by Gina Wilkins
“Painting?” he asked, zeroing in on that one word.
“Yes. I’ve always enjoyed working with oils on canvas, but I haven’t had much time for it during the past few years. I’m certainly no great artist, but it’s a pleasant hobby.”
“I’d like to see your work.”
“Why, certainly. I would love to show you my work,” she almost purred, giving him a heavy-lidded look over her coffee cup. “And maybe I’ll show you my paintings sometime, too.”
Damn it, she’d done it again. Caught him off guard with a sexy laugh, a sizzling look and a blatant innuendo. Someday soon he just might surprise her and call her bluff when she got in one of these teasing moods. He wondered if she would still laugh at him then.
The niggling thought that she just might made him scowl.
Her laughter rippled through him again. “Poor Trevvie. Have I embarrassed you again?”
He leveled a look at her across the table. “You may call me Trevor, or Trev, if you insist. But I’ll be damned if I answer to ‘Trevvie.”’
“I’ll try not to forget that,” she promised, her eyes dancing.
“See that you don’t.”
To his relief, she dropped the flirting and started talking about a controversial new ordinance the Honoria city council was considering. It didn’t particularly surprise him that she could switch that quickly from foolishness to small-town politics. Trevor had never questioned Jamie’s intelligence. And if there was one thing he had learned to expect from her, it was the unexpected.
TREVOR DEBATED with himself for less than a minute when Jamie invited him in at her door. His mother was keeping the kids overnight— “just so you won’t have to disturb them if you come in late,” she had assured him—so there wasn’t any need for him to rush home. It couldn’t hurt to have just one last cup of coffee, he thought.
“Make yourself comfortable,” Jamie said, waving a hand toward the couch as she headed for the kitchen. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
She glanced over her shoulder, a by-now-familiar gleam in her eyes. “Feel free to loosen your tie, if you like.”
He should probably be pleased that he kept her amused, he thought in resignation, taking off his jacket and tossing it over the back of a chair. He supposed that was better than boring her.
Jamie noticed his missing jacket and loosened tie as she carried the two steaming mugs of coffee into the room. She nodded approval.
“Better?” he asked wryly.
Setting the mugs on the coffee table, she straightened and eyed him consideringly. “There’s just one more thing,” she murmured, taking a step toward the end of the couch where he sat.
He watched her warily. “And that is…?”
“This.” Before he’d guessed her intentions, she pounced on him, rumpling his formerly tidy dark blond hair with both hands. He could feel it tousled on his forehead when she had finished. “There,” she said in satisfaction. “I’ve been wanting to do that for ages.”
She started to back away, but Trevor caught her wrist and gave a sharp tug, tumbling her onto his lap. “I’ve been wanting to do this for ages,” he muttered, then covered her mouth with his.
The last time he had kissed Jamie Flaherty, she had been a high-spirited, fifteen-year-old girl just discovering her feminine attributes. He’d been a serious, studious eighteen-year-old with little experience at that sort of thing. Kissing her then had sent his raging hormones skyrocketing, had made his heart slam against his chest and his pulse roar in his ears.
Almost fifteen years later, she still had the same effect on him.
Her lips were full. Soft. Warm. Eager. Her slender body fit into his arms as easily as if she’d been custom-designed to his specifications. There was no hesitation when she returned the kiss, no coy holding back. No sign of surprise at his actions.
Perhaps he’d meant to shake her composure, the way she’d been unnerving him all evening. But once again, he was the one caught off guard, thoroughly bemused and mesmerized by her.
Fifteen decades of experience could not have prepared him for Jamie Flaherty.
When the long kiss ended, she had one hand resting on his cheek, the other arm around his neck. Her smile looked a bit smug, but he had the satisfaction of seeing a glazed expression in her eyes—at least until she lowered her lids and hid her reaction from him.
It was nice to think that maybe, just once, he had managed to rattle her a little.
“Why, Trev,” she said, her voice a shade huskier than usual. “Was that an impulsive action?”
