by Julie Kenner
“How well?” he made himself ask, purposely trying to distract himself. All the more reason he didn’t need to be around her. The attraction alone was too much to contend with. Adding all these other bizarre feelings—ones he’d never entertained about anyone else—into the mix was seriously messing with his head.
He couldn’t afford to lose focus. He had to keep it together.
She started gathering equipment and loading it into a giant duffle bag. “Seven and two.”
He whistled low and bent to retrieve a ball, absently noting how natural the movement felt. He heard the solid clang of a metal bat hitting a ball and a dog barked in the distance. Typical ball field sounds. Comforting. “Nice,” he told her, impressed. “Playoffs?”
Winnie straightened and hefted the bag over her shoulder. Frowning, he wrestled it away from her and slung it over his own. They slowly made their way across the grass toward the parking lot.
“It’s probable,” she said. “Although, it still depends on how well we do in these next few games.” She glared at him, but something in the expression told him she was secretly pleased. “I could have carried that, you know. I do it all the time.”
“I know you can, but you shouldn’t have to.” He scowled. “Where are these girls’ fathers? They should be helping you out.”
She grinned and a sparkle of something he couldn’t readily identify lit her gaze. “They’re at work. Seriously, I’ve made cakes that are heavier than that bag.”
“You wouldn’t happen to have one in your car now, would you? I’m hungry.”
Another soft smile. God, he loved her mouth. Full, lush and rosy, it had the strangest effect on his ability to breathe.
“Sorry, no. But you’re more than welcome to come share my dinner. I’ve got a pot roast and vegetables simmering in the crock pot at home.”
He quirked a brow, surprised. For whatever reason, he just assumed she’d eat out. “You bake all day at work, then cook again for yourself once you get home?”
Using the keyless remote, she unlocked the doors to her small SUV and lifted the hatch for him to stow the equipment. Various tennis shoes, goggles and a swim cap littered the cargo hold. “If I want to eat, I do.”
Her eating habits forgotten, he frowned and picked up the goggles. “What’s with these?”
“I swim.”
He knew she swam—she’d been on the team in school. He just wasn’t aware that she was still doing it. “Regularly?”
“A mile and a half every morning,” she said as though it was nothing. She snatched the glasses from his hand and tossed them back into her car before closing the hatch. “So I guess that’s regular.”
Though he shouldn’t have been surprised, Adam felt his eyes widen. “A mile and a half. Every morning?”
She shrugged as though it didn’t signify. “It’s a stress reliever. And it allows me to settle down before I go into work. I just get in my lane and go, you know? Everything else gets tuned out.”
A spark of competition flared in his belly before he could completely snuff it out. It had been awhile since he’d been in the pool, but he knew exactly what she meant. He’d spent quite a bit of time in the pool for his Special Forces training, but other than the wake-boarding he’d done at the Center, hadn’t been back in the water since. But he’d wanted to be. He’d even had a special finlike prosthetic for the activity.
Still, he found the fact that she was going, every morning, for a mile and a half was somehow…galling. Impressive, too, he’d admit, but…damn.
Meanwhile, he’d been in bed…
“It’s easy on the joints and builds endurance. It’s great exercise and I have to admit I’ve noticed the difference when I run. I’m not so easily winded.”
She’d always been a runner, so that didn’t come as any surprise. No doubt she was training for another marathon, Adam thought, feeling like a complete slacker. His cheeks burned.
Swimming was fabulous exercise, the kind that worked fast. He should have been in the pool every day he’d been home, should have been doing everything humanly possible to get his body back into prime form before his next physical, the one his entire future hinged on. But he hadn’t. Adam inwardly swore again.
He was an idiot.
“What time does the pool open?” he asked, determined to be there in the morning.
“Six.”
He nodded and pressed his lips together determinedly. “Is it usually crowded?”
She gave a speculative hum. “Not crowded, but full. There are a few regulars, of course. The bobbers. Me, Cindy Matthews, Mark Holbrook—”
“The bobbers?”
