Axell heard his namesake cooing in her cradle and a pair of feet hit the floor running in the room next door. "I don't suppose even a quickie—"
Small fists thrashed the door. "Maya! Maya! It's late. Wake up. Why is Matty sleeping in front of your door? We gotta get to school."
"You've taught her to murder the English language," Axell complained as he pulled his aching loins away from temptation. Self-denial did not improve his humor.
"Constance can speak properly when she likes. Slang just means she's comfortable with us." Maya groped under her pillow and produced a long purple football jersey.
"If comfortable equates lazy," he grumbled.
The sudden silence on the other side of the door seemed ominous. Axell grabbed his clothes.
"Did I hear Daddy?" a timid voice squeaked.
"Now we're in for it," Maya said cheerfully, wriggling into the jersey. "You may be sorry she's talking again."
"Women and children should be seen and not heard." He jerked on his trousers. Only Maya's admiring glance over her shoulder restored some of his humor. Maybe she was right. Maybe he didn't notice women when they looked at him. He sure as hell noticed when Maya did it though. It made him wish his pants weren't so damned tight.
Assured that he was at least decent, Maya opened the bedroom door to a silent Matty sucking his thumb and a wary Constance. "All right, I'm running late," she admitted. "Why don't the two of you fix cereal? I'll be out to help in a few minutes."
Axell could see Constance straining to peer past Maya and dread filled his soul. He didn't know how to handle these awkward situations.
"Did Daddy sleep with you?" Constance asked, half-accusingly.
"That's what daddies and mommies do. Now hurry up. Alexa will be hollering for her bottle soon. You can pour your milk, can't you?"
Not entirely accepting this new arrangement, the kids reluctantly reacted to the command in Maya's voice. Some people talked to animals. Maya spoke to kids. By the time Constance and Matty hit the kitchen, Axell could hear their giggles.
He looked at her wonderingly and with definite admiration. The jersey emphasized all the right curves and almost matched her purple streak as she turned around. "I can see why you teach school."
And he could. All this time, he'd thought her teacher act was just something she did for the money because she couldn't do anything else. He'd known the kids liked her, that the school was clean and decent and had the kind of teacher/student ratio he preferred for Constance. Other than that, he'd thought the school a duplicate of every other school of its kind. He was just beginning to grasp what the kids understood instinctively: that with Maya on board, the Impossible Dream was unique.
He didn't want it to be that way. He wanted the school to be dispensable. He wanted Maya for Constance. He didn't care about the other kids.
But Maya did. Maya cared for those kids as much as she cared for her own.
Someone may have murdered for the land that school sat on. He didn't want Maya or the kids in their path. How the hell would he talk her into closing?
"Why are you looking at me like that?" Maya slid her arms around his waist and stood on tiptoe to kiss him.
Groaning, he kissed her back, then firmly set her away. "There's only so much denial I can handle in one day. And I was looking to see if you wore wings and a halo or sported a magic wand. How do you do that?"
"What?" she teased, slipping her hand beneath his unbuttoned shirt and teasing at the curl of hair above his waistband. "You don't know how sex works?"
"Not with two kids and a whimpering infant underfoot," he said dryly, removing her hand from temptation. "I think I'll hire a nanny."
She snickered and headed for the shower. "You had three of them here last night. Just let me know when you want your peace back."
An icy breeze washed over Axell as the bathroom door closed between them. She was still thinking of their marriage as a temporary arrangement that would end the minute he tired of it.
She still kept her teacups packed in a box at the school, ready to move at a moment's notice. Maya didn't know the meaning of permanence, didn't share his ability to ride out life's storms.
The druggies in his restaurant last night were probably the opening volley of the mayor's new war against his license. What would