Adam stood beside Sarah. "I just stopped by for a visit," he said to the redhead. "So what's this about your babysitter?"
Vicki pushed a rebellious curl away from her face. "She's sick and can't watch my daughters. And here I am scheduled for a seminar in Arizona tomorrow. I'm flying out tonight, or I will be if I can had someone to stay with the girls." She blew a tired-sounding breath. "And I just got a promotion, too. My boss will be fit to be tied if I miss this seminar."
Sarah sympathized with Vicki's plight. The thirty-five-year-old divorcée worked hard to provide for her daughters, especially since her ex-husband was a deadbeat dad who shirked his financial responsibilities. And if there was one thing Sarah detested, it was men who neglected their children.
"I can stay with the girls," she offered before Vicki had to ask. "I have Sundays and Mondays off."
The redhead gave her a sturdy hug. "You're a lifesaver. I swear I'll pay you back somehow."
"I'd be glad to help out, too," Adam said. "If you don't mind having a big guy like me sleeping on your couch."
"Are you kidding?" Vicki grabbed him for a hug. "The more responsible adults the better. I hate leaving the girls overnight as it is." She stepped back and grinned. "And I'm sure my couch will survive."
But what about me? Sarah thought. How will I survive being in the same house with Adam all night? She glanced back at the sofa, the spot where she and Adam had practically mauled each other.
They would be baby-sitting, she reminded herself. She wouldn't be spending the night with him all by herself. Two bright-eyed little girls would be there. How dangerous could that be?
"What time should we come by?" she asked Vicki. Baby-sitting aside, the we part sounded oddly intimate, as though she and Adam were a couple.
"About 5:00 p.m. I already have a casserole in the fridge for dinner, so all you have to do is bake it." She adjusted her handbag. "The girls are supposed to be in bed by 8:30, but I can't guarantee they'll go willingly."
"Don't worry," Sarah assured her. "Everything will be fine."
Vicki departed, offering her thanks again. Once Sarah and Adam were alone, she became overly aware of his masculine presence, the size of his hands, the muscles in his arms, the way they flexed when he moved.
"Have you met Vicki's children?" she asked, before silence threatened to swallow them whole.
He shook his head. "No, but she's told me a lot about them."
Sarah shifted her bare feet. Silence again, the only sound the hum of the central air conditioner. She couldn't think of anything else to say, and she didn't know quite where to look.
Adam checked his watch. "I should get going. I'll meet you at Vicki's apartment at five, okay?"
"Okay."
He headed toward the couch, picked up the box containing his Cherokee research. "Bye, sweet Sarah. I'll see you later."
The nickname hit her square in the chest, jump-starting her heart. Every time he said it, she felt young and innocent.
She met his gaze. "Bye, Adam." Closing the door after him, she leaned against it and slowly, very slowly, caught her breath.
* * *
Chapter 5
« ^ »
By 5:30 p.m. Vicki was on her way to the airport, and Sarah and Adam were alone with two little girls. Sarah set the dining-room table and watched the kitchen activity with interest.
Mandy, the eight-year-old, hadn't said more than a few quiet words. She stood at the counter while dinner was being prepared, filling a restaurant-style napkin dispenser. She was a serene child, with strawberry-blond hair and fair skin.
Dawn, the six-year-old, had the same light complexion, only her nose was dusted with freckles and her hair, as red as a fire engine, grew from her head like a curly mop.
She had volunteered to help Adam fix a salad, so she wiggled beside him, eager to work. Tearing the lettuce with gusto, she grinned up at him, displaying a wide, friendly gap between two slightly crooked front teeth. Her vibrant personality was as animated as her Raggedy-Ann looks.
Although she had been bombarding him with questions, he didn't seem to mind. He answered her patiently, all the while giving her something to do. Sarah learned that red was Adam's favorite color and that he liked to count the stars at night and watch the news in the morning. He chatted with Dawn, but still seemed completely aware of Mandy, the timid eight-year-old who kept stealing glances at him when she thought he wasn't looking.
Mandy, Sarah realized, had developed an instant crush on Adam. The fact that she was a child hadn't immunized her to his charm.
