by Arden, Susan
Each time she tried to speak, her words came out unintentionally flippant. She chewed her bottom lip, then tried again. “It’s not that the playroom gets to be out-of-control, but you’ll soon see that Isabella enjoys playing with several toys at once.”
He nodded. “And?”
“If you can, try to keep activities out of our daughter’s reach. Take down games one at a time. You might have a fighting chance of controlling the mess. She’s crazy for puzzles right now, so you’ll have to stock up on those. Then again, she might be over them three weeks from now. I can’t stress how important structure is for a child this young.”
“I’m sure you can give me a shopping list. Anything else?” He arched a brow at her, making her face heat.
“Under no circumstances—never, ever, ever—should you give her any type of clay or dough when other toys are out. You’ll have to throw everything out. The same goes for paints and markers. Our child must be a supervised artist in the making, and well contained in a sea of newspaper. I hope you’re hearing what I’m saying.”
He smiled over at her, his dimples playing havoc with her attention. “I’m sure I’ll learn.” The cocky way he spoke to her made her quiver.
She faltered in her tracks, and her heart raced. “Yes, you will. This learning curve isn’t just steep. It’s never-ending. Now that you’ve needled your way into our lives, Rob, you don’t have a choice. This job doesn’t come with a set of instructions. There’s no manual in print. so I suggest you take what I’m saying as good advice.”
As she reached for the doorknob, he closed the distance between them. His hands were on her, hauling her against him. The hammering of her heart beat so furiously, she swore it was about to explode. His eyes glinted and his hand was a hot band around her wrist. Why on Earth had she imagined that talking down to him would do anything except incite a chemical meltdown? Is this what she wanted? Dear God. Yes, it was.
“It’s been a long time since we’ve…talked. I’m not some paid caregiver you’ve hired. I’m our child’s father. I’ve got my parents and sisters if I can’t get hold of you. Don’t think for a minute that I’m going to let you speak to me with any type of edge to your voice. And certainly, not in front of our child. I won’t do that to you.” His breath was hot on her face.
Rob’s eyes bore holes into the suit of armor she cast around her emotions. And worst of all, he was right. In this persona, she was the spitting image of her father. A mirror image of what she’d grown up with, and promised she’d never become.
She swallowed, but the lump didn’t disappear from her throat. “You’re right. We must be civil to one another.”
He nodded, leaning nearer, close enough for his scent to overwhelm her. His strong fingers on her arm weren’t at all discomfiting; in fact, his warm touch had the opposite effect. She wanted to reach out and run her hands over his chest, snake her arms around his neck.
Her body was filled with an exhilarating hum. An exciting tingling. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to infer you were inept. Having you here is slightly unsettling.”
“I know this is all strange and new. I appreciate your advice. You know our child the best, and of course I’ll come to you if I’ve got any questions.”
The curl of his lips made her chest clench. A slender, delicate thread began to form between them. The sound of his voice tangled her thoughts with a rippling current that affected her deeply. Always had and probably always would.
She didn’t want to fight over Isabella or demean him by demonstrating how much more capable she was as a parent. Before coming down the hall, her anger had baited her. Yet now, standing next to Rob, she trembled, raw and hurt.
“How should I introduce you? She’s so young.” Her voice trailed off as he drew her closer.
“God, Sam,” he murmured. He kissed her cheek, and his arm encircled her waist, pulling her up against him. “I’m sorry, Cynthia.”
She listened to his heartbeat, rapid and strong. He squeezed her waist, grazing his lips over her face, stopping at the corner of her mouth. She’d sought to erect a mile-high wall of defense against him, but with one hug he busted right through where she lay most vulnerable. Pressed against his body, she exposed her heart. It was his move. She had nowhere to run except back into his arms. “It’s all right. Sometimes I don’t even know who I am,” she whispered, softening with each passing moment.
“I’m not going anywhere, Cynthia. I’m sorry I didn’t call you. I thought you were just looking for a crazy night before you buckled down and became the next high-powered VP of your father’s business. I never knew you were headed down the same road as me, seeking a real life of your own. If I had known that, I never would have left. In fact, I turned around the evening we made love. I went back to your place that night, but just as I pulled up, I saw you driving away. I was getting out of my car, and you sped by without looking over.”
“You did? God, I had no idea. My mother was rushed to the hospital that night. I flew back to Miami.” Unable to go on, she reached up and placed a hand over her mouth. Her eyes closed as she held the cutting emotion in check. “She passed away the next day.”
“I’m so sorry. I never knew. I left, and accepted the first assignment that had me out of the country. I was gone for a good month, wanting to get away when I thought I was headed in the wrong direction, sinking fast in the wrong world. Seeing you drive away that night, I thought you were blowing off steam. It would have been wrong to pull you down with me. I was blind to what was right in front of my nose. I guess I should have had more faith in you, in the potential of us.”
“We were both searching for something.” She hesitated, torn by confusion.
Everything had shifted again. Rob wasn’t the man who had left after one night of passion—he was the man who’d felt unwanted, just like she had. The stakes had been too high in their minds and, not knowing each other well enough, they were unwilling to risk reaching out to one another. Except, now, he was willing to take that risk. Even as she’d semi-lectured him, he was strong enough to assure her he wasn’t there to prove a point. He was there to be a father to their daughter.
