She could see awareness dawn in the way his pupils dilated and his lips parted. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“You seemed interested enough the last time we were alone without the triplets,” she pointed out. “When you saved me from being strangled by my ponytail elastic.”
The microwave timer buzzed. “I seem to be rescuing you a lot these days.”
“The way you rescued your sister and your fiancée from their addictions?” she prodded.
“I suppose there is some similarity.” He set a steaming mug on the counter and located a tin of biscotti in a cabinet. “Except I didn’t actually rescue my sister. She rescued herself.”
“Yes, but you tried your best.” Sam blew on the piping hot cocoa. “Your pattern is to get involved with troubled women, steer them in the right direction and then move on.”
He didn’t look pleased. “You think that’s the way I treat people?”
She nodded, more to provoke him than because she really believed it. “Well, if you plan to dump me as soon as we get home, I hope you’ll at least wait until we’ve had sex.”
Mark gave a start. It was a good thing he’d only opened the microwave door and hadn’t removed his cup, or she might have had to treat a burn.
Sam wasn’t sure why she enjoyed teasing him. Partly, she refused to let Mark stick her in the category of damsels in distress. Also, her body tingled every time he came close, and she was tired of being celibate.
The silence didn’t last long. “I may be attracted to women with addiction problems,” he conceded, “but I refuse to get caught up in a destructive pattern of enabling them.”
“You aren’t enabling me,” she challenged. “So you have nothing to fear.”
“Oh? Who’s been saving your bacon every morning, helping you get the triplets off to day care?” He stood across the counter, balancing on both feet as if ready to swat back whatever conversational ball she lobbed in his direction.
They’d bypassed fencing and wrestling in favor of verbal tennis. Perfect—Sam had finally found a sport she could play while snacking.
“That isn’t enabling, it’s helping,” she said. “Being a mother is natural and healthy and wonderful. Besides, you’re in love with those babies. Don’t bother to deny it.”
Crinkles formed beside his eyes. “They’re adorable.” His expression turned serious. “They’re going to need a father. Have you thought about that?”
She’d like to steer this conversation back into more playful areas. “Are you volunteering?”
Alarm flashed across his face. Oops.
Sam reached out and cupped his wrist. “That was a joke, Mark.”
“I know.” He took a sip of his hot chocolate.
“Twice I’ve knocked you for a loop,” she said. “Does that mean I win the rights to the loft?”
“We’ll see.”
Or they could share it. In her present mood, Samantha didn’t mind the idea at all. Best to get started right now, because given her state of weariness, she was likely to fall asleep early tonight.
Too bad for this inconvenient counter between them. “About that wrestling match,” she began.
He pinned her, not with his arms but with a glance. “Behave yourself, Doctor.”
“Oh, all right.” She stretched her legs along the adjacent stool and turned away to enjoy the sight of snow whirling outside. A naughty impulse prompted her to stretch languidly, giving him an excellent view of her breasts.
“Sam.” The low note in his voice sent chills through her.
“Mmm?” She peered at Mark from beneath lowered lashes.
“I’m only human.”
“That’s what I’m counting on.”
He gripped the edge of the counter. “I’m trying to listen to my better judgment.”
“What happens in Big Bear stays in Big Bear,” she said.
“Is that a promise?” He eased around the counter. Losing the battle? She hoped so.
His hand smoothed along her leg toward her thigh. Instantly, heat sparked through her body, firming the tips of her breasts and warming her right to the core.
“There’s not much privacy in this room,” Mark observed softly.
“From all those hordes of snow bunnies outside?”
“Why don’t we…”
Her phone rang. They both froze.
“Couldn’t you have brought me to a cabin without cell reception?” Sam grumbled. “Don’t answer.”
“What if it’s about the triplets?”
The tone sounded again. Sam wished she’d taken the time to program different ring tones for different people, so she’d know if it was Lori or the answering service or….
