It was such a simple and silly moment, and yet the rush of love she felt nearly overwhelmed her. Reaching up, she fingered the locket she wore around her neck. Even though she’d only been eighteen when she got pregnant, Kara never thought she would have another chance to be a mother. The risk of getting pregnant and losing another child...she wouldn’t survive the loss. She’d buried that dream when she buried her daughter. But with Marti’s death...
Kara would have given anything to bring her sister back, but it wasn’t possible. What was possible was being a mother to Timmy. She would do all she could to keep Marti’s spirit alive for the little boy, but he was only four. In time, his memories would start to fade, and Kara wanted to be there in her sister’s place. She needed to be there, not some unknown woman Sam might find once fatherhood opened his eyes to the possibility of settling down.
Her mind rejected the very thought of some other woman raising Timmy. Of some other woman marrying Sam.
Kara sucked in a quick breath, stunned by the jealousy that rose up inside her, and immediately started choking. A bite of the rich, crumbly muffin caught in her throat, and only after a coughing fit and huge swallow of tea was she able to breathe again.
She wasn’t jealous over Sam. She couldn’t be jealous over Sam.
Eying her with a mixture of concern and curiosity, Timmy asked, “Was it a raisin? I told you they taste like bugs.”
Wiping at her watering eyes, Kara said, “You told me they look like bugs.”
“Aunt Kara ate a bug, Aunt Kara ate a bug.”
She opened her mouth to argue, but she figured pointing out that raisins were actually dried-out grapes wouldn’t do much for her cause. “Finish your muffin, Timmy.”
A loud squeal of tires shattered the peaceful morning, and Kara glanced down the street with a frown. The shops on either side of the narrow road were already open, including the Hope Chest and the Beauty Mark, Darcy’s boutique. Tourists and townspeople alike walked along the sidewalks and backed in and out of the few parking spaces. Hers wasn’t the only head that turned at the out of place sound.
What kind of idiot would speed down Main Street?
She’d barely caught sight of the primer-spotted red Corvette when Timmy announced, “Hey, look, it’s Sam!” The little boy turned around to kneel on the seat. He braced his small hands on the rounded back of the chair as the tires screeched to a halt in front of the bakery. “Wow, his car really is fast.”
Fast and reckless. What was Sam thinking racing through the small streets and slamming on his brakes the way he had? But as soon as he climbed out and she saw his expression, Kara’s irritation disappeared, immediately replaced by concern.
Telling Timmy to wait in his chair, she hurried out across the sidewalk and met Sam at the front of his car. “Sam, what’s wrong?”
“What’s wrong?” The panic she’d first seen on his face was quickly turning to anger as he stared at her like she’d been the one tearing down the road like a maniac. He ran his hands through his already tousled hair and closed his eyes as if trying to get a grip on his emotions.
Finally he opened his eyes and his arms dropped to his sides. “I went to the hotel this morning, but you weren’t there. I checked the parking lot and the minivan was gone...”
And he thought she’d taken off. The words he didn’t say were as clear as the ticking of the Corvette’s engine. As clear as the fear lingering in his green eyes.
Sam cared about Timmy. This wasn’t only about duty or responsibility or stepping up to the plate because it was what his family thought he should do. He cared about his son.”
The realization split Kara’s emotions in two. Part of her wished Sam was more like Curtis Graham, her college boyfriend—a man who could walk away from duty and responsibility without a second glance. But the other side of her was glad. She’d long believed that Timmy needed the right kind of male role model in his life. That a boy needed his dad.
“Sam...” A rush of empathy filled her, and she barely stopped herself from reaching out to reassure him.
Not again.
Her cheeks heated as she remembered his rejection on the porch the night before. The confusion and doubt on his handsome face had so perfectly mirrored her own, her heart had gone out to him and, without thought, her hands had followed...and she’d ended up making yet another mistake with the opposite sex.
Maybe, Kara thought as she knotted her fingers in front of her to keep them where they belonged, maybe she’d finally learned her lesson.
