Crossing Lines (7 page)

After a few more Lamaze-type breaths, the pain morphed from a concentrated oh-holy-fuck-that-hurts into a body-wide throb.

“Spencer, come here.” Kevin reached into his back pocket for his wallet and pulled out a five.

Despite the nausea rolling northward and the burning desire to curl into a fetal position and cry for her mommy, Sam focused on Kevin Mazze’s face, then on Spencer… from afterschool… who had the same dark hair and compelling midnight eyes as Kevin.

She gasped. “Spencer’s yours?”

Kevin ignored her question and spoke to Spencer. “Give that to Miss Amy at the snow cone booth and tell her we need a baggie full of ice and one of her dish rags. I’m going to get Samantha up to the pavilion.”

Spencer ran off to parts unknown with Michy on his heels. Sam tried to sit up in protest, but Kevin pressed a hand to her shoulder and shook his head. “I can see the booth from here. They’re fine. Let’s get your foot elevated to minimize the swelling.”

He laid her sandal across her stomach, slid his arms under her back and knees, and scooped her up in one fluid motion. “That was a hell of a fall,” he said, while using his foot to push sand into the hole she’d fallen into. “Anything besides your ankle hurt?”

Sam was as overwhelmed and vulnerable as if she’d been parked naked in the middle of Main Street during the Labor Day parade. Her foot was on fire, but she’d survive the injury.

She may, however, die from mortification.

Sand stuck to her sweaty skin and itched so bad she wanted to scratch like a dog with fleas. Her daddy used to say,
“Grit is good for the craw,”
and though she never understood the meaning, she hoped the saying was true, because hell would freeze over before she’d embarrass herself further by spitting out the sand stuck between her teeth.

Adding to the trauma, Kevin—her fantasy man—not only witnessed her swan dive, but felt the need to come to her rescue.

Memories from the night before rushed her, and even though he didn’t know he’d been her dream lover, she panicked. “I’m fine. Put me down. Put me down.”

“What the hell? Stop fighting me.” His words were like a cracking whip, instantly stifling her wild attempt to break free. “Does anything else hurt?”

She shook her head in short, jerky motions. “Only my pride. I’m fine. You can put me down now.” When he kept walking toward the pavilion, she said, “Really. Any time now.”

A breathtaking smile lit his face and laughter vibrated from his chest into her side. “You are feisty, aren’t you?”

“Yeah,” she admitted. “But usually with more finesse.”

Of all the ways she imagined launching a campaign to attract and seduce, none included falling flat on her face. She wrapped her arms around his neck to hold on and ducked her head to keep from hiding behind her hands.

The pain was still incredible, but cradled against his body with her arms around his neck, breathing in his earthy scent, she was shocked to find heat of a different kind blooming. Never one to pass up an opportunity, she gave in to the temptation tickling her fingers and sifted them through the curls at the base of his skull.

His body tensed, and he stopped breathing. The response initially made her think the subtle advance was unwelcome and she quickly let go of the silky strands. But then his arms tightened, pulling her closer to his chest. His reaction wasn’t obvious, but enough to let her know he wasn’t repulsed by her touch.

She lifted her gaze to his, hoping for a clearer indication of his thoughts. But rather than being warm and inviting, his eyes narrowed as he stared at her sunglasses. As they bounced from one lens to the other, his jaw flexed and frown lines creased around the edges of his lips and eyes. Not the reaction she hoped for. His mixed signals made her feel awkward and left her with that naked on Main Street feeling again.

She wasn’t petite, but she didn’t weigh a ton, either. Certainly not enough for someone in excellent condition to be overexerting himself. The day was warm, but not a scorcher… so what was up with the bead of sweat trickling down his long sideburn.

He swallowed a few times in rapid succession, and his voice was a little rougher than normal when he said, “Let’s find a place in the shade to sit while we ice your ankle. Because of the swelling, I don’t think X-rays will show anything right now, but I can take you to urgent care, if you like.”

