by Sherry Lewis
Did that mean he was ready to tell her about the past? She studied his eyes, trying to find the answer there, but he gave nothing away. Instead, he glanced down at Marissa. “What are you doing, little one?”
Marissa buried her face in Adam’s leg and refused to answer. Having two men vying for her attention after spending her entire life surrounded by women was obviously too much for the little girl to understand.
She gently touched Marissa’s hair and filled the space left empty by her daughter’s refusal to speak. “She’s been learning to ride her bike, haven’t you, sweetheart?”
Marissa nodded without lifting her face from Adam’s leg.
Larry hunkered down to Marissa’s level and softened his tone a little. “You know, I’m pretty good at riding bikes. Do you want me to show you how?”
DJ silently urged Marissa to do something—to lift her head and smile, to accept Larry’s offer, something to take away the sting of her rejection.
But the child only shook her head and sidled a step or two away.
Larry inched closer. “I could show you real good.”
Marissa shook her head again and clutched the denim of Adam’s pant leg with one hand.
DJ moved her hand to touch her daughter’s shoulder. “Marissa’s a little shy around strangers, but she’ll warm up. Give her time.”
Larry straightened slowly. His mouth tightened in a scowl and he looked almost challengingly at Adam. DJ knew that Marissa’s attachment to Adam hadn’t gone unnoticed.
“We’re all through riding bikes for tonight, anyway,” DJ said quickly. “In fact, we were just about to go inside.”
Larry turned his gaze toward her and smoothed the back of his hair with his palm. “Good idea. It’s getting cold out here.”
As if she could feel Larry’s attention waning, Marissa released Adam’s pant leg. DJ smiled with relief and told herself again that Marissa just needed time to adjust to having Larry around. They both needed time, and if Larry would only be patient, everything would work out. But when Marissa raised her arms to Adam and Larry’s face clouded with anger, DJ knew he wouldn’t be content to wait for her daughter’s attention as long as Adam was around.
Adam hesitated for an instant, then picked Marissa up. She buried her face in his shoulder and wrapped her tiny arms around his neck.
Larry’s scowl deepened, but he turned a thin smile toward DJ. “Mind if I come inside for a while?”
She could see the effort it cost him to look pleasant, but she appreciated the attempt. “Of course not. I just got home from work a few minutes ago, so we haven’t eaten yet. Do you want to stay for dinner?”
“Love to.” He turned slowly to face Adam and lifted an eyebrow. “Unless you mind me hanging around.”
Adam shook his head, but he didn’t look as if the idea pleased him. “Not at all.”
DJ suppressed a groan. Marissa’s reaction to Larry would make the evening difficult enough. But two grown men arguing like children over a favorite toy wouldn’t make things any easier.
Well, she wouldn’t add to the mix. She forced a note of brightness into her voice and clapped her hands. “Good. Why don’t I order pizza? Unless someone else is in the mood to cook—?”
To her relief, Adam grinned. “Pizza sounds great to me.”
“It’s fine with me, too,” Larry said.
Marissa turned her face away from Adam’s neck and spoke for the first time since Larry’s arrival. “I like pizza, Mommy.”
DJ’s hopes rose a notch. “I know you do, sweetheart. Pepperoni, right?”
Adam pulled back and smiled down at Marissa with such a soft expression, DJ’s heart melted.
“Pepperoni’s all right,” he said. “If we can add black olives. What do you think, DJ? Pepperoni and black olives?”
“And mushrooms,” she agreed.
Raising one eyebrow in mock horror, Adam looked back down at Marissa. “Mushrooms? She likes mushrooms?”
Marissa giggled at the look on his face. “I like ’em, too.”
“You do?” He pretended to scowl, which earned even more giggles from Marissa. “Well, all right, then. Pepperoni, black olives and mushrooms.” But when he turned to Larry again, the light in his eyes dulled and his teasing expression vanished. “Anything else?”
Larry met the question with a scowl. “I’m allergic to black olives. Can’t eat ’em.”
