Daniel awoke to the smell of pancakes. It took a moment for him to place where he was. It always did. His dreams were sometimes more vivid than reality, whether of smoke-filled battle fields or limp, lifeless blondes. This morning in particular the confusion hung over him. He ran a hand across his face as if to clear the cob webs from his brain.
Pancakes? His mother had not made pancakes since he was in kindergarten. Eggs, bacon, toast; sure, but not pancakes.
Then he remembered. The woman. Jill was her name. The events of the previous day came flooding back like lahar flow after a volcanic eruption. The woman had flown thousands of miles to marry him based upon emails he had not even written. The idea seemed ridiculous, but what little he had seen of the woman, she seemed anything but the flighty type of feminine creature he would expect to do something so...crazy.
Rolling over he looked at the digital clock on the nightstand next to his bed. Nine thirty-eight.
"What the fuck?" he spat. He never slept past oh-six-hundred. Not in years. Not even on vacation. It was programmed into his mind and body. His alarm clock was more for show than functionality.
The girls. What about them? Where were they? Worse yet, what had they gotten into? Even if she was up and cooking pancakes, the girls did not know Jill. How could she manage three children under the age of six and make breakfast?
Daniel's senses were immediately at attention, his mind racing with horrific images of disasters, each worse than the last. Three girls could cause more trouble than a terrorist cell.
He threw back the blankets and raced down the hall towards the kitchen, not even considering his attire.
***
Jill flipped another of the sweet breakfast treats in the small pan. This morning she had opted for the thicker American style batter that rose in the pan, a golden delight visually as well as its smell and taste.
Her brows creased in thought. It was amazing that two countries, which shared the same language and were in fact close relations, could have so many differences. She had barely been back in the United States for twelve hours and already she had run across at least a dozen different words or customs. Pancakes that were so thin you could see right through them seemed inconsequential in the grander scheme of things, especially in the bright morning light.
The mess that she had made of her life by hopping on the first plane available and coming three thousand miles to marry a stranger that was consequential.
"Bel, you ready for another?" She asked the little girl playing quietly at the table with a Barbie doll.
Turning around with another pancake poised on the spatula, she almost dropped the frying pan. The sight that greeted her gaze sent her heart into overdrive and pushed the air from her lungs.
Six foot plus of lean, muscular male filled the doorway between the kitchen and living room. His soft chocolate hair looked as if someone had just run their fingers through it. His matching beard was in disarray. His blue eyes held a sleepy, dream-like look that invited her mind to go places it should not.
Most disconcerting of all, he wore nothing more than a pair of basic military issue white boxer shorts. Jill's throat tightened further at the sight.
The man was beautiful. She knew that was not the correct word to use to describe this tough, macho-type men, but no other word fit. She thought of the Greek gods that she had read about in high school.
Ares, the god of war. The man before her was the modern day reincarnation of Ares.
She tried to ignore the rush of heat that coursed through her blood and pooled distinctly between her thighs, a wetness that begged to be relieved. She was a woman after all. Any woman would feel the same, she assured herself. She almost jumped from her skin at the girlish giggles which echoed off the kitchen walls.
"Daddy," Bel squealed. The twins, sitting in matching Winnie the Pooh high chairs, simply hit their messy hands against the white plastic trays that surrounded them.
"I hope the girls didn't wake you," he said in a deep husky voice that caressed her skin and sent electric shock waves skittering along her spine.
"I hope you don't mind," she fumbled waving her hands towards the counter top where eggs, flour, sugar and milk sat among drips of yellowish batter and white powder. "I suppose my body clock is still a bit off," she smiled by way of explanation.
"Mind? Lady, I woke to the smell of pancakes. Why the hell would I mind?" He paused and with a conspiratorial wink to Bel adding, "As long as there are some for me."
"Yes, Daddy. Jill saved you some. She said not to wake you up," the child explained through the gap where her front teeth had once been.
"I'll put some more on while you get dressed," Jill hinted as she turned back towards the low flame on the stove. The idea of sharing an intimate breakfast with him wearing nothing more than boxers might be appealing, but it was also more than a bit daunting given the misunderstanding that had resulted it her current uncertain future.
Still she doubted that the sight of this man in his bare feet and boxer shorts would quickly fade from her mind, if ever. More than likely her brain would file it away and bring it forth to haunt her erotic dreams in an empty bed for months and years to come.
"If you're sure the girls aren't bothering you," he questioned once more.