The display read: Candy. She showed it to Mark.
He nodded resignedly. With a jolt of fear at what the young mother might be about to say, Sam answered.
MARK WASHED OUT THEIR MUGS while Sam listened to her caller. He was grateful in a way for the interruption, because he’d been on the verge of yielding to his impulses. But would that have been so terrible?
It had struck him during their conversation that he’d been in an awful hurry to view Sam’s behavior as addictive, to put her in the same box as his sister and his former fiancée. While her behavior could go over the top sometimes, did one weakness really erase all the strengths?
She needed a counterbalance, someone to rein her in when she went too far. Wasn’t that what couples did for each other? Maybe he ought to take a risk, for once. And today, Sam seemed more than willing to meet him halfway.
This weekend had given them a rare chance to get to know each other…if Candy didn’t drive Sam right back into a frenzy. And her reaction wasn’t the only thing bothering Mark about this call.
Earlier, he’d been too focused on Sam’s meltdown to reflect on Candy’s possessive behavior toward the triplets, but if the teenager insisted, she still had the legal right to reclaim them. He’d always doubted the young woman’s readiness to parent, and after what he’d heard about her behavior at the party, he felt even more certain it was a bad idea. Eventually, a social worker might determine negligence and take them away, but in the interim, there was no telling how much harm she could inflict.
He had a vivid image of Colin this morning, peering trustingly up while taking the bottle. The bond between child and parent had always struck Mark as an instinctive thing, predisposed by hormones and nature. But that didn’t account for the tightening in his chest whenever he pictured that little boy and his sisters being hauled off by an immature, unstable mother.
Sam was pacing through the cabin, phone pressed to her ear. Mark tuned in to her remarks. “Are you sure you’re all right?… Well, I was angry… I’m afraid I had to go out of town. Nurse Ross and Dr. Sellers are taking care of them…. No, no, they’re not sick… Really? Are you sure he’ll agree?… That would be wonderful.”
The hope in her words buoyed him. This sounded like good news.
“Yes, I’ll set things up with Mr. Franco and call you Monday. Absolutely…. Don’t be too hard on yourself, Candy. You’ve been through a lot. And thank you.”
She clicked off and stood there, breathing heavily as if she’d just run a marathon. Perhaps, emotionally, she had.
“Well?” Mark asked.
“I can’t stand here and talk. I need to move.”
“Closet,” he said.
“Sorry?”
“Let’s suit up and go for a walk.” He strode into the bedroom and unlocked a door half-hidden by the large dresser. From inside, he fetched ski caps, gloves, a windbreaker and boots. Good thing he kept a range of sizes available for friends.
Sam had already zipped her jacket when he rejoined her. They bundled up and set out into a landscape dusted with white. A few flakes still scampered through the air, but, as Mark had guessed, a big snowfall didn’t appear likely.
“Candy was in a motorcycle accident,” Sam said as they crunched their way across the gravel. “She’s scraped and bru
ised but nothing broken.”
She’d ridden on a motorcycle less than two weeks after a cesarean? “She could rupture her incision.”
“The ER doctor called in an ob-gyn. She’s fine but really sore.”
Thank goodness she’d escaped major injury. “How did it happen?”
At the edge of the road, they turned and walked side by side along the shoulder. “She was riding behind her new boyfriend, a fellow with the charming name of Spider. And tattoos to match.” Between frosty breaths, Sam explained that the bike had barely started rolling forward when it somehow overturned.
Spider, who’d suffered a sprained arm, had blamed Candy for throwing him off balance. “She said he was waving to a friend and showing off.”
“Sounds like poor judgment all around.” Mark was grateful the tumble hadn’t been more serious.
“She kept remembering how he’d wanted to take Colin with them, just held in her arms. Something about teaching the little guy not to be afraid. Can you imagine?”
Unfortunately, he could.
