Chapter Eleven
Addicted. She was addicted to Seth Masterson. And after three days of hot, passionate sex, Miranda was past the point of trying to convince herself this was about combating stress. Granted, the regular orgasms were a fantastic stress-buster, but forgetting the worries of the day was the last thing on her mind when she snuck in Seth’s room at every available moment.
She craved him. Craved his kiss and his touch. His wicked tongue and talented hands. His cock buried deep inside her. The pleasure he evoked in her was unbelievable. Unfathomable. How was it possible to feel that good?
“So you’re okay with the Lil Wayne track?”
Miranda’s head jerked up. “Huh?”
“For the hip-hop number. Lil Wayne. We good with the song selection?” Andre Howard, one of the instructors, watched her with expectant brown eyes.
“As long as it’s the edited radio version,” she answered.
“Of course, sweetie. Do I look like I want a bunch of outraged parents on my back?” Andre slung his gym bag over his shoulder and grinned. “By the way, my girls did good today. They’ll bring down the house on show night.”
They’d better, Miranda thought. The parents of those kids paid a lot of money for these classes, and if she wanted them to enroll their kids for the fall session, she had to give them a good show. Her own group, the girls in beginner ballet, were making progress too, including Sophie, who had a natural talent that made Miranda proud. But she suspected her daughter wouldn’t stick with ballet for much longer. Sophie was too smart for her age, too analytical and she could charm the bees right out of their honey—Miranda wouldn’t be surprised if her daughter became a politician someday.
“Oh, and Elsa’s in your office. She wanted to talk to you about one of her students,” Andre added as they fell into step with each other and headed for the door.
The school housed three large studios, two locker rooms with washrooms and a shower area, and a small office Miranda hardly ever used. Ginny, one of the other instructors, handled enrollment and payment, and Miranda had hired a business manager to deal with anything else that needed to be dealt with. Although she had a good head for business, she didn’t enjoy the business side of running the school. She would much rather focus on the creative aspect of it and let others handle the rest.
Andre, the forever-smiling African American with a flair for the dramatic, was the first teacher she’d hired. He was a recent Juilliard graduate who’d decided he preferred teaching to performing, and he taught mostly hip-hop, including a coed class that was growing in popularity—he already had a waiting list for the next sessions.
As she and Andre entered the hallway, he flashed her that big, dimpled smile of his. “You tending bar tonight, boss?”
“Unfortunately.” She let out a weary sigh. “Weekends are supposed to be lovely and relaxing, aren’t they? So why are mine always jam-packed with activity? By Sunday night, I’m ready to collapse.”
In fact, she wasn’t sure she’d make it through tonight’s shift without falling asleep in the middle of pouring a drink. She’d gone to bed at five in the morning, after Seth cajoled her into a quickie when she got home from the club. The resulting orgasm had been delicious—but getting only four hours of sleep, not so delicious. To compound the exhaustion, she’d spent the entire morning and afternoon at the school, teaching three back-to-back classes.
And her day wasn’t even close to being over. She still had to take the kids out for their Saturday pizza dinner, drive home, get them bathed and in their PJ’s before Kim got there, go to the club, and then tend bar until two in the morning.
Someone kill her. Now.
“I don’t know how you do it,” Andre remarked. “I swear, you’re Superwoman.”
“Tell me about it. Anyway, drive safe. I’ll see you tomorrow bright and early. I’ll be the one asleep at the barre.”
Andre laughed. “See you tomorrow, Superwoman.”
They parted ways, Andre heading for the front door, Miranda continuing down the hall toward the back office where Elsa Fisher was waiting.
Elsa was in her midforties, a ballerina who’d immigrated to the States after touring the world with a renowned German dance corps. She taught advanced ballet and contemporary dance to the older students, while Miranda worked with the younger ones. Ginny and Andre, who rounded out the teaching staff, worked with all ages.
“Hey, Elsa, what’s up?” she asked as she entered the office.
