He groaned and gave himself over to the sensation of Amy pinned underneath him, lazy as he explored her mouth with his tongue, then urgent when he moved down to nip at the corner of her mouth and tug at her lower lip with his teeth. The silken pull of her mouth was intoxicating, filling him with a crazed kind of longing that made him want to howl. He moaned instead, and the way she writhed under him at the sound of it acted on his body almost immediately.
He was hard and straining for more, throwing every piece of caution and common sense to the wind, and he didn’t even care. For the moment, they were two people alone in the world. There was no Jake. No Montgomery Manor. No twins.
“Wait.” He pulled back and looked around, startled. “Where are the kids?”
“Oh, shit!” Amy sat up and tugged at her shirt, which had twisted around her midsection, revealing soft slopes and the perfect indentation of her belly button. “We lost them. I must be the worst nanny on the face of the planet.”
It turned out their worries were unfounded. The twins had found a patch of daisies and planted themselves in the middle, ripping the tops off and giggling at the empty stems left behind. Their apparent safety didn’t stop Amy from scrambling to her feet and hurrying over, kissing them both with a fervor that would have been more in place had they been found dangling over a cliff’s edge.
Ryan joined them more slowly, taking his time with each forward movement of his legs, his erection still very much a presence. Issues of careless child-rearing aside, that had been a...kiss. The kind that changed a man. The kind that changed everything.
“I’m sorry,” he said softly as he approached. “That wasn’t my intention in seeking you out today.”
She tossed him an innocent look, complete with batted eyelashes. “You mean you didn’t lure me outside using your powers of kindness to children with the sole aim of seducing me?”
He opened his mouth and closed it again. Seduction had been the last thing on his mind. What he really came out here to do was come clean. About her mom’s request, about Mr. Montgomery’s deal, about all the maneuvers being made behind her back.
It was what he should have done from the start.
“Don’t look so frightened.” She lifted a hand to cup the side of his face. Her fingers were light where they fluttered against his jaw. “I know you’re not planning on staying in Ransom Creek on a permanent basis. I don’t intend to get in the way of that.”
“Amy, there’s something I need to tell you.”
Her hand dropped as if scalded by the touch, by the fire in his veins and the brimstone on his skin. “That sounds an awful lot like you’re going to reject me again. Would it help if we pretended it never happened? We can blame the boobs, if that helps.”
His gaze flew to her chest, startled. “What?”
“In times of trouble, I find they provide an excellent excuse. You were rolling. All of a sudden they were right there under you, and your body took over. It was clearly the boobs’ fault.”
He wanted to protest, to tell her that kissing her fulfilled a longing he suspected had only a small something to do with her body, but this seemed safer. She was giving him an out, a—ahem—soft place to land.
“I think you might be underestimating the rest of your charms,” he said, though he took a moment longer before returning his gaze about a foot north. Her shirt was askew and her breathing still heavy, leaving his unsated needs even more unsated than they already were. “What else do you blame them for, if you don’t mind my asking?”
“Oh, just about everything. Poor decision-making when it comes to men. An inability to shop for bras at discount stores. My questionable success as a ballerina.”
He stopped at that last one. “Really?”
Her smile grew strained and her eyes shuttered. It was one of the few times he’d ever caught a glimpse of her other side—the side that hid things, the side that hurt. He wondered how deep it went, how far in she’d let him come.
“Well, I told you I just use the boobs as an excuse. I could have gotten breast reduction surgery, like some of the other girls, but the truth is that I was never all that good.” Her smile stretched even tighter. “But don’t tell anyone I admitted that out loud. When I’m an old woman, I plan to look back at my dancing days through rose-colored glasses and have twenty-seven grandchildren dandling on my knee, all of them begging me to tell them more about my famous past.”
