“The one who walks away is the winner,” Zeke stated with pride.
“Right. Now, who here thinks they can take me on and win?”
“You mean in a fight? With fists?” one of the boys demanded.
“That’s right.”
“You’re too big,” Jerome protested.
“Exactly.” Sam set down his fork and studied the faces looking up at his.
“That brings me to rule number two. I’m bigger than you guys, so I’m gonna win all the fights around here.”
“We aren’t gonna fight with you,” Mickey protested.
“Which brings me to rule number three. Any fight you guys have from now on involves me. Remember rule number two? That means you guys always lose the fight.”
“That’s stupid.”
There was grumbling agreement.
“Sam,” Marly said, so sweetly he wanted to wince. “We need to have a talk.”
“Absolutely,” he agreed cheerfully, wondering how he was going to get out of this one. Marly frowned, and he quickly asked one of the boys to pass him the vegetable platter, hoping to divert her.
From somewhere came the sound of a telephone. Marly jumped, looking snakebit. Emma frowned and rose to her feet. She reappeared in the doorway a minute or so later without saying a word.
“Excuse me,” Marly said, setting down her napkin. She rose from the table, as if reluctant. Sam had to force himself to nod and not ask questions. It was none of his business what her problems were. He had his own troubles to deal with. His appetite was dust all of a sudden.
“Anybody want more chicken?” he asked. No one did. The boys had made large inroads into the meal. Even Chris had eaten well. Marly hadn’t returned by the time the kids started getting antsy. He was wondering what to do with them when Emma rose and disappeared into the kitchen. She returned a second later, standing in the doorway, a cake plate in her hands.
“Emma? Any chance you could serve that chocolate cake outside on the front porch, so I can demonstrate a few defensive moves to the boys?” Sam asked.
Emma nodded.
“Let’s go!” Donald said amid the scramble as the boys started to jump up.
Sam gave a loud whistle. The small bodies stopped moving instantly. “Sit.” At his sharp command, they collapsed onto their chairs. “Is that how you leave a dinner table?” Six pairs of eyes stared at him without comprehension.
“Thank you for dinner, Emma. Your chicken is the best I’ve tasted in a long while.”
The boys looked at him in confusion.
Jerome frowned, staring at Sam. Sam tilted his head in Emma’s direction. “Oh. Uh, thanks for dinner, Emma.”
There was a low chorus of mumbled thanks. Emma fairly beamed. “You may carry your dishes to the kitchen, and then you’re excused,” Sam told them. The room erupted again as eager bodies lunged to obey.
Marly stood in the doorway, a pleased but thoughtful look on her face. Her tension had evaporated, so the phone call must not have been what she feared.
“Do you want to explain what you’re doing?” Marly asked.
“Teachin’ them some manners.”
“I mean outside.”
“I’m going to show the boys a few self-defense moves.”
“Self-defense.”
“Yeah, you know.” He took a long step in her direction. “Someone enters your space—” he stood close enough to notice the way her pulse sped up in her throat “—and you don’t want to give ground—” the way she was refusing to do at the moment “—but you want the other person to move away.”
Her eyes flicked to his face, trying to measure his intent, but she didn’t step back. “I don’t think fighting is listed anywhere on those lesson plans I gave you earlier,” she said firmly.
“Probably not. Anyone who had time to write up all that junk probably wouldn’t know how to remove someone from his space.”
She reached up with the flats of both hands to push him away. Sam didn’t move. Her eyes opened expressively.
“Looks like you could use a few of my lessons, too,” he murmured. She’d forgotten to drop her hands. Sam liked the feel of them against his chest.
She tipped her head to one side. “Or I could show you what I can do with my knee.”
Sam grinned. “Let’s save that demonstration for later, shall we?” He could smell the clean scent of her shampoo, and he had a ridiculous urge to reach out and pull on her silky ponytail. “Make up your mind, Marly. Do you want me to work with the boys or not?”
“I don’t want you to teach them how to fight. They already know how to do that”
“They know how to hurt each other, and that’s a dead end. Give me a chance, Marly.”
From the corner of his eye, he caught sight of Emma. Her chins bounced up and down in agreement. Sam realized he had one person in his corner.
Marly hadn’t missed the action, either. With a sigh, she dropped her hands and stepped back. “I must be out of my mind.”
He reached out and touched the tip of her nose. The insignificant act sent a wave of current up his arm. It was all he could do not to bend down and taste those provocative lips.
“Don’t worry about it. Obviously, my mind must be out there wandering around someplace, too. Come on. I need a victim.”
It was a mistake, Sam discovered. He should never have used Marly for his demonstration partner. He was going to sleep with the scent and feel of her skin uppermost in his mind tonight. Positioning her for the various throws shot his concentration all to hell. All he could feel was the supple firmness of her body and the softness of her skin. All he could smell was the light fragrance of her shampoo. Sam was worried the boys were going to get another sort of lesson altogether before he was through.
