The Soldier's Forever Family

by Gina Wilkins

  He turned his head to look at her then. “I don’t doubt that. It was just a question.”

  Had she sounded defensive? Probably. She dealt with the same qualms and insecurities any working mother faced, perhaps especially any single working mother.

  Adam looked away again, his profile stark in the pale light. “I can count on both hands the number of times I saw my dad while I was growing up. Sometimes I wondered if he even remembered he had a son when he wasn’t around. My mom had issues of her own, so I was pretty much raised by her mother, my Grams. By the time I was seventeen, I was on my own. I kicked around a while, somehow finished high school, joined the army. With Trevor’s encouragement, I’ve taken a few college business classes since I started working here, but I’m no academic. Never will be.”

  Apparently she wasn’t the only one dealing with insecurities. This was the most he’d told her about his childhood, and it didn’t sound like a particularly happy one.

  “Not everyone is cut out for academia,” she said, trying to speak lightly. “There have been plenty of times when I wondered if I was. I don’t care for the politics or the archaic expectations, but I love my work, so I accept the trade-off.”

  “What I’m trying to say is, I don’t know anything about being a father. Never really thought I’d be one—and for sure not the occasional pop-in one like my own. A kid like Simon—smart, eager, outgoing—well, he deserves more than I had.”

  She couldn’t disagree with him on that. Simon did deserve more than a father who was so stingy with his attention that his son wondered if he even remembered him. She couldn’t imagine Adam would become that type of parent, especially considering how disapproving he sounded about his own father’s behavior—but did she know him well enough to be sure?

  Just because he’d walked out without a goodbye after their casual weekend together didn’t mean he would do the same with his son. Right? But she couldn’t help worrying; worry seemed to come with the territory when it came to child rearing.

  She wasn’t sure how Adam interpreted her silence, but he sighed and turned to trace a fingertip along her jaw. “Don’t frown, JoJo. We’ll work something out. Whatever happens, thanks for letting me tag along this evening. I had a good time.”

  Her nerve endings tingled in the wake of his touch. Her voice was barely louder than a whisper when she said, “I had fun, too.”

  His other hand rose so that he cupped her face between his palms. She couldn’t see his eyes clearly in the shadows, but she could tell he focused on her mouth. She felt her lips part as she drew in a shaky breath.

  His thumbs rotated lazily against her cheeks. “We had a lot of fun together before, didn’t we?”

  “We did,” she agreed, resting her hands on his chest. She could feel his heart beating through his shirt. Strong, steady—maybe a little faster than usual? She knew her own was racing.

  His face was close enough for her to feel his breath on her skin. “I know I wasn’t there for you, but I never forgot how good it was between us, even if it was only for a few days. If you—when you talk to Simon someday about how he was conceived, I don’t want him to think it was just a weekend fling.”

  When she talked to Simon? If she talked to Simon? His phrasing added to her unease, but he didn’t give her a chance to speak before he closed his mouth over hers with an intensity that implied he’d resisted the temptation as long as he could.

  It happened every time Adam kissed her. Her pulse raced, her knees weakened, her skin warmed and tightened, becoming exquisitely sensitized to every point of contact between them. It had been that way six years ago, and time hadn’t changed a thing in that respect. She’d kissed other men in the ensuing years, and some had been quite nice—but she had to concede now that she’d never responded to any other man the way she did to Adam. She couldn’t imagine that she ever would, whatever the outcome of this unplanned reunion. There was something special—unique—about the chemistry between her and Adam Scott. Had been from that meeting on the beach.

  Because it was so rare, so fleeting, she seized the opportunity to enjoy. To savor. She gripped his shirt in both hands, rising up on her toes to make her lips more accessible to him. He took full advantage, drawing her into the deepest shadows to give them maximum privacy on the balcony, his arms going around her to pull her high against him.

