“Are you all right?” Tony pulled her into his arms. She sighed and rested her head against his chest. He laid his cheek against her hair. When he spoke again, she could feel the warm rumble of his voice in his chest. “You seem like remembering that shook you up a bit.”
“Yes. It’s just so frustrating. Having that little bit back is almost worse than not having anything at all.” She curled her fingers in his shirt. “I can’t even remember meeting you. All I remember is us arguing. Why couldn’t it have been our first kiss, or when we first met?”
Tension made his body stiff against hers. He sighed and, touching a fingertip beneath her chin, tilted her face up to his. “Let’s make a new memory. Here’s our first kiss. Don’t worry about the ones you forgot. Don’t worry about anything. Let this kiss be the one that really matters.”
His lips ghosted through the air over hers, so close she felt their heat. Yet he held back, until she closed her eyes and swayed closer. Asking. Almost begging. She needed his kiss. She needed to feel like something was right in her world, and God, she hoped it was this.
He tilted his head, and their lips met. Molten warmth quivered through her as he tasted her, explored her, left her gasping with the heated, moist friction of each caress. Her heart sank into her stomach, then rose into her throat, pounding until her pulse was a dull roar filling her head. He kissed her as if he needed her to live; kissed her as if he’d been yearning for this for his entire life. There was a desperation in his touch that left her aching, sighing. So much raw emotion, as though he could fill the empty places in her with this single kiss.
Rebecca pressed into his hard body. Tony grasped her at the hips and pulled her flush with him, pressing their bodies enticingly close. Liquid fire rolled through her veins. She arched against him. His tongue twined with hers, capturing it, and he teased a moan from her as he rolled his hips against her.
“Tony,” she panted.
He answered with a growl and lifted her right off the stool. His coarse hand skimmed down her thigh, then lifted it and hooked her leg around his hip. When he rolled his hips again, she choked on a cry. He moved between her legs, so shockingly, deeply intimate, and bent her back over the counter. She wrapped her other leg around him, and their lips met in a volatile fury. He fumbled with her clothing, and she tore at his.
“Daddy? I’m hungry.”
Shit.
They broke apart, gasping. Rebecca leaned hard on the counter. Only Tony’s hand against her back kept her from sinking on jellied legs to the floor. Good God, Miranda had caught Rebecca making out with the child’s father. She might as well have been caught by her parents with her skirt around her thighs and a boy on top of her.
Tony stared at her, stricken. “Oh my God. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean—” He raked a shaky hand through his hair. “I won’t do it again. I’m sorry.”
“Daddy?” Miranda asked. “What’s wrong?”
Tony’s eyes darted from Rebecca to his daughter to the door. “Nothing, baby, Daddy’s fine.”
He obviously wasn’t fine. Neither was Rebecca. Her heart twisted. Why had he kissed her like that, then apologized for it? If she was his girlfriend, wasn’t it natural?
She bit her lip. “Tony—”
He shook his head, his meaning clear. Not in front of Miranda.
Rebecca closed her eyes and turned away. At her back, she heard Tony cross the kitchen, and the forced shift in his voice as he asked, “What did you want for dinner, baby girl?”
“Can Rebecca make eggs again?” Miranda asked.
Rebecca glanced over her shoulder. Eggs? Something nagged at the corner of her mind, a vague hint of memory.
The best eggs this side of heaven.
Tony sighed. “Eggs are breakfast, honey. It’s dinner time.”
“She can have eggs,” Rebecca blurted. She turned back to face them. Miranda’s smile tugged on something inside her, a sense of longing that felt old and deep-rooted.
“Can I really?” the child squealed.
“If my lady wants eggs, eggs she shall have.” Rebecca curtsied. Miranda stifled a giggle.
“Well, if Rebecca’s okay…” Tony gave her a significant look.
“Of course I’m okay,” she bit off. No, she wasn’t. She was confused, and starting to get angry—but she wouldn’t take it out on Miranda. Ignoring Tony, she turned to the child. “Eggs it is, kiddo.”
“Can I help again, Becca? Please please please?” Miranda fidgeted.
“Do you usually help me? I didn’t think princesses made their own eggs.”
“I did, and I did good, I promise! Daddy was lazy. He slept on the couch and didn’t help at all.”
Rebecca frowned. Why would Tony have slept on the couch if they were living together and sharing a bed?
Tony shrugged. “I’m no good at eggs, baby girl. I’ll leave that to the experts.”
Rebecca had a feeling that wasn’t all it was.
Sighing, she pushed her troubled thoughts away. With a smile, she clapped her hands together. “Okay, Miranda. Let’s make some eggs.”
The little girl skipped toward the fridge, mumbling something about fairies and gardens. Rebecca shook her head and followed. If she wasn’t careful, Miranda could end up destroying the whole kitchen. Everyone knew a four-year-old’s “help” in the kitchen was no help at all.
Though how had Rebecca known that, when she couldn’t remember?
To hell with it. She had a new memory waiting for her right here, and she’d just made another delicious one with Tony, even if he’d confused her terribly. And as they cracked eggs and made toast, as she tickled Miranda’s nose and cleaned up the mess of eggshells crumbled everywhere, Rebecca smiled and just let herself relax. This felt like heaven; this felt right. This was her life, and she fit into it so perfectly.
She’d come home.
Chapter Six
Angel Rule #6: Never forget your place in the household is temporary.
“Daddy?” Miranda’s little hand curled over the top edge of the storybook and pulled it down out of Tony’s line of sight. “Why can’t Becca be my mommy?”
Tony sucked in a deep breath. His daughter looked up at him over the pages of 101 Princess Tales, her tiny body nestled in a jumble of pajamas, blankets, pillows, and dolls. He’d been thinking of Rebecca with every page. How it had felt to spend the night cuddled on the couch, Rebecca on one side, Miranda on the other, the three laughing together over a horrible B movie they’d only picked because Miranda had wanted fairies.