Storybook Dad (Harlequin American Romance)

by Bradford, Laura

  Mark’s laugh brought her focus back on him. “So what you’re telling me is that I need to learn how to ride a horse, huh?” Before she could respond, he moved the topic into a broader arena, desperate to keep the evening light and fun. “You ever think about changing the name of your company to Outdoor Therapy?”

  “Sometimes the stuff on a person’s bucket list is put there for therapeutic reasons.” She swung her body to face him, hugging her knees to her chest. “But most of the time, learning how to ride a horse in adulthood, or rafting your way down a picturesque river, is about a dream. Sometimes it’s a carryover from childhood—maybe from a television show or a book with a character who rafted or climbed or snorkeled. In those cases it’s something my client has always wanted to do, and they’re determined to do it before age makes it too difficult. But sometimes it’s part of a broader dream that starts in a person’s thirties or forties. Maybe they’ve always played life safe, or maybe they’ve been so busy caring for an elderly parent or a sickly kid that they need a diversion. Or maybe they’re so intent on accomplishing some sort of personal feat that they show up at my door saying, ‘I don’t care what we do just so long as I can say I did something.’”

  “That happens?”

  “All the time.”

  Mark considered her words and compared them to his own reasons for having enrolled in her orienteering class. His reasons, his motivations, put him in the latter group. “I guess I’m kinda like those folks. At least on some level.”

  “How so?” she asked.

  “I think I needed to prove something to myself. Prove that I can change, can get myself out of a rut if I just make myself do it.”

  “And?”

  “I did that,” he replied. “Only now I want to see what other kinds of things I can do.”

  She released her legs and jumped to her feet, a sly smile tugging at her lips as she reached for his hand. “Okay, so let’s see how you do with the intermediate wall.”

  He allowed her to guide him back there, only to wave off her attempts to hook him back up to the rope.

  “Oh, come on, Mark, you can do this.”

  “And I’ll give it a whirl in a few minutes. But first I want to see you climb.”

  “Why?”

  He looked from the expert wall to the beginner’s and back again, finding the difference between the two substantial. “Because I want to see that someone can actually climb that thing.”

  Two minutes later, he was mentally patting himself on the back as he watched her climb the wall with the help of an electronic belay, the harness emphasizing her ass in a way that made him wish he was climbing right behind her, his body melding against hers as they moved from hold to hold.

  Unfortunately, he wasn’t in Emily’s league, as evidenced by his repeated slips off the harder, more complex wall. But it didn’t matter. He was having a blast nonetheless.

  Here, the stress of day-to-day life was noticeably absent.

  Here, he could laugh without guilt and live, rather than remember.

  So he threw himself into the process of climbing, discovering what techniques worked for him. But even when he miscalculated, even when he out-and-out failed, it was still fun. Energizing, even.

  Eventually, though, his arms and legs began to protest the workout, forcing him to unhook himself from the rope. “Emily? This was awesome! I don’t know why I waited so long to try this kind of stuff. It’s…motivating.”

  She came down from yet another successful climb on the expert wall, and met him in the center of the room, her hand reaching for the straps of her harness, only to be shooed away by his.

  “Please. Allow me.” Snaking his arms around her midsection, Mark slowly unhooked them, the feel of her lower back beneath his fingertips making his shorts tighten in response. Carefully he set her harness on the floor, then pulled her close once again, the ache to kiss her stronger than ever before. But this time, instead of kissing her mouth, he drew his lips across her eyes, her cheeks, her chin, eventually sinking still lower, to the base of her neck.

  When she laced her fingers in his hair, he moaned, her taste, her touch like some sort of magnetic pull he was powerless to fight. Seconds turned to minutes as his lips left her neck and traveled back up to her mouth, the warmth and yearning he found there making him moan again.

  “Mark,” she whispered against his mouth. “It’s almost one in the morning.”

  “And your point?” he countered as his tongue slipped past her protests.

  Bracing her hands against his chest, she stepped back. “Most people are heading to bed by now.”

  “Most people aren’t standing in a room alone with you, Emily Todd.” Her laugh caught him by surprise. “You think I’m kidding?”

  When she didn’t respond, he continued. “I can’t tell you the last time I laughed as much as I have tonight. Or the last time I didn’t want to escape into bed just to get the day over with. But tonight, with you, it’s been different. Which means I now have a much better understanding of how much it stinks for Seth when I make him clean up his toys before he’s ready to stop playing.”

  * * *

  SHE MET HIM in the parking lot in the same outfit she’d worn when they arrived, the hint of appreciation on Mark’s face worth the time it had taken to stop in her office and change again. “Everything’s locked up, so we’re good to go,” she announced.

  At the feel of his hand on hers, Emily looked up and smiled. “This was fun, Mark. It really was.”

  “Uh-oh.”

  She drew back. “Excuse me?”

  “I said ‘uh-oh.’”

