A Family Circle 1 - A Very Convenient Marriage (17 page)

❧

"I had a hard time convincing your watchdog to let me in the gate," Sam said.

"Jade is very protective of the children." Nikki moved a stack of papers from one corner of the desk to the other. Her office was far from spacious at the best of times, but with Sam in it, the room suddenly seemed claustrophobically small. In fact, from the moment she'd looked up and seen him standing in the doorway, she'd felt as if there wasn't quite enough air in the building.

"She seemed surprised when I told her we were married."

His tone was neutral, but Nikki felt a surge of guilt. It was completely irrational. She didn't owe him any explanations, but she heard herself giving one, anyway. "I thought it would be easier if I didn't mention it. It might confuse the children when we... when the year is up, I mean."

It sounded weak even to her own ears. Her marriage and divorce would be nothing more than an abstract idea to a four-year-old, causing not even a blip in their lives. But she didn't feel comfortable telling him the truth, which was that she'd wanted—needed—this one place to remain untouched by the charade her life had become. Ironic, really, since the charade had begun because of this place.

But Sam nodded as if it wasn't a completely ridiculous excuse. "Makes sense," he said. "If I'd known, I could have said I was your uncle from Australia or something."

"It's all right. It was a silly idea, anyway." She picked up the same stack of papers and straightened them by tapping them against the desk, concentrating on the task as if her life depended on having the edges perfectly aligned.

"You volunteer here?" Sam asked, probing carefully.

Nikki considered saying yes and leaving it at that. It was the truth—she did volunteer here. But she didn't want any more lies, even those of omission. Lately, it seemed as if her entire life was a tissue of lies.

"Actually, Rainbow Place is mine. Jade's mother manages the place, but I work here three or four days a week."

She wasn't sure whether or not to be insulted by the surprise in Sam's expression. Obviously, it had never occurred to him that she might do something useful.

"It looks like a great place," he said slowly, still trying to get his mind around the idea of her as a businesswoman.

"The kids like it." She set the slightly mauled stack of papers down. "I'm ready to go."

"If s not the greatest neighborhood," Sam commented as they walked to the gate. "Couldn't you have found a better location?"

"This is where there's need," she said simply. "Most of the children come from single-parent homes. Having a safe place to leave them makes it possible for their parents to work and stay out of the welfare trap. Some of our mothers are going to school full-time, getting a better education so they'll qualify for better jobs.''

"Is this why you wanted the money your grandfather left you?" Sam asked slowly. That was a question that had lingered in the back of his mind—why Nikki would want the money so much that she was willing to marry him to get it.

She hesitated a moment and then nodded. "Yes. Inheriting that money means I don't have to spend my time fund-raising to keep Rainbow Place open. I may even be able to open a second day-care center somewhere else."

Sam considered what she'd told him while she unlocked the gate, relocking it after they'd stepped through. It was a new facet to the woman he'd married, one he'd never expected.

"It's a lot of work," he commented, trying to shift his thinking to encompass Nikki as a philanthropist.

"It needs to be done. Do you know how hard it is to raise a child alone? If you don't have family or friends who can help, you're virtually forced onto the welfare rolls, and once you're there, if s almost impossible to get back on your feet again."

She stopped abruptly, aware that she'd been all but lecturing him. "Sorry. I didn't mean to sound off like that. It's just so frustrating to me when I think of all the people who fall through the cracks in the system."

"I don't mind. Most cops have more than a few complaints about the system."

"I suppose you do. But at least you know you're doing something to help."

"Are we?" Sam's mouth twisted in a mournful half smile. "Sometimes I'm not so sure. What's wrong with your car?" he asked, abruptly changing the subject before she could comment.

"It won't start."

"Now, that's a good, detailed description." His grin took any criticism from the words. "Give me the keys and I'll see if I can come up with a more specific diagnosis."

Nikki handed him the keys, then stood on the sidewalk while he slid onto the front seat and tried to start the car. The engine turned over, almost caught, sputtered and coughed, but refused to start.

"I think it might be the fuel pump," he said as he got out and shut the door.

"Can it be fixed?"

"Sure." He stared down at the battered purple vehicle. "It might be kinder to shoot it and put it out of its misery, though."

"Absolutely not," she said indignantly. "Barney is perfectly dependable most of the time."

"Except when it doesn't start," he pointed out dryly. He lifted his head and glanced around the neighborhood. "Of course, no self-respecting car thief would be caught dead trying to steal something this old. In that respect, it may be the smartest thing you could drive."

