He reached down near her ear and began to pull ribbon out of somewhere—multicolored, red, green, yellow, blue, on and on it flowed.
“What did you eat for breakfast?” he exclaimed loudly.
The kids thought that was hysterical.
“Um, a rainbow?” she answered. The kids roared. Apparently that was also funny. Score one for the brainy assistant.
He helped her up until she stood next to him.
“Thank you for being so clever, Vanna White.”
“Go to hell,” she said between her teeth, still smiling.
“Close your eyes.”
“Bite me.”
“I should have cut you in half,” he mumbled. “Aw, come on. Close your eyes and hold out your hands.”
She did. And an enormous pouf of vividly colored fake silk flowers showed up. Then he really did kiss her—on the cheek.
“Thank you, Spike the Clown. What’s your next trick?”
“Um—I’m at a little loss right now. Any suggestions?”
“Can you spin plates? Balance a long stick on your chin? Ride a unicycle?”
“No, no, and no.”
“What kind of clown are you?”
“Um, a pathetic one? But I’m the only one they’ve got, so I’ll be right back.”
Even as he spoke, he was running toward the house. Which left her thinking she’d be doing something horrible to him in his sleep tonight if he wasn’t coming right back. While he was gone, she had the kids play a quick game of duck, duck, goose.
He returned with his guitar. His Gibson. Just in time, because one of the little girls fell chasing one of the other kids and was now crying.
He walked around the kids, playing “Old MacDonald,” getting them to make all the animal noises. He did a soulful version of “On Top of Spaghetti” and ended with “You Are My Sunshine.” By the end, all the adults were gathered around, unable to resist. It was so unfair that the package of sexy hot man also had the voice of an angel.
Next he blew up balloon animals, one for each kid—dogs, swords, flowers, even a poodle. Not bad for a minute’s notice. Finally, the show was over and Meg called all the kids over to a long table set with a bright yellow tablecloth for hot dogs and cake.
“You can carry a tune,” Sam said as she helped Lukas clean up the clown props. “You’re like the Pied Piper of rock-star clowns. You had everyone mesmerized, mommies and kiddies alike.”
“I’d like to have a chance at mesmerizing you,” he said, waggling those big clown eyebrows again and looking unabashed.
“Stop flirting with me.” But she couldn’t muster up enough steam to really mean it. Plus she was struggling not to smile.
He looked up from stuffing all the leftover balloons into a bag. His dark, soulful eyes, even surrounded in clown makeup, flared with something. Mischief? Or something darker. He shrugged. “Quit eyeing me like I’m nothing more than a piece of meat. It’s shameful.”
Her face heated. “I am not looking at you like that. I mean, come on, clowns are not hot.” But this one sure was.
He got up in her grill. The ridiculousness of that damn clown nose and the streaky white makeup made her want to laugh crazily at the madness of it all. But his eyes anchored her and she could not look away.
“Have you not heard of personal space?” Sam asked weakly. “Back up, Clown.”
“I try but I just can’t seem to stop myself,” he whispered in a velvety voice that sent shivers up her arms.
“Well, try harder,” she said, steeling her voice. Except it did crack a little at the end. “It’s irritating.”
“All clowning aside, Samantha,” he said, taking off his clown nose and sticking it on her nose. “No can do.” Then he walked away, chuckling at his joke.
Nonsense aside, a list was building in her brain. Funny. Kind to Stevie, even when irritated. Great with kids. Hot as hell. She couldn’t reconcile this adult version of him with the carefree rock star who wanted a fling. And she couldn’t help feeling the joke was on her.
Lukas carried a sleeping Stevie to his Acura MDX rental car and bent to lower him into his booster seat. The boy’s shirt was untucked and stained, he had chocolate ice cream smeared on his chin, and his feet were bare and dirty. On his cheek were the remnants of a half-scratched-off green snake Sam had painted. It had been a great day. And not just for Stevie.
“We won’t show Mrs. Panagakos the after pictures,” Sam said, standing near the car door.
