by Ann Roth
“Seventeen.” Adam brushed his hands together, straightened, and returned to his chair. “He was in the middle of a crosswalk, moving with the walk light, when a taxi driver had a heart attack. He plowed right into Marcus.”
A huge lump formed in Adam’s throat. He never talked about this, not even with Rafe. He had no idea why he told Sam, and questioned whether he should continue. But now that he’d started, he needed to finish.
“I wanted to be just like him.” To have the old man believe in him and look at him with love and admiration. “But I couldn’t seem to do anything right, so I gave up and went the opposite direction. No matter how many stupid stunts I pulled, Marcus had my back. Then he was gone.”
Adam had been lost and drowning in grief. He’d needed to talk about his feelings and get them out, but his parents had forbidden it. “We never mentioned what happened, and I learned real fast not to bring up the subject.”
“That can’t have been easy.” Samantha clasped her hands together in her lap. “How did you cope?”
Poorly. “I stayed away from home for long stretches of time, taking turns bunking with a couple of friends. I’m sure their parents got real tired of my face, but no one ever said anything. I guess they felt sorry for me.”
His parents had never questioned where he’d gone or reacted when he returned. Almost as if for them, he didn’t exist.
“Mom!” William hollered from upstairs. “I can’t get the cap off the toothpaste.”
“Coming!” She gave Adam an apologetic smile. “I’ll be right back.”
Lost in the darkness of the past, he stared unseeing at the fire. His mother, closeted in Marcus’s bedroom with the football trophies and awards for making the honor roll, winning a debate and being elected student council president. The polar opposite of Adam, with his after-school detentions and bad grades. Richard drunk, yelling at Adam, wishing him dead instead of Marcus.
Despite the decade-plus between then and now, old pain and regret for what had been and what was consumed Adam. He squeezed his eyes shut, but only for a moment before he got a grip. Those memories belonged in the past. He closed the door on them, but the emotions associated with them clung on.
He was on his feet again, poking at the fire, raw and ready to get the hell out of there, when William padded down the stairs in pajamas covered with colorful ninja turtles. For some reason, the sight of his clean, shiny face beneath the firefighter hat made Adam’s chest hurt.
“Will you read me this story, Adam?” he asked, holding out a book.
Confused by his feelings, Adam cleared his throat. “Doesn’t your Mom want to do that?”
Sam shook her head. “It’s okay.”
The kid stared at Adam with big eyes, reminding him of a puppy. Seeing no way out, he moved to the couch and sat down. William joined him, with Sam flanking the boy’s other side.
Like a family.
Adam swallowed. “The Knight and the Dragon,” he read, studying the cartoon drawing on the cover. “This looks like a good book.”
“It’s my favorite.”
As he read the story, William handed the hat to Sam and snuggled close to Adam. Warmth he didn’t understand filled him, making him want things he couldn’t have. Didn’t deserve.
By the time he finished the book, the boy was drowsy and Sam wore a pleased smile.
Time to leave. Adam stood and ruffled William’s hair. “Good night, sport.”
“Will you tuck me in, Adam?”
The innocent question nearly brought him to his knees. “I can’t. I have to be somewhere,” he said, discomfort making him gruff.
“But—”
“He read you a story,” Sam said. “That’s enough.”
She had no idea. “Thanks for a great meal, Sam. It’s been fun, William. Don’t forget to mind your mom.”
“You’re leaving right now?” Sam asked.
“Yeah. I’ll let myself out. You get your son to bed.”
As they started up the stairs, he lurched out the door.
Chapter Eight
‡
“I wanted Adam to put me to bed,” William whined while Samantha tucked the blankets around him.
Just as she’d feared, he’d quickly grown far too attached to the man. Unfortunately, so was she. Bringing William the firefighter hat, reading to him…. The man had a way with her son. And with her. What a wonderful husband and father he’d be….
Why go there when Adam didn’t want a relationship and neither did she?
