The Soldier's Forever Family

His face was close enough for her to feel his breath on her skin. “I know I wasn’t there for you, but I never forgot how good it was between us, even if it was only for a few days. If you—when you talk to Simon someday about how he was conceived, I don’t want him to think it was just a weekend fling.”

When she talked to Simon? If she talked to Simon? His phrasing added to her unease, but he didn’t give her a chance to speak before he closed his mouth over hers with an intensity that implied he’d resisted the temptation as long as he could.

It happened every time Adam kissed her. Her pulse raced, her knees weakened, her skin warmed and tightened, becoming exquisitely sensitized to every point of contact between them. It had been that way six years ago, and time hadn’t changed a thing in that respect. She’d kissed other men in the ensuing years, and some had been quite nice—but she had to concede now that she’d never responded to any other man the way she did to Adam. She couldn’t imagine that she ever would, whatever the outcome of this unplanned reunion. There was something special—unique—about the chemistry between her and Adam Scott. Had been from that meeting on the beach.

Because it was so rare, so fleeting, she seized the opportunity to enjoy. To savor. She gripped his shirt in both hands, rising up on her toes to make her lips more accessible to him. He took full advantage, drawing her into the deepest shadows to give them maximum privacy on the balcony, his arms going around her to pull her high against him.

Whatever difficulties his injuries had left him, his arms were hard and muscled, strong bands around her. Supportive rather than suppressive, they gave her a sense of security rather than concern. His mouth was ravenous, urging rather than demanding. And she responded with a matching hunger of her own.

His tongue plunged. Hers welcomed it. His hands swept. Hers gripped harder. Their legs tangled, bodies pressed more tightly, hearts beat frantically against each other.

This, she thought dazedly. This was what had been missing.

He raised his hands, cupped her face, lifted his mouth only an inch or so away from hers. His eyes glittered feverishly, reflecting what little light penetrated to the corner in which they stood locked together. “It wasn’t a fling,” he repeated roughly.

She blinked, their previous conversation almost erased from her mind by his kisses. When it came back to her, she swallowed hard. Her fingers loosened on his shirt. How did this man keep doing this to her? How did he make her want to climb all over him on her balcony with her child sleeping in the next room? That was so unlike her. Unlike her when she wasn’t with Adam, at least.

Clearing her throat, she dropped her arms and smoothed her palms down her dress. “You should probably go.”

“Yeah. Probably.”

But he didn’t immediately move away. Nor did she. They still stood close enough that she could almost feel the warmth radiating from him. Or was that coming from her?

It would take her only a half step to be back in his arms. Only a tiptoe to raise her mouth to his. The strength of her desire gave her the control she needed to move back, crossing her arms over her chest. She couldn’t have explained why, maybe even to herself, but she was suddenly irrationally annoyed with him—and with herself, for that matter—for making her feel awkward. Out of control. Vulnerable.

“You really should go now, Adam,” she said in a low voice as she turned away. “It’s getting late.” She wasn’t looking at him, but she sensed when he drew back.

“Yeah,” he muttered. “I guess it is.”

“Good night.” She didn’t look around as she spoke—perhaps for fear of what he might read in her expression. She heard him leave, her hands gripping the railing, her gaze fixed unseeingly on what must have been a beautiful vista in front of her.

CHAPTER SEVEN

IT WAS ONE of the most beautiful resorts Maddie had ever visited. The grounds were immaculate, the views spectacular, the staff so squeaky clean and cheery they made her teeth hurt. The place was too family-oriented for her taste, but she wasn’t surprised Joanna liked it so much. Yet six years later, she was still stunned that her sister had indulged in a reckless vacation fling here. It had been so unlike the prim and proper academic Maddie had known. More like something Maddie might have done—and had, though lately she’d been more selective in her hookups.

Frankly, she’d grown tired of flings and was looking for more permanence as she faced the end of her carefree twenties. She just hadn’t found her Mr. Everlasting yet, though she’d always fancied she would know him when she met him. Or maybe she’d just seen too many romantic comedies, she thought with a wry laugh.

She dragged her wheeled duffel out of the Wind Shadow Resort guest relations building late Thursday morning, a key card gripped in her free hand. She’d been informed when she’d called that there’d been a last-minute cancelation for this weekend, freeing up a one-bedroom suite in Gull’s Nest Lodge. Otherwise she’d have had to find a room at a neighboring resort or motel—or crash in Joann

a’s suite, which wouldn’t be fair to Simon. He’d looked forward to this vacation for weeks, and she’d hate for him to give up his bed or feel guilty about his aunt sleeping on the couch.

She wondered if Simon had another aunt on his father’s side. She’d grown used to being his favorite aunt—his only aunt—and she wasn’t thrilled with the idea of having someone else lay claim to that title. She could only imagine how Joanna must feel at the thought of sharing Simon with a man she barely knew. A man who hadn’t even known of Simon’s existence until now. Though that wasn’t Adam’s fault, she added with reluctant fair-mindedness.

Muttering under her breath, she gave a jerk to the duffel. The woman behind the check-in desk had offered to have someone deliver her bag to the suite, but Maddie had declined. She carried her own bags. She looked over her shoulder at her duffel, then turned back to the path ahead, almost too late to avoid colliding with a solid-looking man with a soldier’s haircut and a bulldog’s expression. His rumpled summer-weight suit looked incongruous in the determinedly casual, tropical surroundings. So did his battered leather briefcase.

“Sorry,” he said, though they both knew the clumsiness had been Maddie’s. “Are you okay?”

Stopping in her tracks, she stared up at him, struck by the most unsettling sense of recognition and insight. Well, here you are. Finally. The words hovered in her mind, as certain as they were spontaneous.

She pushed back the longer side of her trendy asymmetrical bob she dyed a defiantly vibrant red. “Yes, I’m fine, thanks. And it was my fault for not looking where I was going.”

Something about the way his deep-set brown eyes studied her face put all her instincts on alert. There was a story here, she’d bet. An interesting one. She was always intrigued by an interesting story. “Are you a guest here, too?” she asked, though he didn’t look as though he were on vacation.

His smile lightened his expression, making him look less like a fierce bulldog and more like a friendly—if potentially obstinate—German shepherd. “No, not a guest,” he said as the whimsical comparisons flitted through her head. “I’m visiting a client. And you?”

“A client?” she repeated. Was he a lawyer? He looked like a lawyer—and she knew more than her share of those. After a few dating disasters, she’d made it a personal rule not to get involved with attorneys. But then again, she’d always been of the rules-were-made-to-be-broken philosophy.

He tucked his briefcase beneath his left arm, then extended his right hand. “Walt Becker. Attorney at law.”