He’d kissed her, and not in a brotherly way.
Damn his long abstinence for making him so susceptible to her sweet appeal. He had no right to kiss her like that.
Like someone he was interested in.
Like . . . he wanted her.
Sam swore silently in deference to Lorelei’s presence. Those kisses could complicate things big time if they escalated again. The thought had him sweating more profusely. The pressure from juggling work and parenting was already getting to him. The last thing he needed was another complication.
He stopped to check on Lorelei, realizing the high humidity coupled with summertime temperatures made jogging a health hazard. Even with the stroller’s canopy shading her and a sippy cup of water, Lorelei’s face was damp with perspiration.
“Poor baby.” He leaned in to buss her cheek.
She chortled and kicked her feet against the stroller. “Kiss me, kiss me.”
“That’s right, I did. And now I’m ready to go back. How about you?”
Her head bobbed up and down. “Go home, Daddy.”
“You got it.” He made sure she still had water and proceeded at a walk, steering the stroller toward home while finishing off his bottle of water.
A half-hour later, his mood had been considerably improved with a cool shower. He chose lightweight linen slacks and a pale blue designer T-shirt so he could be relatively cool without looking too casual.
He stared at himself in the mirror, really looking for the first time in so long he couldn’t remember. Thirty-two wasn’t old. How had he gotten so serious-looking, lost that youthful look of eager expectation? Had it happened after his parents died together in a freak automobile accident, leaving his dad’s parents to finish raising a teenager? Or was it after his grandparents had passed on within two years of each other? First Gramps, then Gran. He’d been one year out of college when she’d passed. Maybe it had been creeping up on him for years. If so, Jasmine’s deception and betrayal had settled it firmly around his shoulders like a shroud.
Whatever the cause, he didn’t like it. Though the face in the mirror had his features, the man staring back was a stranger.
* * *
At the Sunrise Grill, they were shown to their booth by a smiling hostess. Rosie looked positively cheerful in a butter yellow sundress and white sandals. Her hair, styled in an intricate braid, shone even redder than usual against the light fabric.
Sam paused in the act of buckling Lorelei into a high chair. “You look really nice in that dress.”
Really nice? That was the best compliment he could manage? Too bad they couldn’t relax and be old friends enjoying a meal together, no roles to play. He’d always enjoyed Rosie’s company.
Rosie’s startled gaze bounced off his. A light flush highlighted her cheeks, and suddenly he was glad he’d caused it.
“This ol’ thing? I should toss it, but it’s so comfortable I can’t bring myself to do it.” She slid halfway across a pastel patterned vinyl seat which shrieked mid-80s décor.
He turned his attention back to the task at hand. “I know how that is. Jasmine hated it when I went running because I didn’t wear the latest thing to hit the sportswear market.”
Now that he had Lorelei strapped in, he bent to fasten the tray on the scrubbed clean but ancient high chair.
A giggle escaped Rosie’s lips. “I’m sorry. I just can’t imagine you . . .”
“Yeah, me neither.” He grinned back at her, enjoying the way her face lit with humor. Lorelei slapped her hands on the tray, which sent it careening sideways. Sam caught it before it hit the floor. “I thought I had that secured.”
“Here, let me help.” Rosie scooted to the edge and took over. “Mama has one like this at home. You pull the little knobs on either side . . .”
He lifted his gaze from her hands to see what had stopped her in mid-sentence. Lorelei had Rosie’s face sandwiched between her tiny hands. They regarded each other like gunfighters sizing up their opponent.
Lorelei usually regarded everyone with a wary reserve. But what was Rosie’s problem? She wasn’t making any effort to reassure Lorelei at all. Then again, Lorelei hadn’t objected to Rosie being so close.
Suddenly the little girl grinned and kicked her feet. “Daddy, kiss Wosie,” she requested loudly, drawing attention and a few laughs from those sitting closest.
Rosie snapped the fasteners into place and moved back in one smooth move. “Why don’t you go ahead and get her a plate before she gets cranky? I’ll wait here until you get back.”
