In the Mood for Love (19 page)

“Makes things easy,” Adam said as he snagged both suitcases. But he was thinking,
How sad.
Peppy had to be in her mid-twenties and this was it?

“I should’ve gone straight to my gig and come here after. I would’ve been hanging out in the bar with nothing to do for a few hours but at least I would have been there. Instead, I let Dad get my goat and all I could think of was clearing out.” She grabbed a black case and a backpack. “Let’s get this stuff inside. The sooner I take off the better. I don’t want to push Dingboy past sixty.”

“Maybe I should give you a lift,” Adam said as they approached the porch.

“What? And drive back four hours later to pick me up? Or worse, sit there and wait throughout my entire gig? Uh, no. Besides, I’m sure a hunk like you has better things to do on a Saturday night.”

She thought he was a hunk?

“Not that I think you’re all that, but some of the girls in the band took notice. And yes, Ivy was one of them. I’m sure that makes you deliriously happy.”

It didn’t make him sad. That was for sure. But the rush was dampened by the knowledge that Peppy was less than impressed. She didn’t even know him! Yeah, okay. He was a little pissed at her pissy attitude. Peppy Redding was probably, no,
definitely
the rudest woman he’d ever had the misfortune of … inviting into his home.

Shit
.

“Home sweet home,” she said as she made a beeline for the second bedroom. “Just dump my suitcases … anywhere,” she finished as Adam tossed them on the twin bed he’d taken the frickin’ time to dress with clean sheets and a quilt handmade by his grandmother.

Peppy Redding had stretched his patience to the limits in less than five minutes. A record, especially since Adam was an extremely patient man. He glared, resenting her waif features and soft curves. Physical qualities that appealed to him on a surprising level. She wasn’t his type. Yet she intrigued him. Beyond reason. Clearly his disastrous history with women had mangled his judgment. “You best hit the road. Wouldn’t want you to be late for your gig.”

“Aren’t you the conscientious one,” she said as she sauntered—yeah, freaking
sauntered
—out of the house. “Don’t wait up.”

As if
.

Yet he knew he would.

TWENTY

Time blurred.

Relatives and friends came and went and dwindled to a lone few.

Midnight rolled around and Sam finally hit his own personal wall. Not because he was exhausted or bored or anxious, but because he was worried about Harper. Refusing to leave the hospital, she’d been operating on coffee and adrenaline for hours. He’d tried coaxing her into grabbing a decent meal at a nearby restaurant, but she didn’t want to leave the grounds for fear Chloe would give sudden birth.

“Can’t miss the big event,” she’d said. “Constant and timely updates are crucial. Because of the enthusiastic posts from myself and several other CLs, we, the Cupcake Lovers, have picked up several new fans today. Sales are up on the recipe book and, according to my contacts at our targeted charities, donations are rolling in. All because we’ve raised interest and awareness by hyping this happy event. When Chloe delivers the baby, I need to deliver the news. Pronto. Pics, too.”

“Dev could do that. Or Rocky. She’s intent on spending the night.”

“That burden shouldn’t fall to either one of them,” Harper said. “They should be enjoying the arrival of Baby Monroe, not worrying about posting to all the right places in the most advantageous way. That’s my job.”

Sam didn’t argue. She was the Cupcake Lovers’ publicist. And maybe the frenzy and hoopla soothed the wounded ego of a woman who’d just been fired from a high-profile firm. Also, there was no denying Harper’s efforts had made a positive impact on donations. Sam had contacts within those military organizations, too. But, as she’d said earlier in the day, “That was then, this is now.” He’d just checked in with Dev who’d urged everyone, including his parents, to go home.

Walking into the nearly deserted waiting room, Sam homed in on Harper. She was stationed in the same corner, typing on her iPad, checking her phone. She’d been at it for hours, yet her energy level was high, her focus intense. How long could she go on like this? He flashed on his days in the field, times when he’d been on duty and in the zone—energy level high, focus intense—and he instinctively knew … she could go all night.

“Pack it up, Slick.”

Harper looked away from her iPad and frowned up at Sam. “That’s what Daisy calls me.”

“I know. I heard. It stuck. You’ve worked wonders today. Time to give it a rest.”

“But—”

“Dev asked everyone to go home and to get some rest. The doctor scheduled a cesarean for ten
A.M.
tomorrow. If anything changes, Dev’ll call.”