He knew it was backtracking, but the resolve he’d mustered up on the way to the nursery fled at the sight of that tight smile. He was beginning to see why everyone was so hesitant to place the unpleasant conversations of the world on her doorstep. There was something about being around Amy that brought out an inherent protective urge in people. He’d do anything to keep her from getting hurt.
“Twenty-seven grandkids seems a bit like overkill,” he said. “Aren’t we supposed to be collectively reducing the world’s population?”
Her sunny expression returned. “I happen to be exceptionally fond of children who aren’t my own.” She swooped down and blew slobbery kisses on both of the twins’ cheeks. “How do you know I won’t adopt all of them?”
“You won’t.” Ryan wasn’t the type of man to cast the women he found attractive into a maternal role, but there was no doubt in his mind that Amy would someday find herself rolling around in the grass for tiny humans she created herself. At least, she would if there was any justice in this world. “Actually, that’s kind of what I wanted to talk to you about today.”
Amy’s eyes flew open. “You want to talk to me about adoption?”
“Well, no.”
She ignored him with a gurgle of mirth. “Is this where you tell me that you’re secretly Mr. Montgomery’s love child, and that you were adopted out at a young age? Is that why he trusts you to take care of his beloved cars?”
Ryan’s heart almost stopped.
There were precious few moments in a man’s life when clarity came easily. He’d done enough soul-searching in the darkness of night to know that introspection couldn’t untangle the threads of the past, that poor decisions made and consequences accepted were a muddled blur that rarely moved into focus.
This was not one of those times. The truth struck him with such sudden, blinding intensity that he almost reeled with the force of it. Mr. Montgomery being determined to keep Jake and Amy apart at any cost. Linda Sanders asking him to step in to do the same. The almost sibling-rivalry-like arguments that broke out whenever the two of them were in the same room together.
He gripped Amy’s shoulders and turned her to face him. He searched for clues, for signs that he could be wrong—or right—but all he saw was the breathtaking, heart-wrenching smile of a woman he desperately wanted to kiss again.
“What is it?” she asked, losing some of her smile. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Does Mr. Montgomery have any secret love children?”
Instead of causing her to pale or swoon or cry out in anger, Amy laughed. “Oh, geez. Not you too, Ryan. I swear, if I had a dollar for every time someone asked me if he and my mom had a little something going on behind closed doors...well, I’m not very good at math, but I wouldn’t be driving my Rabbit, that’s for sure.”
Relief beckoned from behind a locked gate. “So you do know who your father is?”
“Well...no.” Amy was starting to get a little frightened by the way Ryan was looking at her. Gone was the playful kissing face she wanted to smoosh between her hands. Nowhere in sight was the aloof chauffeur she’d come to recognize. He looked almost like a stranger. Almost as if he wanted to cry. “I mean, I couldn’t give you a name and an address to go hunt him down, but I know of him. My mom fell in love at eighteen. She fell out of love at nineteen. I happened somewhere in the middle.”
“Oh.” Ryan’s shoulders sagged. “That’s a relief. For a second
, I thought...”
“Yes?” she asked, even though she already knew the answer. “What did you think? Explain it to me.”
“I’m sure you can guess. Your mom working all those years as part of the family. You being raised alongside the Montgomery kids. How much Mr. Montgomery looks after you.”
“He looks after everyone.” He wasn’t what anyone would term a warm man, but Amy knew where her loyalties would always lie. Mr. Montgomery had earned them, and she intended to repay in full. “That’s just how he is. It’s called being compassionate.”
“I wonder.”
She didn’t much care for the suspicious deepening in Ryan’s eyes. “What do you wonder?”
“It’s just...are you absolutely sure that story of your mom’s isn’t some kind of cover-up? You said it yourself—your mom wanted a blood oath that you wouldn’t date Jake. Doesn’t that make you even a little suspicious?”
“Well, it does now.” She eyed him askance. “Why do I get the feeling you’re not telling me everything?”
“Because I’m not.”