Elsa rose from the desk chair, a frown pinching her thin lips. “The father was here again. He wants to discuss Catherine’s future at the school, but he refuses to talk to anyone but you.”
Miranda shook her head in annoyance. “But Catherine is your student. I already explained to him on the phone that you’re the one to talk to in regards to growth and development.”
“He insists he must discuss it with you, the owner. He was waiting for you after Catherine’s private lesson, but your class ran late so he left. He told me to let you know he’ll be phoning you tomorrow.”
The billionth sigh of the day shuddered out of her lungs. Okay. No big deal. For some reason, Catherine Porter’s father was chomping at the bit for a few minutes of Miranda’s time. Clearly he wouldn’t take no for an answer, so she’d just suck it up and have a brief conversation with him tomorrow.
“All right. Thanks for letting me know,” she told Elsa. “I’ve got to take off now. You’ll lock up after your evening lesson?”
“Of course.”
“Then I’ll see you tomorrow.”
She waved good-bye and left the office, heading for the empty studio where she’d left her daughter. When she poked her head in, she saw Sophie sprawled on a pile of blue mats, playing with the new doll they’d picked out a couple of days ago. Miranda had taken the kids to the mall after kindergarten for the sole purpose of replacing Sophie’s beloved Belinda; fortunately, Belinda’s successor, Emily, was a big hit so far.
“Time to go, Soph,” she called out. “We have to pick up your brother.”
Sophie hopped off the mats, tucking Emily under her arm as she dashed over and threw herself into Miranda’s legs with a hefty whoomp.
Miranda laughed and stared down at her daughter. “What’s this about?”
“Do you still love me, Mommy?” A pair of big brown eyes gazed imploringly at her.
“Why on earth would you ask me that, sweetie? Of course I still love you!”
Relief flooded her daughter’s face. “Promise?”
“I promise, Soph, I still love you. I will always love you. Always and always and always.”
“Pinky promise?”
Miranda promptly squatted down to the floor and stuck out her pinkie. After a second, Sophie offered a pinkie in return and they sealed the deal.
“Now,” Miranda said, incredibly disturbed by this entire exchange, “can you tell me why you thought I didn’t love you anymore?”
“’Cause you ignored me in class t’day when I tried to show you my plié.” Sophie pouted. “And yesterday you only read one story after dinner and you usually read two and Jase said maybe you were tired ’cause our house is underwater and then he said maybe we would hafta live with Sef forever but I said we wouldn’t ’cause Sef is mean ’cept sometimes he’s not mean, sometimes he’s nice, but then he stops being nice when he sees that we see he’s being nice.”
It took a few seconds to make sense of everything her daughter had said. Rising to her feet, she took Sophie’s hand, then picked up the two dance bags she’d left by the door. She decided to address one point at a time.
“First of all, if I ignored you today, I didn’t mean to. I probably just didn’t hear you, sweetie,” she assured her daughter, who was clutching her hand so tightly Miranda’s bones ached. “And remember we talked about how when there are ten other little girls in the studio, I have to pay attention to all of them instead of just one?”
“I remember.”
“I’m sorry if I hurt yo
ur feelings, Soph, but I promise, I didn’t do it on purpose, okay?”
“’Kay.”
They exited the building and walked hand in hand to the parking lot behind the school. Miranda tried to remember Sophie’s next complaint. Right, the stories.
“And your brother was right. I was very tired yesterday and that’s why I only read one story. Hey, know what Andre just called me?”
“What?”
“Superwoman.”
Sophie giggled. “That’s funny.”
“Kind of, but see, it’s not true.” She lifted her daughter into the backseat and buckled her up, then knelt in front of the open door. “I’m not a superhero, Soph. I can’t do everything, and sometimes I get tired and cranky. I know that might not be fair to you and Jase, but sometimes you guys get tired and cranky too, right?”
“Right.”
“So what do you say we agree not to get upset with each other at times like those? Deal?”
Sophie smiled. “Deal.”
