***
Mark walked into the kitchen barefoot with the robe wrapped around him.
Linda glanced up from the stove and smiled. “Well, don’t you look cozy. Very five-star hotel.”
He tugged the belt tighter, his face flushing. “It’ll do. Thanks.”
They sat down to plates of spaghetti and glasses of wine. The candles flickered between them.
At first it was easy talk: the kids, work, the storm. The wine went down fast, and the second glass loosened tongues.
Linda twirled pasta on her fork. “How are you and Karen doing these days? Really?”
Mark shrugged. “She’s good. She’s a great mom, and she keeps everything running.”
Linda studied him. “That’s not what I asked. I asked: how are you and Karen doing?”
He exhaled and looked into his glass. “To be honest, Mom, we’re friends. We’re partners. But she’s just not interested in me anymore. Not romantically, if you know what I mean. Maybe once a month she lets me, you know, but she’s not into it. And, if I’m honest, it feels lonely. I miss having that intimate connection with my wife.”
Linda’s face softened with real sympathy. “Oh, honey. No man should have to live like that. Especially not you.” She reached across and laid her hand over his. “You’re handsome, strong, and kind. If I had a man like you around this house, believe me, there would be plenty going on.”
Mark’s pulse jumped at the touch, but he left his hand there. “You’ve been alone a long time too,” he said.
She nodded. Her eyes were on their hands. “Four years since your dad passed. Just me and this big empty house.”
“That’s criminal,” he said quietly. “You’re beautiful, Mom. Sexy as hell. You have no idea how many guys would kill to be with you.”
She gave a doubtful little laugh. “At my age?”
“Are you kidding?” He squeezed her hand, and his voice was earnest. “You’ve got those eyes, that smile, that laugh and your body.” He stopped, like he’d said too much. Then he pushed on, the wine lowering his inhibitions. “That ass in those jeans? Jesus. And your breasts. You’re perfect from head to toe!”
Linda’s cheeks went scarlet, but she didn’t pull her hand away. “Mark…”
“I mean it. If you weren’t my mom, if we were just two people stuck in this house tonight…” He met her eyes. “You wouldn’t be safe. I wouldn’t be able to help myself. I’d take advantage of you for sure.”
The kitchen went dead quiet except for the wind rattling the windows.
Linda’s lips parted, breath shallow. “Maybe,” she said, voice barely above a whisper, “a woman wouldn’t mind being taken advantage of by the right man.”
They stared at each other across the candlelight. The air was thick with tension.
Linda was the first to move. She pulled her hand back and stood quickly. “I, um, I should clean up. Why don’t you get a fire started in the living room? And pour us a little more wine.” She tried for a normal smile. “We’ll sit by the fire. It’s getting cold in here.”
Mark nodded. “Yeah. Fire. Wine. Good idea.”
***
Mark knelt at the hearth. He stacked kindling over crumpled newspaper. A match flared, caught, and the dry wood crackled to life. He added two bigger splits of wood and then a nice log on top. He stood and poured two fresh glasses of wine from a second bottle and set them on the coffee table.