And Then Came You (25 page)

Jeff laughed as his daughter tried to bring him up to date on her life in five minutes or less. He’d only been
gone two days and it felt like a hell of a lot longer. How the hell would he ever be able to stand being separated from her?

Just thinking about his condo back in the city and how quiet it would be without Emma running through the rooms, her shoes clacking on the bare wood floors, made him want to cringe. But he’d have to learn to deal with it, wouldn’t he?

Glancing at Sam, he thought she looked more relaxed than she had since this whole thing started. And why shouldn’t she? They’d already met with her lawyer and agreed to custody terms—at least temporarily—until they could work out a permanent solution.

It had been, he told himself as he listened with half an ear to Emma, more to give Sam peace of mind than anything else. Now she knew without a doubt that he wouldn’t try to keep her from her daughter. Now, she at least knew that he was willing to work on the custody issue.

And maybe that would give them enough time to work out whatever the hell else was between them.

Dammit, he could still taste her.

All afternoon, she’d lingered on his lips, his tongue. He had her scent buried deep within him and couldn’t seem to draw a breath without dragging her even deeper inside.

He wanted her.

Bad
.

“Daddy, you’re not listening.”

He came up out of his thoughts like a deep-sea diver breaching the surface of the water and blinking stupidly at the sunlight. “What?”

“To me,” Emma said, leaning in and capturing his face between her small palms. “You’re not listening to me.”

“Sorry, baby. What’d you say?”

She sighed. A deep, eloquent, dramatic sigh that women apparently were born knowing how to deliver. “I want you to see my room.”

“Oh. Okay, show me.” He stood up and took her hand. Then he shot a quick look at Sam, sitting curled up at the end of the red chenille sofa. “Maybe your mommy should come, too.”

She gave him a wary smile. Not trusting yet, but not as openly hostile as she was a few days ago. That was something, wasn’t it?

“I’ve seen it.”

“No, Mommy, you have to come, too.” Emma grabbed Sam’s hand as she scooted out from between the sofa and the magazine-littered coffee table.

Sam’s features softened and Jeff knew she wouldn’t refuse Emma anything. He grinned as she got up and walked beside him. “Just the three of us,” he murmured.

“And Cynthia makes four,” Sam shot back.

Jeff winced a little. He kept forgetting about the fiancée he’d left in the city. And what did that say?

Emma pulled them determinedly down the long hall. Jeff looked around as they passed and caught a fleeting glimpse of what had to be Sam’s room. Quilt-topped four-poster bed, flowers in a vase, postcards framed and hung on a wall. The second bedroom was empty save for a narrow bed, a chest of drawers, and a table with a globe-topped lamp on it. The bathroom was small and painted a deep sea green. Lighthouse prints hung on the walls and a white pedestal sink
stood beneath an antique medicine cabinet and mirror.

Then Emma stopped in front of a third door and dropped their hands as she stepped inside and did a twirling spin. “Isn’t it pretty, Daddy?”

He walked into the room, too, turning more slowly than his daughter, so he could see everything. Sam had turned the room into a little girl’s fantasy. The walls were a summer-sky blue and one wall was covered with what looked like fluffy clouds. A canopied bed, with a Barbie bedspread. White wicker furniture and shelves filled with books and toys. There was even a tiny white wicker rocking chair in the corner, with a standing lamp alongside it, so Emma could curl up and read if she wanted to.

He shifted his gaze to Sam. “You really did a nice job in here.”

She shrugged and leaned against the doorjamb. “I wanted her to be happy.”

“I think you managed that,” Jeff said as he walked toward her. Emma was talking a mile a minute, pulling out every book and holding it up for him to see. He smiled at her, but then turned back to Sam. “She loves it here.”

Sam’s eyes filled quickly, and she looked as surprised by it as he was. Damn, he’d always hated it when she cried. A man never felt so clumsy and useless as he did when faced with a woman’s tears.

“Don’t do that,” he said and heard the whisper of blind panic in his own voice.

She laughed shortly and swiped her fingertips beneath her eyes. “It’s just a little leak.” She shifted a look at Emma, still happily pulling out book after book. “It just means something to me to hear you say that. That she loves being here.”

