The Summer's End by Mary Alice Monroe

around him. “Thank you, Blake.”
    Neither one of them made a move to pull away, each enjoying the contact again after so long. It was always this way between them. Sparks flew when they touched. Carson finally, reluctantly loosened her hold and slid slowly away. She teetered, feeling dizzy.
    Blake’s arm shot out to steady her. “You okay?”
    â€œFine. Just lost my balance.” She snorted. “Hormones.”
    â€œHave you seen a doctor yet?”
    â€œI made an appointment. Next week.”
    â€œCan I . . . I mean, is it okay if I take you?”
    Carson hesitated. This was a big step. A first in their being partners in her pregnancy. She looked into his eyes, felt his arm holding hers, steadying her.
    â€œYes. I’d like that.”

Chapter Five

    T he following morning Dora stood in front of an ironing board, pressing one of the two dresses she was considering wearing for her first job interview in almost fifteen years. She stood dressed only in her fancy new lacy bra and panties in front of the glass sliding doors to Devlin’s bedroom porch. The large room was graced with a patio that offered a sweeping view of the ocean. The doors were wide-open to the onshore breezes.
    â€œNow that’s what I call a view,” Devlin said from behind her.
    Dora threw Devlin a saucy look over her shoulder, knowing full well which view he was referring to. Devlin was lying on his enormous, king-size bed that they’d just made love upon, one knee up, one leg hanging off the side of the mattress, as naked as a jaybird. He didn’t care that he had a paunch growing, and that at forty he wasn’t as trim as he’d been at seventeen when they dated all those years ago, only to end up with other people andultimately find their way back to each other. Unlike Dora, Devlin had no modesty issues and was completely at ease with his body.
    In contrast, Dora had always struggled with her weight, especially the tire around her middle. She had her mother’s figure and cursed that she’d not inherited the long, lean frame of the Muir clan, like Carson and Harper. She also resented the biological burden that women carried, those damned extra fat cells on their hips for reasons of reproduction. Since she’d started her walking regimen, however, she’d whittled down that tire, and her body not only looked better, but she felt better. Exposing even some of her body was, for her, a measure of confidence.
    She turned back to her ironing, shaking her head. “You’re such a man.”
    Devlin chuckled low in his chest. She smiled. Even his laugh had a lowcountry accent. “Darlin’, I just spent the last hour trying to prove that very point to you.”
    Dora blushed, remembering the details of the past hour.
    â€œThe only sight prettier than a woman ironing is a woman cooking a meal.”
    Dora pressed the steam button on the iron. “I can’t believe you just said that.”
    â€œWhy? It’s the truth. Put on an apron and I’ll show you.”
    â€œHush now, you’re being ridiculous.” She huffed in feigned annoyance. “You know I’ve got to get going. I’m running late, thanks to a certain distraction.” She pulled the pale blue cotton dress with white-stitched embroidery off the ironing board and held it up in front of her. “Which do you like best for the interview? This one?” She gave him a minute to observe, then set theblue dress down and held up a chocolate-brown shift. “Or this one?”
    â€œI like you with neither on the best.”
    Dora rolled her eyes. “Try to be serious, Dev. I need to look good. Real good. I need this job.”
    He sighed with resignation, giving up the tease. “What job is that?”
    Dora took a breath, trying to be patient. She’d told him about her job interview at a local dress shop earlier, but to be fair, he’d begun kissing her neck at the