“Thanks, but that’s not necessary.” She pointed to the bench she and Michaela vacated moments earlier. “Look, my awesome-dog’s still there.”

Kevin grinned. “Ah, that explains it.” At her frown, he added, “I wondered about the mustard on your nose.”

A fresh wave of humiliation shot through her. She swiped at her nose and sure as shit, her fingers came away with a streak of yellow. “Jesus, can this day get any more embarrassing?”

“Did you shit your pants when you fell?”

She gasped in shock. “What? No!”

Kevin laughed and eased her onto the bench. “There ya go. It could’ve been worse.”

Despite the circumstances, she laughed. She always considered laughter the best medicine, and before she could gain control, the small chuckle turned into near hysterics.

“Miss Amy said come back and get more if we need to,” Spencer said, handing him two big bags of slushy ice, a couple of towels, and Kevin’s five-dollar bill.

“Thanks, squirt. You did good.”

“Mommy, are you okay? You scared me when you screamed.”

Sam wrapped her arms around Michy in a reassuring hug. “I’m fine, sweetie. It’s just a little owie that’ll be better in no time. And, for the record, I didn’t scream.”

Michy giggled and Kevin grinned. “Yes, you did, and it was loud, too.”

“Great.” Sam sighed and rolled her eyes to Kevin. “The other thing you asked about… Apparently, it’s the only thing I didn’t do.”

She’d fallen, screamed, nearly cried, had mustard on her nose, sand on her skin, grit in her teeth, and an ankle the size of a basketball—all in front of the sexiest man she’d ever met, the man she fantasized about the night before… the man she hoped to seduce.

Despite her shortcomings and the accompanying drama, he was still here, using a feather-light touch to drape the towel over her ankle and foot, and readying the ice. He didn’t drop the bag in place, but instead, let it hover for a moment, giving her time to adjust to the weight and sensation of the cold before settling it in place.

“We’ll leave that on for about thirty minutes, then figure out where to go from there.”

Sam didn’t do well being nursed, and she hated to disrupt Kevin and Spencer’s afternoon. And a little privacy to spit and scratch would be awesome.

“Thank you for your help, but I’ll be fine. There’s no need for you and Spencer to hang around here. I don’t know how much time you get to spend with him, so please”—she shooed him away like a stray—“go do whatever you had planned.”

He leaned against the wooden pillar behind him and crossed his arms. “Spencer’s my nephew, and I have him all the time.” He said the last few words in a heavy, dragged-out nature, like being with his nephew was a major burden, but the grin on his face and the warmth in his eyes said otherwise.

Michaela and Spencer, with their beautiful five and six-year-old tendencies, had gotten on with the business of having fun and were playing in the sand by the seawall.

Unable to spit, Sam sipped from the straw in her cup and swished the soda around in her mouth. She eyed the chilidog, considering another bite… or twelve. But at the rate she was going, she’d end up choking and need Kevin to do the Heimlich. She rested her hands on the bench behind her and leaned back, while Kevin carefully shifted the bag.

“So, it’s true,” she said through gritted teeth, trying to ignore the micro-bursts of fire accompanying each shift of the ice.

“What’s true?”

“You really are a nice guy.”

He grimaced. “So I’ve been told.”

She smiled at his discomfort. “You’re humble, too. I heard lots of good things about you, but… somehow, I missed those qualities yesterday.”

He laughed and ran a thumb across his brow. “Yeah, sorry. Yesterday wasn’t one of my finer moments.”

“I understand. That’s why I—” The discomfort of the ice pushed beyond her tolerance level, cutting off her thought and causing her foot to jerk. “Holy sh—” She snapped her mouth shut and glanced to the seawall, making sure her pint-sized police officer hadn’t caught the near slip. She blew out a breath and let the pain radiate outward, then dissipate.

She hated to make Michy leave, but she couldn’t keep an eye on her with this ankle. Scratch that. She could keep an eye on her, but that’s all. If Michy got in trouble in the water, Sam would be at the mercy of the lifeguard and strangers. Should a stranger decide to snap up her little cutie pie, Sam would be helpless.