Three and a half hours later, they had the last body inside the proper room and prepared for bed. Sam had pulled all-night stakeouts that weren’t this exhausting. He tried hard not to think about what the boys were really doing behind those closed doors. He rubbed the back of his neck and wished for a hot bath, a cold beer and a bottle of antacid.
Despite his best efforts to find another chance to talk to Chris, the kid had displayed enough savvy not to give him any openings. Marly had seemed to watch both of them closely.
“Everything all right?”
He turned, startled to find her eying him from the top step of the staircase.
“Sorry,” she said quietly. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“No problem. I was just wondering where I was supposed to bunk down for the night. You did say inside the house, didn’t you?”
She’d obviously forgotten that. He hadn’t. He watched while she made up her mind.
MARLYY STARED at his rugged features. His expression was completely unreadable. “Right here.” She indicated the door beside him.
Until that moment, she hadn’t decided whether to send him to the bunkhouse with the other men or let him stay inside with her.
“Next to the steps, huh? Is that so I can hear if the boys decide to sneak out?”
Marly bit down on her lips for a moment, surprised by his perceptiveness. “Are you a sound sleeper?”
“Nope.”
“Good.”
He frowned. “Are you worried one of them will actually try to sneak away?”
“No.”
She knew she’d said it too fast. Her eyes slithered away from contact with his.
“Where’s your room?”
Marly lifted her chin. Her heart tripped quickly. “Across from yours.”
“Convenient.”
“Not in this lifetime, cowboy.”
Sam tipped his head, a trace of a smile curling the corners of his lips. “I meant, in case one of our desperadoes decides to escape. We’ll have ‘em in a cross fire.”
Marly didn’t smile back, disturbed anew by the appeal this man held for her. “Let’s go down to my office. There are a few things we need to discuss.”
She felt him behind her as
she made her way down the stairs, wondering all the while if she was making a mistake. Was she letting him stay inside because of the things his past employer had said, or because he was so good with the boys? Or was there another, more primitive reason?
Marly shook aside the last thought. There was a single light on in the den. She made a point of turning on two more before she settled behind the oversize desk.
“I called that number in Utah you gave me. Mrs. Norton was effusive in her praise of you and your work. She said to be sure and tell you that you could have a job with her husband and her anytime you need one.”
Sam settled back, with an expression that said he hadn’t expected anything less. “Good folks” was all he said.
Marly bit down on her lower lip and stared at the dark painting on the wall behind Sam’s head. Actually, Mrs. Norton had talked about Sam as if he were a part of her family. It had been a very reassuring conversation. No doubt it was the main reason she had offered him the room inside the house.
“You okay?”
Sam’s easy drawl brought her focus back to his face.
“I’m fine.” She took a steadying breath and leaned back in the chair, trying to mimic his relaxed pose. “Here’s the deal. Your job is to keep tabs on the boys. Keep them occupied. Use the lesson plans if you need guidance. From time to time I’ll need you for other duties, but your primary responsibility will be the boys. Got it?”
“Sounds clear enough.”
“They aren’t bad kids,” she told him.
“No more than I’m a bad drifter,” he agreed.
She forced her teeth to release her bottom lip. Bad? Ha! That was part of the problem. Sam Moore was dangerously attractive. He was also good with the boys. Part of her wanted to trust him, confide her problems and ask his advice. The sane part of her jeered at her foolishness and told her to get her mind back on business.
“Did you know your drawl fades in and out?”
She’d succeeded in unsettling him again, she saw. He sat up quickly, wincing slightly, and shook his head.
“You ask the damnedest questions.”
She kept her smile inside. “That isn’t an answer.”
“I believe I’ve mentioned that I travel extensively. I pick up speech patterns from everywhere.” He settled himself in his chair again and stared at her. “Let me ask you something. Why did Duncan show up here this afternoon?”
“Officer Duncan lives in the new housing development on the old Ripcott farm, down the street. Last year there were some problems with the neighborhood kids.”
“His kids?”
Marly shrugged. “Among others. He’s part of the campaign to close me down. Or at least my youth program.”
“Hmm…Why did Carter lie to you today?”
She shifted uncomfortably under his steady gaze. “He has a misguided need to protect me. He and I have already had words about that.”
“Does Officer Duncan own a pickup truck?”
Marly glared at him. Just who was interrogating whom? “You sound like a cop,” she said accusingly. Was it her imagination, or did he flinch?
“Come on, Marly. That isn’t an answer.” His mouth turned up at the corners, letting her know he was mimicking her earlier words to him.
She debated responding, but the possibilities behind his question invited speculation. “Are you saying you think Duncan pulled down my fence? A respected officer of the law?”
“Nope. Not in that capacity, certainly. But as an irate neighbor? Who knows?”
“That’s crazy.”
“Maybe.”
Marly couldn’t interpret Sam’s expression, but he had planted more than a kernel of suspicion. Could Officer Duncan be behind her problems? It would explain a lot.
“What are you thinking?”
“Duncan doesn’t like me,” she answered automatically. “He and my husband didn’t get along. Last summer his son was hauled in with a group of kids from here when they attempted to break into the local school.”