“She’s really shook up. You know how kids have this sense of invulnerability? Well, hers got stripped away.” Sam kicked a pinecone out of her path. “She said that if I hadn’t intervened, she might have agreed. All she could think about as she was lying on the pavement was that she might have killed Colin.”
Mark’s stomach tensed at the mental picture of that trusting little fellow lost forever. “You said something about setting up a meeting with Tony?”
“She got a text from Jon a few days ago, asking if they can be friends again. She promises to drag him in to sign those relinquishment papers.” Sam tugged her cap over her ears. “She swears she’s given up any idea of taking the triplets. That it scares her just to think about how unprepared she is to protect them.”
“How can you be sure she won’t reconsider?”
“Well, there’s always that possibility. But she sounded, well, like she’s growing up, changing. I know this isn’t a simple process, but I truly don’t believe she’s going to want them back.”
“Then you can stop worrying about that.” He rested his hand lightly on the small of her back. “Congratulations.”
Her pace took on a new jauntiness. “They’re safe! Isn’t that wonderful? Now I can focus on gearing up for Christmas. That party’s going to be great fun! You are planning to bring your sister, aren’t you?”
Ahead, a squirrel darted up a tall tree. “Someone ought to tell that critter he’s supposed to hibernate.”
“Tree squirrels don’t hibernate.”
Mark stared at her in mock dismay. “Next you’ll tell me bats don’t use radar.”
“Technically they don’t,” Sam informed him. “They use something called echolocation.”
“What are you, a nature expert?”
She chuckled. “You’d be surprised at the questions kids ask pediatricians. They expect you to be an expert on everything. Some of us don’t go around ducking questions.”
He tried to figure out what she meant. “Excuse me?”
“I asked if you were bringing your sister to the party. You changed the subject.”
“I will if she arrives in time.” Wryly, he added, “Or if she arrives at all.”
“She has to,” Sam told him briskly. “I’ve got space in my cabinet all picked out for that glassware you’re going to buy me.”
He’d almost forgotten their bet. “While I’d like to get my kiss under the mistletoe, I hope you’re right.” Besides, going to a yard sale might be fun. Especially if Sam went with him.
“How exactly do you make a snowball?” she asked sweetly. Too sweetly.
“You’re the one who grew up in Seattle. They get more snow than Florida,” he answered.
“You’re the one who owns a cabin in Big Bear.” From a patch where a thin layer had accumulated, she scooped a handful of the white stuff and pressed it like a patty.
“If you throw that at me…”
She tossed it at a tree trunk. “You’ll what?”
Spotting another meager drift deeper into the wooded area, Mark beat her there in a couple of strides and snatched up a gloveful of his own. “Return the favor.”
“But I didn’t!” Sam grabbed his arm.
“Then I guess I’ll have to do this.” He dropped the snow and gathered her close. On the street, an SUV chugged past, but Mark ignored it as he brushed his lips across Sam’s cold cheek until he reached the warmth of her mouth.
Her arms twined around him. Through the thick layers of clothing, he felt her heart thrumming to match his own.
Deliciously isolated in a column of their own heat, he enjoyed the lingering taste of Sam’s mouth and the naughty flick of her tongue. As her hands smoothed along the back of his neck, she stood on tiptoe and her hips met his.
Desire arrowed through him. He felt as if the entire woods might burst into snow-defying flame. “Think we can make it home?”
“I don’t know,” she murmured against his jaw. “Maybe we could just build a snow cave and do it here.”
“Impractical.”
“Then we should…”
“Go,” he finished.
“Fast,” she added.
So they did.
Chapter Thirteen
Sam loved the way Mark burst through his usual restraint as he swept her across the cabin and into the bedroom. He tossed his windbreaker onto the floor and, the instant she finished unzipping her jacket, peeled it off, as well.
“Damn boots,” he said, flinging aside his ski cap. “Let’s leave them on.”
