by Julie Kenner
It took every bit of strength Winnie possessed to ignore the fact that he was nearly naked and focus on the reason she was here. Adam had spiraled into a miserable funk since Natalie and Levi left two weeks ago.
It was time for him to snap out of it. And she had the difficult task of making that happen.
“Have I personally offended you?” she asked. “Done something to make you angry? Kicked your dog?”
He scowled at her, his wary eyes still heavy with sleep. “I don’t have a dog.”
“I didn’t think so. So why are you avoiding me?”
Adam sighed and sank back against the headboard. A muscle worked in his angular jaw—the man had the most amazing bone structure she’d ever seen. It was criminally unfair. “I’m not avoiding you, Winnie.”
Even his sideburns—bronze and a little longer than what was currently fashionable—were incredibly sexy. He was art personified. Living beauty. Simply perfect. Or at least to her, anyway. He always had been, damn him.
“You’re not? Let’s review the evidence, shall we? I’ve been by four times since Levi and Natalie left, at varying times of the day, and you’re always sleeping. Either you’re suffering from an undiagnosed case of narcolepsy, or you’re avoiding me. I want to know why. We’ve been friends for years. Not as close as you and Natalie, I’ll admit—” Though it wasn’t easy. She’d always envied her friend that relationship. “—but close enough that you shouldn’t be hiding behind your mother, cowering in your bedroom like I’m some sort of stalker.”
His lips twisted into a shadow of his former grin, making her heart jump into an irregular rhythm. “And yet you’re in my room.”
“Because you won’t come out of it. Since when are you such a coward?” she asked, purposely using the word because she knew it would needle him. Predictably, his expression blackened. “If you’re angry with me, just say so. If you want me to stop trying to see you, then tell me why. It’s not hard.”
A dark chuckle rumbled up his throat, some inside joke apparently because she didn’t see what was remotely funny. Winnie quirked a brow, waiting for an explanation.
He shifted and adjusted the comforter over his lap. “I’m not angry with you, Winnie,” he said. Hearing her name come from his lips in that smooth southern baritone never failed to make her glow from the inside out. “I’m just trying to work through some things and it’s easier—”
“—in bed?” she interjected. She was inclined to agree.
He laughed and that husky chuckle made her belly turn to goo. “No.” His gaze tangled with hers, then dropped to her mouth. “Although that is an intriguing idea.” He rubbed a line from between his brows. “What I was going to say is ‘to do it alone.’”
She swallowed, resisting the urge to fan herself. The innuendo in his words had her thighs tingling. An intriguing idea indeed.
Still, having anticipated the crack-brained reasoning behind his self-imposed seclusion, Winnie was prepared with a defense.
Adam was hurt—suffering in a way she couldn’t even begin to fathom. And, rather than inflict his pain on everyone around him, he preferred to withdraw into his cave and endure alone. No doubt he thought he was being noble and unselfish. She understood all of that. But his approach wasn’t working—for him or anyone else. In fact, it was having the opposite effect. And every day he stayed holed up in his room was one more day that put him closer to giving up on the one thing she knew he couldn’t bear to lose.
His career.
Unlike most of the boys she’d known in high school, Adam—and Levi, as well—had always been certain about what they’d wanted to do with their lives. With a father who’d been career military, a man who’d spoon-fed a love of country and a sense of duty into them from the time they were born, the brothers had always known that a life in the service would be for them, as well.
When asked where he wanted to go to college, Adam only had one answer: The Citadel. When questioned about which branch of the service he aspired to, he was just as brief: Army, Special Forces. He’d never wavered, had always been so certain of his course, of the path his life would take. She doubted that Adam had ever considered a contingency plan because there’d never been any other option. He set a goal, developed tunnel vision and saw it through.
