Page 82 of Craig

"She isn't half bad."

"Okay, old man, I'm going to be gearing up for you next time."

"Which will be soon, I imagine." His expression looked so hopeful that she found herself nodding.

"Oh, naturally. I simply cannot afford the indignity of you beating me at Scrabble. Your brain is old and shriveled."

He merely snorted. "Get her out of here, boy."

He looked disconcerted when she rose and moved to kiss his cheek. "Sleep tight and try not to croak while doing it."

Her perfume still lingered in the air, even after they had left. Cecil changed into his pajamas and just sat on the edge of the bed, eyes darting towards the sofa.

For the first time in more years than he could remember, he felt completely and utterly alive.

Chapter 13

Craig walked around the perimeter of the building and away from the tremendous sounds of power saws, drills, and hammers that created a cacophony of coordinated chaos. Music to his ears.

It smacked of progress. And that was what he loved to hear.

The project was well underway. The contractors had given him a timeline.

By December, he would have his building. He already had the paperwork, the staff in mind.

He would pull from the local neighborhood. An old friend of his, Matthew LeBlanc, tall, black, and sturdy as an oak tree, and former military, would serve as administrator for what was going to be the boys' home.

As a former runaway juvenile himself, who had spent most of his young days as a ward of the state, he understood what was needed.

It wasn't going to be just a home; Craig had decided on that much when the idea formed. It was going to be more of a safe place for abused boys, a shelter from the metaphorical storm, a club where they would heal and study and play.

There was going to be a basketball court, a soccer field, and of course, baseball. Later on there would be a swimming pool and a place where they could learn to ride horses, all in suitable time.

But right now, he was raring to get started.

He was dividing his time at the corporate office. Christ, he was CEO of Muldoon Enterprises, a corporate figure, and he was trying his best not to freak out about it.

Fortunately for him, the management team and his assistant kicked ass.

He had avoided the company for obvious reasons, to piss the old man off after the way he'd treated his parents, and was now back, taking over.

And he liked it, he had to admit grudgingly. Not that he was ever going to mention it to the man.

He attended his first board meeting of the week, this morning, sat there and listened, made his contribution, signed off on some contracts, and okayed a few new ones.

Now he was here. The only thing he refused to do was wear a suit and a bloody tie.

That was commented on at the breakfast table. Another first, one that Regina had implemented.

"I don't eat breakfast," he had growled at her when she suggested it.

"You ate breakfast when we were at the cabin," she pointed out as she selected her clothing for the day. It thrilled him that they shared a bedroom and bathroom, and that he got to see her carry out her ritual for the morning.

He had made love to her this morning, waking her up with his hands and mouth, and sending them both into a spin of passion that had overflowed.

"That was not the norm."

She had sent him a cool look over her shoulder that had him frowning. "He's lonely."