Under the Wire (39 page)

His words came back on a regular basis.

You're wondering about what happened back there. In the temple. About what it meant. What it means.

When this is over, we'll sort it out, okay?

Well, it was over.

And so far, nothing.

Yeah, she'd caught him watching her sometimes. His brows knit, his expression thoughtful, like he was wrestling with some deep, dark dilemma.

Was it really that hard? she wanted to ask him. Was it really that hard to think about a future that involved him and her together—and not just as parents who shared a child?

She was still wondering the next day when a limo, courtesy of the Sri Lankan government, drove the lot of them to the airport where Lily and the Garretts and Darcy would catch a plane to return to the States. Lily was wondering right up to the time when she gave Adam a hard, teary hug and begged him to be careful.

"Take care of him," she told Manny, who had watched the exchange with soft eyes.

"Count on it."

She nodded, gave Adam one last, lingering look, and headed toward the departure gate.

"Lily."

Manny's voice stopped her. She didn't turn around. Couldn't turn around. Couldn't lift her head and look him in the eye when he walked around in front of her. A curled finger under her chin brought her head up.

His dark eyes were intent on her face. Warm. Thrilling. "Take care of yourself, Liliana," he said softly. Then he leaned down and kissed her.

The sound she made could have been relief or longing or even regret that she was leaving both of these amazing men. Manny answered by dragging her hard up against him, deepening the kiss, then reluctantly breaking away to search her eyes one last time.

"Travel safe,
querida.
We have much to discuss in September."

And then he turned and walked back to Adam. Over Manny's broad shoulder, she could see Adam's face. He wasn't exactly smiling. He was too much of a "son" not to be embarrassed by the public display of affection between his mother and the man he had just learned was his father.

But Adam didn't exactly look displeased, either.

Matara, two weeks later

Adam found Minrada alone in the empty schoolroom. She sat on the floor, her back to the wall, unwrapping her lunch. He stood in the open doorway, watching her. Because he couldn't seem to stop watching her.

Sunlight streamed in through an open window and slanted across her bare toes and the dust on her sandaled feet. A soft breeze offered a cooling respite from the heat and played with the hair at her face.

He'd been waiting for the chance to get her alone. Manny didn't exactly cling, but he never got too far away, either. Adam would never admit it, but he kind of liked it. Liked that this hard-edged warrior father of his wanted to be with him. That he was working alongside of Adam because he wanted to be with him, even though Manny had a job with those cool Garrett guys waiting for him back in the States.

Sometimes they talked—about Nicaragua, about Adam's mom. If he asked, Manny would tell him a little bit about Afghanistan. About the Contra war. He wouldn't say much and Adam didn't want to pry, had figured out that his new father wasn't much for talking about himself.

And that made Adam proud.

He had a dad. A dad he liked—might even love. It was cool. And weird sometimes. Like when Manny asked about Adam's mom. Yeah, it was common ground, but it made him wonder what it would be like if the two of them hooked up again.

Adam thought about the way Manny had kissed her at the airport.
That
had been embarrassing. And yet it was okay.

So yeah, it would be okay if they hooked up. Adam thought about the three of them together and liked that idea, too.

And he was stalling.

He'd come looking for Minrada. He'd found her. And he needed to know how she was doing.

She'd been so quiet. And each time he thought of the reason why, a swell of hatred surged up inside of him for the men who had made her this way.

On a deep breath, he cleared his throat so she'd know he was there.

She looked up, startled, then smiled tentatively when she saw it was him.

And he got all light-headed.

"Want some company?" he asked when he mustered up the courage.

She patted the floor beside her.

For a long time, they just sat there and ate their lunch in silence. It was a good quiet. Comfortable. But he hadn't sought her out just to sit here like a stump and chew and swallow.

It seemed like he'd been waiting forever to get her alone. Part of the wait had been for him to screw up his courage. Part had been to give her time to heal.

But he wanted her to smile again. Laugh again, so he would know she was going to be okay.

"I spy something beautiful," he said at long last. His heart beat like thunder as he waited for her reaction.

She was quiet for so long he thought she wasn't going to say anything. Finally, she met his eyes.

"You're beautiful, Minrada. Inside. Outside. Nothing ... no one could ever change that."

Her eyes filled with tears and then she nodded. Smiled for him.

"Life," she said, her dark eyes as soft as the cloud of hair falling around her shoulders. "Life is beautiful."

Yeah,
Adam thought, a soothing relief washing through him. Life was beautiful. And because she was brave, because she was strong, hers was going to be beautiful again.

