by Sherry Lewis
“No.”
“He didn’t tell you anything?”
“He said that he used to love my mother.” She started to look away, then immediately turned back, holding up her index finger as if she were about to make a point. “He did say that he doesn’t see any point in holding on to the past.”
“Well, that was helpful.”
She didn’t smile.
“So now what?”
“Now I’m going to find out what happened between them.”
She sounded more confident than Adam would have expected. He leaned an elbow on the table and propped his chin on his fist. “How are you going to do that?”
This time, she smiled. “I’m going to talk to my sister, Laura, when she and her husband get back from vacation.”
A tiny flicker of admiration rose in his chest, but he pushed it away. He wasn’t being paid to admire her. “You think she knows anything?”
DJ met his gaze, and he could see the determination and excitement in hers. “She must. She was there.”
“And you think she’ll tell you?”
DJ nodded. “She’ll tell me.”
Adam wished he could share her confidence, but he couldn’t help thinking that if Laura was going to tell DJ anything, she’d have done so already. He opened his mouth to say so, then clamped it shut again. Voicing his doubts would only hurt DJ, and she’d be hurt enough by the time this was all over.
He looked away and watched Galloway toss a stick for the dog to fetch. Holly scampered across the lawn, and Galloway looked at Marissa as if he expected her to smile or laugh or show her approval in some other way.
But Marissa held back.
Galloway held out a hand for her to hold, but Marissa shook her head and backed away. Adam watched, wary and ready to jump if Galloway did anything even slightly questionable.
“I know I asked you this before,” he said softly. “But what if you find out something you’d rather not know?”
DJ laughed without humor. “What wouldn’t I want to know?”
“I don’t know.”
“No matter what happened between them, I want to know about it. I want to know why my mother felt justified in hiding my father from me all these years. Why he left. Why he stayed away—” She broke off and shook her head quickly. Her eyes glinted with tears, and Adam’s heart softened.
He reached a hand across the table and touched her fingertips gently. “Then I hope you find out.”
She met his gaze, but the sadness in her eyes made his throat constrict. “Do you?” she asked.
“Yes.” He caressed her hand with his own. Her fingers felt like rose petals and the top of her hand like a newborn’s skin. His pulse beat faster and he had trouble swallowing. “Yes,” he repeated uselessly.
She held his gaze for what felt like forever. He couldn’t have made himself look away even if he’d wanted to. Everything about her seemed designed to pull him under her spell—her eyes, her lips, her hair, her hands.
He wanted to feel her hands touching him—running along his shoulders, trailing down his chest. He wanted to feel her softness pressed against him. He wanted to bury his face in her hair, her neck, her breasts, and never emerge.
He could hear the sound of his breathing—ragged and harsh—but he couldn’t seem to pull himself back under control. He ached for her. He wanted her.
Everything he felt must have been written on his face, but she didn’t look away. She held him with her eyes and caressed him with her gaze. He could kiss her without any effort at all—he could lean slightly forward and let his lips touch hers. But he wouldn’t want to stop with one kiss.
Somewhere, far away, a child’s laugh punctuated the evening air, then sounded again a split second before Marissa launched herself into DJ’s lap and shattered the spell.
Adam sucked in a sharp breath and looked away. As Marissa clung to DJ’s neck and whispered something he couldn’t make out, he watched Galloway walking across the lawn toward them, and the last of his desire faded away.
Standing quickly, he started to gather the remaining dishes from the table, trying to look as if he hadn’t almost thrown discretion—and his career—to the wind. He cursed himself silently for letting the woman get to him that way.
He’d vowed never to let a woman get close to him again. The cost was simply too great. Yet here he was, contemplating a kiss with a woman he’d been hired to protect. And if he’d kissed her, what would have happened then?
DJ wasn’t the type of woman for a casual sexual romp. She’d been hurt far too much already. She needed love and commitment. Passion and tenderness. Trust.