A sheepish smile curled her lips. “The older crowd. They don’t exactly swim. They…sort of…bob around. So we call them the bobbers.”
Adam laughed. “Winnie, I’m surprised at you. You should have more respect for your elders.”
“I respect them until they decide to start hogging the lanes,” she said. An endearing wrinkle wormed its way across her forehead. “Then I get annoyed.”
“You know who annoys me? Mark Holbrook.” Because he was a glutton for punishment and unable to help himself, Adam moved into her personal space. “I thought I told you never to mention his name again.”
He had the pleasure of watching her pulse flutter wildly against her throat and she struggled to suppress a smile. “Sorry,” she said. “It was an accident.”
“An apology doesn’t fix anything. But, just this once, I’ll allow you to buy my forgiveness with a cupcake.”
She grinned and that dimple he adored made another appearance, inexplicably pulling the breath out of his lungs. “Done.” She quirked a brow. “Before or after the pot roast?”
He grimaced. “No pot roast for me. I’ve got to hit the sporting goods store.” He slid a finger down her nose. “See you in the morning, okay?”
She nodded. “Sure.”
“And Winnie…thanks.” He gestured toward the ball field. “This was better than I expected. It’s good of you to do this. Those girls are lucky.”
She smiled and shook her head, shrugging the compliment off. “I’m the lucky one. They’re a great group of kids.”
She was right on both counts. He was lucky, too.
Lucky that she’d barged into his bedroom this morning and called him out. It would be so easy to be with her, Adam thought. So easy to back her up against her car and kiss her the way he wanted to—long and slow, deep and thorough. So easy to get so caught up in her and how she made him feel that he’d forget everything else.
Easy…but wrong.
He had to remember that.
WINNIE STARED AT Jana’s special request cake and released a rueful giggle. Maybe she shouldn’t have made it quite so…realistic. Then again, realism in a cake like this was crucial, if she wanted the message to translate. She shook her head and laughed again, then snagged a box from beneath the counter. Tension tightened her shoulders and fatigue from a long day weighted her limbs. A sharp rap on the front door of her shop startled her. Her gaze automatically shifted to the source of the noise and after a moment’s hesitation, recognition hit and replaced the alarm.
Adam.
She frowned as she hurried forward to let him in. It was after nine o’clock. What was he doing out at this hour?
“I saw the light on,” he explained at her questioning look. “Do you always work this late?” There was a note of censure in his voice she found oddly endearing.
Dressed in a pair of khaki shorts and a dark blue T-shirt, the driftwood pendant Natalie had given him—the Chinese symbol for courage—attached to his throat with a leather cord, Adam looked like every good beach boy should. Casual, but polished. The only off-note were the tennis shoes. In the past he would have been wearing flip-flops.
Longing knifed through her and she caught the scent of the ocean on him, warm, tangy and salty. He’d been to the beach, she surmised, unsurprised. He’d always loved the water. His hair was tousled and she suddenly foun
d herself keenly aware of the intriguing beauty of his masculine throat. She loved the muscle play, the smooth skin along the side of his neck just below his ear. She wanted to lick that little patch of tanned flesh and sigh into his ear, thread her fingers through his hair and feel those wonderful lips moving masterfully over her own.
Her breath, his, commingled.
Just a kiss, she thought as the ache grew. Just a teensy little kiss and she could be happy. It would be enough. Truly. She could make herself be satisfied with that. Was it too much to ask, really?
A puzzled line emerged between his brows. “Winnie?”
She blinked. “Er… I do when I’m working on something special,” she finally managed to admit, struggling to gather her thoughts. Adam McPherson had always been able to scatter them with ridiculous ease. “I, uh… I had a last-minute order come in this morning.”
His expression soured, then he followed her around the counter. “People shouldn’t wait so long to get their act together,” he complained, still obviously outraged on her behalf. “You should have said no. It’s not a difficult word, but it’s one you seem to have trouble with. Here, say it with me. No.”