He looked so argumentative, DJ wondered briefly whether he had an allergy to black olives or to Adam. At least Adam was making some effort to be pleasant Larry didn’t seem inclined to budge an inch.
DJ refused to let the selection of pizza toppings disintegrate into an argument. “I’ll order two large pizzas. One with olives and one without.”
Now that Adam had teased her out of her shyness, Marissa seemed more herself. “And we can have leftovers for breakfast, can’t we, Mommy?”
“I don’t see why not. We should have plenty left.”
“Leftover pizza for breakfast?” Adam grinned at Marissa and wriggled his eyebrows. “How did you know that’s what I like best in the whole world?”
Marissa giggled. “I didn’t, silly. That’s what my mommy likes.”
Adam’s lips curved into a lazy smile that made DJ’s heart race again. “You like pizza in the mornings, too?”
She couldn’t believe the effect he had on her. The mere sight of him brought her senses to life. The sound of his voice made her heart skip a beat. And even the whispery touch of his hand against hers made her breath catch in her throat. She tried to look away from his gaze and ignore the rising desire to kiss him again, but with no success.
He didn’t look away, either. “Warm or cold?”
“What?”
“Do you like your leftover pizza warm or cold?”
“Cold.”
Adam winked at her and hoisted Marissa a little farther in his arms. “I’m a cold-pizza man, myself. What about you, Marissa?”
“Cold.”
“I knew it. A woman of taste and quality.” He grinned at her and chucked Marissa under the chin.
“Warm,” Larry said, and the coolness in his voice instantly shattered the spell woven by the heat in Adam’s.
For the second time, DJ had to push aside a flash of irritation at Larry’s determination to challenge Adam.
Adam didn’t seem to notice. “We’re not going to have any pizza if we don’t order it. Right?”
Marissa grinned. “Right.”
“All right. Let’s go order.” He started up the steps toward the front door.
Marissa wriggled from his arms and ran toward the door. “Will you play a game with me until the food gets here?”
Adam slowed his steps slightly. “What kind of game?”
“I want you to see how Holly chases her ball and how good I can throw it for her.” Reaching for his hand, she tugged him through the door.
They looked so natural together that, for just a moment, DJ let herself imagine a life with Adam. Since her divorce, she’d half-jokingly maintained that it would take a very special man to make her willing to give up half her closet space and put up with whiskers in her bathroom sink. For the first time since Jeff had left, she was actually considering both. Or maybe she was doing exactly what she feared most—looking to someone else to make her problems seem smaller. If that was what she was doing, even inadvertently, she had to stop now. Adam was a good man—he deserved to be loved, not used.
She started to follow them into the house, but Larry touched her arm and jerked his head in the opposite direction. “Mind if I ask you a question before we go inside?”
“No. Of course not. What is it?”
He led her a couple of steps away and glanced over his shoulder, as if he thought Adam might come back to eavesdrop. “I took a little walk around your place the other day.”
“You did? When?”
He waved the question away with one hand. “I don’t remember. The point is, you’ve got quite the setup here.”
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“Thank you.” DJ tried not to let his admission bother her, but she couldn’t help wondering whether he’d looked around before or after he’d introduced himself, and why she hadn’t noticed him.
“Big,” he said. “Must be worth quite a little bit.” He turned to look the place over again.
DJ forced a smile. “There are other places much bigger.”
“Are you managing all right on your own?”
The question made her uncomfortable. She had no idea how to answer. “Yes,” she said at last. “Fine.”
“Do you need any help?”
She shrugged and struggled not to let her resentment show. “Not really. I’ve got a great staff—”
“No,” he interrupted quickly. “I mean…Well…” He looked slightly uncomfortable, as if he didn’t know how to say what was on his mind. “Sometimes men don’t like taking orders from a woman, you know what I mean? And I got to thinkin’ that maybe I could help you out with that aspect.”
This time, she couldn’t hide her reaction. She pulled back a little and stared at him in disbelief. “I don’t have any trouble with my employees.”