  “I got that. But why?”

  “I was bracing myself for the big black moment.”

  She wiggled her hands free of his and rested them on her hips. “What are you talking about?”

  “The black moment. You know, like that instant when you reach into your wallet to pay the toll and realize you’re flat broke. Or when you’ve been craving some peace and quiet, only to get home and find that your water valve broke and your basement is flooded. Or better yet, that moment when you’re standing at the baggage claim in your oldest pair of ripped blue jeans and you realize your suitcase is lost, and the meeting with your boss’s boss regarding your long-awaited promotion is less than an hour away.”

  “Ooh-kay. So what black moment are you bracing for right now?”

  He lifted his hand to her shoulder and then circled it around her neck, drawing her to him with a gentle force that nearly took her breath away. Slowly, deliberately, he brought his lips down on hers for what had to be the sweetest, most passionate kiss she’d ever had—the kind she wasn’t likely to forget in this lifetime or the next. When he was done, he hooked his index finger beneath her chin and lifted her face just enough to leave a long, lingering kiss at her hairline, making her shiver in response.

  “I’m bracing myself for the moment you say goodbye.”

  Chapter Eight

  Emily tried to make her laugh sound carefree, but it was obvious even to her that she’d failed miserably. She was falling for this man. To pretend otherwise required a kind of theatrical prowess she simply didn’t possess.

  “I don’t want this to be a black moment,” she finally whispered.

  “Then say you’ll follow me back to my house and come inside for a little while. Say you’re not ready for our time together to end yet, either.”

  Startled, she glanced at the ground mo
mentarily while she searched for something to say. All she came up with, though, was an echo of his words. “Your house?”

  The lone light in the parking lot caught the concern on his face as he rushed to offer an explanation she wasn’t entirely sure her body wanted to hear. “Oh. No. Not like that. It’s just that I’ve really enjoyed hanging with you tonight, and I’m not too eager for reality to take over, you know?”

  Problem was, she did know. She, too, found herself in a world of married friends who were suddenly much harder to nail down for a movie or a coffee or even a walk in the park. She wasn’t thrilled with the change, but she was used to it. Mark, however, probably wasn’t. After all, his status as a single father was still fairly new.

  “I could start a fire in the pit outside and we could sit on the patio and talk. Or if you’d rather, we could see if there are any good movies on cable. Whatever you want.”

  It took everything she could muster not to ask if he could kiss her again the way he had outside Kate’s house, or even the way he had just now, on her forehead. Never in her history of kissing had such encounters zipped along virtually every nerve fiber in her body, waking up senses that had obviously been in a deep slumber for most, if not all, of her life.

  Instead, she nodded, the answering smile on Mark’s face one she wished she could bottle.

  Reaching into her purse, she felt around for her keys and then headed to the driver’s side of her car, the prospect of spending a few more hours with Mark intriguing. Once she was settled in her vehicle and he in his, he gave her the high sign from his window and motioned for her to follow him to the home he shared with his son.

  When they arrived, she slid the Jeep into Park and looked to her right, absorbing the small white bungalow situated peacefully between two large oak trees. The front porch, while not terribly deep, welcomed with its whimsical summer flag and cozy wicker swing suspended on thick chains. The pathway that led to the steps boasted an assortment of black-eyed Susans, bee balms and even a few holdout blue flags.

  His tap against her window prompted her to roll it down. “I see you garden?”

  “Sally gardened. I’m just doing my best to keep everything—” his voice dipped ever so slightly “—alive. You know, so things look the same for Seth. He needs that sense of continuity and stability right now.” Gesturing toward the walkway, Mark met her gaze through the open window. “Well? Shall we?”

  “Um, sure.” Squaring her shoulders, she stepped from the car and allowed him to place a guiding hand at her back.

  Slowly, they made their way up the sidewalk and onto the porch, the answering silence of the crickets sending an unexpected shiver down her spine.

  “Are you cold?” he asked, draping an arm over her shoulders.

  “I think the more accurate word would be nervous.” The second the comment was out of her mouth, she regretted it.

  “Hey.” He turned to face her, the concern in his eyes impossible to miss. “There’s no need to be nervous. This is just another setting for an evening that’s been mighty special so far. That’s it, okay?”

  Two seconds later, as she stood in his front hallway, she knew Mark was right. The barbecue had given them a chance to size each other up. The time spent climbing had been about having fun and not worrying about Kate’s prying eyes. And being here in Mark’s house was just another opportunity to enjoy each other’s company before their day-to-day lives took over.

  Glancing about, she couldn’t help but notice the homey touches that magnified the welcoming feel of the porch. Knickknacks and memorabilia dotted the shelves of a corner hutch off to her left, while a smattering of pictures lined the wall on her right, creating a sense of warmth and familiarity.

  Emily approached the first picture, the image of a newborn Seth drawing her. “His hair back then was the same color as yours.”