“I’m sure his shoes will turn up somewhere.” Meg, who had followed them out of the house, kissed Sam on the cheek, and pressed two covered paper plates into her hands.
“Thanks for inviting us,” Lukas said, straightening up. “Stevie had a great time.”
Meg pecked him on the cheek. “I hope you did too, Lukas.”
He didn’t have a chance to answer, because Sam was thanking her for the food and getting in the rental car. She’d driven to the party with Brad and his family but Lukas was happy she accepted a ride home with him.
“The girls are going to MacNamara’s for a drink while the boys watch the kids,” Meg said, sticking her head into the car a little to see Sam. “You should join us.”
“Thanks for the invite,” Sam said, “but I’ll take a rain check. I’m beat.”
They drove off into the night, a not-unpleasant silence settling over the car.
After the clown performance, the brothers backed off, giving Lukas a break for the rest of the night at least. They’d barbecued, played hide-and-seek with the kids, and sat and talked while the kids ran around catching fireflies and playing flashlight tag. Very . . . family.
It was a little too tempting to get caught up in it. Or caught up in the pretty-smelling woman at his side in the cute little sundress and those shapely, silky legs. At least he was certain they’d be silky if he ever had the good fortune of touching them.
“She gave us enough cake for a week,” Sam said from the passenger seat. “And she threw in some of those cheesy potatoes you couldn’t stop talking about.”
“I loved those,” he said. “That was really nice of her.”
That was the problem. Everyone and everything about this place was too nice. Nice like he’d never known before, except for the Ellises. Too good to be true. Or to last.
The quiet seemed more weighty now, full of things left unsaid. The moon was out, the night was balmy, and in another universe, he could imagine that this life would continue. That there’d be plenty of family gatherings like this one, followed by quiet drives home and the rest of the evening spent making love with Sam. Under the stars, in bed, everywhere possible.
He wanted her. But he wanted her to want him. He wanted Harris out of the picture for good.
Yet he was too smart to deny the truth of their situation. Tony, his agent, was already pushing him to schedule more tour dates. Come August, there would be time in the recording studio in L.A. and photo shoots and interviews and . . . yeah. His life was on the road, and hers was here. Even if she broke up with that guy, what kind of future could they have? Would she pack up her life and come with him?
That was his mistake. Thinking about her as more than a woman he simply needed to get out of his system. If they could only act on their attraction, she’d lose her hold on him. Then he’d stop thinking about complicated futures and how their lives simply didn’t mesh.
“What are you thinking about?” Sam asked.
They were stopped at a red light downtown. Quaint old-fashioned streetlights hung with blooming flower baskets dotted the road. The shops were softly lit and quiet, and the park was empty. A sleepy almost-summer night.
“I was thinking that today was . . . fun.” He looked at her. Her face was shadowed in the soft glow of the dashboard lights, and judging from the look in her eyes, she seemed to be thinking the same gut-wrenching thoughts as he was. “Thank you for today.” He meant it. Because no matter what happened, days like this were numbered.
“Thank you,” she whispe
red.
He hadn’t realized he’d leaned over toward her until he heard the beep of a horn behind him. The light had changed too soon.
At the guesthouse, he and Sam tag teamed putting Stevie to bed. She turned down the covers and fished out a pair of pajamas, and they managed to change him out of his uncomfortable clothes and tuck him into bed.
Sam had already left the room when Stevie’s eyes suddenly flickered open and focused on Lukas. “Are you going to send me away ’cause I caused trouble?” He reached for his blanket, which Sam had wisely tucked next to his pillow.
“Trouble?” Lukas frowned. “You didn’t cause any trouble.”
“Yes I did. When we first got there. I was mad.”
Lukas knelt down next to Stevie and held his still-chubby little-boy hand. “You didn’t cause any more trouble than any kids cause every day. Everyone gets cranky. I don’t stop loving you just because you’re having a bad day.”
“So I get to stay?”
Lukas placed his hand on the little boy’s shoulder. “Stevie, my boy, there’s a saying in Greek.”