“I’ve been known to indulge in them occasionally.”
She slid her fingertips across his mouth. “You should do so more often.”
“Maybe you’re right.” He pulled her toward him again.
The second kiss was no less spectacular than the first. Trevor was startled again by his own reactions to it—the rush of heat, the surge of hunger, the ache of need. Maybe he’d managed to be satisfied with a few stolen kisses in the past, but he knew it would never be enough now. Not if he stayed here much longer with Jamie curled in his lap, her arms around him, her mouth moving so willingly beneath his.
Because he allowed his impulses to lead him only so far, he brought the kiss to an end.
Jamie studied his face for a moment, then slid off his lap to sit beside him on the couch. “The coffee’s getting cold,” she said, her voice as matter-of-fact as if nothing had just occurred between them.
Trevor dragged his gaze from her moist, kiss-darkened lips. “I think I’ll skip the coffee, if you don’t mind,” he said, trying to imitate her casual attitude. “It’s getting late.”
“All right. Thanks for dinner.”
He couldn’t tell if she was at all disappointed that he was leaving. Resigned to never knowing exactly what she was thinking, he stood and took a step backward—out of the reach of temptation. “Good night.”
She rose gracefully. “Say hi to the kids for me.”
He nodded, though he didn’t plan to say much to his children—especially Sam—about Jamie. He still didn’t really expect this thing between them to go anywhere, and he didn’t want the children’s lives to be disrupted again when it ended.
She walked him to the door and opened it for him. “Good night, Trev.”
Before he could respond, he found himself on the other side of the closed door. Even as he drove away, he knew he would be spending part of the night sitting in his darkened living room, thinking about Jamie.
It bothered him that he didn’t know whether he would even cross her mind now that he was out of her sight.
ALMOST AS IF there was a chance he could see though her door, Jamie waited until the sound of Trevor’s car engine had faded completely before she dropped limply onto the couch and pressed a hand over her heart. It was still racing—a fact she had made a massive effort to disguise from Trevor.
That buttoned-down, clean-cut, quiet-spoken lawyer certainly could kiss—even better than he had when they were teenagers.
He hadn’t said anything about seeing her again. She understood it must be difficult for him to spend time away from the children—something she’d never had to deal with before, since she’d never dated a single father. As a matter of fact, she’d always made it a rule not to get involved with men who had children. She’d never wanted that extra complication in her previous relationships. Her few romances had been complicated enough without having to worry about the tender sensibilities of innocent children.
For Trevor, though, she was inclined to bend her rules.
Besides, she liked Trevor’s kids. Abbie was adorable and Sam—well, she had a serious soft spot for little Sam.
Maybe dating a guy with kids wouldn’t be so bad, after all. Especially when that guy was Trevor McBride—a man she had been fantasizing about for almost as long as she could remember.
6
JAMIE WAS SITTING by the pool again on Tuesday afternoon, feigning interest in a paperback and trying to look
as if she was enjoying herself. Okay, she thought, so maybe summer vacation wasn’t so great. So maybe she was bored out of her mind.
The problem was that she simply wasn’t accustomed to having time to herself. She’d worked steadily in New York—in one job or another. Even in high school, she had worked every summer, both for the money and to avoid spending time at home. Now that she had several weeks ahead of her with nothing in particular to do—well, she didn’t know how to entertain herself.
Maybe she should take a vacation or something. It would certainly beat sitting at home waiting for the phone to ring—something else she wasn’t used to doing. She started when someone suddenly laid a hand on her arm. Looking quickly around, she relaxed with a smile. “Why, hello, Sam.”
He gave her a shy smile from beneath his fringe of blond bangs. “Hi, Jamie.”
“How have you been?”
“Okay. What are you reading?”
She glanced at the paperback. “It’s a mystery story.”
“Is it good?”
“I’ve read better.”
“You can read my Berenstein Bears books. They’re all good.”
“Thank you, Sam. I’m sure I’d like that much better.”
