In the Mood for Love (27 page)

“They’re good kids.”

“You’re good with them.”

“I’m good with people in general. Kids are just little, younger people, right? I was a kid once. I remember certain aspects. Insecurities. Needs. Mostly, they just want to know that they matter—what they say, what they do. I tried to be sensitive to that tonight. I wanted Ben and Mina to know that I was paying attention. That they matter.” She glanced away suddenly, looking embarrassed. “Listen to me preaching to you. You could write a book on good parenting.”

“I don’t know about that, but thanks.” Sam angled his head, studied her intense expression. “I’d like to know more about you as a kid. What you were like. What you said, what you did. Are your parents still around? Do you have siblings? You’ve never mentioned your family.”

“That’s because I don’t have one.” She groaned. “That sounded pathetic.” She looked back to Sam. “I’m an only child. Parents divorced long ago. They’re estranged. We’re estranged. It’s not a big deal. Just very different than what you have.”

More than ever Sam wanted that report from Jayce. Details about Harper’s past. He’d never been more intrigued with a person in his life.

Pulling her keys from her purse, Harper glanced at his truck, gave Ben and Mina a smile and a wave. “You should go,” she said to Sam.

“They’re okay,” he said. “Trust me, they’re riveted, hoping we’ll change our minds and call them inside. They don’t want this night to end and I don’t blame them.”

Harper leaned against the doorjamb, sighed. “I wish we could fast-forward to two days from now.”

“Nervous about the flight? The show?”
Being alone?

“Anxious to get on with life.” She pressed a hand to Sam’s chest, smiled. “If you don’t kiss me good night there’s a good chance you’ll get an earful on the ride home.”

“I’ll get an earful anyway, but it doesn’t have to be about that.” Hand at the small of her back, Sam pulled Harper closer. “Unfortunately, their idea of a good-night kiss and mine are two different animals.” He brushed his mouth over hers, sampled her lush lips briefly, just long enough to make him ache for more, then eased away. “Call me or text me if you need me. Otherwise I’ll see you in the morning. Make sure to pack your identification.”

She hesitated before moving inside. “You can still back out.”

“But I won’t.”

“Because Ben and Mina want a mom and because I’m desperate for a green card.”

“That’s part of it.”

“I’m not sure I can handle more.”

“The question is, do you want more?”

Her gaze flicked to the truck, his children, and then back to Sam. “Yes.”

“We’ll take it slow. See what happens. No pressure, Harper. No expectations.”

“Okay.” She nodded. “Slow is good.”

His heart hammered at the thousand things he read in her eyes—hope, regret, joy, fear. Sam smiled and brushed a thumb over her cheek. “See you in the morning, Slick. Sleep well.”

Blushing, she moved inside and closed the door.

Sam waited until he heard the dead bolt lock then ambled toward his truck.

Slow
. He could do slow. And when she was ready, he’d give her more.

One eye on the house, he slid into the driver’s seat, jonesing to hear from Jayce, and gearing up for whatever grilling the kids had in store.

“That’s not how they kiss in the movies,” Mina said.

Sam glanced over his shoulder. “What movies have you been watching?”

“Bridgett likes those sappy, girly movies,” Ben said. “You know. Like
Twilight
.”

“That’s the one where the vampires sparkle,” Mina said. “You should watch it, Daddy. See how Edward kisses Bella.” She hugged herself, closed her eyes and made kissy, mushy sounds.

Ben rolled his eyes and pulled his iPod out of his backpack.

Sam pulled out of the drive, wondering what other movies Bridgett had subjected a five-year-old to. A smile touched his lips as he realized he wouldn’t have to fly solo when speaking to Mina about the kissing thing. He could scarcely wait to hear Harper’s two cents.

TWENTY-NINE

Sunday had proven a full and interesting day for Adam. A morning of excitement at the hospital. The awkward greeting between Adam and Peppy’s grandpa, the jubilant celebration of Dev and Chloe’s little girl (a special whoop from those who’d won the betting pool), and the way Rocky had expressed subtle curiosity (or was it concern?) about Adam’s choice in a roommate.

That afternoon, Adam had driven Peppy to Shady Oak, where he freelanced as a sports instructor, and introduced her to the resort’s gym. She wasn’t very athletic, but she was determined, and yeah boy,
George
had twitched every time Adam had laid hands on Peppy’s soft skin in order to instruct her in technique.