“I thought Timmy and I could look around the shops this morning,” she explained, her voice as calm and gentle as when she spoke to her nephew. “I wasn’t planning to buy anything, but I wanted the van here just in case, so I wouldn’t have to worry about carrying packages back to the hotel.”
Meeting his gaze head-on, she added, “I’m not going to leave, Sam.” When she could still see the doubt in his expression, she reached inside the pocket of her beige slacks for the hotel key card. “Go back to the room if you want. All our clothes are still there.”
Sam lifted a hand but instead of taking the key, he wrapped his fingers around hers. A frisson of electricity streaked up her arm, sending goose bumps rising in its wake, and Kara had to fight not to pull her arm away. “No,” he said. “I trust you. I just freaked out for a minute.”
* * *
That was something of an understatement, Sam admitted to himself. When he had knocked on the hotel-room door that morning and Kara hadn’t answered, he’d started to worry. Kara had been quiet on the ride home from his parents’ house, just as she’d been after their disaster of a date, and her words from that night had sounded like alarm bells through his head.
I won’t be in town for long.
What was to stop Kara from leaving Clearville as unexpectedly as she’d arrived? After the search of the parking lot for her minivan came up empty, the need to find her overrode common sense. Spotting the two of them sitting outside the bakery, his first instinct had been to pull Timmy into his arms and never let him go. His second instinct? To grab hold of Kara....
It was a crazy thought, but he had to shove his hands in his back pockets to keep from burying his hands in her blond hair and kissing her until he could convince—himself? Convince her?—that the attraction between them was real.
Pushing the thought aside, he said, “I’m sorry I overreacted.”
Her expression softened slightly at his gruff words, the same way it had when she’d reassured him she wouldn’t leave town. But the walls had come back up so quickly, and Sam didn’t know what it would take to tear them down. He had to find some way to make her trust him. Hell, he had to find some way to trust her, or Timmy would always be caught between the two of them.
“It’s all right,” she said finally. She waved to the small table. “Why don’t you join us for breakfast?”
Sam looked over to find Timmy watching closely, but the moment he made eye contact, the boy spun back around in his chair. “Hey, Timmy. How’s it going?”
He mumbled something beneath his breath as he went back to picking at his—was that a bran muffin? Whatever it was, it wasn’t the breakfast Sam remembered from his childhood. Most of his memories of early mornings started with bounding out of bed, rushing into Nick and Drew’s room, eager to drag them out for a breakfast of sugary cereal eaten in front of early-morning cartoons. But only if they were up before their parents. On days when he slept in, he would wake to the scent of pancakes or eggs and bacon, and the sound of his parents laughing over their morning coffee.
He couldn’t offer Timmy any of that.
Sam didn’t know what it was he could offer Timmy besides the Pirelli name—something he’d lived without the past four years.
“We can’t hear you, Timmy,” Kara said as she sat back down in her chair. “Can you talk louder?”<
br />
“Hi, Sam.”
The words weren’t much more than a whisper, but Sam heard them loud and clear.
You have four years of fatherhood to make up for in that boy’s life if you ever expect him to call you “Dad.”
His father’s words echoed in his thoughts. He couldn’t cram four years into a few days, but he asked, “What do you think about the two of us hanging out and having some fun, Timmy?”
“Aunt Kara, too?”
“Yeah, sure. Aunt Kara’s gonna have fun, too.” Sam glanced over at the cool blonde, his eyebrows raised. The only way Timmy would relax would be if Kara let down her guard. And if he couldn’t go over those walls, Sam thought, then maybe he’d be better off trying to get under her skin. “Right, Aunt Kara?”
“Yeah, sure,” she mimicked with just enough sass to let him know she was up to the challenge.
* * *
Ready to have fun, Aunt Kara?