He winked at her and grinned. “Well, maybe not. None that you know about, anyway.” He lifted his cap and scratched his head. “Think about it. Having me around to help might make things easier on you. Take some of the burden off your shoulders. Help keep your people in line.”
She tried reminding herself that Larry came from a different generation, when comments like the ones he’d made had been acceptable—even expected. But she couldn’t hide her growing resentment. “My ‘people’ aren’t out of line, and even if they were, I’m perfectly capable of handling any trouble on my own.”
He obviously heard the ice in her tone, because he studied her face for several seconds, and she watched as enlightenment dawned in his eyes. “I didn’t mean that. I just meant—” His expression sobered and he darted a glance around, then leaned closer. “Look, the truth is, I’m a little short on cash. I’m not one to ask for a handout, but I figured maybe you could use an extra hand at the store, that’s all.”
“You want a job?”
He nodded quickly. “Yeah. Doing whatever you need. I was just kidding about the other. That’s one thing you don’t know about me yet—I’m a real ladder.”
DJ struggled to catch up with the new twist in the conversation. How could she say no? But how could she say yes? She couldn’t afford another employee on the payroll.
“Working together would give us a chance to spend more time together. We could talk. Catch up. Who knows…?”
DJ tried not to let herself read too much into the suggestion. She didn’t want to set herself up for disappointment, but she had to take a chance, didn’t she?
She drew in a steadying breath and smiled. “Of course I’ll give you a job, Larry. And I could use help.”
“Perfect. I knew it. You won’t be sorry, you’ll see.”
She let him drape an arm across her shoulders and lead her up the steps, and she told herself the emotion in his eyes was relief, not triumph.
ADAM WORKED THE lid on the pizza box closed and watched Galloway through lowered eyes. The older man sat with his hands laced across his belly and his eyes closed. He looked relaxed and happy, totally unconcerned about the turmoil he’d caused DJ.
The more contact Adam had with the guy, the less he liked him and the less he trusted him. He’d been watching all through dinner, just waiting for Galloway to say or do something incriminating. But Larry had been more than careful. He’d given nothing away.
Holding up the pizza box, Adam asked, “Mind if I put this away now?”
Galloway opened one eye and focused slowly. “I guess not. But I might have another piece later.”
Adam couldn’t even pretend surprise. Larry had already eaten more for dinner than anyone else in the house. He forced a smile and worked the box into the refrigerator. Turning back, he caught a glimpse of DJ and Marissa in the hallway, arguing softly about bedtime.
He could tell Marissa didn’t want to go, but he didn’t know whether she was more worried about missing some of the excitement or about being alone. Whatever the reason, tears streamed down her tiny face and sobs racked her small body.
Adam tried to ignore her tears. He’d never been good at dealing with crying women and children. Instinct always told him to do something when problems arose. Tears left him feeling huge and clumsy and hopelessly inept.
“I w-w-want more p-p-pizza,” Marissa sobbed. “I d-d-don’t w-w-want to go to b-b-bed.”
“Oh, sweetheart,” DJ said with a sigh, “your tummy’s already so full you’ll probably be sick tonight.”
Marissa sniffled and shook her head. “Uh-uh.”
“You’ve had enough. And if you don’t get into bed now, we won’t be able to go to the zoo tomorrow.”
“But, Mommy, I c-c-can’t.” The tears started all over again.
Adam stifled a groan and tried to look away, but he couldn’t shut out the image of the child’s tearstreaked face or ignore the sound of her sobbing.
As if she sensed Adam watching, Marissa glanced at him. Her big eyes filled with hope. “I can’t go to bed until I say night to Adam.”
DJ glared at him as if she suspected he’d planted the idea in Marissa’s head.
Shrugging, he lifted both hands to show his innocence.
DJ didn’t look particularly impressed, but she patted Marissa on the back and scooted her into the kitchen. “All right, but say good-night quickly. No thinking of a dozen other things you need to do while you’re out here.” As Marissa scampered toward Adam, she added, “Say good-night to Larry, too.”
