A Better Father (Harlequin Super Romance) (8 page)

“Yeah? Well, if you talk to her again, tell her...”

“What?”

He waved her away. “Nothing. Forget I said anything. I have to
finish cleaning up.”

He picked up the pizza box and lumbered back into the kitchen.
Sam crushed his napkin in his hand, then readied himself to stand. It was time
to make his move.

Libby watched Cosmo go, nibbling on her lip in a way that went
straight to his groin, then shook her head. She set her clipboard on the closest
table, reached both arms overhead and stretched toward the beamed ceiling. Face
tilted up, she swayed in place as if to undo the kinks in her back. Her braid
danced behind her and her hips rocked from side to side and her dark blue
Overlook T-shirt molded itself to her breasts and his mouth went dry.

Because when she made herself taller this way and let herself
relax, when the shadows blurred her features and let him see nothing but hair
and curves—he couldn’t deny the truth anymore.

Libby and Robin could have been sisters.

With a sigh, she gathered up the clipboard and slipped out the
door with barely a sound. He knew he should follow her, knew he should chase her
down and bring her up to speed, but he couldn’t. Not when his brain was jumping
between memories of Robin and thoughts of Libby. And who he had been with each
of them. And the moment earlier in the evening when he leaned over Libby’s
shoulder, pretending to pay attention to the numbers on the screen, when he had
placed a hand on her shoulder and inhaled the last traces of her coconut shampoo
and his muscles had started to purr in recognition.

But which woman had he recognized?

CHAPTER FIVE

L
IBBY
HAD
BEEN
SLEEPING
in the cabins with her
staff, just to save time, but after her run-in with Sam she thought it best to
head back to the town house for the night. She had never sleepwalked to her
knowledge, but she didn’t trust herself if the inclination should kick in that
night. She might find herself jerking awake just after tossing Sam into the cold
waters of the river.

Or, worse—she might find herself sleep-wandering up to his
cabin to see how it would feel to have him hovering over her, breathing softly
on her neck once more. Because while her brain knew that Sam was a temptation
best left in her very distant past, her hormones had chosen those moments when
they were alone in the office to come out of hibernation. Lousy timing. Truly
lousy choice of person to rouse them.

She tossed her keys on the table, stripped off her camp clothes
and treated herself to a very long, very relaxing shower. Sam had been her first
lover. It made total biological sense that he would be imprinted on her in some
primordial manner, that her body would recognize him in ways that her brain knew
should not be indulged. But this time she had knowledge on her side. Knowledge
and the fact that, given his history, Sam would likely slip up and make an ass
of himself sooner or later. If she was lucky, it would be a thorough enough fall
that even her stupid hormones would get the message.

She let herself sleep a bit later the next morning, indulging
in the comfort of a real bed and a few moments of total peace. When she did pull
herself from the covers she lingered over her coffee while tweaking her résumé
and composing a cheerful email to Myra. She took a few moments to go through the
refrigerator and toss some perishables, then gathered up her library books
before finally heading out the door.

The library was one of her favorite places in town. Comeback
Cove, like so many settlements in the Thousand Islands, had a rich history that
revolved around both the river and their proximity to the States. Shipwrecks and
pirates and rumrunners lived on in both local lore and the many themed gift
shops that lined the main streets. But the library had opted to feature the
story she loved most, that of a rumrunner who dared to fall in love with a rich
summer girl and then died in a shoot-out on the water before revealing the
location of a rumored hidden treasure. Thus, each summer the library put
together treasure hunts and highlighted books of other supposed lost riches—and,
for the older patrons, other tales of star-crossed lovers.

She dropped off her books at Returns, stopped to talk to the
volunteer behind the circulation desk and had just headed for the children’s
room to pick up a few books for the camp when she spied one of Gran’s friends,
Verna Collins, loading up on board books. Years of regular tennis games had left
the woman fit and fast enough to ride herd on the Sunday school classes she
still led, just as she had once taught Libby.

“Mrs. Collins, how are you?”

They chatted for a few moments about mutual friends and the
latest escapades of Verna’s out-of-town grandchildren, until Libby checked her
watch.

“Oops. It’s later than I realized. I need to grab some books
and get out to the camp.”

Verna nodded and waved her away. “You go on. I’m sure we’ll get
plenty of chances to catch up over the summer.”

“Not that many,” Libby reminded her with a short laugh. “I
don’t make it into town much once the campers arrive.”

“Oh, I know that. I mean, what with me working out there
now.”

