“It’s…” She was wearing perfume—something just sliding toward hot. The room had never experienced that sort of seductive female scent before. He glanced to the left, dropped a toy car on his foot.

“I’ll find it. Want a refill?”

“No, I’ve got—” For God’s sake, he thought, dumping the toys and going after her again. “Look, Kate, you caught me at a bad time.”

“Boy, look at these ceilings. Have you been doing the rehab yourself?”

“When I have some spare time. Listen—”

He broke off, swore, when she strolled into the kitchen. “Wow.” She scanned the room. Granite countertops, slate floor, oak cupboards and a charming little stone hearth.

And every inch covered with dishes, pots, school papers, newspapers, discarded outerwear.

“Wow,” she said again. “This took some real effort.” She stepped over to the counter where what was left of the pizza had yet to be put away. Broke off a corner. Nibbled. “Good.”

The drunk elves, he thought, had nothing on the war-crazed monkeys that had invaded his kitchen. “It’s usually not this bad.”

“You had a party with your son. Stop apologizing. Beer in the fridge?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Hell with it. “Why aren’t you at a party?”

“I am. I just came late.” She handed him the beer. “Open that for me, will you?” She sniffed the air while he twisted off the cap. “I smell popcorn.”

“We pretty much finished that off.”

“Well, that’s what I get for being late.” She leaned back against the counter, took a sip of beer. “Want to go sit on the couch, watch the rest of the movie and make out?”

“Yeah. No.”

“No to which, the movie or the making-out?”

She was laughing at him. He wanted to be enraged. But was only aroused. “You keep getting in my way.”

“So what are you going to do about it?”

With his eyes on hers, he closed the distance between them. Took the bottle from her hand, set it aside.

New Year’s Eve, he thought. Out with the old. In with the…who knew?

“Well.” Pulses thrumming, she started to slide her hands up his chest, but he caught them in his.

“No. My turn.”

He lowered his head, and his mouth began to whisper over hers.

“Dad?”

“Oh God.” It came out on a low moan as Brody stepped back.

Jack stood in the doorway, rubbing sleepy eyes. “What are you doing, Dad?”

“Nothing.” And the doing of nothing with Kate was very likely to kill him.

“Actually your dad was going to kiss me.”

“Kate.” He said it in precisely the same tone he’d used when Jack said something unfortunate.

“Nah.” Jack, in his oldest Power Ranger pajamas, studied them owlishly. His hair stood up in pale spikes, and his cheeks were still flushed from sleep. “Dad doesn’t kiss girls.”

“Really?” Before Brody could back too far away, Kate simply grabbed ahold of his shirt. “Why not?”

“Because they’re girls.” To emphasize the point, Jack rolled his eyes. “Kissing girls is yuck.”