Adam growled deep in his throat and shoved a handful of paper plates into the garbage. Trust. There wasn’t any such thing. He’d had enough of empty commitments and the demands on his heart that came with them. He’d learned through experience that trust and love were not the same thing, and he didn’t want anything to do with either. Not now. Not ever.
DJ FUMBLED WITH the coffeemaker and tried to focus on her task. She’d stayed up far too late the night before, and for nothing. No matter what questions she’d asked, no matter what Adam had done to lead the conversation into the past, Larry had remained stubbornly evasive.
She’d gone to bed tired, frustrated and far too aware of Adam McAllister for her own good. He’d almost kissed her—she knew it—and she’d wanted it. But Marissa had chosen that moment to run from Larry, and DJ still couldn’t decide if she wanted to hug Marissa for having saved her from making a mistake or cry at the interruption. Another few seconds alone with Adam and she would have thrown herself at him. And in her dreams last night she’d done exactly that. This morning, with Marissa sitting two feet away at the kitchen table, DJ felt more grounded.
Drawing in a steadying breath, she reminded herself that any woman would react the way she did to a man like Adam under these circumstances. He was here when she needed him—like a guardian angel. Unfortunately, her thoughts were anything but angelic.
Surely he’d seen the desire written on her face. He must know she’d almost succumbed to the moment. But she couldn’t let herself do that. She couldn’t let her frustration, her anger or her fears drive her into Adam’s arms. If she ever became involved with a man again—if she decided to take that chance with Adam—she would have to be certain she made her decision based on love and respect, not need. Until then, she had to remain in control. No matter what.
If she were smart, she’d avoid him whenever possible. She would stay out of his path and hope he’d return the favor. She would stop burdening him with her personal problems and let him get back to work on his book. She’d already kept him from it too long.
She poured water from the carafe into the coffeemaker’s reservoir just as a board creaked on the landing behind her. She closed her eyes and willed her heart to stop racing. She steadied herself with one hand on the counter and turned to face him. And she told herself to be friendly—nothing more.
He wore those faded jeans that fit so well, a soft brown Henley shirt and no shoes. He crossed the room to stand in front of her. Close. Too close. She could smell his soap, his aftershave—the mint of his toothpaste, for heaven’s sake. Did she really feel his breath on her cheek or did she only wish she could? Some emotion seemed to simmer just below the surface, nearly hidden behind the cool gray of his eyes.
She should know better than to let herself feel this way. She’d learned her lesson with Jeff. Jeff had been all sex appeal, and it was only later she’d discovered he had very little depth. She’d paid a steep price for falling in love with him.
She’d almost lost herself in her marriage. Jeff had expected her to change so much, she’d never been certain why he’d married her until almost the end. Until he’d shouted at her for showing up to meet him for lunch in jeans and a sweater.
He’d said ugly things that day. He’d expected more from her, he’d said. He’d expected a little class from Christina Prescott’s daughter. And the realization t
hat he’d married her because of her mother’s name had killed what little love DJ still felt for him.
Adam seemed to have a great deal more depth of character than Jeff had ever dreamed of, but she’d learned the hard way to beware of men with such magnetism. And she would never again get involved with someone who cared who her mother was. No matter how she tried, she couldn’t forget it was Adam’s friendship with Christina Prescott that had brought him here.
Marissa looked up from the table and tried to smile, but her cheeks bulged with milk and made the smile lopsided. Her Utah Jazz cap lay abandoned on its crown; a rag doll sat on the table next to it. She swallowed and wiped the milk mustache from her upper lip with her sleeve. “Can we have pancakes, Mommy? P’ease?”
DJ handed her a napkin and looked over her shoulder at Adam. In spite of her resolve, she couldn’t ignore him. “Would you like to join us for pancakes?”
He leaned one shoulder against the side of the refrigerator and shrugged casually. “Fine with me. I’ll eat anything.”
“Coffee?”
He started to nod, but Marissa interrupted. “Hot chocolate,” she said seriously. “It’s lots better than coffee.”