“He said he had to be someplace,” she reminded William.
“But why did he have to?”
“Our invitation was last-minute, and he probably had plans.”
Also, she’d told him twice this would be an early night. He’d certainly taken that to heart, had been so eager to leave he’d bolted out of the house before she could even say good night. Obviously, he’d had his fill of her and William.
Which came as no surprise. All the same, her feelings were hurt.
“And because he doesn’t know us well enough to put you to bed,” she added.
“We do so know him well enough.”
“You and Adam had fun with each other tonight, but that doesn’t mean he gets to come up here and tuck you in. You’re my special boy, and that pleasure is reserved for me. And your grandparents, if they’re around, and sometimes very close grownup friends.”
“Like Mrs. Randall?”
One evening several months ago, Betty had watched William while Samantha made an emergency grocery run after a last-minute request for gluten-free scones from Guff’s Lake Bed & Breakfast. On the way home, her car had broken down, and the dear woman had put him to bed. “That’s right.”
“Okay, Mom,” William conceded, but his lower lip stuck out in disappointment. “Can we invite Adam to dinner tomorrow?”
“No.”
He opened his mouth to argue, but she changed the subject. “Let’s put your firefighter hat on the dresser.”
“But I want to sleep with it.”
“It’s not that kind of hat. It’ll just get in the way and keep you awake.”
“Can I please keep it in bed with me?”
She couldn’t deny him this small request. “Thanks for using ‘please’ when you asked. You may.” After smoothing the covers over his little body, she set the hat beside him.
“I love you, sweetie,” she murmured, planting a kiss on his upturned face. And while other people will come and go, I will always be here for you. “Good night and good dreams.”
She switched off the overhead light, leaving the room bathed in the glow of the honeybee nightlight her parents had given him for his fifth birthday.
In her bedroom, she traded her ankle boots for a pair of fuzzy blue socks and turned down the spread for later. The bed beckoned her, but no, not this early on a Saturday night—even if she was exhausted. Tomorrow was her one day off, and she looked forward to puttering around the house tonight without worrying about scouring the kitchen, setting out ingredients for baking, or setting the morning alarm for the wee hours. She and William could sleep in.
Downstairs again, she tidied up the living room. Adam’s hat lay in the corner. Shoot, he’d forgotten it. Samantha didn’t want to call or text him, not tonight.
She didn’t want to think about him, period. Ignoring the hat, she carted the coffee cups and dessert plates into the kitchen. Stored the remains of William’s pie in the fridge. Cleaned up the kitchen mess.
Now what?
Sipping wine and watching a movie on TV sounded good. After emptying the rest of the dinner wine into a glass, she returned to the living room. The fire had burned down, and she added another log, poking at it until the wood caught.
She plunked onto the couch and channel-surfed until she found an old movie from 1955, On the Waterfront, starring a young Marlon Brando. That looked interesting. Yawning, she lay down, pushing a throw pillow under her head.
According to the movie host, Brando
had been thirty-one when he’d starred in the film, which made him just one year older than Adam. At that age, the actor had been one gorgeous hunk of man, but he had nothing on Adam Healey.
Forget about him. She managed that all right, but couldn’t help but grab another throw pillow and hug it close.
As riveting as the movie was, six days of averaging five hours sleep per night had caught up to her with a vengeance. Her eyelids felt heavy. Samantha told herself to go upstairs to bed, but didn’t have the energy. That was her last thought before she drifted off.
*
Less than a mile from Lucky Joe’s, Adam realized he’d left his firefighter hat at Sam’s. He swore.
He’d never forgotten it before. But when he’d sped away from her place, he hadn’t exactly been thinking straight. He was all jumbled up inside, confused by emotions he didn’t understand and didn’t care to deal with. He didn’t want to return to her house, but leaving his hat with her was not an option.
Grumbling, he checked for traffic, then executed a sharp U-ey. The wheels squealed and the car swerved, narrowly missing the ditch along the road.