She’d seen it time and time again, with everything he set his mind to, whether it was obtaining high marks in school or killing the competition on the playing field. His focus was unshakable. She’d often longed to have some of that formidable attention directed at her. A shuddering breath leaked out of her lungs as she imagined just what it would be like to be on the receiving end of Adam McPherson’s unwavering attention. Having that heavy-lidded blue-green gaze locked onto hers, the merest touch of his fingertips beneath her jaw…
At the moment she just wished he wasn’t so equally determined to avoid her.
She could help him, if he’d only let her. Though she hadn’t wanted to revert to goading him into competition with her—her typical mode of operation in the past—Winnie didn’t see any other way. The direct approach wasn’t working. Thankfully, rather than being intimidated by her athleticism, Adam had always seemed to admire that trait, a fact that warmed her to no end. He appreciated a little friendly competition and didn’t complain—or claim to have let her won—when she occasionally bested him at something.
Occasional was actually a stretch. She’d only beaten him once, at pool, so she wasn’t even sure that counted.
Interestingly, where her tomboyish tendencies had turned off other guys, Adam seemed to appreciate her capabilities. She imagined that little quirk was what had made her fall in love with him to start with.
That…and so much more.
Though Winnie couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment she’d lost her heart to Adam, the fact that he’d owned it for the majority of the past decade couldn’t be denied. While she didn’t strictly believe in love at first sight, she could distinctly remember the first time she’d seen Adam. And her reaction had been even more memorable.
She’d literally frozen in her homeroom desk, a violent full-body blush staining her from one end to the other. He’d greeted that flush of pleasurable heat with a small wondering smile and she’d known in that single, life-changing instant that he was going to be special to her.
But if her physical reaction to Adam had been strong, then the emotional one had been almost inhumanly persuasive. It had rendered every guy who she’d ever dated—or would date in the future—pointless. It had fueled her dreams and shaped her fantasies. It had made her ecstatic and miserable, lifted her up and knocked her down.
It had defined her existence.
Identifying what made Adam the perfect man for her was impossible to put into words. His laughter made her want to sing. His character made her chest feel tight. Loyalty, integrity and honor were all inherent in his make up. He was the kind of guy who stopped to help little old ladies cross the street. He fought with the strong to defend the weak. He commanded respect in other men and inspired confidence—and awe—in women.
He was categorically good to the core. That’s why she loved him, even though she knew he’d probably never love her back, never want the home and family she longed for. That’s why she had to help him find his way back to his dream.
A lump rose in her throat as her gaze slid over him once more. Lines of fatigue were etched around those unusual blue-green eyes—the shade of a clear sea—and his perpetually smiling mouth seemed weary of the forced grin. Rather than keep the high and tight military hair style, Adam had let his messy bronze curls grow out over the past few months so that he more resembled the boy she’d known.
He’d always been particularly vain when it came to his hair—and with good reason. It was truly his crowning glory. He’d once told her that getting a military cut almost made him think twice about joining the Army. She doubted that, but she’d shed a few tears for those gorgeous curls all the same. Ridiculous, she thought now, to have cried over his hair when he
’d sacrificed something so much more permanent.
“So…was there a reason you dropped by? Into my bedroom?” he asked, his lips sliding into a significant smile. A hum of electricity thrummed between them and she momentarily lost her breath. Funny, Winnie thought. She almost imagined that he could feel it, too. The way his gaze lingered along her throat…
Nah, she told herself. Wishful thinking. Just like the night he’d left last year when she could have sworn that she’d felt a change in the way his arms tightened around her. It was just a product of her ridiculous one-sided attraction. Besides, this was her opportunity.
Winnie blinked and tried to focus. “Actually, I was going to see if you could help me out. But don’t worry about it.” She waved a dismissive hand. “I can see that you’re not up for it.” She stood. “Maybe Mark Holbrook can—”
Adam grabbed her hand, jerked her back down onto the bed with a speed that startled her. His eyebrows formed a hard line. “Shouldn’t you ask me first before you get a replacement?”