“They’re at my house. You’d have to come there to borrow them.”
It was the second time he had invited her to his house. She wondered again how Trevor would react if he knew. She looked around, seeing no one who seemed particularly interested in Sam’s whereabouts. “Are you here with your nanny?”
Looking suddenly guilty, Sam shook his head. “No. Mrs. Brown’s home with Abbie. Abbie’s taking a nap.”
“Then who brought you to the pool?”
“I did,” he answered simply.
Jamie swung her legs to the side of the lounge chair and pushed herself upright. “You mean you came here alone? Surely you didn’t have permission for that.”
The boy looked down at his sneakers. “I’m s’posed to be taking a nap, too. But I didn’t want to take a nap. I wanted to come see you.”
“How did you know I would be here?”
“I hoped you would.”
“Sam, I have to take you home,” Jamie said, standing and reaching for the black mesh cover-up that matched her black bikini. “Your nanny is probably frantic by now.”
Just the thought of little Sam walking the five blocks or so from his house alone, crossing streets and risking getting hit by a car, or lost, or who-knew-what, made Jamie’s blood run cold.
“I don’t want to go home. Can’t I stay here with you? I’ll be good.”
It wasn’t easy to resist his damp eyes and quivering lip, but Jamie held firm. “I have to take you home, Sam. Maybe we can get there before Mrs. Brown realizes you’re gone.”
“I don’t like her. She talks to me like I’m a little kid.”
Jamie knew better than to remind him that he was, in fact, a little kid. His hand seemed so tiny when he slipped it into hers. “I’m sure she means well, Sammy. Maybe she just hasn’t spent much time lately with big five-year-old boys like you.”
“Have you spent time with boys like me?”
“Well…no,” she admitted. “Not much.”
“I like it when you talk to me.”
“Thank you. We’ll have a nice long talk soon, okay? But first let’s get you home so Mrs. Brown won’t be worried about you.”
He sighed heavily. “Okay.”
Sliding her feet into black, cork-soled flip-flops, she led him toward the pool exit.
“Don’t forget your book,” he reminded her, looking back over his shoulder.
“I’ll leave it for someone who might like it better than I did.”
She knew where Trevor lived, of course, though she hadn’t actually been there. As small as Honoria was, it hadn’t been hard to discreetly find out which house he’d moved into. Sam said very little during the walk home, but he didn’t try to resist again. He and Jamie spotted Trevor’s car in the driveway at the same time.
“Uh-oh. Daddy’s home.”
Jamie tightened her hand reassuringly around the child’s suddenly cold fingers. “Mrs. Brown probably called him. We’d better let him know you’re all right, okay?”
“He’s gonna be mad,” Sam predicted glumly.
“Yes. He probably will be. But he’ll get over it…if you promise never to do anything like this again.”
The front door opened before Sam could answer. Wearing a grim expression and carrying his daughter on his hip, Trevor came out of the house, followed by a distraught-looking middle-aged woman. Jamie could almost feel the panic emanating from them. “Trevor.”
He turned, spotted her, then dropped his gaze to Sam. The expression that crossed his face brought a lump to Jamie’s throat. He recovered quickly, but not before she saw the full, weak-kneed extent of his relief at seeing his son safe.
“Sam.” He stepped swiftly toward them. “Where have you been?”
“I went to the pool to see Jamie,” the boy muttered.
“Without asking anyone? Without telling anyone you were leaving?”
Sam hung his head even lower.
“Sam!” Abbie squealed, waving a chubby hand at her brother.
“How did he know you were at the pool?” Trevor asked, turning to Jamie. “Have you two talked?”
Something in his voice made her frown. “No, of course not. He just took a chance at finding me there—and, fortunately, I was.”
“Go up to your room, Sam. I’ll be in to talk to you soon.”
Sam looked up at his father in protest, his hand tightening around Jamie’s. “But I want to show Jamie my—”
“You’d better mind your dad, Sammy,” she murmured quickly. “I don’t think he’s in a mood to argue with you.”