CHAPTER 25

Boston, four weeks later

Lily was a mess. Emotionally. Physically.

Adam was coming home tomorrow.

Six long weeks she'd waited, so busy catching up at work she hadn't had a spare moment to plan a welcome home party.

Or for that matter to put her house in order.

Wearing baggy old jeans and a seen-better-days T-shirt, she'd pulled her hair into a long tail on top of her head and at six in the morning started painting his room. It was a promise she'd made when they'd first moved into the apartment. Purple was so not his color.

Scratching her nose with the back of her hand, she stepped back to admire the new sage green walls. Very clean looking. Very masculine. He'd like it and the new curtains and bedspread she'd splurged on as part of his welcome home gift.

Home.

That was
her
gift. Tomorrow he was coming home. It made her feel warm and rich all over.

Until she thought of the man who would be coming with him. Thinking of Manny had an entirely different effect on her internal temperature. She flushed hot and cold at the same time, shivering with an electric mix of anticipation and dread.

She was a mature, professional, independent woman, for God's sake. Yet she felt as giddy as a teenager when she thought about seeing him tomorrow.

Not good. Not good at all.

We have much to discuss in September.

She could still see his somber eyes when he'd said those words. Still felt the butterflies in her stomach when he'd drawn her flush against him and kissed her good-bye at the airport.

Yes. They had much to discuss. They sure hadn't discussed anything during the past six weeks. As she'd made him promise, Adam had called every other day. But Manny had never even talked to her.

"Manny says hi."

That had been it. A polite, generic message passed through Adam.

Manny says hi.

It hadn't been much. Who was she kidding? It had been nothing.

Just like she knew nothing about where they were headed in their relationship—if there even was a relationship. If there could
be
a relationship.

"Okay. Don't think about that now," she muttered under her breath.

She couldn't do anything about it anyway, and there was still so much she
could
do before Adam and Manny got here.

"Way too much," she echoed aloud when she caught a glimpse of herself in the full-length mirror she'd hung on the back of Adam's closet door. "You're a fine mess, Campora."

She had paint on her hands, on her cheek, and even a little splotch in her hair. She needed to hit the shower, then the market. She wanted to have all of Adam's favorite dishes for dinner tomorrow night.

And Manny's favorite wine.

She reached up, touched Manny's St. Christopher medal that she still wore around her neck. A vivid, erotic, seventeen-year-old memory of him drinking deep burgundy wine from her body sent another shock wave through her system.

She breathed deep, shook it off.

"That's not helping matters," she sputtered.

When the doorbell rang, she headed for the foyer, wiping her hands on her jeans. Hoping it was the cake she'd ordered, she swung open the door ... to see Adam and Manny standing in the hall.

"Hi, Mom. I'm home," Adam said with a grin as big as Texas.

"Oh my God!" she squealed, and caught him up against her. She hugged him hard, buried her face in the curve of his neck, and breathed in the familiar scent of him.

He was home. Safe. Sound. And . . .

She pulled back, all smiles as she studied him at arm's length. "What are you doing here? You weren't due until tomorrow," she sputtered inanely. "Oh, who cares? I'm so glad you're back. And... you've grown. I swear, you're half a head taller. Is that possible?"

"Considering he eats like a linebacker, I'm not surprised."

Self-conscious suddenly, Lily eased up on her hold on Adam to see Manny watching her with a soft smile on his face. The same smile that never failed to do crazy things to her stomach and melt the marrow in her bones.

"Call it a wild guess," he said after giving her a lingering once-over that sent her pulse rate off the charts, "but have you, by any chance, been painting?"

Oh God. She'd forgotten. This was so not how she'd wanted to look when she saw him again. By the time she'd left Sri Lanka she'd been bruised and battle weary, sunburned and skinned up. When she saw Manny again, she'd wanted to look like a woman, not a survivor of a war. And she sure as the world hadn't wanted to be covered in paint and wearing rejects from a thrift store.

"You guys really know how to ruin a welcome home party." She tugged the band from her hair and let it fall around her shoulders. "I was going to have everything ... well, special."

"It is special," Manny said softly as Adam shouldered around her and into the apartment. He dropped his duffel on the floor and headed for his room, leaving them alone.

Several heartbeats passed while she tried to regulate her breathing. Wasn't going to happen.

Not with Manny looking like that. All bronze warrior and Hollywood good looks. All dark eyes that probed and assessed and didn't miss a single thing.

"You look beautiful,
querida
."

Her heart did that little kick, stutter thing it always did when his voice washed over her that way. Like a warm rain. Like a midnight caress.