Winnie pointed to the cake she was just about to box up and smiled. “I couldn’t say no to this one.”
Adam’s eyes widened in horrified disbelief, then a bark of laughter erupted from his throat. “Eat shit and die? Seriously?”
She smiled. “Told you I couldn’t refuse.”
Still staring at the cake, he shook his head and passed a hand over his face. “That is truly revolting.”
She felt her smile widen. “Excellent. It’s shit. It’s not supposed to be pretty.”
An odd wariness tightened his eyes. “It’s not actually made with…”
“No! No, of course not. It only looks like shit, you idiot.” She whacked him. “It doesn’t taste like it.”
He shrugged, a sheepish smile shaping his sexy mouth. “I had to ask. It’s awfully authentic looking. And combined with the message, well…”
Winnie retrieved a cupcake from the case and handed it to him. White cake, chocolate icing—his favorite. “Now we’re square,” she said.
He took a bite, sighed appreciatively and smiled. “You are damned good at this.”
A blanket of warmth settled over her heart at the compliment. “Thank you.”
He jerked his head toward the shit cake. “So who is that for?”
Winnie grimaced sadly. “I made it at Jana Mulrooney’s request, but it’s actually for Eddie.”
It took him less than a second to figure out what sort of circumstances would lead Jana to ask for a cake like this. She watched the knowledge dawn in his eyes. “Damn,” Adam said. “Stupid fool. He needs his ass kicked up between his shoulder blades.”
“I vote for his balls,” Winnie said, her voice hardening.
“Who with?” Adam asked, naturally cutting straight to the heart of the matter.
“His secretary. How cliché, right?”
Adam swore again. “Is she certain?”
“She saw them herself.” Winnie finished stowing the cake into the box, then turned to look at him. “And do you want to know the most tragic part?”
Looking thoroughly disgusted, he leaned a hip against her counter. “From the tone of your voice I probably don’t, but tell me anyway.”
“Jana’s pregnant.” She relayed how the couple had been trying to have a baby, and how news of the pregnancy had prompted Jana’s office visit to start with.
A hot epithet slipped between his clenched teeth. “What the hell is he thinking?”
A hard smile touched her lips. “That’s the problem. He’s letting the wrong head do his thinking for him. He’s ruined their relationship and for what? A quick lay?” She tidied the countertop and could hear the frustration leaking into her own voice. “I will never understand how that can happen. It’s ‘I do’ until ‘I don’t’? Then what? What’s the point of getting married? Of saying vows if they’re ultimately meaningless?”
Adam merely stared at her and grunted in agreement.
This was a hot button for her and always would be. Her mother had nearly ruined her parents’ marriage with an affair when she’d been in high school. How her father had found the strength to forgive his wife, Winnie would never know. She was grateful, of course. But at first had to admit that she’d thought him weak. It wasn’t until she was much older that she could appreciate how very strong he had to be. Forgiveness took strength.
Frankly, she didn’t know if she’d inherited that strength. But her parents were happy now, off in their RV touring America, one scenic drive at a time. She missed them terribly, of course, but this had been one of their dreams for many years. She suspected they’d weary of the travel soon enough and then return to Bethel Bay. Their little community was like that. People left, but invariably, they all came home at some point.
She was banking on that with Adam. She only hoped he wouldn’t be bringing a wife in tow.
The simple thought made her flinch in agony. Adam loving someone else, kissing someone else, making love to someone else. And her, watching from the sidelines…
“Are you all right?” he asked, concerned. “You’re a little green.”
Winnie shrugged the unpleasant thought aside. “Yeah. Just got a little nauseated all of a sudden.”
His eyes twinkled with grave humor. “You’re not pregnant, too, are you?” he asked jokingly. He clearly meant it to be funny, but the smile quickly fled as though the idea was somehow repugnant to him.
She smiled grimly and looked away. “Er…no.”
“What? Mark Holbrook hasn’t convinced you to carry his love child yet?”