“You’re surprised?” He lifted one hand to smooth his fingertips along her cheek. God, she was still such a mystery to him. Her moods shifted and changed with nearly every breath. She could go from hard to soft, furious to sentimental, in the blink of an eye.

She’d touched something in him nine years ago and she was the only woman who ever had. Why should it even mildly surprise him to find that she could still reach him on levels he hadn’t known he possessed?

“Sort of, I guess,” she admitted, then straightened up to face him. “I know she doesn’t have here what she has in the city and—”

“It’s not about
what
she has,” Jeff interrupted. “But about
who
she has.” He tucked a strand of soft auburn hair behind her ear. “Now she has her father
and
her mother.”

Sam sucked in air, then whooshed it out again. “Thanks. Not just for that,” she added, “but for the custody thing.”

Jeff smiled as he watched her. “Was it painful?”

“Thanking you, you mean?” She shrugged and her lips twitched just a little. “Only slightly. I’ll take an aspirin.”

“Daddy, will you read to me now?” Emma asked as she came up alongside him and tugged at his pants leg.

“I can’t right now, honey,” he said, pulling one of her thick braids. “I have to get back to the inn. See if they kept my room. But I’ll come back and get you tomorrow, okay?”

Emma scowled up at him and it occurred to Jeff that she looked most like her mother when she got that disapproving expression on her face.

“You shouldn’t go, Daddy. You should stay here. With Mommy and me.”

“Oh . . .” Well, that caught him off guard. And judging by the poleaxed expression on Sam’s face, she was right there with him. But now that Emma’d brought it up, the idea felt . . .
good
to him. Staying here? Right down a narrow hallway from Sam?

His blood boiled.

“Honey, I don’t know—” Sam gave him a quick look, saw no help there at all, and refocused on Emma.

“Why not?” Emma demanded, turning to look up at her mother. “There’s the other room. Daddy could stay there and then he could read to me at night, too. And you’re the mommy and he’s the daddy and I’m the little girl, so it would be good. Like Isabel says, mommies and daddies most times stay in the same house.”

“Yes,” Sam said. “Most of the time, that’s true, but your daddy and I are—”

“Divorced, but you’re friends, you said.” Emma rushed in to finish Sam’s sentence and leave her mother scrambling for an argument.

Jeff looked at Sam.

Sam looked at Jeff.

Emma looked at both of them.

“Not a good idea,” Sam said.

“Scared?” Jeff asked.

“Oh please.”

“Then why not?”

“Yes, Mommy, why not?”

Seconds ticked past. From down the hall and out in the kitchen, Jeff heard the refrigerator burp and hum.
Outside, someone was mowing their lawn. Inside, he waited.

Finally, Sam sighed and threw both hands wide.

Jeff grinned.

“Okay,” she said. “I’m probably crazy, but okay.”

“You
sold
it?” Mike couldn’t believe it.

“Well, honey,” Grace said softly, “I didn’t really need the property, although Lucas says it’s fine with him if the goats wander over, which I thought was just lovely of him, don’t you think?”

“Sure,” Mike said, nodding her head in a jerky motion that felt as if she were shaking the stones in her head. “Lovely.”

“He’s even thinking of buying the old vineyard property that runs behind the stand of woods.” Grace pulled and tugged at the carded strands of cashmere, smoothing them into perfect alignment.

“The vineyard? He wants to make wine?” He hadn’t looked like a winemaker to Mike. Serial killer, maybe.

“Oh no, dear.” Grace set the wool aside, stood up and smoothed her hands down the front of her pale green slacks. “He said he didn’t know a thing about it, but that he’d always liked grapes.”

“Sure. Don’t buy a bunch of grapes at the market,” Mike muttered darkly, remembering the man with his dark brown eyes and lanky build. “Buy a vineyard so you can eat ’em right off the vine.”

“Exactly.” Grace reached out to pat Mike’s cheek,
then stopped and stared at her. “I’m awfully sorry about the land, honey. I had no idea you might be interested in it.”

“My fault,” Mike admitted, her brain wheeling, looking for a way out of this situation. Trying to find some way she could still get her hands on the only piece of land she’d ever wanted. “I should have said something to you years ago, but—” She broke off and wagged her right foot, trying to shake off the goat determined to eat her bootlaces. “You just never seemed like you were in a hurry to sell and—”

“I wasn’t. But that young man has a very . . .
persuasive
way of speaking,” she said, smiling to herself.