Adam opened the refrigerator, then turned and caught Sarah's eye from across the room. He smiled, and the persistent winged flutter started up in her stomach. At that he's-so-gorgeous moment, she knew exactly how little Mandy felt.
They shared dinner twenty minutes later, gathered around a glass-topped table. Vicki's apartment was similar to Sarah's, only homier. She supposed it was the youthful touches, the adolescent artwork attached to the refrigerator door and the colored pencils and toys the girls left in the living room. The apartment seemed lived in, the attractive furnishings exhibiting signs of wear. Sarah's environment seemed lonely by comparison.
Mandy continued to study Adam through her lashes, although she remained quiet, eating the tamale pie her mother had prepared earlier. When Adam winked at the child, Sarah's heart warmed. He knew—sensitive, kind, gorgeous Adam knew—the little girl wanted him to notice her.
"Is your real name Amanda?" he asked.
She nodded.
He buttered a slice of bread, set it on his plate. "Do you know what Amanda means?"
She shook her head.
"It has a Latin origin," he told her. "And it means 'much loved.'"
"How do you know that?" she asked, watching every move he made.
"I had a girlfriend named Amanda. She was pretty and blond, like you."
That bit of personal news appeared to please the child. She accepted the compliment in a shy, ladylike fashion, dropping her gaze and smiling into her plate.
Sarah, on the other hand, found herself wondering about Adam's Amanda. Pretty and blond conjured a tall, blue-eyed California-girl image—so unlike herself. And although his former girlfriend shouldn't concern her, she couldn't stop the sudden snap of unwarranted jealousy.
"What does my name mean?" Dawn asked, air whistling through her front teeth.
Adam tilted his head and studied the younger girl. "Hmm. I'll bet it has something to do with the start of a new day." He lifted his fork, sent her a smile. "Have you ever watched the sunrise at dawn? It's mighty pretty."
Dawn grinned, glanced at Sarah, then back at Adam. "Do you know what Sarah's name means?"
He turned and met her gaze. She wanted to look away but couldn't. His eyes, those warm brown eyes, had her sinking into their depths.
"Princess," he said quietly. "It means princess."
Sarah knew the origin of her name, but on Adam's lips it sounded gentle, sensual, like part of a fairy tale. The princess and the dragon slayer. What would happen if she let herself fall into that fantasy?
She would get swept away, she thought, pulled into a world that held no realm of reality. Lifting her water, she broke eye contact. She, of all people, knew fairy tales didn't exist.
"The name Adam is from the Bible," Dawn said, clearly fascinated with the subject.
"Yes, it is," he responded. "That's why my parents picked it for me."
The chatty little girl scratched her freckled nose, smearing tamale sauce across her face. "And Sarah's parents must have called her Sarah 'cause they thought she was a princess."
Adam's voice turned husky, just enough for Sarah to feel the masculine sound slipping through her bones.
"I have no doubt that's the reason," he said. "No doubt at all."
She gazed at the dragon slayer named Adam, the man who dreamed of finding his parents, of reuniting old lovers. Maybe fairy tales should be allowed, at least for tonight. After all, hey were spendin
g the evening with two bright-eyed little girls.
* * *
The two bright-eyed little girls didn't want to go to bed, even after hours of their favorite board game. But a second helping of ice cream finally convinced them to bathe and put their pajamas on.
They shared a frilly pink room that reminded Sarah of being a child herself—sugar and spice and everything nice. That was, she thought, a long time ago.
Mandy and Dawn were each in their own bed, the covers tucked around them. Dawn kept a worn-out doll with her, and Mandy watched Adam with stars in her eyes. Somehow he had managed to give the smitten eight-year-old special attention without neglecting her younger sister.
Adam sat on the edge of Mandy's bed and looked up at Sarah. "Why don't you tell the girls about the Cherokee Little People. I would do it, but all I know is what I've read. You're probably more familiar with them."
She blinked, then stepped forward. Adam had just tapped into her childhood. Her mother used to talk about the Little People, telling Sarah about them. Of course, it wasn't common practice to discuss them after nightfall. But apparently Adam wasn't aware of that.