  Whatever difficulties his injuries had left him, his arms were hard and muscled, strong bands around her. Supportive rather than suppressive, they gave her a sense of security rather than concern. His mouth was ravenous, urging rather than demanding. And she responded with a matching hunger of her own.

  His tongue plunged. Hers welcomed it. His hands swept. Hers gripped harder. Their legs tangled, bodies pressed more tightly, hearts beat frantically against each other.

  This, she thought dazedly. This was what had been missing.

  He raised his hands, cupped her face, lifted his mouth only an inch or so away from hers. His eyes glittered feverishly, reflecting what little light penetrated to the corner in which they stood locked together. “It wasn’t a fling,” he repeated roughly.

  She blinked, their previous conversation almost erased from her mind by his kisses. When it came back to her, she swallowed hard. Her fingers loosened on his shirt. How did this man keep doing this to her? How did he make her want to climb all over him on her balcony with her child sleeping in the next room? That was so unlike her. Unlike her when she wasn’t with Adam, at least.

  Clearing her throat, she dropped her arms and smoothed her palms down her dress. “You should probably go.”

  “Yeah. Probably.”

  But he didn’t immediately move away. Nor did she. They still stood close enough that she could almost feel the warmth radiating from him. Or was that coming from her?

  It would take her only a half step to be back in his arms. Only a tiptoe to raise her mouth to his. The strength of her desire gave her the control she needed to move back, crossing her arms over her chest. She couldn’t have explained why, maybe even to herself, but she was suddenly irrationally annoyed with him—and with herself, for that matter—for making her feel awkward. Out of control. Vulnerable.

  “You really should go now, Adam,” she said in a low voice as she turned away. “It’s getting late.” She wasn’t looking at him, but she sensed when he drew back.

  “Yeah,” he muttered. “I guess it is.”

  “Good night.” She didn’t look around as she spoke—perhaps for fear of what he might read in her expression. She heard him leave, her hands gripping the railing, her gaze fixed unseeingly on what must have been a beautiful vista in front of her.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  IT WAS ONE of the most beautiful resorts Maddie had ever visited. The grounds were immaculate, the views spectacular, the staff so squeaky clean and cheery they made her teeth hurt. The place was too family-oriented for her taste, but she wasn’t surprised Joanna liked it so much. Yet six years later, she was still stunned that her sister had indulged in a reckless vacation fling here. It had been so unlike the prim and proper academic Maddie had known. More like something Maddie might have done—and had, though lately she’d been more selective in her hookups.

  Frankly, she’d grown tired of flings and was looking for more permanence as she faced the end of her carefree twenties. She just hadn’t found her Mr. Everlasting yet, though she’d always fancied she would know him when she met him. Or maybe she’d just seen too many romantic comedies, she thought with a wry laugh.

  She dragged her wheeled duffel out of the Wind Shadow Resort guest relations building late Thursday morning, a key card gripped in her free hand. She’d been informed when she’d called that there’d been a last-minute cancelation for this weekend, freeing up a one-bedroom suite in Gull’s Nest Lodge. Otherwise she’d have had to find a room at a neighboring resort or motel—or crash in Joann
a’s suite, which wouldn’t be fair to Simon. He’d looked forward to this vacation for weeks, and she’d hate for him to give up his bed or feel guilty about his aunt sleeping on the couch.

  She wondered if Simon had another aunt on his father’s side. She’d grown used to being his favorite aunt—his only aunt—and she wasn’t thrilled with the idea of having someone else lay claim to that title. She could only imagine how Joanna must feel at the thought of sharing Simon with a man she barely knew. A man who hadn’t even known of Simon’s existence until now. Though that wasn’t Adam’s fault, she added with reluctant fair-mindedness.

  Muttering under her breath, she gave a jerk to the duffel. The woman behind the check-in desk had offered to have someone deliver her bag to the suite, but Maddie had declined. She carried her own bags. She looked over her shoulder at her duffel, then turned back to the path ahead, almost too late to avoid colliding with a solid-looking man with a soldier’s haircut and a bulldog’s expression. His rumpled summer-weight suit looked incongruous in the determinedly casual, tropical surroundings. So did his battered leather briefcase.