“But what if—”

“Dev will call,” Sam repeated, while urging Harper to her feet. “You can twit, tweet, whatever from home.
Just got the call … racing to hospital
 … I’m sure you can spin it and build anticipation when we make our way back here. Meanwhile, as exciting as this is, I doubt even the most avid CL fans will be glued to the Internet throughout the night.”

She blew out a breath, glanced at her tablet then back to Sam. “If you’re sure—”

“I’m sure.” Sam watched as she typed in a last post then powered down. He resisted the urge to check his phone to see what she’d written. He didn’t want her to think he was spying. Although she had encouraged him to
plug in
and
interact
.

He’d asked Rocky to help him set up Twitter and Facebook accounts on his phone and to hook him up with the Cupcake Lovers page as well as Harper’s and those belonging to a few pet organizations. When he wasn’t speaking with family members or touching base with his kids, Sam had settled in close to Harper. She’d kept her head down, working and drinking coffee like a fiend. Sam had matched her java intake while following the action on those social sites via his phone. Twitter was a fast-moving blur. He did better with Facebook and, frankly, he was surprised by the content and frequency of Harper’s posts and comments to other people’s posts. She was entertaining, informative, and engaging. She didn’t focus solely on the Cupcake Lovers, but on cupcakes in general and on soldiers and their families. He’d been stunned by her empathy. As if she’d experienced similar situations. He knew Harper was obsessed with the legend of Mary Rothwell and her MIA husband, but was she keyed in to the plight of military personnel on a more personal level?

It had taken all of Sam’s restraint not to Google her name, not to call Jayce. He wanted to learn about Harper’s past from Harper, not by poking around behind her back. When the time was right, he’d ask her straight-out. Maybe that time was now.

Her cell phone rang, beating him to the punch.

Harper shushed Sam by holding up a finger. Even though he’d softened toward this woman overall,
that
particular habit was still damned annoying.

“Yes,” she said. “I did and … Really?” She glanced at Sam then plopped back in her chair and fired up the tablet she’d just shut down. “You’ve been … Wow. I mean, naturally you’d be interested. They’re a dream combination. Cupcakes and soldiers. Pure gold, but … That soon?” she asked while reading something on her screen. “Chloe wouldn’t be able to make it for obvious reasons and two other members are expecting. Not sure if it’s medically safe for them to fly. And … Sam? Yes, he is. No argument there, but…” She cast Sam a look, blushed. “I’ll see what I can do and get back to you ASAP. Thank you for calling, Val.”

Harper disconnected then tucked both phone and tablet in her massive purse. “That was my contact at the
Brice and Kaylee—Live! show
,” she said without meeting Sam’s gaze. “Valerie’s been watching the growing hype and interest regarding Chloe’s baby and the Cupcake Lovers and their overall mission. The show’s filming live in Vegas this week and one of their scheduled guests fell out. They’re inviting the Cupcake Lovers to join them … as featured guests.”

She bounced out of her chair and paced. “This is gold, Sam! Network TV. National coverage. Do you have any idea how many people tune into Brice and Kaylee on a daily basis? Add to that those who catch up via DVR, YouTube, and Hulu. The exposure could catapult
Cupcake Lovers’ Delectable Delights
to the bestseller lists. We’re talking mega sales and that means mega income for your charities, which will generate even more attention for the club. It’s everything Daisy hoped for and more. The Cupcake Lovers will become a household name, at least for a while. Long enough, for certain. Five minutes of fame can make a massive impact and…”

She faltered and stopped in her tracks. She squared her shoulders and balled her fists. Harper looked like a warrior, a woman on a mission, a woman who didn’t intend to lose. Her determination was as good as an aphrodisiac in Sam’s book.

“I know you’re opposed to the limelight,” she said, “but I need you on board, Sam. They want as many Cupcake Lovers as possible and it’s incredibly short notice. We’d have to fly there day after tomorrow. Chloe’s out. Monica and Rae are possibly out. And because it’s a weekday, Casey might be out. She has a business to run. Not that you don’t, but Val asked for you specifically. Which I totally get. She knows a rating boost when she sees one.”

Sam raised a brow.