Her stomach ached from her idiotic assumption that she needed an attorney to protect her from Rob. What she really needed was protection from herself—Cynthia Cainwright.She couldn’t pretend. She was like her father in that regard, trying to control the outcome without trusting the actual person involved. Rob wanted her to trust him. Could she trust herself? That’s what she needed to know.
“We didn’t even know each other,” Rob whispered. “We can fix that now.” He kissed her softly on the lips. “There’s nothing wrong with doing things a little out of order, right?”
She didn’t resist as his warm mouth sipped expertly, demanding nothing. She held on to him and tried to think, but it was impossible to do so.
“Baby,” he moaned. “We can be more than just civil. I want much more when you’re ready.”
“I-I don’t know what to say.”
“Then don’t say a word.”
He swung her against the wall, trailing his mouth over her jaw, sliding slowly back to her mouth. He licked at her skin, nipped her bottom lip, sucked the refusal right out of her mouth. He pushed open her lips with his tongue, taking without asking.
Cynthia ran her hands up his arms. She tasted him, sucking his tongue deeper into her mouth. A sensation flared, and the last remnant of her resistance fell apart. Was it desire? Lust. Need. She ground her hips against him, finding his erection, hard and prodding against her belly. He moved an inch, just enough to rub his cock against her in all the right ways. In another second, he’d make her explode. So close right now, the fiery glow bore down. “Please,” she whispered.
“Baby, tell me what you want. I know damned well what I’d like to do to you.”
His hands eased under her dress, flames burst past the brush of his fingers between her legs. This man could easily break her. If she didn’t get control of herself, she’d be t
he one to crash again. Another inch, and he’d find her. So wet. So ready.
Her hands were on his arms, squeezing as she pushed away. Their eyes met, and he traced the edge of her mouth, wiping away her resistance. “I understand. You drive me crazy. That hasn’t changed.”
“We’d better go check on Isabella.” She entered the playroom, taking several deep breaths, praying for a sense of calm to prevail. “Hey, baby doll,” she said to Isabella.
“Hi, Mommy.” Isabella wrinkled her nose and held up a half-dressed doll.
Children’s music played in the background, and Cynthia turned it down. “Isabella, our guest has arrived. Say hello to your, uh…to Rob.”
Isabella beamed. “Hello. You can play with me?”
Rob nodded. “I was hoping you’d ask.”
“Look at these. I need some help.” Isabella smiled and slid over toward him.
“I can sure try.” Rob gazed at Isabella for a few seconds. She nodded, and he sat on the floor next to their daughter, then crossed his legs.
Cynthia moved over to sit next to him.
Isabella wasted no time. “You can do this one.” Isabella handed him a puzzle piece, which he figured meant he was invited to help her finish one of the several puzzles spread out on the carpet.
“How does that look?” Rob asked.
“Good. Do another.”
Rob picked up another board and cleared away a space on the floor in front of them. “How about if you go get the pieces?” he asked.
“Okay.” Isabella pushed herself up, using Rob’s leg for leverage. She came back with several puzzle pieces. “Lots more,” she laughed.
Cynthia’s throat ached, yet she couldn’t let go of old fears that were pulling her into a pit of insecurity. She reached to the side and opened a drawer, and took out a polished box. She sat down on the other side of Rob, sandwiching Isabella between them. She waited for Rob and Isabella to finish the puzzle.
“Mommy, you help too.”
“There’re two boards. Which one do you want?” Rob held out the wooden puzzle frames, his eyes like a gentle breeze cascading over her.
“Which one should I do, Bella?” Cynthia asked, shifting her focus to the little puzzle master.
Rob’s eyes widened. “A nickname? How appropriate,” he murmured.
“You can do Dora.”
“That means you’re doing SpongeBob. It’s her favorite,” Cynthia whispered.
Rob winked, playing the part of a fellow conspirator.
Isabella was quite the little go-getter, fetching pieces left and right from seemingly every corner of the room, and they finished completing the puzzles before tidying up the space.
“Not too terribly difficult for the first time. I sense there’s a whole lot more that goes on behind the scenes.” He tunneled a set of fingers through his thick hair leaving it in a sexy disarray. She longed to tug his hair with both of her hands while he bent over her, pressing into her.
The hollows of his face were predominant in the shadows, and her gaze traced his skin down the sinews of his neck. Still broad shouldered with muscular arms that had squeezed her, making her tremble in delight. His whole body had once commanded her, and she remembered all too vividly screaming his name. Several times.
She’d had a few dates over the last years. None of the men had made her throb, or ache with hunger the way he had. There beside Rob, she absorbed that his body took up a vast portion of the playroom. His masculinity piqued her awareness. A stark contrast to everything in her home, and her life.
“What shall we do next?” he asked, placing his hand on the wall behind her head.
She shook the box in her hands. “Here. Something to help us decide.” She then pressed the box into his hand.
