It was a miracle there wasn’t a path worn in the hardwood floor. I’d paced the living room for an hour.

I’d made a circle around the coffee table, rearranging the wine bottle and glasses a half dozen times. Was it too much? Did he drink wine?

Each time a car drove down the street, my pulse picked up, and my heart galloped out of my chest.

“Maybe I shouldn’t have asked Ana to take the baby,” I said to no one. “What if he did just want to help me out with Blue?”

Don’t be an idiot, I chastised myself. He looked at me the way a man looked at a woman he wanted, not the way a man looked at a woman whose kid he wanted to help babysit. Or maybe I was so out of practice I didn’t know anymore. Pregnancy had a way of killing much-needed brain cells.

Nervous wasn’t my modus operandi. In the past, confidence oozed from my pores along with an abundance of sex appeal, but tonight I was more nervous than a virgin at a prison rodeo.

What was it about Silas that made my breath hitch and my heart race? He wasn’t the best-looking man I’d seen, and he wasn’t the best dressed, but there was a connection and a spark that I couldn’t ignore.

I flopped down on the couch and began another conversation with myself. “I hope he buys the idea that Ana had to see Blue, and I hope he won’t leave the moment he sees the baby isn’t here.”

Just as I was getting ready to talk myself out of this date, a light knock sounded at the door. I took a last glance at myself in the mirror and questioned the lipstick and the dress. But it was too late to change, so I pulled back my shoulders and tried to get in touch with the sexy woman I used to be. Was that only a year ago?

When I opened the door, Silas stood there sexy as hell in faded blue jeans and a black T-shirt that gripped his chest like superglue. In one hand was a takeout bag from Domingo’s; in the other was a six-pack of Mexican beer.

“You brought Mexican food.” The man would inch his way into my heart one taco at a time.

He stepped inside my living room and walked straight to the kitchen like he belonged here, but then again, he’d been staying at Ana’s, and her house was the mirror image of mine. Track homes were the thing when this neighborhood was built.

“I’d like to say I came up with the idea on my own, but Ana told me you loved Domingo’s. I hope you like beer too.”

In all honesty, I liked anything at this point. After spending the biggest part of the year sober, I’d drink mouthwash if I had to.

“Is Blue sleeping?” He unpacked the bag while I pulled two clean plates from the cupboard.

Here it was, the moment of truth. Did I confess to wanting to have some grown-up time with him, or did I tell the fib I had prepared? Mona’s words came back to me: We all lie, but it’s understanding why we lie that’s important. I wouldn’t lie to Silas. His life had enough bullshit. He didn’t need mine too. “No, I thought it might be nice to have time alone. If you’d rather Blue be with us, I can run down the street and grab him.”

One brow quirked up. “Time alone sounds great. How much time do we have?”

“All night.” I ducked my head, afraid to see what was written on his face.

“Excellent plan.” He piled food on our plates and gripped two beer bottles. They hung from his fingers like bats in a cave dangling back and forth as he walked to the living room.

He set his plate on the table and patted the space on the couch beside him. We sat in silence until he twisted the tops from the beers and handed me one.

He lifted his bottle in a toast. “Here’s to closing doors.”

“And opening new ones.” We tapped bottles and took drinks. The cold bubbles tickled. I’d always been a wine or martini girl, but this beer was as good as a glass of Cristal Champagne.

“What doors did you close, Grace?”

I swallowed a bite of taco. “It’s been an eventful week for me. I almost killed my kid with breast milk, so I gave up nursing.” I grabbed hold of my boobs and cradled them in my palms. Silas’s eyes followed my hands. “You can’t imagine how painful the last few days have been with engorged breasts, but I’m doing good now.”

“I could have helped you with that.” He smiled around his forkful of rice.

“You’re a regular hero.” I scooped a bite of guacamole with a chip.

His shoulders lifted along with the corners of his beautiful lips. “I do what I can. What else happened this week?”

“My dad disowned me because I’m an unwed mother.” I debated telling Silas that Blue’s father was my boss, but decided that the best road forward was an open road. “And my baby’s father was my boss and a married man.”

He sat back and sipped his beer.

Fear raced through my cells. Would he judge me like my father?