“A gorgeous former marine who bakes and is a loving father to boot?” She threw her arms wide. “Come on! You’ll have women viewers drooling on their remotes. Although it would help if you smiled now and then. And if you could flirt up Kaylee … Never mind. You’re not exactly a natural flirt. The strong, silent type. That’s your angle. We can work that. It won’t be that bad. I promise. Brice and Kaylee are gifted hosts. They’ll do most of the work and no doubt Daisy will be a chatterbox so you just need to be your hunky Rambo self and…” Her face fell. “You won’t do it.”

He wasn’t used to being thought of as a sex icon, wasn’t comfortable working
that
angle. But it did please Sam that Harper considered him
hunky
and droolworthy. A stroke to the ego, especially given her sultry beauty. Plus, logic dictated other advantages. “I’ll do it.”

She moved in toe-to-toe, blue eyes wide. “You will?”

“For the cause,” he said, smoothing renegade locks from her face. “And for us.”

She looked a little stunned, backed up a step and twisted her hair into a new and tidier ponytail. “Us?”

“Don’t panic.”

“I’m not—”

“You are. Don’t worry,” Sam said as he scooped up her oversized purse and looped it over her shoulder. “It wasn’t a romantic sentiment.” Palming the small of her back, he escorted her from the waiting room and outdoors. The air was fresh and cool, the moon hanging bright in a starry sky. Sort of romantic, but Sam didn’t go there. Finessing her toward his truck, he took the logical route. “Your showbiz friend just graced us with a gift.”

“I know.”

“Not the Cupcake Lovers.
Us.
” Sam helped Harper up into the cab. He lingered at the door, absorbing her exotic essence and vulnerability. She was by far the most complicated woman he’d ever known. “Now we have a solid, valid reason to travel to Las Vegas.
Business
. After the show wraps we’ll go out to celebrate, and after too many drinks, we’ll act impulsively and, in the spirit of Vegas, tie the knot in one of those themed chapels.”

“That’s so clichéd. But I do see your logic.”

“Yeah?”

She nodded while buckling her seat belt. “Immigration will be less likely to question a quickie marriage under those circumstances.”

“Exactly.” Sam closed the door and rounded the cab. His brain raced with details. Arrangements for child care. For travel. For the ceremony. He needed to step up all his previous arrangements by six days. His heart pounded as he slid behind the wheel. In two days, he’d be married. Everything would change. His life. Harper’s life. The kids’ lives. Not that that was news to Sam, but now it felt real.

The air pulsed with urgency, anticipation, trepidation—his, hers—as he pulled onto the highway.

Harper whipped out her phone. “I need to tell the Cupcake Lovers about the talk show offer.”

“Late to be making calls.”

“It’s three hours earlier on the West Coast and Val needs an answer ASAP. I’m sure she’s put out other feelers given the time issue. If we don’t grab the brass ring pronto we could lose it to showgirls or Elvis impersonators or hell, if I were Val, I’d go after those
Pawn Star
guys. Someone local instead…” She froze mid-dial. “Oh, no.”

“What?”

“We’ll have to fly.”

“So?”

“That public shooting today. At an airport.”

“A major airport,” Sam said in a calm voice. “Burlington is relatively small.”

“That doesn’t matter. We’ll still have to pass through security. Then there’s baggage claim once we land. All those people, all the chaos. What if—”

“What if I book a private flight? Fly out of the local airfield? My cousin Nash pilots for a charter company. He’s also got a weakness for poker. Won’t be hard to lure him to Vegas.”

She looked over at Sam with such relief that his heart jerked in his chest. “I bet I can get the show to cover the expense,” she said. “Val was awfully keen on making this happen.”

Sam reached over and squeezed her thigh. “Let’s see who’s up for the trip then take it from there.” If Harper didn’t get a grip on this phobia, he’d have to talk to her about seeking professional help. The thought of it snowballing and somehow affecting Ben and Mina was troubling. Also, he didn’t want Harper living in fear. He wanted to vanquish her stress, her every worry and fear. He wanted normal and happy and, hell, maybe he was the one who needed a shrink. He was chasing a memory. Forcing a dream.

As he listened to Harper making call after call, working her magic with confidence and zeal, he acknowledged, deep down and for certain, her intense drive to finesse people’s lives for the better. Once she had her green card, she could rebuild her former career as a spin doctor for troubled celebrities. Unless she redirected her passion. Could she be content solely promoting the Cupcake Lovers and Rae’s charitable efforts? Was she capable of cutting back on her workload and devoting a portion of her energy and attention to Ben and Mina? To Sam? To herself?