by Mindy Neff
They walked in silence for a while, a comfortable silence, lulled by the roar of the surf and the excited cries of children building sand castles and darting to and fro.
“What do you hear from your brother, Sam?” Adam asked.
“Not much. And not often enough. You know he’s a jet jockey now out of Miramar.”
“A top gun, huh?”
“Yes, and has the cocky attitude to go with it.”
“And you’re proud as punch.”
“Absolutely. Does it show?” She grinned up at him.
“Just a tad. You did good by him, half pint.”
“Mmm.” She accepted the admiration. “He did his part, too, though. He had the drive and determination to make something of himself. I’d saved enough of the life-insurance money from Mom and Dad to get him started in college. The U.S. government picked up the rest. Sam graduated at the head of his class. He claims he’s a natural with the jets, that he’s got the touch.“
“Doesn’t surprise me. His sister’s got a pretty great touch, too.”
“Thank you for the compliment, but I think we’re talking about two entirely different touches. You wouldn’t get me in one of those screaming jets for any amount of money. There’s something so thrilling about them, an excitement that just encompasses you when you watch them, but I’d just as soon have my feet firmly on the ground.”
“You don’t like to fly?”
“A commercial airliner might be fun. Safety in numbers and all that.” She shrugged. “I’m not really sure, though. I’ve never been far enough from home to have a reason to fly.” She gazed out over the ocean. “I’ve always thought Hawaii would be a great place to visit. Maybe we could—” She broke off, realizing what she’d said. She didn’t want to shoot the easy mood between them. She knew they had to live each day as it came, that the future was so damned shaky.
Change the subject, she thought, her heart racing. Quick.
“Speaking of choices and young boys who make it out of the hood, what are we going to do about Lamar? He only made it to class two days out of five last week.”
“We?” Adam asked, his brows raised in exaggerated astonishment. “You’re actually including me in this?”
“Don’t get cute.” She bumped him with her hip and ended up setting herself off balance. Adam grabbed her before she landed in the surf.
“I could make a phone call. The INS frowns on sweatshops who don’t even pay minimum wage. They’d shut it down in a heartbeat.”
Molly frowned on that sort of thing, too. “Then do it.”
“It’d mean Lamar would be out of a job.”
“Yes, but he’d be in school.”
“Maybe.”
She glanced at Adam, wondering at his tone. “Do you know something I don’t?”
“Hey, I’m L through P, remember? Castillo’s your case.”
She grinned. “Got to you when I told you I intended to watch over your shoulder, didn’t it.”
“As if you could even see over my shoulder, half pint.”
She sent a spray of seawater in his direction, drenching them both. He laughed and hooked his arm around her waist, hauling her into his arms, protecting himself from another drenching.
Her feet were suspended off the ground, the fronts of their bodies pressed from chest to thigh. “Now how mighty are you?”
“I’d show you, but I’m too busy enjoying the feel of your hot body.”
“Woman, you are shameless.”
“You love it and you know it.”
“Yeah. I do.” His head lowered, his lips taking exactly what she offered so freely, so lovingly. She clung to him, wrapping her legs around his waist, uncaring that they were on a public beach with tourists and locals skirting them, surfers sitting on boards waiting to catch a wave.
Her hands cupped his beautiful face, and her fingers tunneled in his hair. She angled her head and took the kiss much further than either of them had anticipated. Their breaths mingled and tongues mated. Sunshine rained down on them, warming her body as love warmed her heart.
When it was necessary to come up for air, she still held him, with her hands and her legs and her eyes. The thrill of his touch trembled inside of her, shaking her right down to her bare toes.
Adam cleared his throat. “I like the way you play, lady.”
“I wasn’t playing,” she whispered with what little breath she had left. “That was for keeps.”
Longing, fierce and swift, flashed in her eyes, a longing he didn’t think he deserved.
