One of the Boys by Merline Lovelace

mountings for the missile. Pete offered his services once more, insisting he could help with the complex computer work.
    Although Maura had most of the analyses already programmed, she knew how much Pete resented being left out of this project. When he pleaded his case to their boss, Maura told Ed she could use the help. Once Pete joined the team, some of her pressure eased and she managed to steal a few evenings to meet Lisa at the cove.
    As the days passed, Lisa acquired a healthy tint to her creamy complexion and shed some of her quiet shyness. Maura’s lighthearted banter and enthusiasm for their now-shared hobby encouraged the girl’s emerging liveliness. More than once Jake found the two of them up to their knees in water, T-shirts sopping wet, sneakers full of mud, exclaiming over a treasured bit of clay.
    But it was the nights that seemed to color Maura’s existence. Whenever they weren’t working late and Lisa had some scheduled activity, Jake would proceed with another lesson in the art of making love.
    One night would be wild and hard and fast, another so slow and sensual, Maura thought she’d diebefore he lowered his body onto hers and brought them both to a shattering climax. Then there was the night they simply held hands and went wading in the moon-washed bay behind her cottage.
    At least, they started out holding hands. Once around the corner of the shoreline, out of sight of the other cottages, they held a lot more. Even now, the memory of making love with tiny waves rippling like silk along her naked body and Jake sliding in and out in an ancient, primitive water dance made her stomach clench.
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    Lisa’s sixteenth birthday rolled around right in the middle of the hectic, busy weeks. In honor of the occasion, Maura had decided to do something she rarely did—cook. Unfortunately, she lost track of time and got home from work late.
    â€œHello, cat.”
    Ruffling Bea’s fur, she dashed into the bedroom to change. She was scrambling into a tank top and shorts when the doorbell rang. Breathless, she caught it on the third ring.
    â€œHi, guys! Happy birthday, Lisa.”
    â€œThanks.”
    Holding the door open with one hand, Maura pushed her hair behind her ears with the other. “I’m running a little behind schedule,” she confessed. “You’ll have to help with kitchen duty.”
    â€œNo problem,” Lisa replied. “Dad’s a great cook, you know. He’s been giving me lessons.”
    â€œNo, I didn’t know.” She aimed a small, private smile at Jake. “But I bet he’s a great instructor.”
    â€œNo complaints so far,” he said with a grin that was all smug male.
    Once in the kitchen, Maura pushed a stack of unopened mail and magazines to one end of the counter. “Okay, here’s the drill. Lisa, you do the salad, your dad can grill the amberjack and I’ll fix the spaghetti.”
    â€œFish and spaghetti?” Lisa asked with a giggle.
    â€œWhy not? You told me they were your favorite foods after pizza. This is your birthday dinner, and you ought to have exactly what you like.”
    â€œSounds like a plan to me,” Jake agreed as Maura retrieved the salad fixings from the fridge.
    This was the first time he’d ever seen her in a kitchen. He figured it would be an interesting experience.
    He was right. While he seasoned the white fillets, she opened an assortment of jars and dumped them into a heavy pot. If she had a recipe for her spaghetti sauce, she didn’t bother to use it. She just pulled whatever took her fancy out of the cupboard and added it to the bubbling concoction.
    Jake took the foil-wrapped fish out to the patio, only to discover the coals were still in their sack. He laid a neat pattern of briquettes in the rusted grill, fired the charcoal, then went back into the kitchen to warn them the fish might take a while.
    â€œHmm.” Maura looked down at the pot of