by Gina Wilkins
Joanna turned and leaned back against the counter to look at him. “You sound like a local. You never told me where you grew up, only that you’d won that vacation in a charity raffle. Was South Carolina your childhood home?”
He didn’t want to get into his childhood right then. Suffice it to say he hadn’t been raised in a warm, supportive, encouraging environment like the one Joanna apparently provided for Simon. Neither his detached, nomadic father nor his troubled, chronically depressed mother had taught him much about parenting or selfless reliability, though his overworked maternal grandmother had done what she could to fill in the gaps.
He doubted a woman from Joanna’s background would understand. He gave a quick summary instead of anything more detailed. “No. I lived in West Virginia for a while. Kentucky. Mississippi. Joined the army when I was nineteen, served some time in Texas, then a twelve-month tour in the Middle East. I was stationed at Fort Bragg in North Carolina when I met you, before my second tour.”
Her gaze fell to his chest, and he knew she was picturing the scars through his shirt. Though he knew it was foolish, he half turned away as if to hide his chest from her, raising his water to his lips again.
Seemingly oblivious to his self-consciousness, she commented, “You moved around a lot as a child.”
“Yeah.”
She waited, as if to give him a chance to elaborate. After a few moments of silence, she sighed. “Do you find this all as bizarre as I do? We spent a long weekend together six years ago. We never really got to know each other.”
“I didn’t hear any complaints at the time,” he muttered.
She smiled a little wistfully. “I had no complaints. Then or now. It was a wonderful weekend. We had fun. And though we didn’t intend to, we made a child together. But when it comes right down to it...we’re basically strangers, aren’t we?”
Strangers. The word bothered him more than he could explain, though he supposed technically it was accurate.
He set the bottle down on the counter with a thump and looked at her through narrowed eyes. He shifted his weight, bringing them close enough now that he could touch her with only a slight lift of his hand. “We’re not exactly strangers.”
“What would you call it, then?” she challenged, sounding suddenly weary. “We really don’t know anything about each other.”
“I remember a few things about you.” Something made him reach out, cup her face between his hands. Something drove him to lower his mouth to only a breath above her surprise-parted lips. To murmur, “I remember that you tremble when I do this.”
He brushed his lips across her right cheek, then the left, each time stopping just at the corner of her mouth. And felt her tremble.
“I remember the sound you make when I do this.” He caught her lower lip gently between his teeth, then ran his tongue over it. And heard the faint catch of breath in the back of her throat. A sound he’d heard echoed in a few erotic dreams since he’d left her.
He lifted his head to gaze down at her flushed face with a hunger he was having trouble keeping in check. She might be surprised to know how well he remembered certain things about that weekend. The hell he’d been through afterward, both in his deployment and his long recovery, had changed him in a lot of ways. Maybe Joanna had remained in the back of his mind as a symbol of that one last weekend when he’d felt the brash invincibility of youth.
Six years suddenly felt like a very long time, aging him far more than it should have. As Joanna had pointed out, she really didn’t know him now at all—and he didn’t know her. Time and vastly different experiences had altered them both, leaving nothing but hazy memories between them.
Well, that and a son, he added with a swallow that burned his throat. Recalled abruptly to his senses, he let go of her, starting to move reluctantly away. Only to be stopped by her hands on his shirt, gripping him, pulling him closer. She rose on tiptoe to meet him when he lowered his mouth again to hers with a muffled groan.
CHAPTER FIVE
IF SHE CLOSED her eyes, Joanna could almost believe no time had passed since their last kiss. Adam’s lips felt exactly as she remembered, moved against hers in the same way, tasted the same. His hands settled on her body with the same confidence and skill and her skin tingled with the same response.
Her mind emptying of all rational thought, she pressed closer, opening her lips beneath his to deepen the kiss. He took her up on that silent invitation immediately and thoroughly, proving she wasn’t the only one still susceptible to their attraction. He was hard and solid against her, almost pulsing with a fierce masculine strength.
She’d called him a stranger. How, then, could he still feel so familiar? So right? Was it only that it had been too long since anyone had aroused this rarely-indulged side of her?
Lost in this kiss she had initiated, Joanna ran her palms up his chest. Exploring. Savoring. Despite his scars, his body was as firmly muscled now as she’d recalled.
She raised her arms even higher and slid her fingers into his hair. His thick, soft, still-wet-from-the-shower hair. Long enough now to tangle around her fingers, to tumble over her hands. This, she thought dimly, had changed. It felt so different from the military cut she remembered that she was startled back into the present.
Different. A different time, a different life.
What was she doing?
With a gasp, she pushed herself away from him, and he made no effort to stop her. He was probably as unsettled as she was that desire had heated so quickly between them. Not to mention that she’d so willingly fanned those flames.
His expression was grim when she stared up at him. His suddenly hooded eyes concealed his emotions. She suspected her own were written all over her face, and she wished she could be as controlled as he was.
“Okay,” she said after a long pause, hating the quaver in her voice. “So we do remember a few things from before. But that doesn’t change the fact that we don’t know much about each other now.”
His voice was rough when he conceded, “You’re right, of course. And I can understand why you’d be hesitant to bring a near stranger into your son’s life.”