Amy paused only long enough to pick another bunch of daisies and dump them unceremoniously on the twins’ laps. Thank goodness flower beheading held so much toddler appeal.
“Out with it,” she commanded. “You’re starting to scare me.”
“What I have to say isn’t nice. Or pretty.”
“Contrary to how it appears, a lot of things about my life aren’t nice or pretty. I won’t wilt.”
He sighed, looking very much as though he didn’t believe her. “The other day, at the beach, your mom asked me to, uh, keep an eye on you and Jake.”
“She did, huh?” Why was that not surprising? God forbid the woman just let things sit. God forbid she let Amy decide on her own life path.
“She did.” Ryan nodded and then frowned. “And she’s not the only one. The day after the car accident, when Mr. Montgomery called me into his office, he made me...well, let’s just call it a deal I couldn’t refuse.”
“A what?”
Ryan passed a hand over his eyes. “A deal. He told me I could keep my job, but only on one condition. I was assigned to be your watchdog. It was very important to him that the two of you didn’t, you know, take things to the next level. The irreversible level. The unthinkable level between two people who might possibly share a common genetic code.”
“I...” Amy stopped. And blinked. If they weren’t standing in a field of daisies under the bright sun, with no one around but a pair of toddlers who were definitely going to need a bath this afternoon, she’d have suspected this was some kind of elaborate prank. Alex and Holly and maybe Katie and a few of the grounds crew members would pop out with a video camera and a YouTube channel set up specifically for her. “Are you telling me he asked you to stop me from dating Jake because he’s actually my half brother? And you agreed?”
Oh, no. No, no, no. She’d seen Star Wars. She knew the earthshaking revelation of the kiss Luke and Leia had shared, remembered the nausea of surprise and too much artificial butter flavoring on her popcorn. Oh, God. She was going to throw up.
“Ryan? Why aren’t you saying anything? I’m freaking out over here.” She flapped her hands as if to prove it. This was one step past deer-in-the-headlights. She’d gone straight for deer-about-to-pass-out-on-the-side-of-the-road. “And please take that worm out of Evan’s mouth. No, Evan. Icky. Blech. Poison. Oh, but did you know they don’t have any eyes? And they have five hearts. One, two, three, four, five. Like your fingers! Don’t look at me like that, Ryan. I’m not being hysterical. I’m being educational.”
He blinked at her. “He can eat the worm. It won’t kill him.”
She released a laugh-sob and shook her head. “He might choke. I’m not going to pass out or start screaming or anything. Please just grab it from him and set it free somewhere safe. Then we can talk.”
Watching Ryan try to extract the worm from Evan was ordinary and endearing enough to bring her some measure of calm. He squatted down to the boy’s level and explained how the creature had a life waiting for it deep in the cool, damp earth—much like he’d talk to any rational human being, patient and kind. So of course Evan promptly shoved the worm into his mouth and refused to open it up again, his cheeks puffed out and his eyes watering as the worm presumably made a home of his tongue.
“Evan Hanover Montgomery, if you don’t let Mr. Worm out of your mouth right this instant, you have to take two naps today.” She paused. “No. Five. Five naps. One for each of his hearts.”
Lily cast stricken eyes her way. That wasn’t a punishment either one of them took very lightly. When it was clear Amy meant business, she took a commanding little step and put her hand out to her brother’s mouth. “Pwease.”
Without dropping eye contact with her, Evan opened his mouth to allow the worm—saliva and dirt included—to fall from his lips and into his sister’s waiting palm. At which time she promptly presented it to Ryan, triumphant.
“Take it,” Amy whispered when he hesitated.
“I miss my cars” was all he said as he accepted the wriggling creature and deposited it under a rock a few steps away. He returned to stand over them all, hands on hips, clearly done with his stint in the manny role. But once again, he surprised her. “Okay, you two. Listen up. Amy and I are going to sit right here. Your job is to find us as many rocks as you can and put them in a pile. Do not—I repeat, do not—put them in your mouth. Rocks. Pile. No eating. Go.”