She took a seat on Dawn's bed, and the child gazed at her with expectation. Mandy and Adam watched her, too, waiting, it seemed, to be drawn into the world of Cherokee superstition.
She decided she could talk about the Little People at night. Particularly since the old ways were no longer a part of her life.
"They're called Ynwi Tsunndi," she said. "And they live in rock caves on mountainsides." With a wave of unexpected emotion, she paused, suddenly uncomfortable about breaking tradition. "Most Cherokees don't talk about them after the sun goes down. I'll tell you what I know, but after tonight, you can't mention them in the evening ever again."
Dawn and Mandy made that solemn vow, and Adam sent Sarah an apologetic look, realizing he had erred. She dismissed his blunder with a gentle glance. If the Little People truly existed, they would forgive a man like Adam.
"Are they smaller than me?" Dawn asked.
Sarah nodded. "They barely reach a man's knee. But they're handsome, and their hair falls almost to the ground."
The anxious child interrupted again. "Are they nice?"
"Very nice," Sarah said, smiling at Adam when his expression softened. "They're helpful and kindhearted, and they like kids. If a child gets lost in the mountains, the Little People will take them back to their parents." She brushed a lock of hair off her shoulder. "They help sad boys and girls, too."
Clearly enthralled with this information, the six-year-old pushed her blanket away. "Are they like leprechauns?"
"Sort of. Sometimes they can be mischievous, but they don't chase pots of gold. The Little People spend most of their time drumming and dancing. But you're not allowed to search for their home. If you do, they'll cast a spell on you and make you dazed for the rest of your life."
Dawn shook her head vigorously, sending red curls dancing around her face. "I won't try to find their house."
"They don't have a house," her sister said, as though trying to sound more grown-up than her eight years. "They're not real. It's just a story."
"They do too have a house," the younger one insisted. "They live in a cave in the mountains. The Little People are real, aren't they, Sarah?"
She caught Adam watching her, the man searching for his roots. "There are a lot of Cherokee people who think so," she said. "And you can never be sure if they're around, because if they don't want you to see them, they become invisible."
"See." Dawn made a face at her older sibling.
Mandy frowned, then turned to Adam "Do you think they're real?"
He patted the child's ankle through the blanket. "I think the world is full of magic, especially in the forests and mountains. So I would just as soon not disturb the Little Peoples' home. I wouldn't want to he dazed for the rest of my life."
When Mandy agreed that the Little People might actually exist, he leaned toward her and asked for a hug good-night, telling the girls it was time for sleep.
She hugged him, and when her head hit the pillow, Sarah thought she looked a bit glassy-eyed. Adam's charm had dazed the eight-year-old far more than a spell from the Little People ever could.
He hugged Dawn as well, and Sarah followed suit, embracing both children. She turned off the light, and Adam led her out of the room.
He had brought a box of herbal tea along, so they brewed a pot and sat on Vicki's floral-printed sofa, sipping the mint-flavored drink.
He stretched his legs, looking devastatingly male, a bright blue T-shirt tucked into the waistband of stylish jeans. Sarah found herself wondering if they buttoned or zipped, then turned away, embarrassed by the provocative thought.
"I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't know that you weren't supposed to talk about them at night."
Sarah turned back. Because he was glancing around as though invisible beings might he watching him, she smiled. Her mother would have adored him.
"It's okay. Like you said, you didn't know." She sipped her tea, savoring the mint. "But traditional Cherokees don't describe them as being magical or supernatural. Spiritual beings are a part of their everyday world."
"Really?" His expression turned thoughtful. "To me, it all seems like magic. Everything about the Cherokee is so beautiful, so wondrous."
Oh, yes, she decided. Her mother would have adored this man.
They both fell silent, companionable quiet between them. Tonight she couldn't fault him for wanting to know about his heritage.
He placed his cup on the coffee table and rolled his shoulders. The movement rippled his T-shirt. Sarah couldn't help herself. Her roving eyes strayed to his jeans again. "Do you plan on having kids someday?" he asked.