She couldn’t help noting that he’d said “your” son. It sounded as though he still wasn’t certain he would be a part of Simon’s future. And even though she had her doubts about introducing him into Simon’s life, she felt a jolt of regret at his hesitation, proving he had the power to hurt her—and, potentially, their child—if she wasn’t careful.
A buzz from her pocket brought the stressful conversation to an end. “That’s my phone alarm,” she murmured, silencing it. “Simon will be back soon. He’ll expect me to be waiting for him.”
Adam nodded, looking almost relieved. “Unless you’d like me to walk with you, I’ll hang here for a bit. I have a few calls to make before I head back to the office.”
He couldn’t have made it clearer that he needed space. From her.
Joanna didn’t take offense. She needed a few minutes herself to recover from a kiss that had rocked her all the way to her spa-painted toenails. “No, I can find my way. Thanks.”
Without another word, he reached to open the door for her. He wasn’t quite hustling her out...but he wasn’t encouraging her to linger, either.
She stepped past him onto the walkway. Before he could close the door behind her, she was struck by yet another ill-advised impulse. “I’m taking Simon to dinner at The Crew’s Galley tonight,” she blurted before she could stop herself.
Adam seemed startled by the out-of-the-blue statement, but he merely nodded. “He should enjoy that. Food’s good. Tell him to try the blackberry cobbler. Preferably à la mode. He said he likes à la mode.”
“If you, um, if you want to hear about his outing to the maritime museum, you could—”
He interrupted before she could complete the he
sitant invitation. “Trev and I and a couple other members of the staff are having dinner with some travel agents this evening. You know, talking up the place so they’ll recommend us to their clientele.”
“Of course. I hope it goes well. I’ll be seeing you around.” As she turned to head for the stairs, feeling foolish about so many things, she told herself it was a good thing Adam had other plans. She’d just as soon have Simon to herself, anyway.
* * *
ADAM REALLY WASN’T in the mood to schmooze and glad-hand that evening. Still, he owed Trevor too much to skip out when asked for a favor, and Trevor had requested his presence this evening. Of course, that had been before Joanna turned up with their son in tow. Trevor had asked discreetly before the dinner started if Adam had something else he’d rather do, but Adam had insisted he would fulfill his job responsibilities. Still, he was glad when the perfunctory duties were concluded and he and Trevor were alone again in Trevor’s office.
“How about a drink?” Trevor moved toward the small wet bar built into the walnut credenza against one wall. “You look like you could use one.”
Adam rarely drank, but for once he decided to indulge. He wouldn’t say he needed a drink, exactly, but it sounded pretty good at the moment. “Yeah, thanks. Just a small one.”
Trevor took down a bottle of single malt Irish whiskey and splashed an inch into three glasses. Adam was just about to ask who the third glass was for when someone tapped on the door, then entered without waiting for a response.
Adam sighed. “Really, Trev?”
Walter Becker accepted the glass Trevor handed him and lifted it in Adam’s direction. “Good to see you, too, Adam.”
“Why are you here, Walt?”
“I invited him, obviously.” Trevor gave Adam his drink. “Thought you might want to have a chat with him. Your decision. I haven’t said a word about what’s happening. If you’d rather not talk about it, we’ll stick to baseball. Did either of you catch the Phillies and Blue Jays game last night?”
Walt leaned back against the counter as he took a sip of his whiskey, his dark eyes focused on Adam’s face. “If you want to talk, I’m here. As your lawyer or your friend. Whichever you need. And I did watch the game last night, by the way, so we can argue about that idiotic call at the top of the sixth, if you’d rather.”
“Trevor really hasn’t told you the details?” Adam asked.
Trevor looked mildly insulted. “Of course not. This is your business, not mine. Walt and I are just letting you know you’re not alone if you need anything.”
Adam wasn’t sure if that reminder was reassuring or unsettling. He was comfortable being alone, for the most part. He’d been on his own since he was seventeen.
He’d had pals in the army, and he considered Trevor and Walt good friends now. But by keeping a part of himself separate—the part that had grown up on his own and was comfortable being alone now—he always felt free to move on when the time was right. Handshakes all around, maybe a beer and a few laughs, and then on his way with vague promises to call next time he was in town.
He already owed Trevor for giving him a job. A home. A purpose when he’d desperately needed one. He was reluctant to go further into his debt. Or Walt’s.
Still, he supposed it wouldn’t hurt to consult a lawyer about how to deal with his financial obligations, whether through support payments or a savings account, whichever Joanna felt best. He didn’t have much, but if anything happened to him, he would make sure Simon was his legal beneficiary. He was willing to take whatever official steps were necessary to make those arrangements. He wasn’t sure he was prepared to step into the unfamiliar—and, frankly, terrifying—role of active father, but he would fulfill his legal and moral responsibilities to the child he’d created.
“If I ask for your professional advice, I will pay you for your time,” he said to Walt, motioning with his still untasted drink. “I’m not asking for any freebies.”