"That had occurred to me. I know I can park Barney just about anywhere and find him still there when I come out."

"It would be safer still if you didn't come here at all," he said as he handed her back the keys.

"It's not as bad as it looks."

As if on cue, a car full of tough-looking youths drove by, radio blasting out a drumbeat so loud the ground seemed to shake under Nikki's feet. As they passed, a beer can sailed out the window, bounced off Barney's hood and landed on the grass between Sam and Nikki. He waited until the car had disappeared down the street before giving Nikki a dry look.

"An example of some fine, upstanding citizens, I presume."

"There are a few troublemakers," she admitted. "But most of the people around here are fine, upstanding citizens."

He glanced at the tidy houses across the street. "That doesn't make it any safer for you to be here. I don't like the idea of you coming down here alone."

Nikki started to tell him that it was none of his business, when an extraordinary thought occurred to her. He's worried about me. She tried to remember the last time someone had been protective of her, but nothing came to mind. Lena, certainly, when she was a child. But no one since then. The realization softened her response.

"I've been doing it for three years and nothing has happened to me."

"It only takes once."

"Do they teach you that positive attitude at the academy?"

"Yeah. Reality 101. Come on. Let's go home. We can call your friend Bill and arrange for him to pick up this junk heap and tow it to a shop. If you need a ride tomorrow, I'll bring you."

"Thanks, but I wasn't planning on coming here tomorrow. I just had some shopping to do, and that can wait."

She climbed into the Bronco, aware of a warm feeling in her chest and the vague thought that if she'd had to get married, she could have done worse in choosing a husband.

❧

Sam woke suddenly, hearing the sound of a crash echoing in his head, like something half-remembered from a dream. Only the sound hadn't been part of a dream. He stood, grabbing a pair of jeans from the foot of the bed and dragging them over his legs. He had no particular desire to deal with a burglar in the nude. Lifting his gun from the night table, he pulled it from the holster on the way to the door.

The house had a good security system—not the most sophisticated, but more than enough to encourage the average burglar to seek out an easier target. Since he hadn't heard the alarm, if there was someone in the house, they were professional enough to have bypassed it. It couldn't be Nikki--she'd gone to bed hours ago.

Sam headed for the stairs with long, silent strides. He held the .45 beside his head, pointed at the ceiling, where he could bring it into action quickly if necessary.

A quick scan of the darkened living room revealed everything apparently in order. He stepped into the foyer and immediately heard a sound from the direction of the kitchen. A few seconds later, he'd found the intruder, as well as the cause of the noise'that had awakened him.

Nikki stood in the middle of the kitchen. The tile floor in front of her was covered with a pool of sugar and a powdery brown substance he couldn't immediately place. In one hand she held a stainless-steel canister, slightly dented. In the other she held a dark brown box which, after a moment, he identified as having once held cocoa— until very recently, judging by the mess at her feet.

He lowered the gun to his side. Apparently, he wasn't going to need it. "If you're planning on stealing that canister, I should warn you that I'm a police officer."

At the sound of Sam's voice, Nikki jumped and jerked her head toward him. Great. Just what she needed. Not only had she made a world-class mess but now there was someone to witness it. And not just someone, but Sam

Walker—the man who was and wasn't her husband, the cause of the sleeplessness that had brought her down to the kitchen in the middle of the night.

"Go ahead and shoot," she told him glumly. "It can't make any more of a mess than I've already done."

Sam grinned and came farther into the room. "I don't think it's worthy of capital punishment." He set the gun on the counter and studied the mess at her feet.

He hooked his thumbs in the belt loops of his jeans, and Nikki tried very hard not to notice when the denim slid dangerously low on his hips. The only light was the small one over the stove, but it was more than enough to show every inch of his bare chest. It was a dream about that chest—not to mention everything that went with it—that had caused her to flee her bedroom in the middle of the night in hopes that a cup of cocoa would bring less disturbing dreams.

"How about half an hour hard labor with a broom?" Sam said.

With an effort, Nikki forced her attention back to the disaster at her feet. "Half an hour?" She raised her brows. "Do you know how far five pounds of sugar scatters when dropped?"

"Well, I didn't see any in the dining room, so I think it's safe to assume that the spill is at least partially contained."

"That's a relief. I can quit worrying about filing an environmental impact report."