Uneasiness swelled in Miranda’s stomach as she reached the final topic of discussion. “And I don’t want you to worry. We’re not going to live with Seth forever. He’s just being a good friend to your mom and giving us a place to stay until our apartment is all fixed up.”
Sophie brought her doll up to her chest and began playing with Emily’s silky black hair. She avoided Miranda’s eyes as she whispered, “Do you like Sef more than you like me and Jase?”
Her heart squeezed. “Oh, sweetie, of course not. I like Seth, he’s a good friend of Mommy’s, but I could never like him more than you and Jason. I could never like anyone more.”
“Promise?”
“Pinky promise,” she replied, sticking out her baby finger.
They shook pinkies again, and then Miranda teasingly tugged on her daughter’s ponytail and got up. “Okay, now we need to pick up your brother before he thinks we abandoned him.”
She slid into the driver’s seat and started the engine, then pulled out of the lot and merged into the late afternoon traffic. A glance in the rearview mirror revealed Sophie playing with her doll, but suddenly Sophie’s head lifted and she locked gazes with her mother.
“I don’t wanna go for pizza today,” Sophie announced.
Miranda wrinkled her forehead. “But it’s our Saturday tradition.”
Her daughter stubbornly shook her head. “I don’t wanna go. Can you ask the pizza man to bring pizza to Sef’s house?”
“Sure, we can get it delivered,” she said, baffled. “But why?”
An exaggerated sigh reverberated in the interior of the car. “’Cause you’re tired, Mom. Duh!”
With that, Sophie returned her attention to her new doll, leaving Miranda to shake her head in awe and amusement. God, she had great kids. Sweet, perceptive, smart. Just all-around incredible.
The rugrats are smart, babe. Smart enough to know that you’re the only parent they need.
Seth’s words from the other night buzzed in her brain, immediately followed by the convoluted thought Sophie had voiced minutes ago.
Sometimes he’s nice, but then he stops being nice when he sees that we see he’s being nice.
Out of the mouth of babes.
Was Sophie on to something, though? Was Seth going out of his way to refrain from being nice to the twins? Was he purposely putting distance between himself and her children? Because the other day, when he’d recited his reasons for not wanting or liking kids, something had sounded so…false. And call her crazy, but there might have even been a tremor of panic in his tone.
It suddenly occurred to her that she hardly knew anything about Seth Masterson. He’d grown up in Vegas, he’d been raised by a showgirl, he’d enlisted at eighteen.
But what else? What was his childhood like? What were his hopes and dreams? How did he envision his future?
And did it really matter whether she had the answers to any of those questions? The involvement between her and Seth was purely sexual. Sooner or later it would fizzle out, so why try to forge a deeper connection?
Maybe the less insight she had into Seth’s complicated psyche, the better off she’d be.
Seth was feeling edgy as hell as he watched Miranda wipe the corner of her mouth with a napkin, all cute and demure-like. The four of them were sitting on the living room floor around the coffee table, munching on the pizza Miranda had ordered for dinner. The flat screen on the wall was playing an animated movie Jason had picked, but Seth wasn’t paying attention to the TV. He was too busy looking at Miranda, same way he’d been looking at her every goddamn second for the past three days.
Everything the woman did turned him on. She made even the most innocuous activities look dirty. Folding laundry, sweeping the kitchen floor—didn’t matter what she did, he wanted her. Tonight it was watching her eat pizza that got his blood going. His gaze was glued to her mouth, so focused on it, in fact, that one of the rugrats finally decided to comment. No surprise as to which one, either.
“Why are you staring at my mom?” Sophie demanded.
Seth blinked out of his lust-filled stupor. “Ah, because she had tomato sauce on her cheek.”
“I did?” Miranda’s dubious look said she saw right through him.
“Yeah, but it’s gone now. You wiped it away.”
Sophie pursed her lips in disapproval. “It’s rude to stare.”
“You’re right. It is.” He met Miranda’s hazel eyes. “I’m sorry for staring, Miranda.”
“It’s quite all right, Seth.”