Walt took another sip before answering. Squarely built and ruddy complexioned, with salt-and-pepper hair cut close to his scalp, Walt was in his late thirties and looked like the tough ex-marine that he was. He carried himself with a confidence that made others have to take a second or third look to realize that his left arm was a prosthetic. He’d lost that limb below the elbow in a firefight from which he’d emerged as a decorated war hero. Somehow he’d still retained a dry humor and a strong sense of honor.
“Okay,” he said, “deal. Will you at least let me offer a veteran’s discount?”
Adam gave a weary chuckle. “Hell, yeah. I’m proud, not stupid.”
The other men laughed, and then Trevor suggested they sit in the comfortable club chairs at one end of the long office. They finished their drinks while Adam gave Walt a quick rundown of the situation, being as discreet as possible for Joanna’s sake.
“So, anyway,” he concluded, “I’ll want to make everything legal for the boy if, you know, something ever happens to me.”
Walt raised an eyebrow. “The boy?”
“Simon.” Had he been avoiding the name to keep his emotional distance? Because, if so, it wasn’t working.
Call him by name, call him the boy, the kid, whatever, Adam still had a strong reaction to his son. He was grimly aware that one of those instinctive responses was to bolt. And while he would be running from the emotional pitfalls of fatherhood, he suspected he was almost as wary of the boy’s too-intriguing mother. A woman who’d called him a stranger and then blown his mind with a kiss, leaving him confused and reeling. How was he supposed to deal with any of this?
Walt scratched his chin thoughtfully. “Before you do anything official, I would strongly recommend paternity testing. It’s a simple procedure.”
“I don’t know that I need a paternity test. Unless it makes everything more legal for Simon.”
“Seriously? You have no doubt that this is your child?”
Adam shrugged. “Trevor can tell you he looks just like me. And...well, I don’t think Joanna would lie.”
“Do you really know her well enough to be sure about that? You said you knew her for, what, a couple of days?”
He understood his friends’ concern, but on this point he thought he could be confident. “Long enough to be pretty sure I’m the boy’s father.”
“We had dinner with Joanna last night,” Trevor commented, the first time he’d spoken in a while. “She’s a professor—a psychologist—so I doubt she needs the money. She seemed sincere about her surprise at finding Adam working here. There’s no reason to suspect she has an ulterior motive.”
The lawyer grunted. “In my experience, most everyone has an ulterior motive,” he muttered.
Adam set his glass on a table with a thump. “She hasn’t asked me for anything, and she’s made it pretty clear she has no intention of doing so. If I need any legal assistance, it’s strictly for the boy—for Simon’s sake—not because I have any reservations about Joanna.”
Seeing that his friends were both studying him, he realized he’d spoken more forcefully than he’d intended. Still, he’d meant every word. Whatever happened during the next week, he wanted to be clear that he trusted Joanna, at least as far as the boy’s welfare was concerned.
Walt nodded. “So, my advice is for you to arrange DNA testing—just to make everything official—and talk with Joanna about what she considers fair regarding the boy’s support. If she won’t name a figure, then you should be prepared to make your own offer. Insurance and other medical responsibilities, college planning, estate decisions including guardianship in case of tragedy—all of that will need to be discussed, with contracts drawn up to protect all parties involved. And if you’re interested in visitation rights, you’ll need to come to an agreement about that, too. I’m telling you, Adam, I’ve seen these situations get ugly fast, and it’s always the kids who suffer in t
he long run.”
“Simon won’t suffer because of me. I’ll make sure of that.” The boy deserved a better childhood than Adam had endured. Even if Adam had to remove himself from the picture to make that happen. “As for visitation, I’m not convinced that’ll be an issue. Joanna is starting a new job soon that will take them to Seattle. I can’t just leave my job for regular visits there, and it would hardly be fair to the kid to have to fly from one coast to another just to spend time with a father who wasn’t even in his life for his first five years.”
“Through no fault of your own,” Trevor pointed out. “If you’d known of his existence, the situation would have been very different.”
Adam squeezed the back of his neck, wondering again what he would have done if he’d heard about Joanna’s pregnancy while in Afghanistan. Or if she’d found him in the hospital, working desperately to regain full use of his right arm, still jumpy and surly from what he’d been through. Would he have stepped up then, or would he have relinquished all rights and sent her away, leaving him to concentrate on his own recovery? He had to admit he’d been angry and self-focused then, before he’d been sure he wouldn’t lose the arm, before he’d found a new purpose here at Wind Shadow.
Was he any more equipped for fatherhood now?
“Surely you want to get to know your son,” Walt commented, looking surprised that it was even a consideration. “To let him get to know you.”
Adam swallowed. “Like I said, he seems to be doing pretty well without me. The kid’s a genius, Walt. Already reading, memorizing facts about oceanography. Knows about hydraulics and excavation and demolition, just from videos he watched.”
“He is advanced for his age,” Trevor conceded to Walt. “Carried on a conversation at dinner with the ease of a boy at least twice his age. I don’t know if he’s a genius, exactly, but he’s definitely bright.”
He turned to Adam then. “But regardless of how smart Simon is, he’d be lucky to have you in his life. You might not think so, Adam, but you’d be a great dad. Even if you only get to see the kid a few times a year, at least he’d know you’d be there for him.”