Get a grip. Adam proceeded at a slower speed. He thought about alerting Sam that he was on his way back but decided against it. He’d run in, grab the hat, and run out—sixty seconds, max.
Twenty minutes later, he stood at her front door and punched the doorbell.
From inside, he heard the muffled sound of the chimes. He waited, but she didn’t answer the door. She’d said this would be an early night, but eight-thirty? From the light blazing through a crack in the drapes, he figured she was still up.
He waited a few more beats. Then, impatient to collect his hat and leave, he hot-leaded the bell so the chimes cascaded over themselves.
At last he heard footsteps. The door opened, and Sam squinted up at him.
“Left my fire hat behind.” He didn’t wait for her to ask him inside, just wiped his feet and stepped through the door.
“I know,” she said. “I was going to contact you tomorrow.”
In the living room, the TV was on with the sound muted. No lamps on in there, but between light from the entry, the TV screen and the blazing fire, he could see just fine. The empty wine glass on the coffee table. Two couch pillows lying haphazardly on the rug, as if tossed down in a hurry. Sam’s hair stuck up on one side, and she had a sleep-crease on the same cheek. She looked cute and sexy.
Adam’s body stirred, and he knew he was in big trouble. “I woke you.”
She didn’t deny it. “Believe me, you did me a favor. The last time I fell asleep on the couch, I woke up in the wee hours with a sore back.”
“That looks like On the Waterfront,” he commented, nodding at the tube.
“You’ve seen it?”
“Several times. My pop used to be a Brando fan.” Before the old man had lost himself in booze, watching classic TV movies together had been one of the few activities Adam had enjoyed sharing with him.
“It’s pretty good. Or was until I drifted off.” She yawned and stretched her arms out behind her, the movement thrusting her breasts forward.
She was killing him and she didn’t even know it. Adam spun away and retrieved his hat from the corner.
“You left so abruptly tonight,” she said. “Was it me or William?”
Neither. Both. Adam wasn’t sure. “You said it would be an early evening, and he needed to get to bed. And remember, I have plans. You met Nate when you toured the station. He’s in a band called Mello, and they’re playing at Lucky Joe’s.”
“Ah. I’ve heard good things about Lucky Joe’s, but I haven’t been yet. It’s not a place where I can take William.”
“Do you bring him with you everywhere you go?”
“I don’t exactly have a sitter. In a pinch, Betty helps out, but I don’t want to take advantage of her.”
He couldn’t believe she didn’t have someone else lined up. “You need to get out, Sam. Miranda, the secretary at the station, has a teenage daughter who could probably watch William.”
“I’ll keep that in mind. The truth is, even knowing I can sleep in on Sunday, I’m usually too beat to go out on a Saturday evening.”
“When I’m on duty and several calls come in during the night, the next day I feel the same way.”
Now that he had the hat and had spoken his piece, he should leave. He didn’t.
“My son is already too attached to you,” Sam said.
“Yeah, I got that feeling.” Adam set the hat down again, beside her empty wine glass.
“He’s already been abandoned once by his father. I don’t want him to ever experience that loss and pain again.”
“No one, especially a kid, should have to deal with something like that,” Adam agreed.
“Then you understand why, no matter how much William wants to be around you…I can’t let him.”
She raised her chin and crossed her arms, once again becoming the ferocious mama bear, bent on keeping her son safe.
But who looked out for her?
“I understand.” Feeling protective himself, he gently smoothed her hair down. “There.”
She groaned. “Don’t tell me it was sticking up.”
“A little.”
“Now you’ve seen me at my worst. How embarrassing.”
“Your worst is pretty good,” he said, his renegade hand tracing her delicate ear.
She exhaled, a sweet little breath that caressed his face. Her eyelids lowered a fraction, and she leaned in.
