your brothers today. I don't know if your dad is going to stay home or not, but maybe we can do something as a group. The zoo, or a park. Don't worry, I'll make sure you get exercise."
He didn't return her smile. Instead, his big dark eyes widened. He flushed slightly. "Thanks, Jill."
"You're welcome." Her throat was uncomfortably tight as she backed out of the room.
She paused by Craig's room but didn't knock. She wasn't sure what time he'd come home, and he probably needed his sleep. He'd been working impossible hours since she arrived and for who knew how long before that.
Involuntarily, she brushed her fingers against the smooth surface of the door. Images sprang into her mind. Images of what Craig might look like on the other side of this door. She didn't want to think about it, but she couldn't help herself. Was he lying there in a tangle of sheets, his long, lean, athletic body bare? She knew he was alone. Craig wasn't the type to bring a woman home. She wondered what he did for sex. Was there a discreet lady friend somewhere? Did he have a type, and if he did, what was it?
"None of my business," she said softly, and turned toward the stairs.
Ten minutes later she slipped the first four pancakes off the electric griddle and put them on a warming plate. Ten minutes after that, all three boys sat around the table drinking juice and laughing. Jill served them. Ben stared at the pancakes uncertainly.
She leaned over his shoulder and set down the bowl of berries. "Have all the fruit and syrup you want," she said quietly. "Stay away from the butter."
He gave her a grateful smile.
"What are we going to do today?" Danny asked. "I finished my homework yesterday."
"Me, too," C.J. said, then stuck a piece of pancake in his mouth. "Is Dad home?" he mumbled.
"Yes," she said. "Don't talk with your mouth full."
"Yes'm." He barely moved his lips as he spoke the word. She had to turn away to hide a grin.
"Do you think Daddy will stay with us today?" Danny asked.
"Nah, he's gonna be too busy," Ben answered for her.
Jill didn't like his answer, but she didn't have a better one. Craig hadn't told her his plans. Maybe she should tell him that his sons assumed he wouldn't have time for them.
She got up to pour herself more coffee. There was a creak on the stairs. She set the pot down, turned and was instantly pleased she wasn't holding anything as fragile as a glass coffeepot.
Craig walked into the kitchen. There was nothing extraordinary about the action. She'd seen him walk into the kitchen before. But she'd never seen him out of uniform, and, frankly, he took her breath away.
He was dressed simply. Bare feet, worn jeans, a sweatshirt. Thousands, maybe millions of men wore the same casual clothes on the weekend. But other men weren't Craig.
His dark hair was still damp from the shower and smoothed away from his face. One stubborn lock brushed against his forehead. His jaw was clean-shaven, his smile easy. The university logo on the sweatshirt had seen several dozen washings. The once dark blue fabric had faded. But it looked soft, and it highlighted the width of his shoulders. His jeans hung loosely on his legs, the denim lighter at the seams, knees and, intriguingly, at the crotch.
Nothing about his clothing was overtly erotic, yet she couldn't stop the ripple of need that coursed through her. Her heart pounded hard and loud in her chest and her palms were suddenly sweaty.
Their eyes met. She sent up a quick prayer that he couldn't read what she'd been thinking. It would be too humiliating.
"Morning," he said.
The three boys turned as one. "Dad!" They tumbled from their seats and into his arms. In the confusion of hugs and questions, Jill tried to draw in a steadying breath.
"How many pancakes would you like?" she asked, and was pleased when her voice sounded normal.
"A plateful. I'm starved. I didn't get dinner." He glanced at the table, then at her. "This looks great. Thanks, Jill."
He'd said her name a hundred
He didn't return her smile. Instead, his big dark eyes widened. He flushed slightly. "Thanks, Jill."
"You're welcome." Her throat was uncomfortably tight as she backed out of the room.
She paused by Craig's room but didn't knock. She wasn't sure what time he'd come home, and he probably needed his sleep. He'd been working impossible hours since she arrived and for who knew how long before that.
Involuntarily, she brushed her fingers against the smooth surface of the door. Images sprang into her mind. Images of what Craig might look like on the other side of this door. She didn't want to think about it, but she couldn't help herself. Was he lying there in a tangle of sheets, his long, lean, athletic body bare? She knew he was alone. Craig wasn't the type to bring a woman home. She wondered what he did for sex. Was there a discreet lady friend somewhere? Did he have a type, and if he did, what was it?
"None of my business," she said softly, and turned toward the stairs.
Ten minutes later she slipped the first four pancakes off the electric griddle and put them on a warming plate. Ten minutes after that, all three boys sat around the table drinking juice and laughing. Jill served them. Ben stared at the pancakes uncertainly.
She leaned over his shoulder and set down the bowl of berries. "Have all the fruit and syrup you want," she said quietly. "Stay away from the butter."
He gave her a grateful smile.
"What are we going to do today?" Danny asked. "I finished my homework yesterday."
"Me, too," C.J. said, then stuck a piece of pancake in his mouth. "Is Dad home?" he mumbled.
"Yes," she said. "Don't talk with your mouth full."
"Yes'm." He barely moved his lips as he spoke the word. She had to turn away to hide a grin.
"Do you think Daddy will stay with us today?" Danny asked.
"Nah, he's gonna be too busy," Ben answered for her.
Jill didn't like his answer, but she didn't have a better one. Craig hadn't told her his plans. Maybe she should tell him that his sons assumed he wouldn't have time for them.
She got up to pour herself more coffee. There was a creak on the stairs. She set the pot down, turned and was instantly pleased she wasn't holding anything as fragile as a glass coffeepot.
Craig walked into the kitchen. There was nothing extraordinary about the action. She'd seen him walk into the kitchen before. But she'd never seen him out of uniform, and, frankly, he took her breath away.
He was dressed simply. Bare feet, worn jeans, a sweatshirt. Thousands, maybe millions of men wore the same casual clothes on the weekend. But other men weren't Craig.
His dark hair was still damp from the shower and smoothed away from his face. One stubborn lock brushed against his forehead. His jaw was clean-shaven, his smile easy. The university logo on the sweatshirt had seen several dozen washings. The once dark blue fabric had faded. But it looked soft, and it highlighted the width of his shoulders. His jeans hung loosely on his legs, the denim lighter at the seams, knees and, intriguingly, at the crotch.
Nothing about his clothing was overtly erotic, yet she couldn't stop the ripple of need that coursed through her. Her heart pounded hard and loud in her chest and her palms were suddenly sweaty.
Their eyes met. She sent up a quick prayer that he couldn't read what she'd been thinking. It would be too humiliating.
"Morning," he said.
The three boys turned as one. "Dad!" They tumbled from their seats and into his arms. In the confusion of hugs and questions, Jill tried to draw in a steadying breath.
"How many pancakes would you like?" she asked, and was pleased when her voice sounded normal.
"A plateful. I'm starved. I didn't get dinner." He glanced at the table, then at her. "This looks great. Thanks, Jill."
He'd said her name a hundred
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