“Definitely not.” Trevor jerked his chin toward the house. “Your room, Sam.”
Jamie had to bite her lip to keep from suggesting to Trevor that he might go a little easier on the boy. Sam looked so small and sad as he trudged into the house. But it was none of her business, she reminded herself. What Sam had done was very wrong, and it was important that he learn never to do anything like that again. And, besides, she knew very well that what Trevor really wanted to do was snatch the boy into his arms and hold on to him.
“I’ll take Abbie in, if you like, Mr. McBride,” the nanny offered, looking nervously at her stern employer.
Trevor nodded and handed over the always-cheerful tot. “I’ll be in shortly, Mrs. Brown. I’d like to talk to you.”
Jamie watched her swallow. “Yes, sir.”
Waiting only until the nanny had followed Sam into the house, Jamie pointed a finger at Trevor. “Don’t fire her.”
“She’s already fired,” Trevor answered flatly. “I just haven’t had a chance to tell her yet.”
Jamie felt like throwing up her hands in exasperation. “Honestly, Trev, if you insist on perfection in a nanny, you’ll never keep one more than a couple of weeks. Everyone makes mistakes.”
“She never even heard him leave the house.”
“I’m sure she was busy. Maybe Abbie woke up, or something. And you’re underestimating your son. Sam is a very smart little boy. All you need to do is warn Mrs. Brown to keep that in mind from now on. I’m sure she’ll be extra-vigilant with him in the future.”
“How can you be sure?” he challenged. “You don’t even know her.”
“She looked nice.”
“Oh, well, that changes everything.”
“I know you were worried, but there’s no need for sarcasm.”
“Worried?” His rigid shoulders suddenly sagged. “Damn it, Jamie, I was petrified.”
Softening, she took a step toward him and laid a hand on his arm. “I know you were. I saw it in your eyes.”
“Sarah was almost hysterical when she called me. I must have flown here—I hardly remember the drive. A dozen possibilities were running through my head—and none of them were good.”
“Trevor, I kno
w. But Sam’s fine.”
“If you hadn’t been at the pool…”
“But I was, thank goodness. And I made him promise never to do anything like that again.”
“I’ll make sure he doesn’t.”
“Yes. But—”
He studied her face from beneath half-lowered lashes. “But what?”
“Just remember he’s only five,” she couldn’t resist saying.
“I know how to raise my son.”
His tone was cool. Distant. It was hard to believe this was the same man who had kissed her senseless on her couch. “I’m sure you do. I’m just very fond of Sam.”
Her hand was still resting on his arm. Though he’d shown no sign of noticing it, he stepped away, breaking the contact between them. “Thank you for rescuing my son for a second time, Jamie. It seems my family is in your debt once again.”
For some reason, he sounded more annoyed than grateful. “Don’t be ridiculous. All I did was walk him home.”
“And I appreciate it. Would you like me to give you a lift? You can’t be comfortable walking around dressed like that.”
Her cover-up was almost as concealing as the short T-shirt dresses she often wore in the summer. Only a hint of her bikini was visible through the fine black mesh. She was perfectly comfortable walking around this way. “You have things to take care of here. I’ll be fine.”
“You’re sure?”
“I’m sure.” She was beginning to get irritated, herself. She knew Trevor had been through a stressful ordeal, but she saw no reason for him to suddenly treat her like a passing acquaintance. It wasn’t as if she’d done anything to cause his problem with his son—even if Sam had used her for an excuse for going AWOL.
“I’ll call you,” Trevor said as she started away.
She wasn’t appeased. “For another thank-you dinner? Don’t bother.”
“Jamie…”
“Goodbye, Trevor.”
He didn’t try to detain her when she turned and walked briskly away. He hadn’t just annoyed her, she realized as she walked through her front door some fifteen minutes later. He had actually hurt her feelings. She hadn’t fully realized until now that he still had the power to do that to her. And she didn’t like it at all.