“Oh, really? I might have a surprise or two of my own.”
“Mmm. I can’t wait.” But duty called and she forced herself back. “Time to party.”
ABBY HAD JUST gotten Mary and Charlie out of the van and into their beds, and was desperate for a few minutes of peace after the whirlwind of classroom parties.
She froze where she was, at the sound at the front door, crossing her fingers and listening for Mary. If the doorbell woke her, there was a very narrow window in which to get her back to sleep before she worked herself up to the point of no return.
So far, so good.
By the time Abby got to the door, the flower delivery guy was jogging back into his truck. Busy day. No doubt he had a lot of stops to make.
She smiled as she reached down for the gorgeous arrangement of white roses in a glass vase. Must be three dozen here, she thought, sticking her nose into the petals and breathing in the scent. She carried them into the kitchen. Trust Matt not to send the usual pink or red. She pulled out the card, eager to read her husband’s words.
Rhonda, please forgive me. Please.
The note went on, with tiny handwriting stretching up the side of the small card and onto the back. Poor Tyler. He was really, really sorry.
She smiled at the mistake, then had a thought. If Rhonda didn’t get her flowers, this could be very bad for Tyler. Especially if Rhonda received some kind of, I love you, note addressed to someone else. Yikes.
With the florist card in hand, she dialed the number and explained the mistake. Luckily, the man on the other end seemed to grasp the extent of the problem. She told them she’d put the flowers back on her porch so they could pick them up with Tyler’s hand written card. She just hoped they got them to the right person before the end of the day.
She’d barely ended the call when her cell rang in her hand. Half expecting it to be the florist calling back, she nearly cringed when she saw that it was the kid’s school calling—never a good thing.
She hung up a minute later, closed her eyes and took a deep breath, then called Matt.
“Hey, Babe.”
“Hey. I just got a call from the school,” Abby said.
“Uh, oh.”
“Yeah. Uh, ohs right. Jack threw up.”
“Oh, boy. Too many cupcakes?”
“Let’s hope. The babies are napping, but I can get him if you’re still in your meeting.”
“Nope. I just finished. I’ll get him, hose him off, and hide the rest of his candy.”
Abby laughed. “I also got a beautiful bunch of flowers.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“Yes. From a very sweet, very apologetic Tyler.”
“What? Tyler who?”
“They weren’t for me.” She laughed softly at the hint of jealously in his voice. “They were for someone named Rhonda from Tyler with a handwritten plea for forgiveness.”
“Are you kidding? Damn. I’m sorry, babe.”
“It’s okay. Just a mix up.”
“Wonder what he did,” Matt said.
“I know. Me too. And since I have the flowers—”
“Rhonda doesn’t.”
“Right. I just called the florist so hopefully Rhonda will get her flowers and Tyler’s apology.”
They finished their call and she spun around, trying to remember what she’d been on her way to do when the doorbell rang. “Laundry,” she said as it came to her. She opened the dryer and pulled out the lacy, little number she’d bought last week. A red top with tiny straps and matching panties which is she she’d washed it before wearing.
She couldn’t wait to see Matt’s face when she came out of the bathroom. Maybe she’d do a little dance, a little striptease. She pulled the silky top out—only it wasn't smooth and silky anymore. It was wrinkled and scrunched up and… very, very small. Like Mary size small.
“Oh, crap. Please no.” She held it up for closer inspection and wanted to cry, but her phone rang, not giving her a chance.
The school again. Gracie had thrown up.
This was a bigger problem than cupcakes.
IT WAS ALMOST nine-thirty that night before Matt got Abby in a room alone. He closed the door then watched Abby fall back on their bed with a sigh.
Matt crawled onto the bed and laid down beside her, letting out a deep sigh of his own. “Not exactly what I had in mind for our first Valentine’s Day.”
Abby gave a wry laugh. “No. Me either.” She tugged a the sweater she’d had on all day. “I was going to seduce you in this new lingerie I bought.”
Matt rested his hand on her belly. “Don’t let a few vomiting kids stop you.”
She turned her face to him and smiled but there were tears in her eyes. “It’s ruined.”
“Hey, it’s not ruined.” He kissed her lips. “As long as I’m with you—”
“No, the lingerie is ruined. I wanted to wash it first but then I put it in the dryer and… It’d barely fit the cat now.”
“Hmm.” His fingers found the edge of her sweater and slipped under to caress the bare skin of her stomach. “I don’t think Mr. Whiskers would appreciate that. Although you never know. He does have some unusual tendencies,” he added about the stray tabby that had come to visit and stayed.
Abby rolled to her side and threw her leg over his hip, bringing them closer. “Can you believe it was just over twelve hours ago we were laying here with our day perfectly planned?”
“Yeah. If this had been a mission, it would have been called a cluster fuck. But…” His palm slid around to her back then down over her bottom. “I was always pretty good at moving the team to plan B.” He pulled her solidly against his growing erection.
“Really?” Abby pressed her center against his growing erection, making him groan. “And what’s your plan B?”
“It definitely involves getting you out of this sweater.” And he made quick work of that goal.
“Now what?”
He rolled her to her back and laid a path of open mouth kisses between her breasts. The low light near the door cast their silhouettes onto the wall, one shadow. He slid one cup of her plain white bra aside. “You know that lingerie would have come off anyway. This is what I want.” He took her nipple between his lips. “Right here.”
When she was gasping and pulling at his hair, he moved to take her mouth.
The kiss was soft at first, a slow exploration of tongues and gentle caressing hands. But as always, it quickly turned to possessive and desperate. He kissed her neck, her shoulders, her mouth, until she was quivering under him.
Abby slid her hands under his shirt and up his chest. He sighed at the feel of her hands on his skin. “Off,” she said, fighting the shirt over his head. Then her fingers were digging into his shoulders as his tongue stroked hers.
He moved to the curve of her neck and shoulder, brushed his lips there. When her breath quickened he nibbled his way across her jaw, came back to her mouth. The kiss was long and deep, and while he tasted and savored, his hands roamed lightly over her face, speared into her hair.
It was the sweetest torture, making love to his wife. He had no intention of rushing it.