His fingers twined unexpectedly through hers and the sensation was so bittersweet she struggled to focus. His hand was big and warm, calloused and curiously soft. It utterly engulfed hers and the sensation left her feeling protected. Safe.
She frowned, determined to play her role correctly as his thumb distractingly rubbed the inside of her wrist. “But you just said you’d rather be alone. I don’t want to interfere—”
He sighed wearily. “What do you need, Winnie?”
You, she thought, her breasts tingling. Just you. Now. Here.
She swallowed the insane urge to laugh. “I’m coaching a girl’s softball team—eleven and twelve year-olds. Unfortunately, my assistant coach pulled a muscle in her back during batting practice. There are three games left in the season and I could really use another pair of hands.”
Because he was frighteningly intelligent—a brilliant strategist, from what she’d heard—he merely stared at her. “And there isn’t a parent available?”
Winnie conjured a tragic sigh. “Clearly you’ve never navigated the political environment of girl’s softball. If I ask a parent, then I’m going to be accused of playing favorites. It’s just easier to get outside help.” She shrugged, feigning unconcern, and started to stand again. “Seriously, it’s not a big deal. I can ask someone else. Mark has been quite keen to—”
He pulled her down again, this time with a little more force, which sent her tumbling back onto him. Winnie landed against his chest, her lips a mere inch from the intriguing hollow of his collarbone. She was suddenly hit with the almost uncontrollable urge to lick that indentation, to taste his smooth, hot skin. Desire bolted through her, making her breath come too fast, her belly quiver. She gasped and her gaze slowly traveled along his neck, past the sharp angle of his masculine jaw. God, how she longed—literally ached—to trace his face with her fingers, to feel the rasp of stubble abrade her hands.
Her gaze finally bumped into his and the answering heat and confusion she saw there momentarily knocked the breath out of her. He blinked, dispelling the illusion, leaving her disoriented. Feeling a blush race to her hairline, she righted herself and, hands trembling, straightened her shirt.
“Mark Holbrook doesn’t know one end of the bat from the other,” he said, his voice irritated, but not altogether steady. “Surely you can do better than that.”
Funny, Winnie thought. He almost looked…jealous. Another trick of her lust-ridden mind. He wouldn’t be jealous on her account. He was only annoyed at the implied competition. She’d counted on that. It was the cornerstone of her goad-him-into-better-health plan.
Besides, Adam had always hated Mark Holbrook. Mark had an over-inflated opinion of his own intelligence, wit and skill. In truth, Mark was a self-important jackass, but Winnie wasn’t above using Adam’s intense dislike of Mark to her own advantage.
She arched a brow and glared at him. “I’ve been trying to get someone better,” she said pointedly, her lips twisting into a smile. “But I’m not having much luck.”
But from the speculative look in his eye, Winnie suspected her luck was about to change. She resisted the swell of hope that expanded in her chest, but couldn’t quite fully tamp it down.
She released a small expectant breath. “So, what do you say, Coach? Will you help me?”
3
WILL YOU HELP ME? Four innocent little words and yet, irrationally, Adam felt like he was being cornered, forced into some sort of trap…like the almost irresistible one that lurked between her thighs. Something told him if he ever found himself there, he’d never want to leave.
But the idea of Mark Holbrook, the opportunistic bastard, taking his place was enough to set his teeth on edge. How could she even consider that muscle-bound gym-rat as a comparable replacement for Adam? Had she lost her mind? Was she purposely trying to make him lose his?
Probably, he thought broodingly…and it was working.
The merest notion of another guy coming to her rescue was about as palatable as a steaming plate of goose shit, and he couldn’t stomach, either.
He slid her an appraising glance. “Do you really need my help or have you been given instructions to babysit me?” Natalie’s “stop avoiding Winnie” comment the last time they’d talked came to mind, pricking his suspicions. It would be so like his friend to enlist Winnie’s help in keeping him occupied. In keeping him sane and entertained. He knew both Levi and his new wife were worried about him.