He turned it over, then peeked over at Isabella and smiled. “It’s your turn to help me now, little one,” he said.
Isabella rushed over and bumped into Rob. He swung his arm around her and lifted up to sit on his knee. He held the box on his palm.
He whispered. “Too small for a crystal ball.”
Isabella laughed and removed the top. “Pretty,” she exclaimed taking out the coin.
Rob glanced up at Sam, smiling. “You kept it.”
“I thought I’d give it to Isabella when she was grown. You gave me this half-dollar trying to help me decide which road to take. Hard to believe, that the flip of a coin could change our lives.”
“More than luck. We’re the real deal. This coin is more than you know.” He held her gaze.
She bit her lip, trying not to let him infiltrate her heart and soul. If anything, she had to admit she was buoyed by the confidence he displayed.
All the weight from her shoulders felt as if was flittering away. It had been like that the first time they’d met. An instant connection. A bond that had never left her.
This bond was deeply forged inside her body, even though for a long time it had been frozen, but not severed. All this time, she’d put aside her emotions, and then, seeing Rob, her heart had begun to thaw. His touch, his words, and his admission that he desired her lit a fire in her heart. Her whole body radiated from a craving and hunger that only he had satisfied. Only he could quench.
No matter how much she yearned for him, she stalled in giving in to the desire to wipe clean the past. This time, she wasn’t alone. She had Isabella to think about. Cynthia teetered on the fence, unsure if she was willing to risk the hurt she’d already experienced. How to bridge that gap was the actual puzzle that needed solving.
“Isabella, are you hungry, honey?”
“Yes, Mommy.”
* * *
Dinner went better than expected. Rob and Isabella were captivated by each other. Cynthia silently thrilled, watching what it was like for Isabella to interact with her very own father. She wanted to slap herself in the forehead for having been so foolish, so selfish, so scared that she’d kept the two of them apart. All children deserve two parents, she thought, then stiffened. Two loving parents. To have deprived her little girl of a daddy because of her own jackass fears had been a mistake, and she desperately hoped time could mend the wounds she’d caused. She couldn’t repair the past, but she would do better in the future.
She prayed Rob wouldn’t let them down. Trust was a slippery slope, and she was out past her comfort zone. He was everything she would have wanted from this side of the table. A cautionary voice reminded her, they were all on their best behavior.
She cleared the table, and this time he didn’t push his hands into his pockets and make a move to leave. “Coffee?” she asked. “Or I’ve got an after-dinner drink if you’d like one.”
“I don’t drink anymore. Gave it up when I decided to live my life differently. Coffee sounds good though, but I don’t want to overstay my welcome.”
“It’s still early. Dinner with a young child affords plenty of free time in the evening. I like it, I guess. After Isabella goes to bed, I spend my evenings writing. Our schedule works out really well, considering.”
“Considering?”
“Considering that I work at home.” She waited to hear him say something, but he remained silent.
“Do you mind if I take a look at the photographs over there?” Rob then moved over to the built-in bookshelves and picked up a picture frame. He studied it and she wandered over to his side.
“Oh, brother. Please don’t say a word.” She looked away, unable to fathom what she saw in his eyes.
“You were so beautiful when you were pregnant. Not that you aren’t now.” He continued to stare at the photograph. A tender expression etched his face. “You were absolutely glowing.”
“I had an easy pregnancy.” She turned toward him, willing to risk a peek. He gazed at her with a glazed look in his eyes.
“How much did Isabella weigh?”
“Seven pounds, seven ounces, and she was nineteen inches long.”
“I’m sorry I wasn’t there to help you.” He put the picture back on the shelf.
“That wasn’t your fault. If you want we can make a scrapbook of pictures from the last three years. Please, don’t make this harder. I’m sorry, as well. If things could be different, they would.” She twisted her hands.
Chapter 12
He stayed, offering to help get Isabella ready for bed. Anything to prolong the moments before he’d have to leave his daughter, and Cynthia.
Sure, he needed to learn what happened when their daughter was ready to go to sleep. So many routines. In truth, the questions plaguing him centered more on the mother of his child. Was he daft? First kissing Cynthia, and ever since, a smoldering flame began to burn—each moment brighter and hotter. Slow down, he kept repeating to himself. To no damned avail.
Focus. Isabella was the one in need. He asked Cynthia questions about Isabella to keep his mind occupied. They attended church and said prayers. Read bedtime stories. They were involved with Cynthia’s cousins and an aunt. He glanced around his daughter’s playroom, and waited while Cynthia dressed Isabella for bed.
“Where are you?” Isabella voice rang out. He stepped into the hallway. His daughter skipped out of her bedroom dressed in pink, polka-dotted pajamas and slippers. “Rob, I see you.”
His heart tugged. She raced down the hall with her arms outstretched to him, and when he caught her, she hugged him as hard as she could in her little arms. He felt her heart beating against his, and his heart swelled.
She giggled and screeched, “Save me!”
“Isabella, come back here and help me pick up your clothes,” her mother called in singsong.
“I think we’d better go help your mommy,” Rob whispered.
She nodded and buried her head in his shoulder, laughing and hugging him tightly.
