The Family Gathering. Робин КаррЧитать онлайн книгу.

       4

      TOM CANADAY WAS a happy man in general, always upbeat and positive even when times were challenging. It was his nature. His father was the same way and his mother might fret sometimes but she was both hopeful and helpful. Lately his happiness had been elevated a notch or two. He had a good woman in his life.

      Tom had married his high school sweetheart when they were very young. They’d had four children, a handful for anyone. Zach, the youngest, was still in diapers when Becky left them and Tom became a single working father. Had his parents, brother and sister-in-law not helped from time to time, he never would have made it. Becky had moved out ten years ago now. Tom was the first to admit he’d had trouble moving on, but he was emotionally free now. There wasn’t a sliver of attachment to Becky left.

      About the time Tom cut the ties he noticed Lola. Really noticed her. He’d known her almost all their lives; they were both raised near Timberlake and attended the same schools. They’d both married and divorced while still young. They saw each other around town all the time. Lola worked full-time at Home Depot, where Tom bought a lot of building supplies, and she was also a part-time waitress at the diner, just part-time enough for him to stop in for the occasional cup of coffee.

      Tom had been getting a lot more pie and coffee the past six months than ever before.

      Tom had been courting her for over six months and for two single parents to find time for romance was beyond difficult. But every time he kissed her he wanted more. He found Lola to be the most beautiful of women. She was strong and independent, but her strength and independence had not made her bitter. She was kind and compassionate. When he was able to put his arms around her and smell her sweet skin, he became aroused. She filled his arms with softness and he loved holding her against him.

      But their schedules were impossible. They had to get by on what little time they could find here and there, maybe going to a home show or open house. They were both really into remodeling. In fact, they found they had many things in common. But they wanted to get alone together and just hadn’t found the opportunity.

      It was 10:00 a.m. on a Thursday morning when Tom Canaday knocked on Lola’s door. When she opened it, smiling broadly, he handed her a gift-wrapped box.

      “What is this?” she asked, taking it from him.

      “Open it,” he said.

      “Oh, Tom, you’re always so thoughtful,” she said, pulling the ribbon off. “Always thinking of others.”

      “Oh, yeah, that’s me.”

      She pulled off the top of the box and frowned. “What’s this?”

      “You know what it is,” he said.

      She pulled the item out. “A dead bolt?” she asked in confusion.

      “For your bedroom door,” he said. “And I have a matching lock installed on my bedroom door.”

      “I don’t think either of the boys will surprise us today,” she said with a laugh. “They’re both in school.” Cole had college classes and Trace was in high school.

      “We’re not taking any chances.”

      “They never open my bedroom door, Tom,” she said. “They’re scared to death they might see me in my underwear!”

      “This is going to be different,” he said. “There will be no underwear. And they might hear noises and mistake it for you screaming in pain.” He grinned. “It won’t be pain.”

      She put down the box and put her hands on his cheeks, kissing him soundly. His arms went around her to pull her closer, moving over her mouth with precision. He parted her lips with his, going deep, groaning as their tongues began to play. His hand slid down over her butt and pressed her close against him. The kiss went on and on, too long, really. He had to force himself to pull away. “Lola, quick—get me your toolbox.”

      “You sure know how to woo a girl,” she said. She couldn’t help but giggle as she went to get the box. Having done a lot of her own repairs and renovating, she knew exactly what he’d need. By the time she got back he was already getting the lock out of the package. She immediately started handing him tools. First the screwdriver to remove the old doorknob, then the chisel and hammer to enlarge the opening in the jam. “I wish I’d gotten this done before the kissing,” he grumbled. “I gotta say, this is my first lock repair with a hard-on.”

      “Just how long has it been?” she asked.

      “Oh, about two minutes now,” he said.

      “Not that!” she said with a laugh.

      “You mean since I’ve had sex with a woman?” He wanted to clarify.

      “Oh, my. Maybe we should talk about who else you might be having it with...”

      He looked at her over his shoulder, lifting one eyebrow. “My left hand,” he said. “Believe me, you have nothing to be jealous of.”

      “Tom,” she said in a scolding voice.

      “It’s been such a long time,” he said, drilling in the screws.

      She put down the toolbox where he could reach it and backed away from him. He grumbled a little bit at a stubborn screw but he made very fast work of the job. He closed the door, turned the lock and tested it, trying to open it. “Success!” he said.

      But he turned and she wasn’t there.

      “Lola?” he said.

      She stepped into the doorway of her master bath wearing a sleek and satiny black robe. It took his breath away. “Whoa,” he said, running a hand over the top of his head.

      Lola was so voluptuous. She wasn’t skinny or tiny. She was five-nine or so and full-figured. When they first started seeing each other she admitted she was self-conscious about her shape and considered herself overweight. Tom convinced her he loved her figure, loved her softness, loved that he could fall into her, fill his arms with her. She was full and rosy and smelled divine. He wanted to gobble her up from her dark, curly hair to her toes. “Holy God,” was all he could say. And he frantically began to tear off his clothes. At the last second, seeing her standing there in that lovely black robe, he left on his boxers. But before he’d gone to the hardware store to buy the privacy lock, he’d chosen them carefully. These were his best boxers.

      “God, you’re so beautiful,” he said. He lifted her chin to kiss her while his other hand untied her robe and let it fall open. “Oh my God,” he said.

      She rolled her shoulders back and the robe slid easily from her shoulders. And there she was, all pale flesh.

      They’d been together for six months, and while they hadn’t been able to make love yet they’d done a lot of touching and talking. They were prepared in every way except one—they hadn’t lain down together without clothes.

      “Why do you have these?” she said, giving the elastic of his boxers a snap.

      “Why bother taking them off?” he said, pulling her against him. “I’m going to blast right through them.”

      She