The buffet line moved fast, though the place was bustling with customers. Sam deliberately sat next to her in the booth as they ate. Rosie was a little quieter than usual. Nothing he could put his finger on, but something was off. Maybe things were moving too fast for her. He had warned her they would.
He put his arm behind her on the booth and leaned in close to whisper. “Bonus. I think half the town is here.”
She flicked him a half-smile, barely acknowledging what he wasn’t saying.
“You still okay with this?” he all but growled at her, feeling very much like he was standing naked and alone in front of an audience.
“Yes. Of course.” She lowered her voice. “It’s a necessary part of the illusion we’re trying to create.”
Lilah and her friend Marge Heller stopped to say hello, their plates laden with fluffy omelets. Sam congratulated himself when their alert gazes darted to his arm behind Rosie. He moved it away, a subtle shift intentionally designed to convey that he didn’t want to advertise their relationship in public, when indeed he did.
Twice more, friends of the Baxter’s stopped at their table to welcome him and greet them before leaving the busy restaurant. Each time, he managed to give the impression he and Rosie were together as a couple.
Rosie didn’t try to sabotage his efforts, but she didn’t do anything to reinforce them either. What was with her? At least they could talk freely on the way home. He signaled for the check, now eager to get away from public scrutiny.
In the parking lot, the twitchy feeling hit him again as he held Rosie’s door. She eased past him, managing not to touch him in the process. But the action caused her sundress to gape slightly at the scooped neckline, giving him a glimpse of sheer white lace and the plump swell of one breast.
He suppressed a groan, trying to erase the vision from his mind.
Rosie reached across and started the car and air conditioner while he secured Lorelei in her car seat. As he clicked his own seatbelt into place, a pleasant scent tickled his nose, a fragrance so intrinsically Rosie he had to grip the steering wheel to keep his hands to himself.
The heat and humidity intensified it and the blower was spreading it throughout the truck. He lowered the rear windows halfway to allow the heat to escape.
This wasn’t good. He couldn’t let himself become interested in Rosie as a woman just because they were—technically—getting married. Before Jasmine, he’d always thought of marriage as a lifetime binding ceremony.
He’d been naïve.
This time he knew better.
“Do you want me to drive?” Rosie stared at him with eyes of blue ice.
Sam shook his head and shifted into reverse.
He couldn’t remember Rosie interacting with Lorelei at all until she’d offered to help secure the tray on the high chair. Had he gone overboard with the protective dad routine? Sam drove the SUV off the parking lot and onto the street, determined to clear the air so they could get back to whatever passed as normal between them.
“I’m getting the distinct impression you’re uncomfortable with this whole scene.”
“I was a little uncomfortable back there,” she snapped. “It feels like we’re lying to those people. And word will leak back to my family. We agreed to tell them together.”
“Nothing wrong with giving them a hint something’s afoot before hand, is there? Don’t you think they’re more likely to believe our story if they’ve already heard
a few rumors?”
“Maybe. But you should have discussed it with me first. I don’t like being manipulated.” That last bit she issued through gritted teeth.
Manipulated? Where had that come from? Sam kept his tone even. “That wasn’t my intention. We talked about this, remember? Back porch? We decided to simulate a version of You’ve Got Mail.”
“Don’t patronize me. Of course I remember. But—”
“Both of us agreed some PDA would be effective. We practiced. I kissed you, and you kissed me back.”
His last sentence created some kind of electrical charge between them. The hair on his arms rose and his hands itched to touch her.
“Kiss me. Kiss me!” Lorelei piped up from the back seat. She laughed and clapped her hands, drawing a reluctant smile from Rosie.
“Sorry. She’s very excited about new words,” Sam explained.
“Yes, I’ve noticed.” Rosie stared through the windshield, her expression growing thoughtful. “What about telling my family this weekend? We usually have a cookout for the adult birthdays and there’s one this Saturday at Mama and Daddy’s place.”