They’d parted ways after—Adam to work out, Peppy to rehearse—and when he’d run into her again at home later that evening there’d been a sexual zing. Peppy didn’t acknowledge it, but Adam sensed her interest, and
George
, damn him, wouldn’t behave, so Adam had taken a cold shower, dressed, and gone back out. He’d met Kane and Nash at the Shack, intending to throw back brews to celebrate the birth of Lily—like they needed an excuse to drink. Only Nash had opted for soda, saying he had a long flight the next day, and Kane had bitched about the absence of Luke and Decker’s annoying habit of flipping channels, surfing right over ESPN. Adam had bailed early, feeling restless and horny and, dammit, lonely. The latter two being crazy because Adam had plenty of friends and some of those friends were female and a couple would be up for a spontaneous tango. All Adam had to do was call. Instead he drove back to his teeny-tiny rental, hoping Peppy had gone out with a friend or maybe holed up in her room with her guitar. Just his luck, she’d kicked back on his couch with her acoustic, idly picking notes while watching a movie.

“Sorry,” she’d said, leaping up as if her pants were on fire—those damned cute-as-hell monkey-face pants. “Thought you’d stay out later.”

“So did I. What are you watching?”

“A Good Day to Die Hard.”

An action flick. Huh. “I’ll grab a beer and join you. Want one?”

“Sure.”

So they’d shared the sofa, drinking suds, and watching Bruce Willis kick ass. There’d been that sexual pull, only Peppy had kept her distance and Adam had given George mental hell. They’d retreated to their rooms and Adam had fallen asleep hearing Peppy noodling (as she called it) on that guitar. The music wasn’t loud, but the walls were thin so, later, he’d also heard her bed creaking as she tossed and turned.

Adam woke up at two twenty-five, four-oh-three, and five twenty-one. Whacking off would have solved his problem but he felt weird about that considering the object of his obsession was sleeping one room over. “To hell with it.”

Adam rolled out of bed. Dawn was breaking. He’d head out early. Jogging would solve his problem, too. But first he needed to hydrate. His throat was froggy and dry. His brain fuzzy. Normally he would have padded to the kitchen buck naked since that’s how he slept, but that didn’t seem smart what with a woman in the house and George at full attention. So he pulled on a pair of boxers, eased out his door, crept down the hall. He froze on the kitchen threshold, mesmerized by the sight of bare legs and a cute ass clad only in those skimpy girly briefs—boyfriend shorts, he thought they were called. Peppy was bent over and peering into the lower shelves of his fridge. He considered retreating to his room without a word, but then she backed out with a piece of fruit, catching him staring, because … yeah. That shitty timing thing.

“Oh. Hey,” she said, looking a little poleaxed herself.

“Hey.”

She tugged down the hem of her tank top, which only caused the material to stretch tighter over her pert breasts. “I, um, I don’t always walk around like this.”

“Me, neither.”

“I couldn’t sleep.”

“Same here.”

“Thought I’d grab a snack.”

“I see that.”

“I really wanted a doughnut, but you don’t have any of those. Plus I remembered what you said about a healthier diet so I…” She held up a fresh peach. “Hope you don’t mind. It’s the last one.”

The whole time she’d been babbling, she’d been staring. At Adam. He felt the heat of her gaze sliding over his naked torso, knew the second she spied the tent in his boxers. Sexual zing, hell. More like
zap
! A freaking huge bolt of sexual lightning snapped between them. The air crackled with lust. Hers. His. He wanted to do something about that even though he knew he shouldn’t. Even though there was a ninety-nine percent chance she’d shut him down, Adam moved in. “We could share.”

“What? The peach? Seriously? You want it?”

He flicked his own gaze over the thin tank and brief briefs that barely concealed her soft curves. He made it clear exactly what he wanted. Then he braced for her to bolt.

Or to slug him.

Instead, she leaned back against the counter, offered him the peach then shoved her shaggy hair out of her face. “You first,” she said. “Your peach, after all.”

Their fingers brushed and his pulse pounded. He bit into the juicy fruit, wanting to sink into feisty Peppy instead.

Staring up into his eyes, she stole back the fruit and took a big, messy bite.

George throbbed and Adam leaned down. “Juice.” He licked the corner of Peppy’s mouth, sampled her bottom lip—oh, yeah—then eased back with a slight grin. “Got it.”

She narrowed her big brown eyes. “That work on most women?”