Sam shook out her hair. “I don’t think that’s such a great idea. We might streak mud on the…”
Her protest got lost as he tossed her onto the bed, knelt beside her and smoothed up the pink sweater. The feel of his lips against her breasts sent her reeling.
When he released her, Sam curled around to unbuckle his belt and work open his pants. “You don’t play around,” Mark said admiringly as he helped her.
“I do play around, lucky for you.” She basked in the scent of his aftershave lotion and the powerful sight of his chest as he shrugged off his pullover. If she could just get that zipper down… There!
As he rolled her over, her boots clumped to the floor. Muttering impatiently, Mark kicked off his own. “That is better.”
“And so is this,” she said, arching to trace a heated path down Mark’s chest with her tongue.
“Incredible.” He broke off in a gasp. She had found her way to his erection.
Sam liked feeling this man grow taut beneath her, knowing he was nearing the edge of his control. Then she lifted her head, and Mark seized the initiative. With a few skillful movements, he stripped off her jeans and brought her down, ready for action. Conditioned by years of caution, Sam nearly reminded him that they ought to use protection against pregnancy, until she remembered that she didn’t need it anymore.
And she knew she had no need of any other kind of protection with Mark.
Hot longing spread through her as he joined them with long, lustful strokes. Briefly, he paused to brush back her hair and kiss her. Then he filled her again and again, until Sam lost all awareness of anything but him.
At her fevered urging, he drove into her so deeply that she could feel them both melting into a fiery wave. They crested it as one, pleasure leaping and sparking around them like hot lava.
A soft glimmer bathed them in the cool quiet of the room. “Sam,” Mark began.
Was he going to say he loved her? She felt a touch afraid, a touch hopeful. Maybe she should say it first. Because she did love him.
Sam felt the sting of apprehension. Wonderful things had happened today. To put their feelings into words might tempt fate.
She touched a finger to his lips. “Don’t talk.”
He nibbled her finger. “Why not?”
Mark wouldn’t understand about this silly superstition. “Let’s go eat.” She wriggled away from him. Shivering in the chill air,
she grabbed for her clothes.
“Earlier, you accused me of ducking questions. Why can’t I talk?” he demanded.
She might as well get this over with. “Because it’s bad luck.”
“What is?”
Maybe he hadn’t meant to say he loved her, or that this was the most special moment of his life, or that they belonged together. Perhaps she’d misread the signs, and he’d been on the verge of suggesting they take up clog dancing.
Sam tossed over his pants. “Get dressed, you stud, and quit quizzing me. I’m hungry.”
Aside from a skeptical look, Mark complied without further argument.
Since neither of them felt like cooking, they drove into the town, which early darkness had transformed into a fairyland of Christmas lights. There they discovered a range of cuisines from Italian to Mexican to Chinese, along with mountain-themed names like Lumberjack, Grizzly Manor Café and Himalayan Restaurant. They chose a barbecue place and loaded up on back ribs and fried coconut shrimp.
Being around Mark seemed to involve eating a lot of unhealthy food. Sam couldn’t have cared less.
They drove home, lit the gas log in the fireplace, and made love in front of it.
There might be no such thing as perfect happiness, she mused later as she lay in Mark’s arms in the loft, with a magnificent A-framed view of pine trees and a brilliantly starry sky. But right now, she couldn’t ask for anything more.
ON SUNDAY MORNING, THEY MADE pancakes. Afterward, Mark washed the dishes, while Sam, who’d been reluctant to disturb her friends earlier, put in a call to check on the triplets.
As far as Mark could tell from eavesdropping, everything was all right with the babies. After a lively discussion of their sleep and eating habits, Sam fell silent, listening.
“He did what?” she cried, and grinned. “You’re kidding! One night with the triplets and… Which of you changed your mind?”
Hoping he was right, Mark pointed questioningly to his ring finger. Sam nodded.
So the marriage plans were back on. Mark could hardly wait until she clicked off. “Well?”
The Holiday Triplets Page 12