She chewed her bottom lip. The question didn't seem out of place, not when they had just tucked two little girls into bed. "I'm not sure. I adore children, but marriage has never really been a conscious thought." At least not until now, she realized, wondering what sort of husband Adam would make. Sarah had abandoned her girlish dreams long ago, but Adam was renewing a part of her that ached for the past. The happy times, the years she believed in love.
How had she gotten so cynical? So grown-up and jaded?
Adam shifted in his seat, drawing her attention back to him. "I want as many children as my wife is willing to give me," he said. "And that's one of the reasons I'm determined to find my biological parents. They're part of who I am, a legacy I can pass on to my kids."
"What about your adoptive family? That doesn't seem fair to them. They're the ones who raised you."
"Having a relationship with my biological parents won't diminish the memory of my adoptive parents. I intend to tell my children about them. I have photo albums filled with pictures." His voice turned quiet. "It hurts that they didn't tell me the truth about the adoption, but I still love them."
As a wave of sudden sadness drifted through the room, Sarah brushed his hand, offering comfort. He glanced out the window at the darkness outside, and her heart went out to him—this tall, handsome man who was all alone in the world. Sarah was alone, too, but she had made the choice consciously.
His childhood had been so normal, she thought. So different from hers. And Adam's parents had never meant to hurt him. They had wanted him for their son. To Sarah, adopting someone else's child was a loving, caring act.
"Have you ever been in a relationship serious enough to consider marriage?" she asked.
"No. I've been in a couple of fairly serious relationships before, but I've haven't met anyone I considered spending the rest of my life with." He smiled a little. "I've never been in love, but I'm sure I'll know when it happens. I'll know who the right woman is." He paused, trapped her gaze. "What about you, sweet Sarah? Ever lost your heart?"
"No." She shook her head, fearful she could be losing it now. Everything about Adam seemed so right.
A Cherokee knight. A dragon slayer.
Breaking eye contact, she rose. She was falling into the f
airytale she had created, and she had to stop herself from tumbling too far. "I should get ready for bed. The girls will probably be up early." And she couldn't spend the rest of the evening imagining what kind of husband Adam would make. "I'll bring you a sheet and a blanket for the couch."
"I need a pillow, too."
She went down the hall, and when she returned with the bedding, she noticed he had cleared their tea cups from the coffee table. He stood beside the sofa, in his stylish T-shirt and jeans. His thumbs were hooked in his pockets—a stance that made the female in her take notice.
She placed the bundle on the couch.
"Thanks." He smiled at her, something he did far too often. "I'm going to shower, then watch TV for a while. I'll keep it low so it doesn't bother you."
"I'm a heavy sleeper," she said, disturbed by the image her mind had conjured. Adam taking a shower in one bathroom while she bathed in another. They would be naked at the same time, in the house. A flush of heat crept up her neck.
She lifted her hand, felt the fire spread. The image wouldn't go away. In her mind's eye she saw him—his athletic body glistening with water, that long brown hair loose and wet.
It was time to end this, cool her skin, bid him a proper, if not impersonal, good-night. But just as she prepared her escape, he said her name in a voice as smooth and rich as cream.
"Sarah. Sweet Sarah."
She didn't move, not a single muscle. Her feet froze to the floor.
He took a step toward her. "We still haven't talked about what happened earlier."
For a moment, she feared she would do something humiliating, like faint. She couldn't seem to catch her breath, get enough oxygen to her brain. He expected her to talk about the way they had kissed that afternoon, rubbed and caressed through their clothes?
"We're just friends." The statement sounded foolish, even to her own ears.
He glanced up at the ceiling as though collecting his thoughts. When he brought his gaze back to hers, his eyes were intense, hypnotic. "I keep telling myself that very same thing. We're just friends. There's nothing happening between us." He laughed a little, a rough, textured sound that faded as quickly as it came on. "That's a lie, at least for me. I can't help myself. I want you. And I can't pretend that I don't." He moved closer, enough to put them inches apart. "I even fantasize about you wearing that red dress, the one with the dragon on it. Only you're naked under it. Naked just for me." He touched her cheek, then drew back. "You're my midnight seduction, sweet Sarah."
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