He let her slide down the front of his body, slowly, as if it pained him to do so. Molly took his hand, resuming their steps and their conversation as if there hadn’t been a sensual hiatus, determined to keep any hint of sadness at bay. “What if we helped Lamar find something else? Another job with decent hours?”
“Might be tough to do on the up-and-up. He’s only fourteen. Will the school issue a work permit?”
“Not till he’s fifteen.”
“Let me give it some thought,” Adam said. And still, Molly got the strangest impression he knew more about Lamar than he was telling.
Chapter Ten
The hallways of his house didn’t echo anymore, Adam realized. There were rugs on the floors and beds in the rooms. Heavy, depressing drapes had been yanked down and replaced by lace valances and fabric-lined shades. Molly had accomplished a hell of a lot in just two weeks.
The biggest change, the most noticeable to Adam, though, was his bedroom. Molly’s perfume bottles now cluttered his dresser, and her clothes hung in his closet. She’d just bulldozed right over his protests and insinuated herself smack in the middle of his life.
“Just try and budge me,” she’d said when he’d attempted to insert a measure of caution.
The fear of his body betraying him, going haywire and out of his control, scared the hell out of him. He hated living in limbo this way, sometimes wished that whatever was going to happen would just do it and be done with it.
But that would mean being without Molly. And he wasn’t ready to give her up.
He shook his head and set aside his thoughts, picking his way around the tools left behind by the electricians and painters. The sprinkler company had been out to retrofit the east wing, which would house Molly’s teens. Adam had people cutting through reams of red tape to speed up the certification process, and the attorneys were drawing up a new deed to transfer ownership from his name to Molly’s.
She’d fallen right in with each process with her usual verve and whirlwind style—except for the last one. She didn’t want clear title to the house. She’d told him that was negative thinking, that he was sticking himself in the grave before it was necessary, and she refused to even think about it.
But that was reality, and Adam needed to prepare for reality. He hadn’t felt that odd hum of pain or the electromagnetic sensation as often lately, but he had felt the weakness. Without warning, it seemed to just hit him.
So far, he’d managed to hide it from Molly. He didn’t know how much longer that would be possible.
He found her in the kitchen, hands on hips, her full lips pursed, staring at the commercial stove as if she expected it to spit out a gourmet meal like magic.
He grinned. Damn, she was special. “Looks plenty big to me,” he said. “You gonna whip up a crowd-size batch of fried chicken, or what?”
She turned, her brows still drawn together. Every time he looked at her, his gut did a flip. He never knew what to expect and he loved it.
“Are you kidding? I’m the one who brings pizza, remember? This thing’s got so many gadgets, it’s scary.”
“Can’t feed teenagers a steady diet of pizza, half pint. Even though they probably wouldn’t complain.”
“I know.” Her voice was so forlorn, he automatically went to her. She plopped down at the kitchen table and rested her forehead on her palm.
“What’s wrong?” He squatted next to her chair, gave the braid that hung down her back a gent
le tug.
“I’ve gotten so caught up in all of this, the excitement of remodeling, I mean. You can’t imagine how fun it is to have free rein with somebody else’s money—” She stopped, glancing at him with concern. “How are we doing budget-wise? I’ve tried to keep the costs down, but—”
“Don’t worry about money. I had a sizable inheritance, remember?” Jason North’s. “The government paid big bucks over their screwup. What else is bothering you?”
“I didn’t think this through. Adam, I love my teaching job and I don’t want to give it up. But the kids will need someone here. Who’s going to run this place?”
He’d already had a few thoughts on that subject. “How about Eddie Martinez’s mom. I did a little checking up on him—”
“Elena,” she interrupted, reaching out to pat his cheek. “How perfect. I once tried to get her to go to a shelter, but she wouldn’t. Said she wouldn’t take charity. Her husband’s abusive—it spills over onto Eddie. But I could pay her and…”
She jumped up and kissed Adam smack on the lips. Hard. And not nearly long enough. He reached for her, but she was already charging off in another direction. Hell, she was hard to keep up with.
