It was only for a week. Surely he could refrain from doing something stupid for the next seven days. Granted, the nonstupid course of action would’ve been to not come here in the first place, but he’d already made his damn bed, and now he had to lie in it.

Another forbidden image flew into his head.

He quickly shot it down with a mental rifle and banished it from thought.

Alone. He’d be lying in the bed he’d made—alone.

Was she really going to do this?

Miranda killed the engine but couldn’t bring herself to get out of the car. She stared at the pale light shining through the gauzy white curtains of Seth’s living room window. Kim was probably in there, doing homework or watching TV. And Seth…well, he was probably waiting for her in his bedroom.

Naked.

With condoms handy.

Ready to f**k her.

Miranda’s cheeks scorched. Gosh, had she actually said all that?

She wondered if it was too late to change her mind, but at the same time, she wasn’t sure she wanted to. Why couldn’t she sleep with Seth? She hadn’t had sex in seven years. Seven years. Didn’t she owe it to herself to get laid? She wasn’t a nun, for Pete’s sake, and a girl did have urges, after all.

But was Seth Masterson the right man to satisfy those urges? Physically, definitely. She was attracted to him like nobody’s business, and there was no challenging his ability to turn her on—she’d almost orgasmed simply from his touching her br**sts. But seven years of celibacy was a long time. Shouldn’t she ease herself back into the whole sex thing with someone who wasn’t so…sexually overwhelming? Dip her toe in the shallow end instead of diving into the deep end right off the bat?

She ran a hand through her hair and released a disgusted breath. Okay. Enough second-guessing. Really, there was only one question of any importance here, one question she always asked herself before she made any life-altering decisions: Will this hurt my kids?

She’d posed that same inquiry when deciding whether to leave Vegas, and now she applied it to Seth. To sex with Seth.

Would her sleeping with him hurt Sophie and Jason?

No. How could it? If she was dating Seth, that would be a different story. She wasn’t an idiot—she saw the way he acted around her kids. Uncomfortable, curt, tense. He’d tried toning down those reactions after she’d asked him to be nicer to the twins, but she still sensed his reluctance to interact with them. She knew the kids sensed it too, yet ironically, Seth’s aloofness only seemed to strengthen her children’s determination to win him over. She didn’t understand it. Normally, Sophie and Jason despised being around folks who didn’t want to spend time with them. With Seth, they were on him every second, each trying to earn his approval in their own way—Jason with his endless questions, and Sophie with her smart-aleck remarks.

Unfortunately, neither approach had succeeded in wearing Seth down.

But that wasn’t the issue. The question was—would a sexual involvement with Seth hurt her children? As much as she wanted to, she couldn’t bring herself to answer yes to that. As long as she and Seth exercised some discretion, the twins wouldn’t even have to know they were involved, which meant there was no reason to hold back.

No reason to keep resisting.

Drawing in a deep breath, she slid out of the car and headed for the house.

Five minutes later, after she’d walked Kim out and locked up, Miranda drifted into the guest room to check on the twins. They were sleeping soundly, and neither so much as stirred when she fixed their blanket and planted soft kisses on their foreheads.

Quietly shutting the door behind her, she cast a quick look at Seth’s closed bedroom door, then bypassed it on her way to Dylan’s room. She still couldn’t believe he’d given up his bedroom for her, but it didn’t surprise her in the least. Dylan was truly a stand-up guy. Great with kids too—Seth could definitely take a lesson or two from his roommate.

But although it bugged her that he didn’t seem to be warming up to the twins, Miranda knew she couldn’t be angry with him for it. He wasn’t auditioning for the role of Sophie and Jason’s father, and she couldn’t expect him to love her kids just because she happened to think they were awesome.

She entered the master bedroom with purposeful steps, pausing to admire the four-poster, king-sized bed that dominated the large space. Then her gaze drifted to the door of the private bath, and she had to wonder if Dylan and Seth had drawn straws to decide which one of them would get this room.

When she stepped into the bathroom, she found it as clean as the rest of the house. Okay, it had to be a military thing, because she’d never met a tidier pair of men.

She turned on the shower, stripped and stepped into the tub. The warm water felt like heaven on her sore shoulders and she moaned softly, longing for the day when she could quit her job at the club and just focus on running All That Dance. Soon. Soon the school would do more than break even, and she’d be able to support her kids without spending four nights a week behind a bar counter.

Miranda stayed in the shower for longer than necessary. Washed her hair, shaved her legs, lathered up with the vanilla body wash she’d brought over from the apartment earlier today. Her skin was pink and pruny by the time she stepped onto the fluffy blue bath mat.

In the bedroom, she simply stood there in her towel, chewing on her bottom lip. Should she even bother getting dressed? She’d be naked again soon enough.

The thought sent a shiver dancing up her spine.