When his lips curved into a gentle smile, DJ caught her breath. That smile transformed him.
“Hot chocolate, then,” he said, and joined Marissa at the table. “How’s the milk?”
Marissa grinned at him. “It’s good.” And to prove it, she took another huge swallow, then studied him for a moment. “Do you have any kids?”
His smile faltered. “No, I don’t”
Marissa wiped her face with a napkin. “Why not?”
DJ had longed to ask the same question, but she’d managed to hide her curiosity. “Marissa—”
To DJ’s surprise, Adam didn’t seem to mind the intrusion into his personal life. “My ex-wife didn’t think I was home enough to be a good daddy, and she didn’t want to take care of kids all by herself.”
Marissa’s brows knit. “Why weren’t you home?”
DJ busied herself with the pancake mix and the griddle, and pretended not to listen to their conversation, but she hung on every word. She wanted to know everything about Adam he was willing to reveal.
“Because my job—” he glanced at DJ “—the job I had then—took too much time.”
“You could have kids now,” Marissa reasoned.
Adam shook his head. “We’re not married anymore.”
“Oh.” Marissa nodded as if that explained everything. “Are you ’aborced?”
He smiled sadly. “Divorced? Yes.”
“So’s my mom.”
“Yes, I know.” He lifted his eyes to meet DJ’s.
She flushed, embarrassed at having been caught watching him. “Lots of people get divorced.”
“You could have kids anyway,” Marissa said, patting his hand quickly and squirming from her chair. “Lots of daddies don’t live with their kids. Mine doesn’t, does he, Mommy?”
DJ hated discussing Jeff with Marissa. Marissa didn’t need to know how upset Jeff had been to learn about DJ’s pregnancy or how concerned he’d been by what he saw as their daughter’s intrusion into their lives. Or that he’d quickly grown tired of diapers, bottles and early morning feedings. So she only shook her head and said, “No.”
“See?” Marissa demanded.
Adam nodded, and a ghost of his smile darted across his face again. “Yes, I do.”
“Don’t you want kids? Don’t you like ’em?”
“Very much, but I wouldn’t be able to see them much, and I’d miss them a lot”
“Just like my daddy misses me, huh, Mommy?”
DJ smiled. “Just like that” And she excused the tiny lie in the interests of Marissa’s peace of mind.
Marissa hummed softly for a few seconds, then her face brightened. “I know what we could do. You don’t have any kids, and I don’t have a daddy who lives here. So you could be my make-believe daddy. Couldn’t he, Mommy?”
Where did the child come up with such ideas? DJ tried to laugh as she looked at Adam. “No, Marissa.”
Adam didn’t appear offended. Instead, she saw amusement lurking behind his eyes. “I don’t know,” he said slowly. “What exactly would a make-believe daddy have to do?”
Marissa settled her cap on her head and shrugged. “Just dad things.”
“Like fix your bike and help you train Holly and stuff like that?”
She nodded. “And ride without training wheels.”
“The important stuff,” Adam said.
“Marissa—” DJ warned again.
But Marissa ignored her. “Yeah. The ’portant stuff.” She reached for her doll and dragged it across the table, nearly knocking over her glass.
Adam caught it and settled it out of her way, then nodded as if he found the whole idea fascinating.
“Stuff Mommy can’t do ’cause she has to work and Brittany doesn’t want to.”
DJ left the bowl on the counter and crossed to the table in an attempt to make Marissa pay attention. “You can’t ask Adam to be your make-believe dad.”
Marissa’s eyes clouded. “Why not?”
When Adam looked up at DJ, he mimicked Marissa’s pout. “Yeah. Why not?”
“Because,” DJ said, staring straight into Marissa’s eyes so she could ignore Adam’s, “Adam has to work, too.”
He waved her concern away with one hand. “I’ve got plenty of time to be a make-believe dad—as long as you don’t mind.”