“You’re a genius!” She snatched up her purse and hooked it over her shoulder.
“Where are you going?”
“To see Elena Martinez.”
“Molly, it’s eight o’clock at night, for crying out loud.”
“So?”
“So, wait for the sun, why don’t you?”
“She’ll be at work then. Best time to catch her would be now.”
She rushed over and kissed him again, absently—on the cheek, damn it. Her mind was already tearing off in another direction, another cause.
“Seems to me we’ve had this discussion about the dangers of inner-city streets at night.”
“Don’t be silly. Elena Martinez walks those sidewalks every day.”
Her logic confounded him. He took her chin between his fingers to get her attention. “Elena’s not a shrimp schoolteacher with innocence written all over her pretty face.”
“Oh, I do like compliments.” She took his fingers from her chin and kissed them, too. “And because you called me pretty, I’ll forgive you the shrimp part.”
“Molly,” he warned.
He could have saved his breath. She just tossed him a look and a wave and was out the door.
“Damn, I hate it when she does that,” he muttered, and followed her out the door.
THEY WERE IN Molly’s Honda, and he was driving. His knee jammed against the dash as he braked for a stray softball that rolled into the street. He swore, at the unthinking youngsters, at the thought of Molly traipsing around here on her own and at the throb in his banged knee.
Molly just tsked and glanced at him. “It’s your own fault, Adam. I told you I’d drive.”
“I’d prefer to make it there in one piece.”
“Oh, you are so negative. But I forgive you.” She patted his sore knee. “It’s a man thing, I know.”
He frowned, searching for a parking spot. “What is?”
“Your need to drive.”
“Gender has nothing to do with it. I’ve seen you drive.”
“You’re pushing it,” she warned. “First you call me shrimp—although you did temper it with a compliment—and now you attack my driving abilities. I’ll have you know I’ve never been in an accident or gotten a ticket.”
He rolled his eyes. “Thank God for small miracles. That’s not to say you probably haven’t caused a few accidents, the way you cross four lanes of traffic in one sweep.”
“I have not caused any accidents. Anybody knows that timid drivers on a California freeway just get run over.” She pointed to the curb in front of a fenced-in courtyard. “There’s a spot right there. Pull in.”
“That’s not a spot, Molly.”
“Of course it is.”
“For a bicycle, maybe.” He passed right by and hung a U-turn.
Molly bristled. She could have gotten the car to fit in there. “I should have insisted on driving,” she muttered. “And I don’t think I remember this bossy side of you. But hey, if you want to park two blocks away, that’s your prerogative.”
He didn’t bother to level a comeback. In the end, he settled for a parking space only half a block away from the Martinez’s apartment. It wasn’t much bigger than the one she’d pointed out. Men.
“I heard that.”
“I intended for you to.”
They got out and walked the dark sidewalk. Adam wrapped his arm around Molly’s waist, pulling her close to his side. She kissed his shoulder, letting him know she really did appreciate his protectiveness, even though she was perfectly capable of walking unaided.
The door to the Martinez apartment stood ajar, emitting a wonderful aroma of homemade tortillas and spices Molly wouldn’t know the first thing about—other than that they made her mouth water. Frozen microwave stuff was more her speed. Canned laughter floated out from the sitcom showing on the small color TV.
“Mihijo, is there homework you should be studying?” she heard Elena say.
“You see, Adam?” Molly said, raising her hand to knock. “We have open doors, family hour on TV and caring parents. Now don’t you feel silly for worrying so?”
He made a strangled sound deep in his throat, but Molly’s knuckles had already rapped on the doorjamb. Eddie pulled the door all the way open.
“Hey, Miss Kincade. Mr. Walsh. Don’t tell me I already blew the A. I only missed today. First day in a long time.”
“Your A‘s still safe, Eddie. That’s not why we’re here.” She glanced past Eddie’s shoulder and lowered her voice. “I need to talk to your mom about something. Your dad’s not here, is he?”