“Oh yeah,” Mike muttered darkly. “He’s a real charmer.”

“I thought so, too.” Grace leaned in and smiled, then bent and pulled the goat off Mike’s foot. “There now, Isabel, you go find something else to eat.”

“Isabel?”

“Emma named her.”

“Ah . . .”

Around them, the job site was bustling. The Gypsies had dinner cooking in several pots hung over fires, and the work crews were sidling close, looking for handouts.

Everything was normal, except for the boulder in the pit of Mike’s stomach. She’d lost out on the property where she’d planned to build herself a house.

Unless . . .

“Maybe
he’ll
sell it to me.”

“Oh, I don’t think so, dear,” Grace said, reaching up to smooth her snow-white hair unnecessarily. “He seemed very determined to build there. He said he liked the quiet.”

“Great.” Well, this day couldn’t get any better, could it?

“Is your father still here?” Grace asked.

“Somewhere,” Mike muttered.

“I’ll just go find him, then.”

Grace moved off and Mike stood alone in the dappled shade of the maple tree. There had to be a way around Lucas Gallagher.

All she had to do was find it.

The next morning, Sam was still getting used to the fact that Jeff was living in her house. She’d heard him all night. Moving around in the guest room, settling in. And every moment, she was reliving that kiss.

She could almost feel the press of his mouth to hers. Feel the soft sigh of his breath dusting her cheek. Feel the shattering pounding of his heart against hers and the hard, implacable strength of his arms wrapped around her.

With that one kiss, he’d splintered her world.

He’d reminded her of what they’d had. What they’d lost. What she’d have given anything to have again.

Then she’d heard him taking a shower.

Oh, dear Lord, she’d listened to the splash and rush of the water and lain in her own bed, imagining that water pelting off his naked body, sluicing down his chest, across his abdomen and lower and lower.

By the time he’d turned the water off, she was exhausted. Drained. And headed for a long night of little sleep.

Bright and early this morning, she’d dragged herself to the kitchen, peeling her eyes open and propping them up through sheer force of will. It only pissed her
off further to see that Jeff looked well rested and entirely too pleased with himself.

He was enjoying this.

Dammit.

“The carnival’s tomorrow,” Sam said, grabbing her cup and filling it to the brim with rich, dark coffee. She paused a moment, inhaled it slowly, deeply, letting the scent of caffeine jolt through her system. She sighed, took her first sip, and then paused again, relishing the near religious experience of that first morning shot of coffee.

“And . . .”

She looked over at Jeff as he picked up Emma’s cereal bowl and walked with it to the sink.

“And,” Sam said, scooting over a bit so that he could stand at the sink without actually brushing against her. It was too early, she was too sleep deprived, and dammit, she was just too . . . edgy to be able to stand it. “Emma’s looking forward to it. We’ll have a picnic and then watch the fireworks.”

He set the bowl down in the sink, then turned, leaned a hip against the edge of the counter and stared down at her. He smiled as she inched farther away and that was enough to stop Sam in her tracks. She wouldn’t let him know just how nervous he made her.

“Sounds like fun.”

She nodded, saying good-bye to the faint notion that he might not want to attend. Of course he would. He’d want to spend the Fourth of July with Emma. “Okay, then. Tomorrow.”

“What about today?”

Sam looked up at him and immediately wished she hadn’t. He was just too good-looking this early in the
morning. That had always been an irritation, as she remembered it. He rolled out of bed looking rumpled and sexy. She rolled out of bed, hair standing on end, eyes bleary.

More coffee
, she told herself firmly. Taking a sip, she swallowed, then staring down at the inky black surface, she said, “Today, we’re at Grace’s. I have to finish the library walls, Jo’s doing the floor in the study, and Mike’s finishing up the kitchen.”

“Sounds like fun, too.”

“Huh?” She blinked up at him.

He put one finger on the bottom of her coffee cup and tipped it toward her mouth. “More coffee, Sam. It’ll clear the cobwebs.”

“They’re clearing, thanks. What did you say about fun?”

He grinned at her. “I was just thinking about going to the job with you and Emma.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Why?”

“Sam.” He shook his head. “I thought we got past that whole trust thing yesterday.”