I rushed out with, “It’s the guy I told you about at the bar, the one who didn’t tell me he was married,” like somehow that would make a difference. The fact was, I was still a single mother with an infant. Not the cream of the crop when it came to desirable single women.

He turned toward me until our knees touched—my soft skin against his rough denim.

“You’re not to blame.” Warm hands covered mine. “How your father can walk away from you is insane.” He leaned forward and brushed one hand over my cheek. “How he can walk away from Blue is unforgivable.”

“Coming from the man who doesn’t like kids.” I leaned into his warm palm and let the heat of his touch soak into me.

“You misunderstood. I never said I didn’t like kids. I said I never imagined having any myself.” He dropped his hand, and my face felt naked and bare.

“You would make a great father. You’ve been nothing but wonderful with Blue.”

“Blue is easy. He doesn’t require much but food.”

“You have potential, but I won’t try to convince you.”

We finished eating, finished the six-pack of beer, and then moved on to the wine.

“You talked of a door slamming the other day. Ready to talk about it?” I pushed the plates to the edge of the table and lifted my feet to the top of the smooth wood surface. It had been a long time since I’d worn heels, and I liked the way they made my legs look. With the way Silas stared, he obviously liked them too.

He shifted closer like he needed to touch me for support. I leaned into his body and set my head against his shoulder. It was comfortable and felt right.

“I’ve been a special forces soldier for years. It’s what I do.”

“Impressive and respectable.”

He lifted his arm and wrapped it around my shoulder. “Correction. It’s what I did.”

“Oh.” My stomach twisted—for him.

“I’ve spent more time in Afghanistan in the last decade than out of it. Apparently, the dust and fumes aren’t good for the lungs. I’ve got something they call occupational lung disease or Gulf War syndrome.”

“Oh, no. Can they cure it?”

He remained silent for a few minutes. His free hand tapped on his chest. “No, not really. Their way to treat it is to stop the exposure. Since I’m a combat soldier, that means no more combat.” A heavy sigh whistled through the air. “I could probably fight it and get a desk job, but they’re offering me medical retirement, and my first sergeant says I should take it.” His voice was filled with the kind of sadness you found at funeral homes and cemeteries. Then again, he was burying a piece of himself.

Torn between feeling sad that Silas had lost his job and joy that maybe he would stay, I didn’t show a reaction. “What will you do?”

He gripped my chin and turned my head toward him. “I will open another door.” His lips pressed against mine. His kiss overflowed with need. In that moment, I was beautiful and desirable and somehow worthy of his attention. I was what he needed, and I was happy to help.

Lips touched lips, and tongues tangled together until we were breathless. He pulled away and nipped on my lower lip until I moaned. He swallowed my sounds with another kiss. One hand threaded through my hair and pulled me closer as if he feared I’d get away.

I wasn’t going anywhere. In his embrace, with his mouth on mine, was where I wanted to be. I was tipsy on wine and beer and drunk on passion. My hands clumsily groped for a piece of him, but all I came up with was a handful of his cotton shirt.

In one swift motion, he lifted me to straddle his lap. My dress hiked up to my thighs, and my heels dropped to the floor. Our kiss ended, but the heat and energy that arced between us kept on. My forehead pressed against his, and I dragged in several ragged breaths.

“You’re so damn beautiful.” He held my hips and pulled me against his hardness. “How are you not someone’s?”

“I’m yours if you want me.” The words spilled from my kiss-swollen lips.

He lifted his hips to press his arousal against my damp panties. “Baby, this is how much I want you. You ready to open this door?”

Am I? My head screamed yes. My heart screamed yes. My body screamed hell yes.

“Yes,” I whispered. “Take the wine and yourself to my room. Second door on the right. I’ll be right in.”

His hands moved to cup my face. “This doesn’t have to happen. It may be too soon for you.”

Silas was an enigma; he sent out this tough-as-nails vibe, but he was a softy. I rocked against his erection and laughed to myself. Not exactly soft there.

My lips pressed to his one more time before I slid from his lap. Once I pushed the half-full bottle of Merlot and glasses into his hand, I turned him in the right direction and propelled him forward. I needed a moment to come to terms with what I was about to do.