Free The Bodyguard and Ms. Jones by Susan Mallery Page B

said.
    She smiled. “I love you, too.”
    With that, she left the room. She hated alternate weekends. First there was the rush of getting the children ready, and then they were gone. She couldn’t even spend her morning cleaning up the kitchen. Nelson took the kids out to breakfast, so she didn’t have to prepare anything.
    She walked down the stairs, turning at the landing in the middle and following the staircase that led to the kitchen. The stairs were in the shape of an upside-down Y, with one leg leading to the living room and the other going to the kitchen. The smell of coffee greeted her.
    â€œI hope you don’t mind,” Mike said, motioning to the already full pot.
    â€œI think it’s wonderful.” She poured herself a cup, then glanced at the plastic containers, bowls and frying pan. “Are you cooking?”
    â€œPancakes. It’s about the only thing I can make well.”
    â€œSounds great.”
    He’d been in the house nearly two weeks and mobile for about nine days, but she still wasn’t used to coming downstairs and seeing him in the kitchen. For one thing, he was too good-looking. A man like him should be saved for special occasions. She was used to something slightly more ordinary in her everyday life.
    Now that his bullet wound had almost healed, he’d replaced his jeans with shorts. While she admired the tanned expanse of muscled leg, she wished he would go back to the denim. It was easier to concentrate when he wasn’t so exposed.
    He motioned to the empty bowl. “I don’t know how many to make.”
    â€œI can probably force myself to eat four small ones,” she said.
    â€œWhat about the kids?”
    She put her coffee on the counter and shrugged. “They won’t be eating with us. It’s their weekend to go with their father.”
    â€œAnd you’re leaving, too?”
    â€œNo, why?”
    â€œYou’re sort of dressed up.”
    She stared at the shorts and shirt she’d put on. The silk outfit had been on sale, otherwise she wouldn’t have bought it. She was wearing makeup and she usually didn’t bother. Her hair was curled. No wonder Mike thought she was going somewhere.
    â€œIgnore me,” she said.
    He moved close to her. “What’s wrong?” he asked.
    The overhead lights caught the various shades of brown in his hair. The colors ranged from dark blond to gold to chestnut. His military cut was growing out. In another couple of weeks he would pass for a civilian. His T-shirt emphasized his strength. She desperately wanted him to hold her. Just for a minute, until the feelings of inadequacy went away. A foolish wish. Mike was just passing through. It wasn’t his fault that every time he touched her, her knees turned to marshmallows.
    There was a clatter on the stairs. Both kids came running down, banging their small overnight suitcases against the railings.
    â€œCareful,” she called.
    They skittered to a stop when they saw the open containers. “Whatcha cooking?” Jonathan asked.
    â€œPancakes,” Mike answered, limping back to the island and picking up the flour. “Your mom said you’d be having breakfast with your dad.”
    â€œBut I want Mike’s pancakes,” Allison wailed.
    â€œHey, I’ll make them next week,” he said.
    â€œPromise?”
    He bent over and tugged on her blond braid. “Cross my heart.”
    â€œYou guys aren’t going to do anything fun while we’re gone, are you?” Jonathan asked.
    â€œWe’ll be as boring as we are old,” Cindy said. “Besides, we’re going to Mrs. Davis’s for a barbecue tonight. If you guys stayed, you would have to come.”
    She heard the sound of a car engine and looked out the kitchen window. A sleek red convertible pulled up in front of the house. Nelson honked the horn, then stepped out of the car. The children grabbed their suitcases and raced