"That's a safe bet. Do you mind my asking what happened?"

"Should I demand to have my attorney present?" Nikki set the canister and the nearly empty box of cocoa on the counter.

Sam grinned again, and she felt her pulse take a jump. "I'm asking as an interested bystander, not as an officer of the law," he assured her solemnly.

"In that case, I'll admit that I'm occasionally overcome by an uncontrollable urge to come down to the kitchen in the middle of the night and drop canisters on the floor."

"Ah, a canister dropper." The laughter in his eyes belied the serious set of his mouth. "We studied that at the academy, but I've never had to deal with one before."

"Did your instructors offer any suggestions?"

Nikki couldn't remember having ever had such an utterly ridiculous conversation with anyone. If someone had told her that she'd be standing in a small sea of sugar, in the middle of the night, having such a conversation with the man she'd married, she'd have thought they were crazy.

"They advised us to use extreme caution," Sam said. He shook his head, looking worried. "Canister droppers are known to be unpredictable. You never know what they might do next."

"I don't suppose they said anything about helping them clean up the mess," she suggested hopefully.

"That's the worst possible approach. Sometimes they turn violent."

"But I'm unarmed," she protested, spreading her hands to emphasize her harmlessness.

Unfortunately, as far as Sam was concerned, Nikki didn't need a weapon to be dangerous. Someday, he'd figure out how it was that she managed to look so desirable wearing clothes that couldn't, even by the wildest interpretation of the word, be called sexy. The voluminous nightgown she'd worn Thanksgiving night certainly hadn't been designed with enticement in mind but he'd been enticed. Tonight she was wearing a pair of pink-and-white striped cotton pajamas that had an almost childlike sweetness about them. But there was nothing childlike about the body inside them. That was all woman.

And the response she inspired in him was all man.

Nikki saw Sam's eyes go over her in a. slow, sweeping glance that started with her tousled hair and ended with her sugar-dusted, slippered feet. He took his time, letting his gaze linger on the way.

The look had the impact of a physical touch. When his look skimmed her breasts, it was as if he'd put his hands on her. She felt her breasts swell, her nipples hardening into tight peaks that pressed against the fabric of her pajama top, visible evidence of the effect he was having on her.

His gaze moved on slowly, tracing the curving indentation of her waist before sliding slowly across her hips and down the length of her legs. As if he hadn't already wreaked enough havoc with her breathing, he then proceeded to retrace his path.

By the time his eyes collided with hers, Nikki's knees were trembling so badly that she was in danger of sinking to the floor, sugar and all. The blatant male hunger in his look sent a wave of heat through her like nothing she'd ever felt before.

"I—I should get a broom." She spoke more out of a need to break the tense silence than out of housewifely concern for the mess at her feet.

"If you walk through the sugar, you're going to track it even farther." Sam's words were reasonable, but his tone and the look in his eyes suggested that tidiness was not the main thing on his mind.

Without giving her a chance to respond, he stepped closer, his bare feet crunching on the edge of the spill. Leaning forward, he closed his hands around her waist. Nikki gasped as he lifted her as easily as if she'd weighed nothing at all. To steady herself, she put bar hands on his arms, feeling the corded strength of his muscles as he stepped back from the grainy brown-and-white pool on the floor.

Nikki's breath caught when he drew her close before lowering her, so that her body brushed against his every inch of the way. Her eyes remained locked with his, mesmerized by the searing blue flame of his gaze. She felt that warmth as if it were a touch, spreading heat through her body, warming her in ways she'd never felt before, -ever imagined.

He was going to kiss her. She knew it as surely as if he'd stated the intention out loud. The thought sent a shiver of anticipation, mixed with something very close to fear, rushing down her spine. She couldn't analyze the fear—it wasn't physical. She knew, with every fiber of her being, that Sam would never hurt her. But there was a deep, emotional trepidation, a feeling that his kiss would change her life in ways she wasn't sure she was ready for.

"I don't think-"

"Don't think," he ordered, his voice a soft rasp. His hands, still at her waist, slid around her back, one pressing against her spine, the other sliding upward to tangle in the thick, pale gold of her hair. He tilted her head back. "Don't think at all."

The last word was a breath against her mouth. It was an unnecessary order. Every semblance of rational thought fled the moment his lips touched hers.