At the mention of his name, Larry sat up and opened his eyes again. He leaned forward and held out his arms as if he expected Marissa to turn to him. Instead, she darted away and skidded to a halt in front of Adam.
He stooped down and smiled. “Good night, Marissa.”
To his surprise, she launched herself at him and threw her arms around his neck. He touched one hand to the floor to keep his balance, and put the other arm around her. He hadn’t been told good-night with such enthusiasm for a long time—if ever.
She pulled far enough back to look into his eyes. “Will you tell me a beddie-bye ’tory?”
A story? No. He couldn’t remember any stories. Too many years had passed since he’d read to his brother’s children—and even then he hadn’t done it often.
To his relief, DJ stepped in to save him. “Oh, no, you don’t,” she said to Marissa. “I see what you’re up to, but it’s time for bed. Right now.”
Larry leaned into the conversation. “You like stories, do you?”
At the sound of his voice, Marissa stiffened against Adam. Touching a finger to the tip of her nose, Adam winked, and she managed a trembling smile in return.
Larry went on, oblivious as always. “I used to tell my little girl stories all the time. I know a hundred of ’em. Come on over here. I’ll tell you one.”
Marissa shook her head almost imperceptibly, then raised her hands to cup Adam’s face. “Tell me just one ’tory? P’ease?”
“Forget about him, missy,” Larry said, his voice sounding stiff and a little loud. “He doesn’t want to tell you a story. Come over here.” He propped his elbows on his knees and reached for her.
She took another step closer to Adam and clutched the back of his shirt.
Adam looked up at DJ, willing her to do something. Marissa so obviously didn’t like Galloway, and was so obviously frightened of him, Adam couldn’t understand why DJ didn’t tell Larry to leave the child alone. But she looked almost as helpless as Marissa, and even a little sad.
He reminded himself that DJ’s childhood yearnings had probably blinded her to Galloway’s faults, just as Adam’s knowledge of the man’s past probably made him more paranoid. “I don’t know any good stories,” he confessed to Marissa. “But I’ll read you one.”
Marissa scowled at him. “I don�
�t want you to read a ’tory. I want a made-up ’tory.”
“I don’t know how to make up good stories.”
The girl’s frown deepened and her brows knit together. “Yes, you do.”
“No, I don’t.”
“Everybody knows how to make up ’tories—’specially you. You’re a book writer.”
Caught in his lie, Adam flushed and glanced at DJ to gauge her reaction.
To his relief, she laughed. “Marissa’s right. You’re an author, for heaven’s sake. Don’t try to tell us you can’t make up stories.”
He stood slowly. “Not kids’ stories.”
But DJ grinned as if this were all a grand joke. “Are you going to tell me you’ve never made up any stories?”
That was exactly what he wanted to tell her. But he could only smile in resignation and hold out a hand to Marissa. He didn’t want to call any more attention to his mistake.
Marissa grabbed one finger and tugged him toward the door. “Come on.”
He racked his memory for any fairy tale he could remember from beginning to end. He had no idea how any story he could make up would satisfy this child, who had no doubt heard every story imaginable a thousand times.
Marissa led him down the darkened corridor into a small bedroom-turned-family-room. DJ had wedged a love seat, two comfortable-looking chairs and a few floor lamps between sets of overfilled bookshelves—as if the books had come first and seating arrangements had been an afterthought. Almost forgotten, and certainly not the focal point of the room, a small television set occupied one corner.
In fact, as he studied the room, he realized books dominated every surface. They didn’t stand in rigid rows on shelves the way he’d always imagined books should. These lay on their sides and filled every shelf in rows two deep. Paperbacks and hardcovers trailed into neat piles onto the end tables and the floor, as if they’d multiplied in the night when nobody was watching.
Adam could feel DJ in here, and he knew instinctively that the woman who lived in this room was as much a part of her as the woman in the plaid flannel shirt, the overalls and the work boots, the woman who was Marissa’s mother and the woman who ran a business with one hand and a home with the other.
