He envied his buddy, Cluny. Cluny flitted from woman to woman like a bee pollinating a rose garden. When he left one rose for the other, they parted the best of friends. How did he do it?
Dwayne would love to break his long, very long dry spell, but he had no interest in adopting Cluny’s lifestyle. He wanted permanence, a partner in every way. A steady woman he could make love with, laugh with, argue with. A smart, challenging, and uncomplicated woman who chose to be there every day for him and Amber.
Cluny had set him up on a couple of blind dates that weren’t worth the price of a babysitter. It was a problem. At thirty-one, with a kid, his prospects were skinny. Desperate single moms scared him more than an Iraqi soldier aiming an RPG at his head, and the thought of Amber ending up with the kind of stepmother he and his brothers got kept him awake nights.
He loved women and he loved to flirt, but the only woman who piqued his interest was Marla Danaher. She had it all in his book. Smart, sassy, opinionated, never married, a magnificent head of strawberry hair, a great rack, and lush hips he itched to get his hands on. The problem—she thought he was a jerk. Ah, well, he could dream.
Every time he pictured gorgeous Marla he got a throbbing ache. He glanced down at his work boots. What would she think if she knew only one boot held a foot? Was Marla the kind of woman who would see beyond his reminder of Iraq and realize he didn’t need two legs to be the man for her? One of these days he’d convince her he was sincere, but for now all he seemed to do was annoy the woman. It was probably best if he’d back off and tone it down.
Amber was his number one priority.
Later, after her bath, Amber stood next to him and buttoned her feet-in bunny pajamas. She tugged his pant leg. “Daddy?”
“What, sweetheart?”
“I don’t want to watch Cinderella again. I want you to read me a story.”
What a relief! Dwayne tossed the dishtowel on the counter and swept her over his shoulder. He smacked her little bottom then planted loud kisses on her cheeks and chewed at her neck, laughing when she squirmed and giggled.
“Daddy, put me down!”
“Do I have to? You’re so warm and cuddly, and you smell so good. I want to eat you up, my pretty.” He proceeded to growl at the other side of her neck.
Kicking and squealing, she barely choked out, “Daddy, stop!”
He reluctantly set her on her feet. “Okay. What story do you want me to read?”
“Cinderella.”
Marla ate peanut butter and chocolate ice cream out of the pint container she’d picked up at Baskin and Robbins on her way home from work. Why put it in a bowl? She lived alone, seldom had guests except for family, and didn’t allow Skipper to have ice cream even though he begged without letup with his bulgy brown eyes. He’d mastered the have pity expression.
She patted the adorably fat Chihuahua. “Chocolate is poison for doggies, Skip. I’ll give you a peanut butter treat later. Don’t pout. I shouldn’t be eating this either, but at least it won’t kill me.” Although death by chocolate would be a great way to go.
The phone rang. “Hi, Char. What, no date tonight?”
“How’d you know it was me?”
“Caller I.D. Ever heard of it?”
“Don’t be such a snarky pants. I’m working on Dadley’s birthday party next month. Do you think we should go all Mexican on the appetizers or mix it up?”
Every year Charlene went to great lengths to plan a surprise party for their father. He hated surprise parties, so Marla always told him the date in advance. That way he could look surprised and happy and actually enjoy the party.
“He loves anything Mexican. How can you go wrong unless you were considering a piñata? That would be over-the-top.”
“Forget that. Mom would kill me if a single scrap of cellophane ended up on her precious lawn.”
“We should have the party at the country club.”
“Costs too much.”
“I offered to pay, don’t forget.”
“I can’t show my face around there for a while. The golf pro’s wife nearly shot us when she caught him feeling me up in the cart shed.”
Marla dropped her head on the back of the couch. “Have you ever given serious thought to dating single guys? What’s with you and married men?”
“Hey! I date single men. I don’t know what you’re talking about. Why don’t you go on a real date? That’s why I talked you into the singles thing tomorrow night.”
“If by ‘real date’ you mean jumping in the sack with a man I barely know…”
“It’d make you smile for a change. Date somebody other than Edwin Plimpton. I don’t understand what you see in him. You probably need a magnifying glass to find his willie. How about that Dwayne guy? I bet he’d love to show you what a real man can do. I’d jump at the chance.”
Marla shook her head and sighed. The sad fact was Edwin had shown no interest in sex since they’d started going out three months ago. Their relationship, such as it was, was purely platonic.
“Forget I said anything. Go all Mexican, the more guacamole, the better. Have it catered. I’m not doing any of the cooking this year. I’ll take Sil shoe shopping at Cesare’s China Doll. That’ll keep her out of your hair while you and the boys get everything setup. I’m sure she can squeeze a couple more pair into her closet.”
Charlene’s snort came through loud and clear. “Yeah, for sure, Mom’s down to fifty or sixty pair by now, poor dear.”
“What are you complaining about? She and you wear the same size. You haven’t
