open. “That’s next weekend.”

She shook her head. “I showed you the card I made for Gran, remember?”

Card, glitter, ribbons…yeah, he remembered it shoved under his nose for inspection earlier in the week. “Oh, right.”

Crap—would Russell’s grocery store have any flowers left? A card? Something? He could imagine his mother’s epic drama if he forgot to thank her for the two-hundred hours of labor she’d endured giving birth to him twenty-nine years ago.

Jade’s soft voice sliced through his plans to bribe Caroline Russell into not mentioning his last-minute gift scrounge.

“I didn’t make a card for my mum.”

Ben propped himself up on his elbow. Jade stared at the ceiling, her cherub lips pinched shut and her eyes shining bright. What could he say? Actually, kiddo, your mother doesn’t deserve a card? Doesn’t deserve a swee
t kid like you as her daughter?

Hell, asshole, shit.

“That’s okay, ‘cause you’re really going to save my butt with Gran.”

“Why?”

“I forgot to get her a card.”

Jade’s eyes cut over to his. “You did? Boy, are you in trouble.”

“Big time trouble. So how ‘bout it—can we go halves with your card?”

She gave him a watery smile. “All right. But we still need to get to Kezia’s by seven thirty, ‘cause Zoe said I could share her mum for Mother’s Day. We’re making her breakfast in bed.”

Ben’s brain groaned. Kez in bed. Kez with rumpled hair and a silky nightie barely covering her breasts—which he still hadn’t managed to get his hands on.
Day-um
.

Sensing capitulation, Jade bounced upright. “I’ll put the coffee machine on while you shower, okay?”

He grunted in approval.

After Jade and the
furball left, Ben flung off the covers and sat on the mattress edge, head in hands. His
good morning, sunshine
hard-on tented the plaid pajama bottoms he’d worn each night since Jade arrived.

“Buddy, you’re so not getting laid today,” he mu
ttered and walked into the tiny en-suite shower. Dialed the mixer to cold.

Again.

***

Thirty-five minutes later, he stood by Kezia’s stove, re-frying an egg. The first egg he’d cooked practically
bounced when it slid off the fish slice onto the kitchen floor.

“
Sh—shark bait!” Ben had grouched, while Zoe and Jade giggled hysterically.

The girls outdid themselves with the breakfast tray. Kezia’s special china—a bad idea with him in charge—accompanied by a real cloth napkin and a vase with da
isies picked from the garden. The toast was buttered and cut into triangles, and the tea steeped in a little yellow teapot. Another glaring omen that Kezia was all kinds of wrong. If strong, black, kick-ass coffee was on offer, who’d opt for tea?

He sipped his second cup of the morning—instant, since beggars rummaging in someone else’s pantry couldn’t be choosers—and watched the egg for the slightest hint of rubbery-ness.

“Whaddya reckon, kiddo?”

Jade looked down at the frying pan. “Maybe you shouldn’t have told Shaye to go to work when we a
rrived.”

“Are you insulting my mad cooking skills?”

Jade giggled. “What mad cooking skills? You suck!”

“That’s it. No spaghetti bolognaise for you tonight. You’re getting Brussels sprouts, liver, and turnips.”

“Liver. Eww.” Zoe tugged on his other arm so she could also see.

Ben pointed the fish slice at her. “Don’t think I didn’t hear you snickering, Miss Murphy. I’ll make sure you’ll have to eat them too.”

Zoe’s dark curls bounced around her face as she jiggled on her toes.

Ben slid the fish slice under the egg. Thanks to the copious amount of oil he’d poured into Kezia’s cast-iron pan, he lifted the egg without the yolk breaking. “Let’s get this to your mum before I mess up her kitc
hen any more. Plate!”

Jade appeared at his side with a plate. “Ready!”

“Well, don’t squeal like a girl and move this time, okay?”

“Yes, sir!”

He completed the egg-to-plate transfer without disaster, his part done in the Mother’s Day breakfast-in-bed fiasco. Jade carried the egg to the breakfast tray as if a live grenade rested on the china.

“There you go. Tell Kezia
bon appétit
.” Ben picked up his mug and downed the rest of his coffee.

He set down the cup and turned to two serious sets of eyes. “What?”

“We can’t carry the tray,” Zoe said.

“It’s too heavy, and we might drop it,” Jade said.

“And we’ve got the cards to give to Mamma, and presents too.” Zoe passed Jade one of the two packages from the kitchen table.

He couldn’t think of a G-rated way to explain why going into Kezia’s bedroom was a bad idea. Unfort
unately, Jade was right. If one of the girls carried the tray, the odds of it hitting the floor between the kitchen and bedroom were high. No biggie. He scooped it up and sent the girls on ahead. Once Kezia had her breakfast, he’d get out of the way, out of temptation.

Zoe and Jade were already clambering over Kezia’s bed as he entered her room. He stopped inside the door, startled by the red paint and stenciled white dandelion tufts above the cast-iron head board. Everything about her bedroom looked, smelled, and felt like her. Rich, subtly sexy, mysterious. For the first time he was cur
ious to be in a woman’s room…not for sex, but to unravel some of those mysteries. Like why she needed fifty pairs of earrings on display? Or why there were three photos of her and Zoe on her wall but none of her parents, or of her and her late husband? And the cluster of red and white candles on a shelf—did she light them for someone other than herself?

His stomach clenched. Not his business. Except it was.

He edged around the side of the bed and placed the wooden tray on her lap. “Here you go.”