Working at the camp? What? Verna wasn’t on any of the staff
lists Libby had seen. Unless Sam had hired her himself, to do—what? Keep his
house clean for him and the unnamed person he was working so hard to hide from
her?

The anger she’d managed to tamp down reared its head once more.
Did Miss Hidden From Libby know that Sam was in the habit of leaning too close
when looking at computer screens, talking in a voice low and soft enough to
guarantee flashbacks and wholly inappropriate tingles?

Not that she cared. Whatever happened between Sam and
his—whatever—was of absolutely no concern to her. Except, of course, for the
phone calls she would end up fielding from outraged parents.

Verna looked at Libby as if wondering who had stolen all her
marbles. “Well, yes. I thought for sure you knew. I’ll be starting in a couple
of days. You know.” She hefted the pile of board books. “I’ll be looking after
Casey. Mr. Catalano’s little boy.”

* * *

S
AM
WAS
DOWN
AT
THE
INLET
, talking to the
contractor about the schedule for the pavilion construction, when the
walkie-talkie at his hip crackled.

“Catalano?”

He winced inside. Libby. And judging from the way she had
barked out his name, she wasn’t happy.

He tossed an apology to the contractor, walked a few steps
toward the woods in an illusion of privacy and pulled the walkie-talkie
free.

“Hey, Lib. What’s up?”

“We need to talk. Now. You have five minutes to get your sorry
self up to your house or I swear I am going to—to—to hunt you down and do this
in front of anyone who might be within hearing distance. And trust me, this is
not a conversation that you will want other people to hear.”

Oh, shit. There was only one thing he could think of that would
leave her spitting fury this way. Why the hell hadn’t he made himself tell her
already?

“I’ll be there in ten.”

Before she could say anything else, he hit the power button.
She’d said she would hunt him down, but he knew, as did she, that it would take
longer than ten minutes for her to find him. She would wait.

In the meantime, he’d bought himself a few moments in which to
figure out how to handle the inexcusable without coming out with the total
truth. Because somehow, he didn’t think that saying,
Sorry,
I tried to tell you about my kid but I got freaked out because his mother
looked like you and I’m worried I might have got you two mixed up in my mind
was going to improve the situation.

He made his apologies to the contractor and trudged up the
hill. For what seemed like the first time ever, he didn’t run into anyone else
on his way. Maybe they’d all heard Libby’s blast over the walkie-talkie and
ducked into the woods for shelter.

He couldn’t really blame them.

Things were so quiet that when he heard his name being called
as he passed the dining hall, he first thought it was his imagination. But when
he paused and looked around, he saw Cosmo snapping a towel in the wind—whether
to get Sam’s attention or to give him the mother of all rat-tails, he couldn’t
decide.

“What is it, Cosmo?”

“Got a problem. One of the fridges is on its way out. You have
to call the repair guy.”

Sam was still learning the ins and outs of who did what, but
one thing that had been clear to him even when he was a camper was that when it
came to the kitchens, Cosmo was God. He didn’t ask permission and no one
interfered with his sovereign domain.

“What do you mean I need to call? Is this a test to see if I
get the right person out here? You’ve been doing this forever, Cos. You make the
call.”

Beefy arms crossed over a burly chest. “Afraid to get your
hands dirty with some real work?”

Sam clenched his jaw as he thought of the eighteen hours he’d
put in the day before, and the even longer one ahead of him. “Dammit, I don’t
have time for this. You’ve been riding my ass since I got here. If you have
something to say to me, say it. Stop this damned nit-picking, expecting me to do
things that I know there’s no way in hell you expected Myra to do for you.”

Cosmo pulled himself up straighter. Something flashed in his
eyes at the mention of Myra, but Sam was too pissed off to try to analyze it
then.

“Okay, then. You want it straight? You got it. I don’t know
what kind of games you’re playing, but it takes a hell of a lot to make Libby as
angry as she is right now. And let me tell you this. She doesn’t get bent out of
shape without good reason. Whatever you pulled, you got her where it hurts.” He
jabbed a finger in Sam’s chest. “You hurt her, you answer to me.”

Reassuring as it was to know that Cosmo was capable of actual
affection, this wasn’t the way Sam wanted to make the discovery.

“You know,” he said as he plucked the older man’s finger from
his chest, “I get that Libby’s been here forever. I get that you want to protect
her from the big bad wolf. But that’s not going to change things.” He stepped
back, arms flung wide. “You don’t want me here? Tough. I’m here, and I’m here to
stay. You don’t like it? Walk. But you’re gonna have to be the one to do it,
because it’s sure as hell not gonna be me.”

