by Mindy Neff
Adam wondered if they had all lost their sense while he was gone. “She took my Porsche into the old neighborhood?”
“It’s only a car, Adam.”
“A hell of an expensive car!” With the sound of Frank’s laughter ringing in his ears, Adam headed for the garage, snagging the keys to Molly’s Honda on the way.
AT LEAST THERE WAS still daylight left, Adam thought grudgingly, searching for an open parking spot. On a Saturday, though, kids were out of school, probably looking for trouble.
What could she have been thinking?
He wedged the Honda in behind his Porsche, nearly tapping the bumper. Pocketing the keys, he got out and glared at the teenager leaning against the shiny black paint job.
“Touch those tires and you’re dead meat,” he warned.
The lanky kid with a bandanna tied around his forehead glared right back at Adam. “Ain’t nobody touching the tires on this car! Belongs to Miss Kincade. And I’m watchin’ it for her.”
Great. Hire a gang member to baby-sit his car. “Where is the little spitfire, anyway?”
The kid grinned. “That’d be Miss Kincade you’re talkin” “bout.” He gave a toss of his head. “Right across the street, man. Check it out.”
And Adam did check it out, his gut doing a series of somersaults when he spotted her.
She was smack in the middle of the baddest, meanest-looking kids Adam had seen in a long time. A five-foot-two dynamo bossing them around as if they were innocent kindergarteners on a field trip. Kids who wore gang colors and towered over her, who could probably snap her like a toothpick.
He decided right then and there that this woman needed a keeper.
When his haze of panic cleared, he noticed that most of the misfit teens were falling all over themselves to do her bidding—which appeared to be cleaning up the neighborhood and ridding it of graffiti, he realized.
Man alive, this woman was something.
His ground-eating strides slowed. There were sketches lying around and buckets of paint—not a spray can in sight. With Molly spearheading the effort, the group was turning rival scrawlings into a mural.
“If you want to express yourselves,” he heard Molly say, “use your artistic talents to paint something of beauty, something with meaning, something that makes you proud…something you love.” Her words lost their commanding tone, taking on an aching softness that got the attention of every young person standing around her.
Including Adam.
“What do you love, Miss Kincade?” One of the teenage girls asked.
Adam felt her sadness hit him in strong waves, felt her battle it back—Malcolm had said he’d probably always have a sensitivity to thoughts and emotions. Adam could live with that. As long as it meant he could live.
With Molly.
He also felt her eternal hope, one of the very things he admired and loved about her. She never gave up, never backed down or shied away from toughness.
“I love a very special man,” Molly said quietly, making Adam’s heart soften and swell. “He’s a man who’s strong and good and noble. A man who brings out the best parts of me. A man who’s my strongest weakness.”
“Hey, that’s an oxymoron.”
Molly smiled. “I’m glad to see you’re finally paying attention in class, Maria. And that’s exactly what he is to me. He simply makes my world stand still. I just wish he’d agree to stand still with me in that world.”
Aw, hell. How had he gotten so lucky?
“He agrees,” Adam said, moving out of the shadows. “And he loves you, too. More than life.”
Molly froze, her heart and stomach changing places in a way that robbed her of speech. Slowly, her pulse hammering like the rapid fire of an Uzi, she turned, her heart soaring. Tears welled in her eyes, swift and stinging.
“Adam?”
“I have it on the authority of our nation’s top scientists that I can give you babies and forever, Molly Kincade. Or at least forever as far as growing old together entails. Will you marry me? Have my babies? Let me stand still with you in your world?”
Advice buzzed among the teenagers. “Say, yes, Miss Kincade.” The shout came from one of the boys.
“Naw, make him wait.” A girl spoke this time.
Molly wasn’t altogether certain she could pull off a flippant answer. Still, he deserved to sweat for what he’d put her through.
“Well,” she hedged, secretly pleased with the way his eyes narrowed—absolutely thrilled that her voice didn’t tremble the way her insides did. “A girl can’t be too careful these days. Just who is it I’d be growing old with? How do I know it’s you?”
His mouth kicked up in a grin that nearly melted Molly right there on the spot. The teenage girls in the group sighed.
He walked toward her slowly, with purpose, the love in his eyes blinding her. Her heart pounded so hard she felt dizzy. She couldn’t even meet him halfway. Her legs seemed anchored to the concrete, weighted down with the incredible strength of her emotions. She’d thought she could tease, keep it light. She found that she couldn’t.
There was nothing light about her feelings for Adam Walsh.
Kids parted, offered encouragement, then fell silent at the emotion that zinged between the two adults. Adam stopped, reaching out to lightly touch her hair, her temple, the tear that slipped down her cheek.
“I tell a woman I love her, and she asks who I am.” He shook his head in mock disappointment.
“Maybe I need to hear it again.”
“I love you, Molly Kincade.” So softly. “I always have.” A whisper now. His thumb swept gently across her lower lip. “Convinced yet?”
Her fingers clutched at the front of his shirt. “It’s starting to come back to me,” she allowed. “I might warn you, though, the man I intend to grow old with would have to promise never to disappear again…you know, in sickness and in health and all that?”
“I’m sorry, half pint. I was wrong. I wasted a lot of time with self-pity. I should have trusted that you’d be my strength if I ever became weak. You’ve given me faith because you believed in me. I won’t make the mistake of underestimating you again.”
She stared at him for several heartbeats, his perfectly sculpted face the most welcome sight she could ever wish for. “And you’re positive you’re not dying?”
“Yes. At least not from any superhuman stuff.”
She nodded, reared back and socked him, eliciting oohs and a “go, girl” from the crowd of teens still watching with avid interest.
“Hey,” Adam complained, rubbing his shoulder. “What was that for?”
“I wouldn’t dream of hitting a dying man. A healthy one is another matter. How dare you put me through a year of pure hell thinking you were dead!”
He seriously took his newfound life in his hands when he grinned. “Ah, there’s the spitfire I know and love. Marry me?”
“I haven’t decided if it’s really you or not.”
“I know a surefire way to prove my identity, half pint.”
Oh, yes. Absolutely. “How’s that?”
“Kiss me and find out.”
And Molly laughed, threw her arms around his neck and held on. Her heart had always known his. Blind or in the deepest darkness of night, she would forever recognize this beautiful, wonderful man by his kiss.
eISBN 978-14592-6740-4
ADAM’S KISS
Copyright © 1997 by Melinda Neff.
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part In any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter Invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any Information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.
All characters in this book have no existence outside the Imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or
names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.
This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
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Printed in U.S.A.
Table of Contents
Cover Page
Excerpt
Dear Reader
Title Page
Dedication
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Copyright