Neck cricking from being locked in a non-
pervy, head-down position, Ben backed up a step.

“Thank you.” Her soft, slightly breathy voice acted like a hair trigger.

He jerked toward her, face lined up with the swell of pajama-covered breasts.

No bra!
His brain delivered the newsflash with a surge of blood south.
No bra and visible nipple outline in two locations!

Ben found a little saliva left to swallow—not that his goddamn tongue functioned, since it remained glued to the top of his mouth. Hell, when had penguin-printed flannelette become a turn on?

Since Kezia Murphy had woven a witchy spell over him, that’s when.

Step away from the boobs, Benny-boy.

Ben dragged his gaze from Kezia’s chest to her eyes. He couldn’t decipher what emotion glistened in her chocolaty irises, but the pink stain across her cheekbones suggested an awareness of him too. Either that, or prepare for the flannelette to catch fire.

He peeled his tongue back into a talking position and straightened. “I’ll leave you ladies to it.”

“You have to stay and see what Zoe and I made,” Jade said. “Right, Zoe?”

Zoe patted the bed. “Yeah, you need to stay—we i
nsist, don’t we, Mamma?”

Mamma Murphy looked like she’d rather gnaw off her own hand.

“Of course. Thanks for helping the girls in the kitchen.”

Translated to female-speak:
Looks like I’m stuck with you, and it chaps my ass remembering what we did together.

Was he cocky enough to interpret her
pissy tone as embarrassed arousal and not a hot flash? Hell, yeah. Nipples didn’t involuntarily harden into sexy little buds unless a woman was cold…or turned on.

He flicked her an
I know you want me grin
and sat. “Even I can fry an egg.”

Jade clapped a hand over her giggling mouth and he tugged on her ponytail
.

“Eventually,” he added.

“Open your presents, Mamma.” Zoe waved her small package underneath her mother’s nose.

“You girls have spoiled me terribly.” Kezia tore her gaze away from his face and opened the gift wrapping. She held up a banana-yellow, knitted square. “What a gorgeous color.”

“It’s a pot thingy—you can use it to move your hot pots instead of a dishcloth.”

“Fabulous and practical. Did you make this,
bella
?”

Zoe beamed and kissed Kezia’s cheek. “Yep. Mrs. Harland’s teaching us to knit on Friday lunchtimes, r
emember?” She snickered. “Even George had a go, but his had lots of dropped stitches, ‘cause everyone knows boys can’t knit.”

Kezia’s gaze flicked to his.

Ben held up his palms. “I’m not arguing. Knitting’s not my forte, but I do a mean embroidery.”

“Dad, you do not.” Jade poked his thigh with her sock-covered toe. “You couldn’t even sew a button on my skirt that fell off last week. You asked Gran to do it.”

“Gran likes sewing on buttons. I delegated the job to the most qualified person—plus, I fixed a leaky pipe in one of her bathrooms. Boys are good at plumbing.”

Kezia looked down her nose at him—the haughty school-teacher stare less devastating when the school-tea
cher in question wore penguins.

“Are you stereotyping male and female roles in f
ront of my girls, Ben Harland?”

Her girls? Why did that send both warning bells and comfort through him? “You’re welcome to prove all stereotypes wrong and fiddle wit
h my pipes any day.”

Zoe and Jade looked from Kezia to him and back again. They got the teasing tone behind his words, but they weren’t old enough to understand the subtext.

“Mamma asked Ford to look at her pipes once, because she’s a teacher not a plumber,” Zoe said, all serious eyes and the spitting image of her mother. “You should get him to help if you can’t fix them.”

“Not as much f
un for me, but good idea, Zoe.”

Zoe switched her attention to Jade. “Jade’s turn.”

Jade leaned across the bed and passed her package to Kezia. “I hope you like it.”

Kezia ripped open the wrapping paper. Her eyes widened and her nostrils flared. “Did you draw this?”

Jade nodded, her gaze downcast. Kezia turned the wooden frame so he could see. The frame contained a sketch of two girls, their arms wrapped around each other’s shoulders. Jade and Zoe, captured with sure pencil strokes.

Well, hell. His kid really was hot shit in the art d
epartment. Look at him, puffing up like a proud daddy.

“
Bree took a photo of me ‘n Jade together,” Zoe said. “Then Jade drew it, just like that, and Bree helped her frame it!”

Kezia stroked a finger over the glass. “Jade, this is beautiful. I’ll hang it in the kitchen, so I can see it every time I use Zoe’s pretty pot mitt.” She squeezed Zoe’s hand and pulled Jade’s head in for a kiss. “Thank you,
cara
.”

“Best
Mother’s Day, ever—huh, Mamma?”

“Absolutely.”

Zoe bounced and Ben grabbed for the tray and steadied it. “You’d better eat your breakfast before you end up wearing fried egg and tea.”

Zoe cut him a glance. “This is so cool, isn’t it, Jade? It’s like we’re a real family.”

“Yeah,” Jade said quietly.

Bullets of pure ice fired into his gut. Kezia’s gaze slashed to his, wide and flared with the same panic. Her mouth parted, but for once, she had nothing to say.

Then she cleared her throat, the rumbling a little higher pitched than normal, and snatched up her knife and fork. “This egg looks delicious! And the toast—with just the right amount of butter! Oh, and you brought me a pretty cup for the tea—
fantastico
—I can’t go without my morning tea, can I, Zoe?”