Those words, along with Sam’s I-dare-you green eyes and devilish grin, had greeted her every morning for the past five days. And after a week of his teasing, his laughing, his flirting, a part of Kara wanted some serious revenge. She wanted to do something, anything, to knock that cocky smile off his face and show him that she wasn’t the stuffy professor his laughing eyes accused her of being. She wasn’t some boring old stick in the—
Kara caught her breath on a gasp as her sandal sank into the wet, sucking sand.
“Good job, Tim!” Sam called out from further down the beach. Father and son were ten yards or so from the rushing surf, playing catch with a small rubber football. Or rather Sam was playing “throw,” while the little boy didn’t want any part of catching the ball. Timmy was content to duck out of the way and wait for the ball to bounce to a stop before trying to toss it back.
Assuming he didn’t get distracted by a small crab crawling along the edge of the surf or some smelly piece of seaweed washed up on shore.
“Okay, now throw it back, Timmy!” Sam called out as the ball landed at his son’s feet.
Kara had to give Sam credit. He seemed determined to form a relationship with Timmy, but it was obvious to her he was going about it in all the wrong ways.
And you’re not helping.
Marti’s voice sounded in her thoughts. So close and so clear, Kara was tempted to glance along the beach behind her as if she might see her sister standing there, her hair blowing in the breeze, her eyes sparkling with mischief. Marti would have encouraged Timmy to play with his father. Heck, she would have joined right in, always up for a challenge, always willing to try something new.
No one ever had to ask Marti if she was ready to have fun.
But how could she think of having fun at a time like this? How could Sam?
Guilt dug into her gut, and Kara crossed her arms tighter over her stomach. Was it so wrong for her to want him to see that Timmy would be better off with her? With the life they’d left behind in San Diego?
Timmy’s future hung in the balance, and they had important decisions they needed to make before—oh, God, before Sam changed her mind. Before she started to believe that Timmy would be better off with Sam. With the life he could have here rather than the one they’d had in San Diego.
And he was close, closer than she’d ever thought possible after these last few days. Because even though Sam always started the day looking to have fun, he’d never once failed to teach Timmy a lesson along the way. Like when they went to dinner and he’d whispered for Timmy to run up ahead to open the door for her. Or the day at the local carnival when he’d won enough stuffed animals playing ball toss to open his own toy store and had Timmy give several away to kids who hadn’t been so lucky. Or at the park, when an elderly man had trouble maneuvering his wife’s wheelchair over a curb, and Sam had stepped in to help.
A cynical side of her wanted to believe it was all for show, but Sam’s actions were too automatic, too easy to be anything but natural.
“All right, Timmy. Give it a big throw.”
Kara watched her nephew draw back his arm and heave with all his might, but something clearly went wrong as the ball went straight up in the air and bounced a few feet behind him. Even knowing as little about football as she did, Kara still realized the ball was supposed to go forward.
“Whoa-ho! Way to break out a trick play and catch the defense by surprise. Now you’re the running back, so grab the ball, race toward me and try to score.”
She hadn’t expected that—for Sam to put such a positive spin on Timmy’s efforts, for him to praise instead of criticize. Her heart melted a little at the effort he was making and softened even further when Timmy grinned with pride like he’d known what he was doing all along.
He raced back for the ball. “I’m gonna score a—what’s it called?”
“Touchdown.”
“Yeah, a touchdown!”
Sam lunged at Timmy in a diving tackle, yet somehow only ended up catching a faceful of sand. He scrambled to his bare feet and ran after the little boy, his fingers jut missing him with every exaggerated grab. Only when Timmy veered too close to the edge of the water did Sam finally make the play. He caught Timmy around the chest and swung him up into his arms, lifting him high in the air.
Kara gasped at the sight of her nephew dangling eight feet off the ground and called out Sam’s name. They both looked her way, greeting her with matching smiles, and her heartbeat slowed. They’d been having fun until she interrupted. Sam set Timmy down and murmured a few words before he sent the boy running across the beach to the bright blue cooler they’d brought along.