Sam quirked an eyebrow. “Into a school?”
“I know. Crazy, huh? No damage was done and charges were dropped, but it probably didn’t do much to enhance Duncan’s standing with the other county cops.”
“I wouldn’t imagine so.”
“His whole family is on the police force. His brother’s a cop, his sister’s a dispatcher, and his father is a retired sergeant.”
“Have you thought about relocating?” he asked with a touch of irony.
“Yes.”
She’d given it a lot of thought lately, but her abrupt answer seemed to surprise him. Sam uncrossed his legs and started to stand. He moved stiffly. Was it because of the accident that had injured his head, or because he wasn’t used to riding and hard labor, as he claimed?
“Well, as much fun as this has been—”
Marly interrupted him. “How’d you get that scar?”
“Some people might call that question nosy.” He towered over her desk.
Marly refused to be intimidated. “Some people might not be trying to protect themselves.”
He cocked his head to one side. “From me?”
“If necessary. Is it necessary, Sam?”
His smile was lethal. No doubt she was going to dream about those dark brown eyes.
“Nope. But I assume your bedroom door has a lock?”
The question shocked her. That was probably exactly what he’d intended, she realized. “You’re trying to distract me.”
He regarded her with a naughty expression that sent inexplicable tingles of excitement singing through her body. She would not rise to his bait, but she couldn’t control the fine tremors in her hands, so she clasped them together in front of her on the desk.
“Is it working?” he asked.
Better than he could possibly know. Heat flashed through her at his expression. Heat, and images best left unthought. “No. It isn’t going to work.”
“On the contrary, I think we’ll work very well together, Marly.”
She shook her head, as much to dispel the enchantment his tone tried to weave as in denial of the words themselves. “It’s an empty threat, cowboy. I can see right through you.”
“Really?”
“You’re no more interested in me than I am in Carter. You’re just trying to distract me from more questions.”
“Interesting.”
“What is?”
“That you mention Carter. He warned me off you earlier today.”
“What?” Flabbergasted, she closed her mouth and shoved back her chair, anger pulsing through her. “What did he say?”
Sam tipped his head. “Just that you were off-limits. I asked him if that applied to him, as well, but apparently not.”
An angry denial sprang to her lips. She caught the words just in time. He was playing with her, like a cat with its prey.
Marly stood and came around the desk with a rueful smile. “You’re good, Sam. I’ll concede this round. You don’t want to tell me about your past, that’s fine—as long as it doesn’t interfere with your duties or my business.” She would have sworn that was admiration in his eyes.
“Breakfast is at seven,” she told him. “Be on time, please.”
“I’m never late for meals.”
She’d stepped too close to him, she realized. She could reach out and touch him. Her fingers remembered the feel of his broad chest. He smelled faintly of horses and sweat, and Sam. No artificial scents for this man. She was surprised to find she liked that.
“Good night, Sam.”
There was definitely approval in his face. Approval and something else. Something that triggered a feminine response she was hopeless to stop. With two fingers, he reached out and traced a path down the side of her face, leaving prickles of awareness in their wake.
“A man would be a fool,” he said softly, “not to be interested in you.”
Her breath caught in her throat. For just a moment, she thought he was going to kiss her. Then he
turned and strode out of the room.
Marly stood still for several long heartbeats. She released the breath she’d been holding in a rush of air and stared unseeing at the picture on the far wall. Sam Moore was definitely not what he pretended to be.
THE TELEPHONE RANG for so long Sam was about to give up when a sleep-filled voice finally snarled a hello in his ear.
“Wake up, partner. I need some help,” Sam said.
A string of oaths followed that announcement. Enough to tell him Lee was awake and cognizant of his caller.
“I don’t believe it. I don’t effing believe it. Where the hell are you? Are you okay? What are you doing calling me at—at three o’clock in the morning? Are you out of your—?”
“Are you awake yet?”
“Yes, I’m awake. Are you okay?”
“Fine. I was set up.”
“Hell, I know that. How long have we worked together? I told them that, Joe, over and over and over again. The fools wouldn’t listen.”
“Do they know who was on the take yet?”
“Sure they do. They have you nicely fingered.”
It was Sam’s turn to curse. “Are they looking any further?”
“Of course they are. None of us take a leak that we aren’t being watched. They’ve probably got this line tapped.”
“Not likely.” It was a local call, and Sam didn’t figure it was too big a risk. “You know what the budget looks like. Most of us are going to be lucky to take home a paycheck until the D.C. government gets its act together.”
“True. And I’m glad you said ‘us.’“ Lee’s smooth voice traveled over the line reassuringly. “What do you need?”
“Information on Porterfield.”
“Porterfield? Why? You think Bill—? Nah. No way. You’re barking up the wrong tree. He’s as clean as a virgin.”
“How many virgins do you know, Lee?”
His partner snorted. Then his voice grew thoughtful. “Porterfield. Jesus. What do you want to know? IA probably even knows the details of his diets.”
“He’s working with a youth program.”
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