  Mark’s breath was warm on her neck as he, too, moved in closer. “It was. But it didn’t stay that way for long. When he wasn’t much more than five or six months old, the hair on the sides of his head started to disappear. Funny thing is, we never saw any clumps in his crib or on the floor. It just kind of disintegrated, replaced with the blond hair he has now.”

  “Your wife was blonde, I take it,” Emily mused before stepping to the right to take in the next picture, of a slightly older Seth with a smile so big it transformed his penetrating blue eyes into a virtual carbon copy of Mark’s. “Wow. He was every bit as adorable here as he is now.”

  And just like that, the same sparkle she saw inside the frame ignited in the eyes of the man who shadowed her footsteps. “He is a cutie, isn’t he?”

  “The cutest,” she echoed. “But even more than that, he’s sweet and kind and quite the little conversationalist. I’ve found myself actually missing him since the other night at Sam’s.”

  Mark drew back. “You mean that was real the other night?”

  “Real?” she parroted.

  “Yeah. I mean, I kind of assumed you were just being nice and, you know, humoring him because he’s four and still hurting over his mom.”

  She pulled her focus from the photograph and fixed it on the larger, dark-haired man beside her. “You don’t humor him, do you?”

  “No. But he’s mine. It’s only natural for me to think he’s brilliant and funny and the best kid in the world.”

  Sinking against the wall, Emily did her best to explain the lift the little boy had given her by simply being himself. “Well, he’s not mine. And as you know, I’d never laid eyes on him before that night. But it took all of about five minutes—which, for the record, happened sans you—for me to find him engaging, thoughtful and very sweet. It’s like—” she looked past Mark as she searched for the right words among an unexpected minefield of emotion “—being around him erased reality for a little while and actually enabled me to step back into the part of the picture I didn’t draw when I was ten, yet always knew was there.”

  “Wait.” Mark held up his hand. “You mean the pictures in your office? I thought you drew them all. They certainly looked like they’d been drawn by the same—”

  “There was one more. One you didn’t see because I opted not to frame it, much to Kate’s chagrin, I might add. But I’m talking about one I thought about drawing but didn’t.” Suddenly aware of how idiotic she must sound, Emily straightened and made her way to the next photo, farther down the hallway. It was of Seth at about two, his face not much different than it was now. “While I can’t be sure how I would have drawn a little boy at that time, my dream son would have been everything I saw in Seth the other night. The same joy, the same curiosity, the same beautiful heart. And he would have been a spectacular big brother to the little girl I would have drawn in his arms.”

  “You were quite the little artist back then, weren’t you?”

  “No, I was quite the dreamer.”

  “So you want kids? One boy, one girl?” Mark reached around her to straighten the frame, which had slipped off center by a fraction.

  “I did. But I’m older now. Wiser, too.” Feeling her mood begin to slip, she cast about for something to get things back on track. “Seth is just one of those kids who stick in your head and your heart long after they’ve run off, you know?”

  At the feel of Mark’s breath on her neck again, she turned to find his mouth settling on hers with an urgency that both stunned and excited her. Rising on tiptoe, she slipped her arms around his back and reveled in the feel of his strong, healthy body.

 
She gasped ever so slightly when he ran his fingers through her hair, pulling her head back so his lips could explore her chin, her jaw, the base of her throat. Her body responded with an undeniable warmth that left her heart pounding mere seconds before his hands started untying her halter top.

  His gaze followed the straps as they cascaded down the front of her body to reveal even more of her breasts than her attire had already provided. Her breath hitched when his tongue slid over his lip in response.

  “Emily?” he asked hungrily, before meeting her eyes and seeking permission to continue.

  With a gentle yet deliberate finger, Mark lowered the fabric enough to reveal the lacy, strapless bra she’d bought during an extra girlie moment, his moan of desire instantly wiping away any regret she’d had over the price tag.

  Slowly, deliberately, he moved his lips over the tops of her breasts, while his hands slipped behind her back and unfastened her bra. As the last hook was freed, the flimsy material fell away revealing the effects of his nearness. She cried out as his urgent mouth settled on her hardened nipples, teasing, caressing....

  Suddenly he pulled back, desire blazing in his eyes. “Emily, I want you.”

  She answered by slipping her halter top the rest of the way off, her efforts rewarded by the appreciation in his eyes and the unmistakable bulge in his pants. Reaching around her waist, he undid the lone button on her waistband and watched her skirt fall into a puddle at her feet, revealing her white lacy thong.

  “Oh my God, you are sexy as hell, Emily,” he murmured against her ear. Grasping her hand, he led her through a small but tasteful family room and into a second, darker hallway beyond.

  When they stepped inside his bedroom, he pulled her close, his fingers slipping around her waist, only to travel to her ass and tug her against his still-clad body, evoking a moan of her own.

  He wanted her.

  Emily.

  MS and all…