It did the trick. They set straight to work.
Ryan settled onto the ground next to Amy, trying to gauge her mood. She sat cross-legged and stiff-backed, her posture impeccable. It was difficult to tell if her erect position was the result of her years of dance training or outraged tension. If he had to guess, he’d say it was the second one.
“How bad is it?” he asked once he gathered up the nerve to speak.
“Well, it’s not good. I haven’t slept with him or anything, if that’s what you’re asking. Still incest-free since nineteen eighty-eight.” She groaned and dropped her head in her hands. “I can’t believe I said that sentence out loud.”
“You have to believe me, Amy—if I’d have thought for one second this was what Mr. Montgomery meant when he asked me to intervene, I would’ve told you right away. He didn’t tell me why he didn’t want you together. Only that it was important. I assumed it was because he thought you were too far beneath his son.”
“You should have told me right away anyway.”
“I know.” He reached over and grabbed her hand, his stomach tight when her fingers wove naturally—and trustingly—through his own. “I’m sorry. I thought maybe I could just...you know. Be there. Support you. Make sure you stayed safe.”
She looked over, her brows drawn tightly together in concern. “Does this mean you’re going to be fired? Because you told me?”
It was hard to imagine feeling any more like a horrible human being than he already did, but with that innocently worded concern, he went from basement level to deep, dark hole. “No—God, no. Don’t worry about me.”
“But you said—”
He squeezed her fingers. “My job isn’t the issue here, I promise.” His future was. But Ryan refused to think about the Len Brigands of the world right now. More important than his stupid career path was the fact that Amy’s hand was shaking in his. “Is it really possible you’re his daughter?”
“I suppose so.” All the fight seemed to have left her. “Even though I always got the glossed-over, romantic version of events, my mom has never really gone into detail. There’s no reason why the love of her life couldn’t have been Mr. Montgomery. She does call him John.”
“And you never questioned your parentage?”
“Of course I questioned it. I ranted. I accused. There was a whole week when I was fourteen when I wen
t on a protest fast. I refused to eat until my mom told me my dad’s name.”
“How’d that work out for you?”
“She called my bluff and slipped celery sticks with peanut butter under my door at night. I didn’t stand a chance.”
He slid an arm around her shoulder and squeezed. She felt soft and angry and warm and relieved and so very much alive.
“I’m so sorry to be the one to have to tell you. You’re obviously going to have to talk to Mr. Montgomery. If you want to do it right now, I’d be happy to keep an eye on the twins.”
“Are you kidding? I’m not talking to him about this.” She cast him a frantic look before her attention diverted to her charges. “Evan, share the rocks with Lily, please. There are more than enough to go around. That one is granite. Gra. Nite.”
Ryan peered at the small gray stone in Evan’s chubby hand. “No, it’s not. I think that might be limestone.”
“Oh, so now you’re a rock expert? Look, Evan—our geologist friend says its limestone. Lime. Stone.”
“You know they’re two years old, right? Can they even say their full names yet?”
“If I don’t teach them something new every day, Serena imagines we’ve done nothing but watch Dora the Explorer and eat syrup-smothered pancakes in bed. There are quizzes and everything.”
“I hope you’re well paid.” Ryan shook his head and forced her back on to their earlier discussion. No wonder so many people got divorced when their kids were young. It was impossible to hold a rational conversation for any length of time. “But I don’t understand. Now that we know what they’re hiding, why don’t you just come right out and ask Mr. Montgomery if he’s your dad?”
She stared at him for a full thirty seconds, unblinking, making him feel as though he shared a mental level with the two children currently trying to ingest rocks. “If he is my dad, he obviously doesn’t want me to know or he would have said something weeks ago. Months ago. Years ago.”
He waited for the rest—the outpouring of angst or yelling or vows to begin fasting anew. It never came.
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