Admittedly, Adam’s mood had sort of taken a nosedive since they’d left, but this had been the first time since the accident that he’d actually been left alone, to try and sort out his thoughts. To grieve. The shrink at the Center had warned him of this possibility, but Adam didn’t think he was truly in danger of becoming clinically depressed. He just wanted a little room to breathe.
His gaze slid over Winnie’s smooth cheek. And breathing around Winnie Cuthbert was damned dangerous.
Especially right now. He watched her pulse flutter beneath her creamy skin and longed to taste that spot, to tug her back down against his chest. Her fingers were still entwined in his, soft but strong, and he had the oddest sensation of homecoming, of being anchored instead of drifting aimlessly.
He’d been drifting for months now and had to admit the grounded sensation was particularly nice.
Even if he had the time—which he did not—it would be beyond selfish to be with her, to encourage any sort of relationship at all. Even continuing their friendship, when he knew how much he wanted her and how she felt about him, was risky. She needed a guy who was going to keep a permanent address in Bethel Bay, not one who already had a foot—albeit a fake one—already out of town.
“I need help,” Winnie insisted, but a guilty flush gave her away, signaling that her motives weren’t entirely pure.
He waited, staring at her. Predictably, she caved.
Winnie rolled her eyes and released an annoyed breath. “And, of course, everybody’s worried about you.” She snorted. “Though I don’t know where you’d get the idea that you’d need a babysitter.” She smiled at him and a devilish twinkle lit her gaze. “You’ve got your mom to do that.”
“Hey,” he said, feigning offense. “That’s uncalled for.”
She shrugged, unrepentant. “You’re the one who won’t come out from behind her skirt.”
“Knock it off, Winnie.”
“Get out of bed, Adam.”
He frowned, silently admitting that the reprimand was deserved. He did need to get out of bed. Particularly if she wasn’t going to join him in it. Another flash of this morning’s dream reeled through his mind, forcing him to shift the blanket once again. He glared at her, though it was hardly fierce. “You’re annoying, you know that?”
A grin slid over her ripe lips. “You might have mentioned it…a few thousand times.”
He speared his fingers through his hair and tugged, letting go a small groan. He gazed at her consideringly. “Exactly how much time is this going to t
ake?” he asked.
Her eyes brightened. “Is that a yes?”
“It’s a maybe,” he corrected. “Time?”
“We’ve got practice today from three-thirty to five. I thought I’d work some drills with the fielders and you could handle batting practice.”
“An hour an a half? That’s all?”
“Well, that’s all today,” she qualified. “There’ll be other practices and, of course, the games.”
“Three games, right?” He wondered why he was stalling. He knew he was going to help her, if for no other reason than to keep Mark Holbrook out of the picture.
No doubt the scheming little monster knew that.
Truthfully, he did need to get out of the house, to show his father that he was up to resuming his post. Though retired, General Jack McPherson could still influence Adam’s career. If his father saw that he was capable of returning to active duty, then Adam knew he would make an off-the-record recommendation, regardless of how his wife felt about it.
Sharon McPherson had made it exceedingly clear which path she wished Adam would take. Medic out. Come home. Do something else. She was billing it as an opportunity to pursue a different dream—a second chance. What she couldn’t seem to grasp was that he’d never had a different dream. Being a soldier was the only thing he’d ever considered.
He was third-generation military. He’d been born to do this, to protect and defend. To serve. While other guys had been flipping through skin magazines—and he’d admit to taking the occasional peek as well—he’d been studying American history, reading biographies of past presidents and military leaders. He’d been absorbing military strategy, deconstructing every conflict in order to see what worked and what hadn’t. His favorite game had been Risk and to this day, he’d never lost. He inwardly smiled. World domination had always been his M.O.
Being a soldier was more than a career choice—it was who he was. It had been hard-wired into his DNA, just as much a part of him as the skin on his body or the thoughts in his head.
He didn’t know what else to be and didn’t want to be anything else.
