Right Next Door

But, as much as she would’ve liked to deny it, Alex was special. For the first time since she could remember, she was physically attracted to a man. And what was wrong with that? It only went to prove that she was a normal, healthy woman. In fact, she should be grateful to Alex for helping her realize just how healthy she was.



“Where’s Mr. Preston taking you?” Peter asked, plopping himself down on the edge of the tub.



“Actually I’m taking him, and I thought we’d go to Jake’s.” Jake’s was a well-known and well-loved Portland restaurant renowned for its Cajun dishes.



“You’re taking Mr. Preston to Jake’s?” Peter cried, his voice shrill with envy. “Are you bringing me back anything?”



“No.” As it was, she was stretching her budget for the meal.



“But, Mom—Jake’s? You know that’s my favorite restaurant in the whole world.” He made it sound as though he were a global traveler and connoisseur of fine dining.



“I’ll take you there on your birthday.” The way she had every year since he was ten.



“But that’s another five months,” Peter grumbled.



She gave him what she referred to as her “Mother Look,” which generally silenced him.



“All right, all right,” he muttered. “I’ll eat frozen pot pie for the third time in a week. Don’t worry about me.”



“I won’t.”



Peter sighed with feeling. “You go ahead and enjoy your étouffée.”



“I’m sure I will.” She generally ordered the shrimp dish, which was a popular item on the menu.



Peter continued to study her, his expression revealing mild surprise. “Gee, Mom, don’t you have a heart anymore? I used to be able to get you with guilt, but you hardly bat an eyelash anymore.”



“Of course I’ve got a heart. Unfortunately I don’t have the wallet to support it.”



Peter seemed about to speak again, but the doorbell chimed and he rushed out of the tiny bathroom to answer it as though something dire would happen if Alex was kept waiting more than a few seconds.



Expelling a sigh, Carol surveyed her appearance in the mirror one last time, confident that she looked her best. With a prepared smile on her face, she headed for the living room.



The instant she appeared, Alex’s gaze rushed to hers. The impact of seeing him again was immediate. It was difficult to take her eyes off him. Instead, she found herself thinking that his build suggested finely honed muscles. He was tall, his shoulders were wide and his chest solid. Carol thought he was incredibly good-looking in his pin-striped suit. His face was weathered from working out of doors, his features bronzed by the sun.



So much for the best-laid plans, Carol mused, shaking from the inside out. She’d planned this evening down to the smallest detail. They would have dinner, during which Carol would subtly inform him that she wasn’t interested in anything more than a casual friendship, then he’d take her home, and that would be the end of it. Five seconds after she’d walked into the living room, she was thinking about silk sheets and long, slow, heart-melting kisses.



Her mother was responsible for this. Her outrageous, wonderful mother and the softly murmured Italian words that reminded Carol she was still young and it was time to live and love again. She was alive, all right. From the top of her head to the bottom of her feet, she was alive.



“Hello, Carol.”



“Alex.”



“Mom’s taking you to Jake’s,” Peter muttered, not bothering to hide his envy. “She can’t afford to bring me anything, but that’s okay.”



“Peter,” she chastised, doubting Alex had heard him.



“Are you ready?”



She nodded, taking an additional moment to gather her composure while she reached for her jacket and purse. Glancing at her son, she felt obliged to say, “You know the rules. I’ll call you later.”



“You don’t need to phone,” he said, making a show of rolling his eyes as if to suggest she was going overboard on this parental thing.



“We’ll be back early.”



Alex cupped her elbow as he directed her to the door. “Not too early,” he amended.



By the time they were outside, Carol had bridled her fears. Her years of medical training contributed to her skill at presenting a calm, composed front. And really, there wasn’t a reason in the world she should panic….



They talked amicably on the drive into downtown Portland, commenting on such ordinary subjects as the weather, when her car would be fixed and the approach of summer, which they both dreaded because the boys would be constantly underfoot.



Alex managed to find parking on the street, which was a feat in its own right. He opened her car door and took her hand, which he didn’t release.



Since Carol had made a reservation, they were immediately seated in a high-backed polished wood booth and greeted by their waiter, who brought them a wine list and recited the specials of the day.



“Jim tells me you’re buying him a truck,” Carol said conversationally when they’d placed their order.



“So he’d like to believe.”



Carol hesitated. “You mean you aren’t?”



“Not to the best of my knowledge,” Alex admitted, grinning.



Once more, Carol found herself fascinated by his smile. She found herself wondering how his mouth would feel on hers. As quickly as the thought entered her mind, she discarded it.



“According to Jim it’s going to be the latest model, red with flames decorating the sidewalls.”