Chalk up another Mommy Fail of the Year nomination. At this rate, she’d have such a huge advantage on any other candidates, she’d have the award wrapped up by the end of the weekend.

She cut her eyes to Mazze, who watched her way too closely. Given the circumstances, it seemed odd to enjoy his company, but her pleasure wasn’t important. One disappointed child was more than enough, so she gave another go at getting him to move along.

“There’s no need to hang out here,” she said. “I’ve already interrupted your day enough.”

He cocked his head to the side and grinned. “Trying to get rid of me?”

As he reached for the ice again, she grabbed his wrist to stop him. They both froze and stared at the connection.

Breaking the trance, she said, “Yes, because if you keep touching that bag, I’m going to flag down the police and charge you with assault.”

His laughter rose all the way to his eyes, which seemed to be clearing, and rather than settling back into a frown, his mouth maintained the smile. He delicately lifted the ice from her foot, giving her a moment of relief.

“We didn’t have any special plans,” he said, distracting her with conversation as he slowly lowered the quickly melting slush back into place. He watched her face for signs of distress, and when satisfied she was okay, he let go. “To be honest, I hadn’t planned on staying long. We were going to get a snow cone and then head back to the house so he can swim while I sit in the shade and drink cold beer.”

Sam’s facial muscles slackened and she imagined her eyes turning glassy. “That sounds like a great plan. Why’d you even bother coming here?”

He nodded to the kids. “Spencer said his friend Michaela would be here and insisted on stopping.”

“I’ve only met him a few times, but he seems as precocious as Michy. I’ve been meaning to talk to Marianne to see about arranging some play dates, but I keep missing her at afterschool.”

A few play dates with Uncle Kevin would also be awesome.

Yesterday, all worked up and aggressive, he appealed to her wilder side, making her wonder how rough and rowdy he might be in the sack. Today, kicked back and relaxed, tenderly lifting the ice pack from her ankle when he thought it might be too much, then gently replacing it, she had a whole different set of images of what sex with him might be like.

As he repositioned the ice bag again, his shoulder rolled under the plain white T-shirt, his bicep flexed and relaxed, and his eyes narrowed in concentration. His chest stopped moving and his gaze snapped to her face, making sure she was okay as he slowly released the bag.

“I have an idea.”

She’d been so lost in thought—taking in every detail of his body—his idea was probably for her to stop ogling.

Heat crept into her face and she pressed the drink cup to the back of her neck, pretending the temperature had gotten to be too much. “What’s that?”

“You and Michaela come back to my place. The kids can play. You can prop your foot up and relax, and I’ll play cabana boy, bringing you cold drinks and fresh ice packs as needed.” He smiled and spread his arms wide. “How can you possibly refuse that invitation?”

She laughed and sighed.
How, indeed?

Normally fiercely independent, she realized her ankle would be a problem, and an extra set of hands might be nice. Michy wouldn’t have her afternoon ruined, Spencer would have a playmate, which was always more fun than playing alone, and Sam would have time with cabana-boy Mazze.

She gripped the cup with both hands to keep from fanning herself. “Are you sure?”

He glanced at the rolling ocean and rubbed the back of his neck. Turning back to her, he smiled and said, “Yeah, I’m positive. Spencer and I will enjoy the company.”

A
s Kevin pulled out of the parking lot, he checked the rearview mirror to make sure Sam followed, then headed toward Grissom Parkway. Since she drove a stick shift, it was impossible for her to drive her truck and push the clutch with the sprained ankle. His truck was an automatic, so they put both booster seats in her truck, and he handled the manual transmission and the kids.

All she had to worry about was guarding her foot and following him through traffic. All he had to worry about was not losing the rest of his damned mind.

Stay away from women—the grand plan he formulated early this morning. Now, here he was, taking Samantha home… his home, no less.