Jill giggled as she thought, 'It's not the girls that are bothering me, commander.' Over the last quarter century British politeness had taught her to keep such thoughts to herself. "We have everything under control, commander." She assured, careful to keep her back towards him and her eyes straight ahead. "You should go get dressed. Your pancakes will be ready in a couple of minutes." She would need that time to try and wipe his mostly naked form from her mind if she were to continue with polite indifference.
***
Daniel sat at the oval table that dominated the small kitchen with its yellowish walls. His fork was laden with thick layers of pancake. The rich, brown maple syrup dripped to his plate below. The truth was that the smell had not done justice to the woman's cooking. The pancakes were perhaps the best he had ever tasted.
"Want more?" the woman asked as she cleared Bel's plate from the table.
He shook his head. "I really shouldn't." He had already consumed at least half a dozen. Anymore and he would have to add an extra mile to his daily run.
He watched as she used a damp cloth to wipe Britney's hand. Ashley was content to shovel another bite-size piece of pancake into her mouth. Bel had run off to her room her Barbie doll in tow.
His eyes came to rest on the generous curves of the woman. Her jeans clung tightly to round hips. He stared in fascination. Where this woman was soft and generous, Rachel had always been more angular. Even during her three pregnancies, she had carefully watched each thing she ate, afraid to gain too much weight. After the births, she had spent hours in the gym. Her need to lose it all quickly was almost obsessional. Hell, Rachel had always been so small that some part of him had been almost afraid of breaking her. As a result, their lovemaking had never been especially good, tame by most standards in fact.
There would be no need for restraint with a woman built like this. Her full hips and round backside elicited forbidden thoughts of wild lovemaking, reckless comings together of flesh, ample enough to take whatever came.
Daniel cleared his throat and with iron will pulled his mind back from thoughts that it had no business thinking. The woman was a guest in his home, a temporary if unexpected guest. In a couple of days, she would be gone and his life would be back...to normal. Except nothing had been normal in their lives in a very long time.
As if sensing his gaze, Jill looked up at him. She fidgeted with the cloth, wringing it between her fingers nervously. "I really am sorry about all the mess. I tend to make a bit of a mess when I cook. And it is just that I cook when I think," she chuckled. "To be honest, I cook when I'm happy. I cook when I'm mad. I cook when I worry. I guess I just cook," she explained nervously as she turned back to the counter wiping and cleaning the remnants of the morning feast.
"Think away then," Daniel said as he patted his full stomach. If the way to a man's heart was his stomach, this woman must have left a lot of broken hearts, he thought. He watched as she set to work rinsing syrup from the plates, loading the dish washer and wiping down already clean counter tops. It was clear that this situation was making her as nervous as he was.
When she ran out of work at the sink, she turned back to the table. With a weak smile she asked, "You finished?" she stared at his empty plate. He nodded as she lifted the plate.
Hesitating for a moment, she asked "Is there any way I can get online? I want to email my cousin in Houston."
"Sure. I'll set you up on the wireless this morning," he offered with a smile. Daniel chastised himself for the poor host he had been. He should have realized that she needed to contact family and friends to let them know she was alright. "Sorry, I did not think of it sooner."
"Thanks, it's alright really. It is just that the sooner I can email my family and check a few things out online, the sooner I can get out of your hair," she said as she wiped Ashley's hands and face.
Daniel frowned at her words. Of course, she would want to make plans since the ones that had brought her here in the first place had fallen through. But still she seemed so completely in charge, as if his kitchen were her battlefield and his girls her troops to command. It was more than a bit disconcerting how natural it all felt, he thought as she picked the child up in her arms.
"I'll be back for you, sweetie, after I change your sister," she cooed to the baby sitting in her clean high chair chasing a cloth block across the tray.
"Ashley. After you change, Ashley," he supplied.
Jill smiled weakly at him. "Thanks. I would ask how to tell them apart, but I suppose it doesn't matter. I won't be staying that long."
Her words stung for some unexplained reason. Rather than delve deeper into the why's of the situation, Daniel sought solace in mundane conversation. "Britney is more demanding and she has a dimple in her left cheek when you make her giggle," he explained. "Ashley is laid-back. An easy baby and the dimple is on the right side with her. I just tickle them when I need to figure out which is which."
She smiled and turned down the hall towards the nursery where she was staying. Ashley tucked naturally in her arms babbled happily as if revealing secrets of her own. Her baby's conversation made more sense at the moment than anything else about this situation. "Thanks," she mumbled as she beat a quick retreat.
Daniel sighed as the woman left the room. "What now, buddy?" he asked.
As if in answer to his rhetorical question, Britney goo-ed. "Yeah, well, don't get used to the pancakes, sweet cheeks. You know I can't cook worth a damn."
The baby clapped her hands and drooled in response.