She held his gaze for another second before turning to scold Jason, who was making a huge mess as he dipped his slice into a plastic container of barbecue sauce. Which kinda floored him, because Seth had never met anyone who slathered BBQ sauce on pizza the way he himself did. Neither he nor Miranda’s son had remarked on it, but there’d been unmistakable pleasure in Jason’s eyes when Seth had called dibs on one of the barbecue sauces. It was obvious the kid liked having something in common with him.
“Anyway, thanks for dinner,” Seth said, standing up. “I was dying of hunger when you got home and I couldn’t decide what to eat.”
Their gazes locked again. Miranda’s cheeks turned pink.
You, he told her with his eyes. I wanted to eat you.
Still did, too. He wanted to latch his mouth on that sweet pussy of hers and eat her until she screamed his name.
Her tone was nonchalant as she answered, “Well, if you’re hungry again later, let me know. I could always stop and grab you something to eat on my way back from the club tonight.” Later being the operative word in that sentence.
“Actually, I won’t be here later. I’ve gotta be at the base at one a.m. We’re doing night dives.”
More eye contact. Another unspoken message.
“Whath nithe difes?” Jason demanded through a mouthful of pizza.
“Jase,” Miranda chided. “Chew, swallow, talk.”
The little boy did as asked, then repeated himself. “What’s night dives?”
“It means we’re diving in the ocean in the middle of the night,” Seth explained brusquely.
“You go in the water in the dark?” Jason’s eyes widened. “But Mom says it’s dangerous to go swimming when it’s not sunny.”
Miranda smiled at her son. “Dangerous for you,” she corrected. “But see how big and strong Seth is?”
Jason nodded, slightly awed.
“Well, that means he’s allowed to do dangerous things every now and then. He underwent a lot of training, years and years of training, to be able to do what he does.”
Seth shifted in discomfort. Each word she said only succeeded in giving Jason a bigger case of hero worship, and he didn’t want to be the kid’s hero.
“Okay, uh, I’m gonna catch some shut-eye until I have to go,” Seth said before she could continue. He gave the rugrats a quick nod, Miranda one final look, and then left the living room.
After he shut and locked his bedroom door, he stripped off his T-shirt
, cargo pants and boxer briefs, and made his way to the bed. He hadn’t lied—sleep was definitely on the docket. Except he wouldn’t get a wink of it unless he remedied the problem down below.
He stretched out on the bed and fisted his erection, disappointed that he and Miranda wouldn’t be able to find any private time tonight. But she’d be busy with her kids until the babysitter showed up, and by the time she got home from work, he’d be deep beneath the ocean’s surface, engaged in mock amphibious landings.
Closing his eyes, he pumped his cock in quick, even strokes and envisioned Miranda’s perky tits. Her dusky nipples, so responsive to his touch. The sexy curve of her ass and baby-soft skin of her inner thighs. It didn’t escape him that he was jerking off to the thought of a woman who was by no means out of his reach. She was right beyond that door, and it drove him nuts that he couldn’t just take her whenever it tickled his fancy. But Miranda was a mom first—she’d made that abundantly clear—which meant that the twins claimed first priority on her time.
His cock, unfortunately, was of lesser importance.
No sooner had he accepted that grim assessment of his position on the totem pole than a soft knock sounded on the door.
When Miranda quietly said “can I come in” his cock twitched with excitement, a drop of fluid seeping from its slit.
He was off the bed in an instant, unlocking the door and tugging her into the room.
“Eleven minutes,” she whispered.
He shot her a questioning look.
“There’s eleven minutes left in the movie. It’s the final battle scene between the aliens and those weird purple monsters. The kids are hypnotized.” She was sliding out of her leggings as she spoke. “So we’ve got eleven minutes to make this happen.” Her gaze swept over his naked body. “I see you’ve already gotten started.”
He brought his hand back to his erection and gave it a firm squeeze. “I had no choice. Watching you nibble on that pizza got me hard as a rock.”