Single with Children

by Arlene James

  With a slap on Adam’s back, he moved past them. Suddenly they were alone in the midst of all these people. Adam turned her to face him, his hands sliding over her back. She knew her eyes were filled with a confused wonder as she gazed up at him.

  “Adam?”

  “Yes.”

  “Adam, all these people… Your family seems to think we’re going to…”

  She couldn’t quite say it, but she didn’t have to. He smiled down at her, his hands restless on her back. “A natural assumption, I’d say, perfectly reasonable, very right.”

  Her whole body was tingling in a way she’d never felt before. It was as if a physical realization were skimming over her nerve endings. He meant to marry her. That was what tonight was all about for them. He was showing her that he meant to marry her and that his family was perfectly accepting of the idea. Her eyes filled with tears, and her hands gripped his upper arms through the fabric of his tux and shirt.

  “Oh, Adam.”

  He laid his forehead against hers. “If you’re going to break my heart, for heaven’s sake, don’t do it now.”

  She didn’t know what she was going to do, only what she felt. She let her arms slide about his torso and allowed herself the shelter of his wide chest. “I love you,” she whispered against his shirtfront.

  “I’m counting on that,” he murmured, and then he seemed to catch sight of something of interest just beyond her. “Ah,” he said, reaching out to snag a pair of champagne flutes from the tray floating past on the hand of a white-coated waiter. “Just what this festive moment calls for.” He delivered one delicate crystal stem into her hand, then clinked the edge of his flute against hers. “To us,” he whispered, and his eyes promised the world and more as he sipped the sparkling liquid.

  He stayed at her side throughout the evening, ignoring the talk about Monica Malone that surrounded them and whispering suggestively about showing her the rest of the house, “So many bedrooms,” or leaving early. “Mother will keep the children.”

  That comment seemed prophetic, as first Ryan and then Robbie and finally even Wendy wilted, yawned and snuggled onto a lap or into a corner of one of the several divans scattered about the luxurious room. “Let us put them to bed here,” Erica urged, signaling a maid and Jake. “They can sleep in their underthings and be delivered home the first thing in the morning.”

  Adam grinned, ignoring Laura’s whispered suggestion that perhaps they ought to just go. “Thank you, Mother.” He kissed the sleeping Ryan, who snuggled into Erica’s arms, patted Robbie’s bottom where it jutted out over the maid’s supporting arm and hugged Wendy after she was lifted into her grandfather’s strong embrace. Wendy did not subside without a hug from Laura, too, however. Erica, Jake, and the maid left the room with the children, and it was then that Caroline slid close and tapped her brother on the shoulder, whispering into his ear. Adam made a face, but nodded.

  Caroline started toward a certain corner of the room, from which Nathaniel Fortune had been pontificating for some time. Adam caught Laura’s hand and tugged her along after his sister, muttering something about moral support. Laura noticed that Caroline was gathering other support, as well. Allie was there, Rocky’s twin, and her scarred handsome husband, Rafe. Their sister Natalie joined them, as did Jake’s sister Rebecca and, surprisingly, Jane. It was Caroline who bearded the lion in his den, with Nick standing at her back. She took up a stance in front of her uncle that was all business, her arms folded, her glance stern and strong.

  “Nate, we want a word with you while Father’s out of the room.”

  Nate showed clear surprise, but a moment was all that was required to discern the purpose of this confrontation. “You surprise me, Caroline,” he said bitterly. “You above all should know how precarious a position he’s put us in!”

  “That’s your interpretation,” she returned smoothly. “We’re here to let you know that we aren’t about to stand aside while you push Dad out of the company!”

  Nathaniel cast a disparaging glance over them. “Adam,” he said, “Natalie, you can’t know enough about Fortune business to even make a judgment, and you, Jane—”

  Adam stepped up to cut him off. “I know my father,” he said flatly, “and I know his dedication to this family and the business.”

  “As for me,” Jane said gently, pushing forward, “I merely want to say that I think this is a time for the family to stand together.”