“What’s that?”
“Mi casa es tu casa. Do you know what that means?”
He shook his head.
“It means we’re family, and wherever I go, you go, too. Dig?”
“Dig.”
Lukas did a fist bump with him.
“I love you, Uncle Lukas,” he said, pulling his blanket close and tucking it under his chin.
Those three little words caught Lukas off guard. Something in his chest grew very heavy. His throat became clogged. He was not a crying man, but by God, tears burned in his eyes. He smoothed the hair back from Stevie’s forehead. “You too, buddy. I love you, too.” His voice sounded muted and choked, but Stevie didn’t seem to notice. He just smiled innocently and turned on his side. Lukas kissed him on the cheek and pulled up the covers.
As Lukas turned to leave, he noticed a flash of Sam’s leg turning the corner. When he shut Stevie’s door, Sam was halfway across the main room. Until she stubbed her baby toe on the coffee table and let out a fisherman’s curse.
In a flash, Lukas was next to her. “You okay?” he asked.
“Of course. I was just . . .”
“Eavesdropping?” he said with a grin.
She took off her flip-flop and rubbed her toe. “You do know the mi casa thing is Spanish, right?”
“Yeah, well, since I only know cuss words in Greek, it’ll have to do.”
“You’re a good father, Lukas.”
His kid had just said I love you, and that meant everything. “Considering I don’t know what the hell I’m doing, thanks. I’ll take that as a compliment.” He moved a step closer. “Want me to look at your toe?”
“No, thanks.” She backed up a step. “You were an excellent clown today, too.”
He edged closer. She backed up another step.
“Look,” she said, “I want you to know that my family is finally getting to know you, and they like you. You charmed the kids, everybody. I just thought you should hear that.”
“Did I charm you, too?”
She couldn’t walk backwards anymore, because she was about to run into the couch. He put an arm on her waist to let her know what was behind her. And because he wanted to.
That one touch was lethal. Her gaze flickered upward and settled on his. He detected worry and conflict, the same emotions coursing through him. Any sensible man would back off now, but when had he ever been sensible? He wanted her too damn badly.
In one smooth move, he pulled her to him and held her, reveling in the feel of her in his arms at last. Her heady scent, the flowery smell of her hair, the softness of her breasts pushing against his chest, he took it all in like a drug. His breath was coming harder now. With one heavy sigh, he heaved all of his inhibitions—and his common sense—away and lowered his lips to hers.
He cupped her cheeks in his hands, tangled his fingers in her hair, and pulled her closer, tighter, and kissed her like this was the last kiss on earth, a one-shot-at-this kiss and he completely went for broke.
It started with purposeful, subtle pressure, but once he tasted her soft lips, he lost all control. When she parted them on a sigh he devoured her, their tongues meeting and searching, soft and urgent, and their bodies pressing against one another like there was no tomorrow. Because maybe for them, there wasn’t.
Lukas had kissed many women, but none of them had made him breathless and dizzy. He pulled away briefly, disoriented. That gave her enough time to think, and in one swift move, she pushed off and stepped away, wiping the last traces of him off her mouth.
“This was a mistake.” Her voice sounded whisper-weak, and she was trembling. “I . . . I’ve got to go.”
He followed her across the room. “Sam, wait,” he called, but it was too late. She’d grabbed her purse off the little eating table and headed to the sliding doors.
“Please don’t follow me,” she said, then left out the door.
That had been some kiss. Funny, but kissing her hadn’t had the effect he’d intended. Instead of getting her out of his system, she appeared to be working her way in. The more he got to know her again, the more he found that the reality didn’t match the fantasy. It was better.
CHAPTER 12
Sam merged into the crowd at MacNamara’s, which was bustling on a Sunday night. A couple blocks off the main drag, it tended to be more of a hangout spot for locals than tourists. She pasted on a smile and nodded to a few acquaintances, trying to slow her breathing and her heart rate that had accelerated to panic proportions.
