Page 14 of A Way Out
Maria had apparently dozed off after these thoughts, because the next thing she became aware of was being lifted into Oz’s incredibly strong and—wow!—hard, corded arms. Her eyes fluttered open, and she glanced at the empty pool.
“Where are the children?” she asked, grasping his bicep.
She curled her fingers against his smooth skin to keep from stroking up and down just to, well, make sure those muscles were hard everywhere. And maybe to trace the outline of the colorful tattoos that reached from shoulder to wrist on both arms. She never would have imagined herself attracted to someone covered in so much body ink, yet here she was, imagining licking the man, maybe nibbling on his?—
“Inside,” he said, his voice rumbling in his chest, “getting cleaned up before dinner. Riley is with Izzie. They’re taking a shower.”
“Riley’s never taken a shower before,” she murmured absently, distracted by the fact that he was walking toward the house with her in his arms and wasn’t straining or breathing heavily.
“Should I yell up there and tell them to stop?”
Maria shook her head. Where was he taking her? Was he going to carry her all the way up to her bedroom? Good Lord, if he did that, she might very well beg him to stay. In the bed. With her.
Naked.
Who was this wanton woman she was turning into?
“Do you want me to take you upstairs?” he asked.
Maria shivered.
“Are you cold?”
She shook her head. “Um, you can put me down here.”
Was it her imagination, or did he seem reluctant as he lowered her to her feet?
She smoothed the front of her cover-up without meeting his eyes. “I’m going to, um, change. And then I can help with dinner. I’m not the greatest cook, but I’m learning to follow recipes.”
She’d not had to cook until she asked for the divorce. That had been the housekeeper’s responsibility.
Deciding it was time to learn was the only plan she’d formulated at the time. She knew someday she would have to live on her own and, even if she could afford it, very likely would not be willing to splurge for the expense of an in-home chef. Her mother did it because it was prestigious. Vic did it because her mother did it.
Maria was not her mother, damn it.
Oz chuckled. “There’s a rule in our house. Whoever cooks, the rest of the household has to clean up. Elana hates to clean, so she’s learned how to cook, and she is planning to make dinner tonight.”
“Wow. That’s, uh, a smart rule. How old is Elana?”
“Thirteen.”
A thirteen-year-old who could cook. Maria was feeling highly inadequate.
She pointed in the general direction of the stairs. “Um, I’m going to change now.”
She scurried from the room.
She’d replaced her swimsuit with a pair of linen shorts and a matching top and was brushing her hair out when Riley burst into the room, soaking wet and wrapped in an oversized towel.
“Mama, I took a shower!”
Maria laughed. “It looks like you brought all the water with you. Come here, let me help you dry off.”
“It was fun,” Riley proclaimed.
Maria towel dried her child’s hair and sprayed it with leave-in conditioner, as, based on the tangles, she’d not used any in her shower. Even after Maria helped her dress and combed the snarls out of Riley’s hair, her child was still smiling.
What Maria ought to do was get online right now and reschedule their flights to leave from LA instead of Seattle. Tonight.