  Nathaniel made a face. “You cannot see that the business is at risk because of—”

  It was an outside source that curbed Nathaniel’s speech this time, voices raised in loud confrontation in the foyer. As if on cue, everyone turned in that direction. Suddenly that confrontation spilled over into the salon, in the person of a very tall, somewhat awkwardly thin man with blond hair plastered flat against his long, almost cadaverous head. He pulled a woman into the room with him, fending off the grasping hands of the butler, who was loudly proclaiming that the family was not receiving visitors.

  “Here now! What’s going on?” Leaving Erica standing in the doorway, Jake shoved past the distraught servant to glare at the intruders. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  “Jake?” The woman’s drawling, tremulous voice pierced the confusion. “It is you, isn’t it?”

  Jake glowered at her. “Do I know you?”

  The woman reached out a hand. “You should.”

  “A brother ought to know his own sister,” said the tall, gangly man, sneering.

  Jake’s mouth fell open. A twitter of uneasy laughter circulated around the room. Erica suddenly appeared at Jake’s side, seeming to bring him back into command. “Get out of here,” he ordered, “before I call the police.”

  The woman, who was tall and slender, if slightly stooped, flung her dark brown hair off her shoulders, looking around the room anxiously. She was wearing a yellow peplum jacket over a short black skirt, and very high heels. Her eyes were shadowed with a rather heavy application of moss green, and her lips had been painted bright red. It seemed too young a look for a woman such as this, a woman in her later thirties or early forties.

  “If you’ll only let us explain,” the blond man was saying, but suddenly the woman jabbed a pointing finger at someone else.

  “There!” she cried, and an instant later rushed to Lindsay. Lindsay understandably recoiled, pushing the intruder away. “Don’t you see?” the woman said loudly, her voice flavored with the lazy rhythm of the old South. She turned to Jake, stepping again close to Lindsay, and gathered her hair into her fist at the back of her neck. “Can’t you see it?”

  Erica was the one who gasped. “My God, they could be twins!”

  “But we are twins!” the woman exclaimed, throwing her arms around the astonished woman she claimed as sister.

  “I cannot believe it,” Laura said, shaking her head as she descended the steps. Adam, at her side, nodded, wrapping his scarf around his throat.

  “Nothing like the sudden appearance of a long-lost twin to break up a party.”

  “Poor Lindsay,” Laura sighed. “What was that man’s name? Potts?”

  “Wayne Potts,” Adam confirmed, “and the woman—God, can that really be my aunt?—calls herself Tracey Ducet.”

  “New Orleans,” Laura murmured.

  “Tracey Ducet of N’Awlins,” he confirmed, mimicking the woman’s drawl. He handed Laura into the limo, followed her inside, and nodded at the driver, who closed the door. Adam draped his arm around Laura’s shoulder and pulled her against his side, sighing. “Never let it be said that a Fortune family gathering is without interest.”

  “That’s putting it mildly,” Laura said. “A lost twin! Oh, and lest we forget, there was that confrontation with dear Uncle Nathaniel.”

  Adam bared his teeth. “Can’t say I’m disappointed to have had that put on the back burner.”

  “But a missing twin!” Laura exclaimed, laying her head back against his arm. She’d had enough champagne to make her feel rather fuzzy an
d warm inside.

  Adam nuzzled her ear, saying, “I don’t want to think about it, any of it.”

  “But, Adam, your whole family’s in an uproar.”

  He pulled back to look her in the eye, his free hand resting against her hipbone. “Uproar is the Fortune family motto.” She giggled. He kissed her nose. “I almost envy Jane her move to Maine.”

  “Oh, Adam, no. Your family’s important to you.”

  He curved his arms around her. “Listen, Laura, I can’t do anything about Tracey Ducet or Monica Malone, or much else, for that matter. It’ll all sort out one way or another, but I’m not going anywhere in the meantime. All I’m saying is that what I want to concentrate on is a little closer to home—right here, in fact, if you take my meaning.”

  She smiled up into his handsome face. Such a dear face. She traced it with her fingertips. “I take your meaning.”