She'd been expecting him to take possession of her mouth, as much triumphant conqueror as lover. Instead, his lips were gentle, asking rather than demanding, coaxing her to let go of her uncertainties, to give him the response he wanted, to give herself to him in a way she'd never allowed herself to do.

Nikki was aware of a feeling oddly akin to despair. This was what she'd been afraid of—that once the door was opened, it might be impossible to close it again, to keep a safe distance. She felt as if carefully built walls were crumbling to dust. But it was impossible to resist. If she were honest with herself, she didn't want to resist. She wanted this, had wanted it from the first moment they'd met.

With a breath that was nearly a sob, she opened her mouth to him. Sam accepted her invitation immediately. His tongue tasted the fullness of her lower lip, brushed across the smooth surface of her teeth and found the honeyed sweetness of her mouth, taking possession.

Nikki's fingers dug into the heavy muscles of his upper arms, clinging to him as the world tilted and spun around them. It was everything she'd known it would be. It was the fulfillment of every guilty fantasy she'd had over the past few weeks. This was the dream that had driven her from her bed, that had sent her downstairs. She'd been seeking the gentle comfort of warm cocoa and found instead the hot passion of Sam's kiss.

She was everything he'd imagined she'd be, warm and soft, fitting in his arms as perfectly as if made to be there. Sam deepened the kiss, drawing Nikki closer until not even a shadow could have slipped between them. He could feel the fullness of her breasts crushed against his chest, the cotton of her pajama top proving a thin barrier at best.

He'd been waiting forever for this, waiting to taste her, to feel her against him. She'd created a hunger in him like nothing he'd ever known. One taste and he was rock hard and aching.

He slid his hand under the hem of her pajama top, flattening against the satiny skin of her back. Her skin warmed beneath his touch. His mouth slid restlessly from hers. Nikki gasped when his teeth closed on her earlobe. His tongue tasted the taut arch of her throat, settling on the pulse that beat raggedly at its base. He felt an echo of that pulse in his own heartbeat. God, he wanted her.

He wanted her here and now. He didn't care if she was sprawled beneath him on the table or sitting on the counter. Hell, he'd have her on the floor in the midst of the damned sugar, for that matter. As long as he could bury the aching heat of his arousal in the tender warmth of her. The thought of it made him shudder with need.

Nikki felt as if she'd been snatched up in a whirlwind. She could feel the hunger in him, feel herself being pulled into it, overwhelmed by it. Her skin felt sizzling hot beneath his hand. That heat radiated outward until her entire body was flushed with it. Her fingers curled into the thick dark blond hair at the base of his skull as her tongue came up to curl around his, teasing and tantalizing, fanning the heat higher still.

Sam shuddered against her. His hands shifted abruptly, and Nikki gasped in shock as she felt them slide beneath the fabric of her pajamas and flatten against her bottom. She started to protest, but all that came out was a soft moan against Sam's mouth as he lifted her half off her feet, pressing her lower body against his, letting her feel the swollen length of his arousal.

Nikki's bones seemed to melt. There was a throbbing pressure in the pit of her stomach, an aching emptiness that only he could fill.

"I want you." The words were a low growl against her throat, as much felt as heard.

"Yes." Nikki arched her head back, trusting Sam to keep them both upright. His tongue swirled across the pulse that beat wildly at the base of her throat.

"Come upstairs with me."

Yes. It was the natural conclusion to what they'd begun., and she wanted it as much as he did. She wanted to lie in his bed, to feel him over her, within her. There was nothing to stop them, no reason to hesitate. They were married and, in a few short minutes, they would be husband and wife in fact as well as name.

The thought penetrated Nikki's fevered absorption in the taste and feel of the man holding her.

Husband and wife? Married? For real?
That wasn't the way it was supposed to work. This was a marriage of convenience, not passion. If they made love, all the rules would change. She'd be Sam's wife in every sense of the word. There'd be no more pretending that they were strangers linked by nothing more than their names on a marriage license. No more pretending that, at the end of the year, she was going to walk away untouched by regret. No more pretending that she wasn't falling in love with the man she'd married to get her inheritance. The thought was terrifying.

"No." The word was barely audible, and she had to repeat it, as much for herself as for Sam. "No."

"No?" He echoed the word against her mouth, and Nikki was helpless to prevent a response. "No?" He rocked his hips gently against hers, sending a shiver of need racing down her spine. "No?"

It took every ounce of willpower she possessed to turn her head away. Her hands slid from his hair to his shoulders, pressing against him. "No."