Sam braked at a stop sign. Apparently Rosie didn’t care to explain her outburst. Whatever had gotten under her skin seemed to have been exorcised. He thought about what she’d said, remembering similar celebrations he’d been invited to. “If memory serves, this would be your birthday.”
“Yes.”
He proceeded through the intersection. Perfect. “I know exactly what to get you.”
“Believe me, that’s not a requirement for attendance. You can skip the gift.”
“Not give Lorelei’s future stepmother a birthday present on the day we announce our engagement? That would look a little odd, wouldn’t it?” He glanced her way. Speaking of odd. The look of alarm on her face . . .
“Don’t tell me you have a problem with being a st—” He stopped himself from saying too much in Lorelei’s presence. She was so quiet most of the time, he sometimes forgot she heard and understood more than he gave her credit for.
“Not the label, no.” Rosie saved him from having to resort to spelling. “But the role? Yes, it bothers me. It’s temporary. What about the attachment factor?”
Sam frowned. “I’ll admit that concerns me too, but I don’t see how we can avoid it. You two have to look comfortable with each other, the same as with you and I.”
“From what you’ve said about the past . . .” Rosie flicked a glance over her shoulder in Lorelei’s general direction. “I think contact should be limited.”
Sam’s immediate reaction was anger, that Rosie was reluctant to embrace Lorelei wholeheartedly—for whatever reason. But he knew that had a lot more to do with Jasmine and the past than Rosie. He pushed the anger back as he drove the short distance home. Once he’d managed that, he had to admit Rosie made a valid point.
He’d wrestled with the problem during the long drive to Arkansas, though in theory at that point. If Rosie encouraged a close relationship with his daughter, they’d have a better chance of winning, but Lorelei would be heartbroken in the end. If the two of them didn’t form an attachment, the judge, or whoever made recommendations to him or her, might not be convinced Sam’s home was the best and only place for Lorelei.
He couldn’t allow that to happen.
“I’d rather take a chance on her getting too attached. At least I’d be there to comfort her afterward and we could make sure the distancing is gradual. The alternative is a lot worse. We can’t risk the whole charade failing because we played it safe.”
“You really think it’s that big a deal? As long as she’s comfortable with me being around and holding her occasionally, we should be okay. I mean, it’s not like Lorelei can tell them a lot.”
Rosie came close to pulling off the nonchalant tone, except for a slight quaver in her voice. What was she afraid of, or was it too much all at once? If that were the case, he’d be the calming voice of reason.
“We’re dealing with professionals trained to see what most people don’t. We have to look like a real family. If you’re not willing to commit to this, we may as well call the whole thing off.” He eased to a stop in the driveway, but left the motor and air conditioner running. “It’s not too late to change your mind.”
He couldn’t believe he’d said that. Sam’s palms broke into a sweat on the now cooled steering wheel where he gripped it tightly.
God help him if she did decide to back out of their deal.
CHAPTER SIX
“Hold on. Hold on! Stop.” Claire stopped Rosie in mid-sentence, shaking her head vigorously. The last rays of sunlight shone through a nearby window, glinting off her silver teardrop earrings, which swung wildly.
“Let me see if I’ve got this right. You’re getting married to a guy you haven’t seen in years—until he moved into this house a few days ago. You’re having a civil ceremony at the courthouse. Two witnesses, no guests. Oh, and your family doesn’t know yet, so I have to keep it a secret until you tell them.”
Rosie winced at the incredulous look on Claire’s face. “That about covers it.”
“Not even.” Claire shook her head and plopped onto Rosie’s sofa, her purple slip dress riding high on her thighs. “This is messed up. I’m supposed to do the wacky stuff, and you’re supposed to talk sense into me. Not the other way around.”
“I figured you’d have questions.” And she dreaded giving the answers. Rosie sat, facing Claire’s right with the middle cushion between them.