Without waiting to hear whatever Cosmo might have to say, he
turned back to the road. Adrenaline pumped through him, pushing him up the hill,
readying him for whatever was going to happen next.

Just like being back on the ice all over again.

Just as she had said, Libby was waiting at his house, pacing in
front of the door with that ever-loving clipboard clutched to her chest and
smoke all but pouring out of her ears. The minute he rounded the corner she
double-timed it across the grass to meet him.

“Why the hell didn’t you tell me you were bringing a kid to
camp?”

“Because you spent my first meeting snarling at me and the next
two weeks planning to overwork me and my first day back trying to pretend I
wasn’t here. Also, unlike you, I have a personal life outside this place.
Personal.
As in, it was none of your business.”

Wrong answer. He knew it even before he finished saying it, but
there was no backtracking now.

“Of all the— Look. I don’t care how many women you’ve deluded
over the years, and I don’t care how many kids you have scattered across the
continent. But if you’re bringing one here, I need to know.”

“Well, hell. Forgive me for having a life that doesn’t revolve
around you. You want me to say the words? Here you go. Libby, my son is moving
in. Tomorrow. Oh, and since you have to know every single thing that’s going on
around here, let me tell you this. There’s a dog, too.”

“A—”

For the first time in his memory, Libby appeared speechless.
Her mouth sagged open and red spots flared in her cheeks, and if he wasn’t so
sick and tired of dancing to her tune, he would have laughed at the way the
words seemed to have been stolen from her brain.

“That’s right, Libby. A dog. A big Lab.”

Whatever had been interfering with her ability to speak wore
off too damned fast. “Do you have any idea how complicated things just
became?”

“Nope.” He bounced in his shoes, back in his element. She
wanted a fight? He was more than ready to give her one. “But I bet you’re just
dying to tell me, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, Sam. I am. You deliberately misled me. You thought it
was so cute to string me along, make me think you had a woman coming here, when
all along...” She closed her eyes in what he was sure was a silent scream, given
the way her fingers tightened on the clipboard. “What are you going to do with a
dog? Huh, Sam? What are you going to do about kids with allergies? Or when the
dog gets loose and sees all the campers as trespassers on his territory?”

“I’ll deal with it.”

“Sure you will. The same way you keep disappearing from
meetings to talk with the contractor, or left me to interview and hire all the
new staff needed to accommodate your schedule restrictions, or expect me to
smooth things over with Cosmo after you messed up his meals, or—”

“Maybe that’s because you’ve been pouncing on everything before
I have a chance to deal with it. Maybe because you just love jumping in and
being the one who fixes everything so you can look like a goddamned martyr saint
while I look like some idiot who just fell off the truck.”

Her eyes narrowed. “I am doing what’s best for the camp.”

“Bullshit. You’re doing what’s best for Libby Kovak.” He
grabbed the clipboard and yanked it from her unsuspecting fingers. “You know
what your problem is, Libby? You need to get—”

“So help me, if you say what I think you’re going to say, I
will sue you for sexual harassment faster than you can say it was just a
mistake.”

He blinked. She thought he was insinuating she needed to get
laid? Holy... Never mind that it was true. He would never be idiot enough to say
it.

“You. Need. To. Get. A. Life.” He waved the clipboard in her
face. “You live, breathe and probably dream about this place, and I wouldn’t
give a rat’s ass except it means you can’t let go. This is your little empire
and you are queen and you won’t ease up because without it, you’ll have
nothing.”

“Well, thank you for the life advice, Dr. Phil.”

“Go ahead, Lib. Laugh. I have news for you.” He leaned in close
enough to smell the hint of coconut underlying the pine scent that he would
forever associate with her. “Maybe I should have told you sooner, but you know
what? This is my kid we’re talking about. Not a complication. My
son.
The reason for my every frickin’ breath. Believe
it or not, he comes before the camp. He is more important than the camp. And
you—” he shoved the clipboard back at her “—would be smart to keep that in
mind.”

She gave him a look that he was pretty sure was the kind of
expression usually seen on marauding hordes, yanked the clipboard from his
fingers and snapped her mouth shut. Without another word she marched away from
the house and down toward the office.

So much for making nice before he told her the truth.

* * *

Y
OU
NEED
TO
GET
A
LIFE
.