He was short-circuiting fast, going up in flames hotter than the ones in the hearth. While he could still think, he needed to spell out a few things, make sure she understood when it came to settling down for the long-term, he was the wrong guy. “Just to be clear here, I’m not looking to get involved with you and William. Not like that.”
“Then what do you want?”
Her lips parted the tiniest bit, and like always, he was lost. No longer caring that he flirted with danger, he ran his thumb over her bottom lip. “All I know is if I don’t taste that mouth of yours, I just might die.”
“Please don’t do that.” She cupped his face between her warm hands.
Adam’s turn to close his eyes. He reveled in her touch. Desire tightened his body and an unfamiliar tenderness flooded his heart. Scared now, he blinked and stepped back, fast. “Sam, I—”
“Ssh.” She pulled him down and kissed him.
Chapter Nine
‡
Standing on her toes, Samantha wrapped her arms around Adam’s neck and sank into the kiss. With a male growl of pleasure, he rubbed his tongue against hers, cupped her hips, and pulled her tight. She could feel his erection against her stomach.
The sexiest man alive wanted her. It was a heady feeling.
His hunger fanned her own fever. Just when her knees threatened to buckle, he guided her down to the rug in front of the fire and tucked a throw pillow under her head.
“How did you know my legs were about to give out?” she whispered.
He chuckled low and deep, his eyes reflecting the firelight. “Just a lucky guess.”
“Speaking of lucky…. Don’t you have to get to Lucky Joe’s?”
“Nah. At the moment, I’m right where I want to be.” Leaning on his elbow, he stroked his thumb over her cheek.
“Yeah?” Smiling to herself, she turned her head and kissed his finger.
He pulled her into a searing kiss that obliterated most of her thoughts before resting his forehead against hers. “You are so….”
“What?”
“So damn impossible to resist.”
One dizzying kiss after another followed, until her senses filled with his taste and his desire. His hands were everywhere. Up her sides, on her breasts. Under her sweater, hot and seeking over her fevered nerves. Inside her bra, his clever fingers caging her nipples with just the right pressure.
Suddenly wet and aching between her legs, she moaned.
“It’s time you
got rid of that sweater and bra,” Adam stated.
She sat up. So did Adam. At the same time, they removed their tops. His chest was hard and muscled, and Dear God in heaven, he had washboard abs. The faded scar on his shoulder only made him more gorgeous.
“Where did this come from?” she asked, tracing the faded red line down his bicep.
“I got that a few years ago, during a nasty fire.”
“It must have really hurt.”
He shrugged. “All part of the job. You have beautiful breasts, Sam.”
His tender expression made her feel beautiful. She leaned in and licked his nipple. Groaning, he pulled her onto his lap, so his erection pressed against her bottom.
She wrapped her thighs around his waist and clung to him as he slid backward until the wall supported him. Skin against skin. Bliss—and torture. The fine hairs on his chest teased her sensitive nipples, making her half mindless and desperate for him. She’d never wanted a man so badly.
“Touch me.” She placed his hands on her needy breasts.
He was a master at pleasure. Soon his mouth replaced his hands, licking and suckling and making her restless and wild. Seeking closer contact, she shifted against his erection.
“Take it easy,” he murmured, gripping her hips and forcing her to be still.
Sometime later, after deep, demanding kisses, he unfastened the button on her jeans and tugged at her zipper. The anticipation alone pushed her to the edge of a climax.
Her intense desire frightened her back to reality. She pushed his hand away. “No, Adam.”
He froze then lifted her off his lap. Suddenly shy, where mere seconds ago, she’d blatantly urged him to explore and taste her breasts she covered them with her hands.
He reached for her sweater and bra and handed them to her. “I want you, Sam, but you’re right, it’s too soon.”
Leaving the bra off, she pivoted from his gaze and pulled the sweater over her head. The soft wool teased her sensitized breasts still further.
When she again faced Adam, he was buttoning his shirt and watching her through slitted eyes. She couldn’t help but notice that he was still aroused.