“Duh. For starters, what’s the scoop here? The last time we talked, he was offering you a wad of cash for your business. Now you’re planning a quickie wedding, but there’s no talk of love.”
Rosie plucked at the hem of her khaki capri pants. Somehow she had to show Claire that the arrangement with Sam was good for everyone concerned without revealing her attraction to him.
“Sam agreed that since you knew about the loan, I could let you in on the secret. But you have to promise not to tell anyone. Not my family, not a customer in strictest confidence, not even your cat.” He hadn’t liked it, but he’d agreed.
“I don’t have a cat.” Claire crossed her arms under her breasts and glared, daring Rosie to dispute the statement.
She refused to be sidetracked with the ongoing debate as to whether the stray feline Claire fed twice daily had now become a pet. “Come on, Claire. I need your word on this.”
“Not until you promise I can stand up with you. I’m your best friend. If you can trust me with your secret, you can trust me to be best maid.”
“Best . . . Oh. You mean maid of honor. I told you. We’re not having attendants, only—”
“Yeah, I know. Witnesses. So why can’t I be your best whatever and act as a witness, too?”
Why not? One pair of attendants wouldn’t hurt anything. Sam hadn’t specified who they’d use as witnesses. Maybe she could wear a short white dress and flowers in her hair—just to make things look legit, of course.
“I’ll promise if you’ll promise,” she said, hoping Sam wouldn’t have a conniption fit and could find a best man on short notice.
“Deal.” Claire clapped her hands. “Now dish.”
Rosie explained the situation, saying that Sam had “personal reasons” for not wanting to share custody with his ex-wife. As they’d agreed, she wouldn’t divulge details regarding Jasmine.
Claire was quiet for a few moments after Rosie finished, a thoughtful look on her pretty face. “I know you said it’s temporary, but are you sure you want to get in the middle of this? Their divorce was tabloid messy. Maybe you could get the money—”
“It’s not about the money, and Sam’s not acting out of spite over some past dispute. He has justifiable reasons to fight joint custody, but has no intention of keeping Jasmine from visiting her daughter here—if she wishes to.”
“And he’s explained those reasons to your satisfaction? You’re convinced he’s not just getting even?”
“Yes.” Ros
ie smiled, remembering the night he’d quieted the little girl’s night terrors. “You should see him with Lorelei. He’s a great dad. Believe me, he wouldn’t hurt his daughter to get revenge.”
“Are you falling for this guy?”
“No! Why even ask when I’ve told you how it is between us?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe it’s the dreamy look on your face when you defend him.”
“That’s ridiculous. Sam and I are just friends.” The last statement came out more sharply than she’d intended in her quest to keep her attraction to herself. Apparently she needed to work harder at it.
Claire squeezed her arm below the elbow. “Be careful, okay? I don’t want to see you get hurt again.”
“I’ll be fine. This time I’m walking in with my eyes wide open.”
“Sorry to intrude. I knocked, but there was no answer.”
At the sound of the masculine voice, both women startled, their heads turning in unison toward the open doorway to the dining room.
How much had he overheard?
“You must be Claire.” Sam approached them, hand outstretched in greeting. His gaze flicked over the younger woman’s hair before adding, “The stylist.”
“And you’re Sam.” Claire stood and shook his hand firmly while her gaze traveled over him in the same manner. “The reluctant groom.”
One corner of Sam’s mouth lifted, but he didn’t comment. They studied each other; one tall, deliciously dark and intimidating even in faded jeans and a soft gray T-shirt, the other thin, cheeky and blonde. Despite platform heels that looked as if she’d been shopping at a shady lady boutique, Claire still had to look up at him.
“Jeezus Pete. Should I ring a bell and announce round one?” Rosie grumbled, her composure shaken by the possibility that Sam had overheard Claire’s dreamy comment.
“Not at all. I’m sure we’ll be friends before this is over, but tonight it’s getting late.” Claire enveloped Rosie in a fierce hug then released her. “Let me know when the wedding is scheduled, and I’ll be there.”
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