  “Sorry,” he said, though they both knew the clumsiness had been Maddie’s. “Are you okay?”

  Stopping in her tracks, she stared up at him, struck by the most unsettling sense of recognition and insight. Well, here you are. Finally. The words hovered in her mind, as certain as they were spontaneous.

  She pushed back the longer side of her trendy asymmetrical bob she dyed a defiantly vibrant red. “Yes, I’m fine, thanks. And it was my fault for not looking where I was going.”

  Something about the way his deep-set brown eyes studied her face put all her instincts on alert. There was a story here, she’d bet. An interesting one. She was always intrigued by an interesting story. “Are you a guest here, too?” she asked, though he didn’t look as though he were on vacation.

  His smile lightened his expression, making him look less like a fierce bulldog and more like a friendly—if potentially obstinate—German shepherd. “No, not a guest,” he said as the whimsical comparisons flitted through her head. “I’m visiting a client. And you?”

  “A client?” she repeated. Was he a lawyer? He looked like a lawyer—and she knew more than her share of those. After a few dating disasters, she’d made it a personal rule not to get involved with attorneys. But then again, she’d always been of the rules-were-made-to-be-broken philosophy.

  He tucked his briefcase beneath his left arm, then extended his right hand. “Walt Becker. Attorney at law.”

  She clasped his hand, noting that it was big and rough-skinned for a lawyer. A hand that had done something other than pushing papers. Just having it wrapped around her smaller, smoother hand made her shiver. She could only imagine how it would feel on the soft skin of her thigh. And other places.

  Whoa, Mads. Slow it down there. Maybe it had been a bit longer than she’d realized since she’d spent private time with an intriguing man. “Hi, Walt. Nice to meet you. I’m Maddie Zielinski.”

  His eyebrows rose sharply. “Zielinski? Any relation to Joanna Zielinski?”

  “My sister. You’ve met her?”

  “No, not yet.”

  “Let me guess. You’re a friend of Adam Scott?”

  “I am, yes. And his legal counsel.”

  Oops. This could be a problem if things didn’t go well for some reason between her sister and Simon’s father. “Joanna has her own legal representation. Me. And I think it would be best if you and your client don’t talk to her unless I’m present. I’ll screen any arrangements on behalf of her son—just to keep everything aboveboard, of course.”

  She was aware she was making some rather sweeping assumptions on her sister’s behalf, but she told herself it was justified. Joanna tended to look for the best in others, whereas Maddie was naturally more cynical and combative. She wouldn’t let her sister be either sweet-talked or intimidated into settling for less than she and Simon deserved.

  Walt seemed pretty good at hiding his emotions behind a bland smile, but still she thought she saw surprise in his eyes before he masked it. Probably she didn’t look quite as much like a lawyer as he did—which, of course, was always her intention. Her hair color wasn’t her only minor rebellion against societal expectations and pigeonholes.

  “Your client’s son has another parent,” he reminded her smoothly. “And any demands made on Adam will, of course, be filtered through me.”

  A surge of energy coursed through her, the adrenaline rush of battle. This wasn’t her usual type of legal case, but there was nothing she enjoyed more than a vigorous debate with a worthy opponent. For, um, Joanna and Simon’s sake, she assured herself hastily.

  “I should find my sister,” she said, tightening her grip on the handle of her duffel. She seasoned the smile she gave him with generous dashes of spunk, sauciness and anticipation. “I’ll be seeing you, I’m sure, Mr. Becker.”

  “Yes, Ms. Zielinski. I’m quite sure you will,” he murmured.

  She didn’t look back, but she sensed him watching her as she marched away. She added an extra sashay to her walk, just because.