She’d tried to leave town. She’d gotten into her car and even turned on the ignition, ready to drive to Boston and surprise Harris. Being in his tidy apartment would reassure her that the life she’d worked so hard to build wasn’t really imploding before her eyes. Seeing the photographs of them that Harris kept scattered about—yes, he was sentimental that way—would remind her of her priorities. The right ones, not the rogue ones.
And those priorities were not having a rock-star one-night stand. Oh my God, she was not that kind of person. How did she ever allow herself to get so confused?
That kiss was so . . . satanic. Yes, it was pure evil. Seductive, soft, devouring. He’d kissed her like there might never be another kiss, like his whole heart and soul, his entire being, was in that kiss. He’d kissed her like the earth was on fire and they were seconds away from complete annihilation. And the feel of his mouth on hers—oh, saints in heaven, that mouth. Warm and soft and utterly in control. She’d practically come right there.
She could not bring herself to drive to Harris’s, and not because her head was still spinning. It just felt somehow—wrong. Plus she felt guilty and confused. Finally she’d left her car and walked. Through the ritzy neighborhood with lakefront homes, past the Congregational Church and the B and B and into downtown. It was a perfect night, still warm and not a cloud in a star-filled sky. A night meant for lovers. But she barely noticed. She just knew she needed to get somewhere safe. Safe from herself.
The bar was cool and dark and noisy, and the absolute familiarity of it gave her a little bit of relief. A local band made up of a few college kids was playing classic Boss and for a moment she closed her eyes and got caught up in the notes of “Dancing in the Dark.” Sam remembered the days when Lukas used to play here with his garage band. In fact, a glossy eight by ten of him hung on the wall, framed and autographed. He was wearing a leather jacket that probably cost thousands and his hair was artfully messy, not the way it was back in the day when his look was more unrefined and he didn’t have an army of stylists and handlers and image consultants.
She suddenly missed those days.
In the crowded bar, someone was calling her name. Her sister-in-law, Olivia, got up from a booth and waved. Next thing she knew, she was being dragged over to her other two sisters-in-law, who were sitting, drinking bright crimson margaritas with lime slices and salted rims.
Meg held up
her empty glass as Scott MacNamara, the owner, passed by. “Sammy, honey, want one, too?”
Sam nodded. She didn’t ever order much besides beer but the drinks looked pretty and tonight she didn’t give a fig what form her alcohol took. Sam loved her sisters-in-law and she was grateful tonight of all nights for their kind invitation. But she was younger than they were and the three of them were best friends. They were always kind but she worried a little that she was interfering. Or that they’d perceive the drama of her life to be juvenile compared to their own. After all, they were all married and had kids. Between the three of them, lots of kids.
“You look like someone ran over your dog,” Alex, her brother Tom’s wife, said.
“I don’t have a dog, Alex.”
“Maybe you need one, then.” She giggled a little and took a sip of her drink, which from her very happy demeanor was probably not her first. She lowered it a little too carefully and looked at Sam. “What’s wrong, sugar?”
She didn’t want to go all Debbie Downer on them. For one thing, this was their time to unwind. She knew getting together like this was something they tried to do once every few weeks, but the time often got preempted by one of the kids’ activities or a sudden earache or fever or any of the bunch of other stuff they had going on. Plus they were all married to her brothers. No information would be sacred. Her brothers would know all the intel by midnight. So she tried to tell herself it was just nice having company when she felt so . . . lost.
“Nothing. I had a great time at James’s party today. I just stopped by to say hey.”
“I’m so glad you came,” Meg said, patting her hand as Olivia slid over to make room for Sam.
“Me, too,” Alex said. “And thanks for bringing Mr. Hottie Rocker to the party today. There was some serious chemistry going on between you two during the clown show.”
Sam’s face flooded with heat. She should have gone to Gertie’s before it closed and gotten a pint of Cherry Garcia to wallow in by herself. Why, oh why, had she come here instead? “Oh, no chemistry,” she said, waving a hand in dismissal. “We were just joking around for the kids.”
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