“The boy likes to dream,” Alex said, leaning back. “If he drives any vehicle during the next two years, it’ll be because he’s impressed me with his grades and his maturity.”



“Oh, Alex,” Carol said with a sigh, “you don’t know how relieved I am to hear that. For weeks, Peter’s been making me feel as though I’m an abusive mother because I’m not buying him a car—or, better yet, a truck. Time and time again he’s told me that you’re buying one for Jim and how sharing the Ford with me could damage his self-esteem, which might result in long-term counseling.”



Alex laughed outright. “By the way,” he added, “Jim isn’t Jim anymore, he’s James.”



“James?”



“Right. He noticed that his learner’s permit listed his name as James Preston, and he’s insisting everyone call him that. Actually, I think he came up with the idea after I spoke to him about driving and his level of maturity. Apparently, James is more mature-sounding than Jim.”



“Apparently,” Carol returned, smiling. “Well, at least if Peter does end up having to go to a counselor, he’ll have company.”



Their wine arrived and they both commented on its delicious flavor and talked about the quality of Walla Walla area wineries.



Their meal came soon after. The steaming étouffée was placed before her, and she didn’t experience the slightest bit of guilt when she tasted the first bite. It was as delicious as she remembered.



“Have you been a nurse long?” Alex asked, when their conversation lagged.



“Eight years. I returned to school after my husband was killed, and nursing was a natural for me. I was forever putting Band-Aids on my dolls and treating everyone from my dog to my tolerant mother.”



“Next time I have a cold, I’ll know who to call,” Alex teased.



“Oh, good. And when I’m ready to put the addition on the house, I’ll contact you,” Carol told him.



They both laughed.



The evening wasn’t nearly as difficult as Carol had feared. Alex was easy to talk to, and with the boys as common ground, there was never a lack of subject matter. Before Carol was aware of it, it was nearly ten.



“Oh, dear,” she said, sliding from the booth. “I told Peter I’d check in with him. Excuse me a minute.”



“Sure,” Alex said, standing himself.



Carol was in the foyer on her cell, waiting for Peter to answer when she looked over and saw that Alex was using his own cell phone.



“Hello.”



“Peter, it’s Mom.”



“Mom, you said you were going to phone,” he said, sounding offended. “Do you know what time it is? When you say you’re going to phone you usually do. James is worried, too. Where have you guys been?”



“Jake’s—you knew that.”



“All this time?”



“Yes. I’m sorry, sweetheart, the evening got away from us.”



“Uh-huh,” Peter said and paused. “So you like Mr. Preston?”



Carol hedged. “He’s very nice,” she murmured.



“Do you think you’ll go out with him again? What did you guys talk about? Just how long does it take to eat dinner, anyway?”



“Peter, this isn’t the time or place to be having this discussion.”



“Were there any leftovers?”



“None.”



Her son sighed as if he’d actually been counting on her to bring home her untouched dinner—a reward for the supreme sacrifice of having to eat chicken pot pie, which just happened to be one of his favorites.



“When will you be home? I mean, you don’t have to rush on my account or anything, but you’d never let me stay out this late on a weeknight.”



“I’ll be back before eleven,” she promised, ignoring his comment about the lateness of the hour. Sometimes Peter forgot who was the adult and who was the child.



“You do like Mr. Preston, don’t you?” His tone was too smug for comfort.



“Peter,” she moaned. “I’ll talk to you later.” She was about to replace the receiver when she heard him call her name. “What is it now?” she said sharply, impatiently.



He hesitated, apparently taken aback by her brusqueness. “Nothing, I just wanted to tell you to wake me up when you get home, all right?”



“All right,” she said, feeling guilty.



She met Alex back at their table. “Everything okay at home?” he asked.



“Couldn’t be better.” There was no need to inform Alex of the inquisition Peter had attempted. “What about Jim—James?”



“He’s surviving.”



“I suppose we should think about getting home,” Carol suggested, eager now to leave. The evening had flown by. At some point during dinner, her guard had slipped and she’d begun to enjoy his company. There’d been none of the terrible tension that had plagued her earlier.



“I suppose you’re right,” Alex said with enough reluctance to alarm her. He’d obviously enjoyed their time as much as she had.



They had a small disagreement over the check, which Alex refused to let her take. He silenced her protests by reminding her that she owed him a home-cooked meal and he wasn’t accepting any substitutes. After a couple of glasses of wine and a good dinner, Carol was too mellow to put up much of an argument.



“Just don’t let Peter know,” she said as they walked toward the car. Alex held her hand, and it seemed far too natural, but she didn’t object.