  He bent his head and kissed her. It was a long, lazy, thorough claiming that seemed to begin and begin and begin again, but never quite ended until the limo came to a halt and the driver tapped on the glass. Adam groaned, pulling back at last, and Laura knew that she ought to feel embarrassment, but her body was preoccupied with other emotions, emotions that made a blush seem a cool, colorless response.

  He slipped from the car and helped her out, gathering her against him with one arm. She laid her head on his shoulder, and they walked together to the front door. He had his key out and the door open in a moment, and was already shrugging out of his coat before it was closed again. He draped the coat carelessly over the knob of the coat closet and steered her into the hallway, tugging at his tie. She turned slightly at her door, loosening the belt to her coat, but he stopped her, both arms about her shoulders, and guided her gently toward his own room.

  “Not tonight,” he whispered. “Tonight you’re mine, all mine.”

  She had neither the heart nor the inclination to argue the matter. She opened her coat, and he pushed it off her shoulders, leaving it puddled upon the floor as he tugged her into his room. He shut the door at her back and pressed her against it, his mouth skimming her ear and temple as his hands lifted to her hair. Deftly he plucked the pins and combed his fingers through the shiny tresses, pulling them down to frame her face, which he kissed with gentle reverence. “Wait,” he whispered. “I want to build up the fire.”

  She nodded, moving farther into the room as he hurried across it, tossing off his coat and stripping away his tie and cummerbund as he went. He knelt before the fireplace, opened the screen and stirred up the embers with a poker before tossing on a handful of kindling and several logs. The flames caught and danced merrily. He carefully closed the screen and rose, hands moving to the buttons on his shirt. Laura smiled to herself, slipped a hand beneath one arm and quickly unzipped her dress. When he turned, she let the dress fall to the floor.

  He caught his breath, his eyes shining, and moved toward her. He released his cuff links and let them drop away, then peeled back the shirt. Laura lifted a hand to skim it across the firm contours of his chest. A light dusting of hair tickled her palm. He watched her—waiting, it seemed. Laura swallowed a lump in her throat, moved her hands behind her and released the catch of her lacy strapless bra. It fell away. He sucked in his breath and reached for her, pulling her against his naked chest. He wrapped his arms around her, smoothed his hands over her bare back, sighing with the pleasure of flesh against flesh. His kiss was fervent, passion-frantic, drugging.

  At last he pulled away, chest heaving, to slip his fingers beneath the waistband of her hose. He peeled them down, kneeling when they reached her thighs to slip off her shoes, one at a time, before coaxing the silky stockings down her legs and off her feet. He looked up, his face limned by the golden firelight, to hold her gaze as he slid his fingers beneath the tiny elastic band of her panties. He tugged them down, and one hand slid between her legs, even as the other whisked her panties away. She cried out and let her head fall back, her eyes shuttering closed as he explored the moist cleft that gave him access to her body. She knew that he watched what he did, and that knowledge somehow heightened the pleasure to a trembling intensity. He stood, rubbing his body against hers as his hand made magic inside her. He wrapped his free arm around her shoulders and took her mouth in a promising, seducing kiss of lips and teeth and tongue, thrusting and pulling and nipping in concert with his hand.

  His touch was more potent than the finest champagne, his kiss more thrilling than words whispered with solemn meaning. Almost without warning, her knees buckled, but he was there, sweeping her up and carrying her to the bed. He laid her upon the covers and, without a word, stripped off his remaining clothes in quick, jerky movements that belied the steadiness of his hot gaze. Gloriously naked, he lay down beside her and skimmed a hand over her body from breast to thigh. His hand moved between her legs, parting them, and then he lifted onto an elbow and eased himself atop her. The feel of so much skin and hard muscle jolted her eyes closed once more. Then she felt his hand between them, positioning the sleek, hot length of him. Any moment, she told herself on an indrawn breath. Any moment. She felt her body opening for him, waiting, anticipating. But then his hands brushed into her hair at her temples, his upper-body weight levered onto his forearms.