How could she possibly answer that? Yes, she minded. She wanted to accept his offer more than anything. Marissa had never reacted so well to a man in her life, and DJ knew her daughter could only benefit from the association. But she wanted to spend less time with Adam—not more. She wanted to forget the sound of his voice and the color of his eyes, not to find more ways to ingrain them in her mind. She wanted to forget the way she felt in his arms, not torment herself with memories and long for more.
He stood and placed his hands on her shoulders. His smile nearly undid her. “I’m a good guy,” he said. “Trustworthy. I get along with my nieces and nephew. I’ve got references—” His face sobered. “I’m realistic enough to know why you’re worried, but I won’t help Marissa with anything unless you or Brittany are there. And I won’t mind doing a few things with her. It’ll give me something to do with my days.”
He’d answered almost every concern she could think of, but she couldn’t give in. “You have work to do,” she reminded him.
“It’ll get done.”
Marissa slid from her chair and tugged on DJ’s pant leg. “Say yes, Mommy. P’ease?”
DJ’s common sense warred with the hope on Marissa’s face. “I can’t believe I’m even considering this,” she said. Then, with a thin smile and a tiny nod, she agreed. “All right. But I’m not even certain I know how you two talked me into this.”
For the first time since his arrival, Adam laughed aloud. Every nerve in DJ’s body tingled when she heard the deep bass tone, and her senses soared when she looked into his incredible eyes. She knew, with dreadful certainty, that she was being pulled into something beyond her control. But at that moment, she couldn’t honestly have said that she wanted to escape.
ADAM PECKED OUT a few words on the laptop computer, glanced up at the screen with a frown and deleted half of what he’d typed. He’d been working at the kitchen table for an hour, and he’d thought he was getting the hang of the stupid machine—until he looked back at what he’d done.
He’d forgotten to hit the damned F9 key to move to another box in the report form, and he’d inserted the answers for three boxes into one. Muttering to himself, he removed the extra answers, pressed F9 and started again.
“Whatcha doin’?”
Marissa’s voice startled him. He hadn’t even heard her come into the room. Some security. The officer on duty caught off guard by a four-year-old.
He glanced at her and smiled. “I’m working.”
She cl
imbed onto the chair next to his and tried to peek at the screen. “On your book?” She’d obviously dressed herself this morning—purple sweater, red jeans, bright blue high-top tennis shoes with a Tweety Bird appliqué. Definitely her mother’s daughter.
He bit back a smile. “Yes. On my book.”
She nodded thoughtfully and watched him for a few seconds while he hunted for the right keys. “Grandma types faster than you.”
“I’m sure she does.”
“And she doesn’t have all those funny lines on her books.”
Adam felt pretty certain she was right about that, too. He pressed the key to save what he’d done and lowered the screen to keep her from noticing anything else. “What are you up to this morning?”
“I’m going to Brittany’s school with her. She has a ’portant paper to sign.”
“I see. And you need to help her sign it?”
Marissa nodded. “I think so. Will you help me ride my bike when I come back?”
He pretended to give her request some consideration. “All right.”
Brittany’s hurried footsteps sounded in the hallway just before she came through the door. She frowned at Marissa and held out a hooded sweater. “So this is where you ran off to. You’d better hurry or I’ll be late.”
Marissa slid from her chair. “I’m helping Adam write his book.”
Brittany met Adam’s gaze with a knowing one of her own. She’d obviously heard more of his conversation with Christina Prescott than she should have. But if Christina didn’t care, Adam wouldn’t make waves.
He gave Marissa’s shoulders a gentle nudge. “You’d better hurry, squirt.”
Marissa looked up at him with huge eyes full of hope. “Can I stay here with you?”
Brittany worked the sweater over Marissa’s head and helped her get her arms into the proper holes. “No, you can’t. He’s working. You’re stuck with me. Now hurry.”
Adam glanced at the clock. Only eleven-thirty. He’d have half an hour alone in the house before DJ came home for lunch, and he ought to take advantage of the time to check in. He hadn’t called in three days, and he knew Chuck would be chomping at the bit for a report.