  * * *

  ADAM SCRAWLED HIS name at the bottom of an official-looking form, then another, and yet a third. That done, he shoved the pile of papers across the desk to Trevor, who waited to serve as witness to Adam’s signature.

  “What else?” Adam asked after Trevor signed.

  Walt tapped the documents into alignment and slid them into his briefcase. He used his prosthetic hand so skillfully that Adam hardly noticed it anymore, though he was continually impressed by how well Walt had adjusted. Having been in danger for a while of losing his own right arm to an infection, Adam had always wondered if he’d have adapted so well.

  “That takes care of your revised will, your retirement account and your life insurance,” Walt replied. “Simon Zielinski is now your sole heir and beneficiary. You’re sure you want to do all of this without getting the results of a DNA test first?”

  “Might as well get it all started. You know how I feel about unfinished business.” He’d always figured that staying on top of his obligations made it that much easier to get away tidily. Though he sometimes feared he’d inherited his father’s restlessness, he never wanted to leave behind the messes his dear old dad had strewn in his wake. “If the DNA test proves I’ve made a mistake, it’s not like any of this is irreversible.”

  Adam still believed deep in his gut that Simon was his. Call it instinct, genetic recognition or just uncharacteristic gullibility, but he accepted Joanna’s account of what had happened. And he would take care of his financial responsibilities without argument, which was the least he could do for the boy.

  He thought back to the way he and Joanna had parted last night, after an embrace as arousing as it had been unplanned. He’d thought they were handling everything pretty well, considering. They’d been civil, cooperative, even shared a few kisses in acknowledgment of the attraction that had simmered between them. But something in her tone when she’d sent him away had nagged at him during the hours since.

  Maybe she wasn’t as okay as she wanted him to believe. For all she knew, he’d been living a carefree bachelor life while she’d raised a child and forged a career on her own. He couldn’t blame her for harboring some resentment, even if she hadn’t fully admitted those feelings to herself.

  “So, with death benefits out of the way—and, we hope, not to be needed for a very long time—we should discuss the next step,” Walt said, leaning forward in his seat to interrupt Adam’s musings. “I met Joanna’s attorney this morning, and I think we should talk about—”

  “Wait, what?”

  “Her what?”

  Adam and Trevor had spoken at the same time, both staring at Walt as if he’d lost his mind.

  Eyebrows rising, Walt looked from Adam to Trevor and b
ack again. He asked Adam, “She didn’t mention this?”

  “No, she didn’t,” he answered stiffly.

  What the hell, Joanna? Did she really think she needed to pit a lawyer against him? She’d claimed they were basically strangers, and she’d acted oddly last night, but so far she’d given no indication that she wanted anything from him or had reason to mistrust him. So, why the attorney?

  “Well, I’m not sure she’s paying a retainer,” Walt murmured. “Her lawyer is her sister. Maddie Zielinski.”

  Adam cocked his head, surprised to hear that Joanna’s sister had shown up. “Joanna told me Maddie’s a public defender.”

  “You haven’t met her yet, I take it?”

  “No.”

  Walt twirled his pen in his right hand. “I met her only in passing on my way in. She seems...interesting.”

  Trevor frowned, his suspicions obviously aroused again. “Adam, you need to let Walt do the talking for you. I mean, you have to admit you have a weakness for both Joanna and the boy. And probably some guilt about not being there for them before. I’m not saying Joanna or her sister will try to fleece you—but, well, Walt knows what he’s doing.”

  The thought of sitting across a table from Joanna, flanked by attorneys while they negotiated payments and visitations, made Adam’s blood chill. “I’ll do my own talking.”

  Though his concerns were still visible on his face, Trevor made an it’s-your-life gesture with his hand and fell silent.

  “Fine,” Walt said. “You talk for yourself. Just let me look over any paperwork before you sign anything, all right?”

  Adam nodded grudgingly.

  “So.” Walt set his briefcase aside. “About Maddie. What have you heard about her? Is she, you know, married or anything?”