  “Look at me,” he whispered. He moved his hips, and the sleek hardness breached the soft opening of her body, ever so slightly. Laura caught her breath, her head spinning. “Look at me, Laura,” he commanded again, and only then did she realize that she had not done so. She opened her eyes, the lids feeling heavy and hot. His face was testimony etched in firelight above her. His thumbs caught the skin at her temples, holding her eyes open as he flexed his hips against her. A look of utter ecstasy flickered across the muscles of his face. “I love you,” he said, filling her, making them one in heart and body.

  She wrapped her arms and legs around him and wept as he proceeded to merge their very souls.

  Fourteen

  Laura hummed as she stacked the dirty breakfast dishes in the sink. Adam bent over a book at the table, consumed by a volume of Shaker furniture and its attendant history. A tome on Norwegian, Swedish and Danish cabinetry styles waited at his elbow.

  “How strange,” he muttered, “to consider ornamentation of the wood frivolous and then paint the furniture in shades of red, orange and yellow. Puts the lie to that blue and green stuff we see in the catalogs, doesn’t it? Of course, they’re only reproductions.”

  Laura smiled at this discourse but made no reply, correctly divining that none was required. A glance at the clock told her that she’d better speak out on another matter, however. “Adam, it’s a quarter of eight.”

  The book slammed shut on a paper-napkin bookmark. “In that case, I’m out of here.” He stacked his books on the corner of the table, popped up and spun around to grab her about the waist.

  “Oh!” A spoon clattered into the sink, accompanied by soft laughter. “I thought you were in a hurry,” she said, looping her arms around his neck.

  He nuzzled her ear, whispering, “I’m never in too much of a hurry for you.”

  “Mmm…that’s not what you said last night.”

  He chuckled and put his forehead to hers. “I didn’t think they’d ever go to sleep!”

  “It was six-thirty, Adam.”

  He sighed. “You’re right. I’m a terrible father.”

  “You’re a wonderful father,” she told him, and got kissed for it. Things were heating up considerably when a small voice tossed cold water on the fire.

  “Daddy, when’s Laura going to take me to school?”

  They pulled apart, throats clearing. Laura managed a smile for Wendy. “Right now, sweetie. Run and get your coat.”

  The moment she disappeared through the door, Adam groaned and pulled Laura back into his arms for a quick kiss. “I may be late. We’ve got to go over the whole inventory, all the appraisals and the audit before tomorrow’s closing.”

  “I’ll put your dinner back.”


  “Forget dinner. Just be here when I get home.”

  She smiled at the feeling of her heart expanding in her chest. “Nothing short of death or the threat of it could keep me away.”

  He hugged her, whispering, “I’ll miss you. Be home soon as I can.” He backed away, turned and picked up his books, heading for the door.

  “Drive carefully.”

  “You too.” He paused in the doorway and turned back. “Laura, did you ever get your driver’s license replaced?”

  She felt the color drain from her face. “Oh. Uh…” She struggled for a normal tone and an unconcerned smile. “I completely forgot.”

  “Well, take care of it, will you? Before you get a ticket.”

  She kept her smile in place and managed a nod. He turned away, colliding with Wendy in the process.

  “I’m ready to go, Daddy, but Ryan and Robbie won’t put their coats on. Can I go with you?”

  Adam’s hand landed on the back of his neck. He turned a look over his shoulder. “Maybe I should. I don’t like you driving without the license.”

  Laura glanced at the clock, feeling guilty about the inconvenience and the lie. She couldn’t do anything about the lie, not now, anyway. “You don’t have time. The school’s too far out of your way. It’ll be all right.”

  He shrugged. “Maybe you’re right.” He dropped an apologetic look on Wendy. “Sorry, Princess, but I’ve got Aunt Jane and a whole team of accountants waiting on me in the city. Laura will take care of you. Now give me a kiss.” He bent and puckered up. She smacked her lips against his, and he went on his way with a final wink for Laura.

  She tried not to think about the lie with which she had let him leave, but she knew that soon she would have to tell him something. Would he be disappointed in her if he knew what kind of man she’d been involved with before him? Would he choose to send her away for the safety of the children? She didn’t want to think that she could be endangering them. She wanted to believe that Doyal had given up looking for her, that she could stay safely with Adam for the rest of her life.