“No.” Eddie’s chin jutted out. He had a smudge on his cheek that could have been dirt. Molly didn’t want to speculate on it because it’d make her crazy. “Haven’t seen him in a couple of days.”
“Mihijo, who’s at the door?”
“It’s Miss Kincade. From school.”
Elena came to the door, wiping her hands on an apron. She looked too thin and much older than her forty-five years. She gave Eddie a stern look. “Is there a problem with my son?”
“No, Mrs. Martinez. We’re not here about Eddie. Well, not exactly.”
“Come in. You know you are welcome in my home.”
As long as her husband wasn’t home. Molly could have finished the sentence that Elena was too proud to voice. “Thank you.”
The rooms were small but well kept under the circumstances. Crocheted afghans and embroidered doilies hid the threadbare cushions of the couch. A teg on the table by the recliner chair had been glued recently, a sign that there had been trouble here.
It fired Molly’s determination. Elena Martinez needed a refuge just as badly as some of the teenagers on the streets.
“Son,” Elena said, “get our guests something to drink, and some of the tea cakes, too.”
“No,” Molly said. “Really, we’re fine. Could we just sit and talk for a few minutes?”
Elena nodded and waited for Molly and Adam to sit before she perched nervously on the corner of a chair, her gaze darting to the door. Eddie stood by his mother’s side, his hand on her shoulder. Molly knew they were both worried about Mr. Martinez showing up.
She felt Adam’s thigh brush hers as he shifted on the couch. “Oh! I forgot to introduce you. This is Adam Walsh. He’s a guidance counselor at the school, and…” She had to choose her words carefully. She wanted Elena and Eddie out of this dysfunctional environment, but she didn’t want to wound Elena’s pride.
“I’ve come to ask a favor.” Unconsciously she linked her fingers with Adam’s, drawing raised eyebrows from Eddie. “Adam and I are involved in starting up a halfway house for teens.” She told them about Adam’s mansion and his generosity in opening the extra wing for kids who needed a safe haven from the streets. Excitement over their plans sent her
words tumbling out in a rush.
“But Adam and I both work during the day. I love teaching these kids and I don’t want to give it up. But North Haven needs someone there full-time to run it.”
Adam’s head whipped around to Molly. He completely lost the thread of the conversation. North Haven? When had she named the place? And why had she used his former name? He watched her animation as she plowed right over any and all of Elena’s objections. Molly’s and his fingers were still linked together. Rather than let go, she used his arm, too, when she gestured to make a point. Up and down, in his lap, then in hers. He didn’t think she even realized what she was doing.
But Eddie did. The kid had a speculative sparkle in his eyes and a grin on his face. He also had barely restrained hope on his young features.
“You don’t have to answer now,” Molly said. “You can if you want—I’d love it if you did. It would take such a load off my mind. But whatever you do, don’t say no before you come out and take a look at the house. Oh, it’s so wonderful. You’d have a whole section to yourself and…well, it’s just too grand to do it justice with words. Please say you’ll come have a look.”
“It couldn’t hurt, Mom,” Eddie encouraged.
The longing on Elena’s face, along with the indecision, was painful to witness.
“I don’t take charity,” Elena said, gathering her dignity even though her soft eyes said she wouldn’t have a single qualm about leaving this apartment and never looking back.
“It’s far from charity,” Adam said, figuring he ought to contribute to the conversation. “If we don’t hire you, we’ll have to find somebody else. In addition to the living quarters, this is a paying position. And whoever takes it will earn every penny of their salary. Being a mother yourself, I’m sure you know how much work goes into caring for and feeding teens.”
“Yes.” Elena nodded thoughtfully. “And they need love. A no-nonsense mother who will bully them into doing their book work. And they must eat right.” She was definitely warming to her subject. “I am a very good cook. You ask Eddie here. He will tell you.”