With Timmy off on his errand, Sam turned his attention back to Kara. His long stride carried him back across the sand, the look in his gaze making her feel stalked, hunted. Yet she stayed rooted to the spot. The soft grains seeping around her sandals might as well have been concrete.
“You called?”
Her heart pounding in her chest, Kara tried to remember what she’d been about to say. Something about the danger of falling... “You, um, need to be careful.”
“Careful,” he echoed.
“Yes. So no one gets hurt.”
“You think I’m going to hurt you, Kara?”
Yes. “No. No! Not me—Timmy. You could have dropped him.”
“You really think I’d let that happen?”
She’d seen the bulge of muscle in his tanned arms, the play and power of his chest and shoulders beneath the soft cotton T-shirt. Arms, chest and shoulders that were now mere inches away. If she reached out, she could run her fingertips over that soft cotton and discover that strength for herself. Kara swallowed. “No, you wouldn’t have dropped him. But he was scared.”
“I think you were scared.”
“Well, I was worried that you’d frighten him and—”
“No.” Sam cut her off with a shake of his head. “You were scared that Timmy was having fun.”
She snapped her jaw shut, realizing it had dropped open at Sam’s taunting words. “That’s ridiculous! I’m not afraid of Timmy having fun.”
“I think you’re afraid of fun altogether.”
Kara opened her mouth to argue, but the words didn’t come. Because Sam was right? Because he’d nailed a truth about herself she didn’t want to face?
Come on...it’ll be fun...
The insidious whisper echoed through her thoughts, but it wasn’t Sam’s voice. Or her sister’s. It was Curtis Graham’s.
A far-off echo from a long time ago when she had given in. When she’d stopped focusing on her goals and dreams to focus on having fun. But the good times quickly came to an end when she found out the hard way that fun-loving boyfriends did not turn into fun-loving fathers the moment the pregnancy test came back positive.
After losing her daughter, Kara had quickly fallen back in line with the
Starling way—work hard, study hard, strive to succeed. Her single-minded determination to focus on school had been the only thing to help her through the emotional devastation. She’d boxed away the pain and loss, but had her ability to have fun somehow gotten trapped there, too?
“That’s not true,” she protested weakly.
“Yeah?” Sam’s cocky grin challenged her, but something more glittered in his eyes. A...gentleness, an understanding. Almost as if he somehow knew how her tightly laced control had become the stitches that held her tattered heart together.
Kara swallowed hard and took a half step back, ready to retreat, but he didn’t let her. He caught her hand in his and tugged. “Prove it. Show me that you’re not afraid to let loose.” His trademark smile wavered ever so slightly, just enough for Kara to see the uncertainly beneath. “Show Timmy.”
“Sam...”
His vulnerability slipped beneath her guard and the momentary weakness was her undoing as Sam took quick advantage. Grabbing her hand, he towed her relentlessly toward the water. “No, Sam! Wait!” Her heels dug into into the sand, but offered no resistance against the unrelenting pull. “It’ll ruin my shoes!”
“Better get rid of ’em fast.”
Recognizing he wasn’t joking, Kara clumsily kicked off one sandal, then the other. Her toes sinking into the warm sand gave her an instant, almost exhilarating feeling of freedom. Still, she protested, “I’m not a good swimmer!”
Turning backward so he could face her, he laughed. “The water’s only about knee-deep here.”
She opened her mouth to argue, but the first cold slap of water against her legs stole the breath from her lungs. She gasped his name as her foot sank into the wet sand and she stumbled. The waves slapped at her knees, throwing her further off balance.
Sam caught her to his chest before she fell face first into the surf, and Kara reached out to grasp his T-shirt. Her hands dampened the material, and she had a crazy thought about the clear palm prints marking him as hers. His gaze dropped to her mouth and she licked her lips, tasting the salt of the ocean but hungering for more. For the salt of his skin. He murmured her name as another wave broke at her back, urging her body closer to his.
Daddy Says, I Do! Page 11