Winnie stilled. He was fishing. But why? He knew he’d always had her heart. He had to know. Hell, much to her embarrassment, it had been the worst kept secret in Bethel Bay.
Winnie cleared her throat and shot him a speculative glance, trying to figure out why he’d tossed his line into this particular conversational pond. “I believe you have to be in love to carry a love child.” She paused deliberately and smiled. “Then again there’s always birth control.”
She had the pleasure of watching his gaze grow slightly irritated with the purposely vague comment. Humph. It might be good for him to wonder if she and Mark Holbrook had something casual going on. They didn’t, of course. Winnie was incapable of casual. She’d tried it a couple of times during college, when she’d felt pathetic for being one of the last remaining virgins in her senior class, but she’d genuinely regretted the decision.
Frankly, she’d gotten more pleasure from her massaging showerhead than she had in either episode with the so-called real thing. She’d squandered her virginity and shared her body for a stupid reason. Youth wasn’t always what it was cracked up to be. Since then, she’d been celibate, hadn’t so much as felt a thrill of desire for any man other than the one who was standing in front of her.
He’d ruined her. Absolutely ruined her.
Take your own advice, Natalie had said, exasperated with Winnie’s reluctance. If he gets his way, he’ll be leaving again. Go for it. You’ve got nothing to lose.
But Natalie was wrong.
If he rejected her—and she strongly suggested that he would—she’d lose hope. And it was the only thing she had left.
Adam’s pale blue-green gaze dropped to her mouth and lingered and, for a fraction of a second she thought she saw the same longing reflected back at her. He blinked, grunted and stepped back, purposely furthering the distance between them. “Huh. Well, you’d better use some form of birth control if you’re messing around with him. His gene pool is a little murky if you ask me.”
Winnie didn’t know why, but the warning irritated her. How dare he post a no-fishing sign where he refused to cast a line? “I’ll keep that in mind. But it’s not his gene pool that I’m interested in.”
She wasn’t interested in him at all. Still, Adam didn’t need to know that.
His gaz
e narrowed again. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Don’t worry about it. Besides, what about you?” she abruptly interrupted, deflecting the topic away from herself. “I hope you’re being equally careful with where you’re sowing your seed.”
He blinked, then chuckled as though embarrassed and passed a hand over his face. “My ‘seed’ is moldering in the barn,” he said, smacking his thigh significantly. “I’ve sort of been out of commission, you know?”
Irrationally pleased, Winnie inclined her head. “What? None of those nurses offered to make sure you’re enjoying a full recovery?”
He smiled at her again and a bit of a twinkle sparkled in his eyes. “Er…no. But thanks for asking.”
A thought struck. “No lingering effects in that area, then?” She couldn’t believe that they were having this conversation, that she’d essentially just asked him if his dick still worked. She smothered a chuckle. But…she was curious.
And she’d be more than happy to help him in that regard, too, if he needed it. Hell, she’d even buy a naughty nurse costume if that’s what it took.
She was shameless. Positively shameless.
His eyes widened and he straightened a bit. “Jesus, Winnie.”
She blushed. “It’s cool,” she said, purposely misunderstanding him because this was fun. A bit wicked and thrilling. “I’m sure that your tractor will be firing on all four cylinders soon. You can’t rush things…”
He gritted his teeth and looked heavenward. “My tractor is fine. Everything’s in perfect working order.”
She frowned, enjoying this little game far more than she should. “But if you haven’t sowed any seed, then how can you know that?”
He glared at her and a small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, as though something about this conversation were ironic. “Trust me. I know.”
She lifted her shoulders in a helpless shrug and merely smiled at him. “That’s good, I guess.”
He pressed his lips together. “Well, I think so.”
Winnie turned and started tidying the counter. “A test run probably wouldn’t be out of order, though. You know what they say about…unused f-farm equipment.” The bad euphemisms were beginning to get to her. She stifled another giggle and marveled at the direction this conversation had taken.