“Question is, did it work on you?”

Her gaze slid south. “You know how George has a mind of his own? Well, Lucy has a mind of her own, too.”

Adam’s lips twitched as his own gaze slid between Peppy’s legs. “Lucy, huh?”

“Yeah. We’re sort of at odds because I know that sleeping with you is a bad idea. It messes with the roomie dynamics. But Lucy … well, she hasn’t seen any action in quite a while and George has her all jazzed. Because of her, I’m distracted. I don’t like being distracted. I’m on a mission. So now I’m thinking if Lucy and George got it on and out of their system we, you and me, could knock out the, well, the distraction. I—”

“Peppy.”

“Yeah?”

“You talk too much.”

“Maybe you should shut me up.”

“No maybe about it.” Adam palmed her ass and hiked her up on the counter, stepping in so that she had to wrap her legs around his waist. He shoved his fingers through her crazy, messy hair and kissed her wild and deep. His heart hammered and George danced.

Peppy sort of froze, like she didn’t know what to do with her hands, although her lips and tongue followed Adam’s lead. When he eased back, she frowned. “Damn,” she said. “I was sort of hoping you’d be a lousy kisser. You’re probably great at all the other stuff, too.”

“One way to find out.”

Peppy shocked him by peeling her tank over her head, naked as a jaybird except for those cotton briefs. Those briefs did him in. “From here on out,” she said, “it’s just George and Lucy. You and me, we’re out of the equation.”

George wanted to meet Lucy here and now on the counter, but Adam still had one working brain cell and he wanted Peppy in bed where he could properly impress her with all the “other stuff.” He snatched her off the counter, whisking her into his bedroom while she continued to make it clear that this was sex, just sex, and probably, no definitely, a one-time show.

“Peppy,” he said as he playfully tossed her on his bed. “Shut the hell up.” Before she could respond, he unleashed George.

Wide-eyed, Peppy yanked Adam onto the bed and rolled over on top of him. “From here on out,” she said as she peeled off those tomboy panties, “Lucy does all my talking.”

THIRTY

Monday morning took forever and a day to dawn. It didn’t help that Sam had trouble sleeping. Rather than staring up at the ceiling—missing Harper, worrying about Harper—he’d spent a good portion of the night on his laptop, researching immigration laws, making sure he hadn’t tripped up on legalities. He’d double-checked the marriage license and the plans for the ceremony. He spent time scoping other custom-furniture Web sites, looking for ideas on how to ramp up his own small-business site.

And he’d checked intermittently to make sure the Avenger hadn’t issued a new taunt on Harper’s or the Cupcake Lovers’ social pages. All he’d seen were interesting or inspiring comments from cupcake fans and soldiers and their families. Still, when he’d finally crawled into bed, he’d slept with his phone in hand, braced for a panicked call or text from Harper.

Instead all was quiet.

Until Mina came bounding into his room at six
A.M.
“Dad-
deeee
!”

Getting the kids dressed and ready for school was a blur. Making breakfast, a blur. Driving them to school, a freaking blur. Mina, and even Ben, had talked nonstop—about Harper, about Sam and Harper’s trip. How long would they be on the plane? (
“Several hours.”
) How long would they be gone? (
“Two days.”
) Could they stay home from school tomorrow to watch the Cupcake Lovers on TV? (
“No. But Grandpa will record it.”
)

The entire time the kids had grilled Sam, he’d been processing thoughts of his own. Standing on the curb outside of the grade school, Sam hugged them both good-bye—even though Ben squirmed—knowing that when he returned it would be with a wife and mother. Life as they knew it, as a family, would be altered. Hopefully, no, definitely, for the better.

“Bring us back a surprise!” Mina said.

Sam smiled. “I will.” Then he turned to Ben. “Take care of your little sister. I’ll call later tonight.”

Ben hiked his loaded backpack higher on his scrawny shoulders. “You don’t have to worry about us Dad.”

Sam nodded but he was certain he’d do exactly that until the day he died. Ben waved then took his sister’s hand and led her toward the front doors. Sam waited for Mina to break free, to rush back to him with a tearful,
“I don’t wanna go to school!”

But she didn’t.

“Huh.”

Once the kids were safely inside, Sam climbed back into his cab, checked those social sites again for good measure. It occurred to him that he hadn’t checked for messages on his own new page. Maybe Harper … “Oh,
shit
.”