Introductions

Her lips were soft, yielding. One of his hands was at the back of her head, tangled in her hair and the other was at the small of her back, pulling her closer… closer. His breaths were becoming shallower, faster, and the blood was flooding to his groin, the arousal building. He was lost in the feel of her, the smell of her… Until the door opened… and he looked across the room into those brown eyes… again… and he briefly detected the pain, the betrayal filling those beautiful eyes before she was able to quickly look away… again…

He woke suddenly, breathing rapidly. This was always the point at which he woke up – with the arousal swiftly dissipating and the feeling of utter hopelessness and regret descending into his being. He had helplessly watched Jordan walk away… again… and yet again he got the uneasy feeling as she walked away from the door and down the hall that she was walking away on oh, so many levels.

Woody lay on his back attempting to regain control of his breathing and wondered if he would ever succeed in banishing this nightmare – forever. This was not the way he wanted to begin his son's fourth birthday and he worked to push the residual sensations from his body and his mind.

A glance at the alarm clock on the bedside table told him it was early. But not too early. He hastily made Max's bed and headed for the shower. If his luck continued to hold out he'd find everything he needed downstairs, and all would be well underway before the other two inhabitants of the house arose.

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Jordan was dragged into consciousness by the feeling of the little fingers prying her eyes open and the aroma of coffee. Will was on top of her, his face an inch from hers, his blue eyes staring into her own. And he was whispering – very loudly.

"Too early." She tried to pull him into the bed beside her with the hope that she could get him to go back to sleep. He squirmed out of her grip and sat on top of her again. It occurred to her that he was still talking, and she finally managed to focus on what he was saying.

"Daddy's making breakfast."

"Yes, Will." With that said, the memory of the previous evening came rushing back and Jordan was on her way down the stairs, tying her robe closed as she went, with Will following closely behind her. Woody looked up as she entered the kitchen, "Good Morning. I didn't mean to wake you."

"Good Morning. You didn't," she replied motioning with her hand to Will who was effectively hiding behind his mother.

"Oh, I see," Woody replied smiling at Jordan and hoping that she would provide some indication of how he should handle the situation. Last night the little boy hiding behind her had called him "Daddy" and now he was shyly using his mother as a shield.

Jordan recognized Woody's indecision and immediately knelt down next to Will and asked softly, "Would you like to say hello to your daddy?" The nod was almost imperceptible. Jordan looked up at Woody to find him walking in their direction.

Woody knelt down next to Jordan and extended his hand, "Hello Will. It's nice to meet you." The little boy nodded and extended his hand. "Would you and your mommy like to join me for breakfast? I think I made too many pancakes to eat all by myself."

Will's eyes widened and he looked at Jordan, who nodded. "Oh, yes please," he replied as he rushed toward the table.

"How did you know he loves pancakes?" Jordan chuckled.

"Just a lucky guess… they're my favorite breakfast food, so I figured I'd give it a try."

"Like father like son?" Jordan looked at him raising her eyebrows.

His smile was warm and his voice sincere, "I like the sound of that."

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"Ummm. Something smells good. Like…" Woody entered the kitchen taking a deep breath "…I can't quite place it. What are you making?"

"Corned beef and potatoes. No cabbage. Spaghetti and marinara – with meatballs on the side. Salad with ranch dressing – no tomatoes, but lots of onions and pickled cucumbers. Sweet potatoes with real butter. And broccoli trees – only the leaves, not the trunks." Behind the tiniest trace of a smile on her face was a look of… resignation? Her smile broadened slightly when she detected his confusion.

"And cake. Don't forget the chocolate cake," came Will's voice from behind Woody. "My birthday dinner! For my Pirate Party!"

Woody was now standing directly in front of her and Jordan's voice was little more than a whisper, "This can happen when he's given choice without limits. I'm learning."

"How is the Pirate Ship Treasure Chest?" she asked in a normal speaking tone.

"Daddy fixed it and I helped. And I buried all the treasure!" Will's declaration was triumphant.

Earlier that morning Jordan had gone to bury "treasure" gift bags for the younger party guests to dig for in Will's boat-shaped sandbox – only to discover that the sand was disgustingly soggy. With Will's assistance, Woody undertook the laborious task of removing the "yucky" sand and replacing it with dry, clean sand – sand that came from the toy store.

Jordan had purposely not warned him about taking Will to the toy store… while she had enjoyed an extended, uninterrupted, productive morning of "Pirate" party preparation.

"I can't thank you enough, Woody," she said, tilting her head up slightly in order to look into his eyes.

"My pleasure. Just one thing, though?"

"Anything." It was out of her mouth before her brain engaged.

Woody lifted one eyebrow and his eyes traveled her body from head to toe before they locked with hers, where they remained for several long moments. "Shower?" he finally managed, his voice revealingly husky.

"Yeah, um… sure. I put clean towels up there a while ago." Her reply was distracted and she answered without breaking his gaze.

He looked away momentarily and then briefly back to her. "I'll… yeah… thanks," he mumbled as he moved out of the room, leaving Jordan standing in the kitchen – not quite sure what to do next.

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Woody realized that the house was considerably nosier than when he had slipped upstairs to shower and change. He reached the bottom of the stairs – searching for Jordan to find out if she had anything else that needed to be done.

Uncle Bug and Uncle Nigel were surveying Will's "loot" with him. They had counted fourteen gifts when a movement caught Bug's attention and he noticed the tall figure standing at the bottom of the stairs. He quickly tapped Nigel's shoulder.

"What?"

"Not what. Who." Bug said in an even voice as he nodded slightly toward the stairs.

Will realized that his Uncles had stopped counting and he curiously glanced over to where they were staring. "Oh. That's my daddy," he pointed out nonchalantly and promptly returned his attention to the pressing matters at hand.