Chapter Six
That move at the beach had been dumb. Really dumb.
Which one? Sam’s subconscious goaded him.The part where you freaked out and tackled her over a senior citizen beachcombing with a metal detector, the part where you ogled her nipples perking up under her bikini top, or the part where you invented gobs of sunscreen just for the excuse to touch her?
God, he was never going to make it at this rate.
He kept his distance after they returned home from the beach, grilling steaks on the barbecue and making some sort of carrot dish he found in a cookbook. It ended up tasting funny after he burned the butter, and he’d had to Google what the hell “julienne” meant before throwing in the towel and just slicing the damn things, along with his finger.
Sheri hadn’t noticed any of it, thank God. Nor had she seemed to mind when Sam made himself a plate and took it to his room with an excuse about needing to spend time calling family back home. The urge to touch her, to take her in his arms and kiss her senseless, was so intense he felt dizzy.
By Sunday morning, he was going stir-crazy. He needed to get out of the house and clear his head before he did something dumb or dangerous. Or both.
When Sheri informed him she wanted the day alone with the boys before starting her new job Monday morning, he nearly wept with relief.
It was the perfect excuse for him to take a drive and scope out Sheri’s new workplace. He’d never been to the Pacific Missile Range Facility, and he knew there was usually a long waiting period filled with extensive background checks for anyone who wished to visit. You couldn’t get clearance without proper documentation and proof you owned a vehicle registered on the island.
But Mac’s connections and Sam’s military background made the whole thing a snap, which is how Sam found himself handing over his ID and paperwork to the armed, uniformed soldier at the entry gate.
“We’ll hold on to these here at the gate during your visit, sir,” the soldier informed him as he set aside Sam’s documents. “We’ll cross-check everything on your way out, too.”
He handed everything over gratefully, making note of the security systems in place. Though his own military credentials had helped, Sam knew he couldn’t have gotten in this quickly without Mac pulling government strings. There was normally a lengthy waiting period for visitors at PMRF, which was a good thing when it came to Limpdick. If Sheri’s ex showed up on Kauai, he’d have a tough time gaining access to the compound on short notice.
Tough, but not impossible.
It was vital to get the lay of the land, to understand potential threats when Sheri was at work during the day.
“Thank you,” he said to the guard. “I appreciate your service.”
“Sir,” the man said, and gave him a salute. “Enjoy your day.”
“Mahalo,” he said, and drove forward, breathing in the warm salty air, appreciating the fact that he’d been able to find a family-friendly Jeep with tons of safety features and plenty of room for the boys’ car seats. He had to hand it to Mac for having the foresight—not to mention the means—to buy a vehicle for Sam. Renting would have been complicated, and buying the Jeep gave Mac the added bonus of being able to gift it to Sheri once Sam’s tour was over in two weeks.
Two weeks.
He felt a pang of sadness at the thought of things ending, which was stupid. He kept his eyes on the road, cruising past the fitness facility, past the Navy Exchange and the post office, past the car wash and racquetball court. He drove by an outdoor movie theater where he imagined holding Sheri’s hand under the stars as they ate popcorn and snuggled beneath a blanket.
Focus, he commanded himself as he parked and got out of the Jeep. You’re here for business. Here to make sure Sheri is safe at all times and that her a*shole ex can’t get anywhere near her.
He grabbed the fishing pole and tackle box he’d bought back in town, figuring it was a good excuse if anyone grew suspicious of his presence there. There wasn’t anything in particular he was looking for. He just wanted to have the lay of the land, to know where Sheri would be spending her days and how hard or easy it might be to protect her if the need arose.
The sun was beating down on him, so he stripped off his shirt and tucked it into the back of his shorts.
“Mornin’.”
He turned to see an older man in a red-and-white-striped derby hat who was following the same path toward the Kinikini ditch. The man smiled and lifted his own tackle box. “Good day for fishing.”
“Looking forward to it,” Sam replied.
“They’ve got an unscheduled flight coming in shortly. Better stick to the north of the windsock or they’ll make you relocate.”
Sam nodded and tipped his baseball cap. “I appreciate that.”
“You new around here?”
Sam nodded. “Just on the island for a couple weeks doing a favor for an old buddy.”
“Ah—good place for that. I take it you’re a Marine?”
“Sir?”
“Your ink.” He nodded at the tattoo on Sam’s shoulder. “Looks like a devil dog, if I’m not mistaken. I was a Marine, too. You still serving?”
“I’m—uh—taking a little time off. Regrouping.”
“Got it. Say no more. Well, it was good meeting you. Good luck with the fishing.” He tipped his derby hat and continued on his way.
“You, too,” Sam called after him, watching him disappear down the path.
He continued exploring, checking out the grounds while pausing every now and then to cast a line or watch the Navy planes flying low against the blue sky. Eventually, he made his way back to the car and headed toward Shenanigans, the café near the south end of the compound. He ordered a sausage pizza and sat jotting notes to himself while he munched.
Investigate Jonathan Price, he wrote, taking a bite of pizza.
It made him uneasy knowing Sheri’s ex was here in Hawaii. Mac’s latest intelligence confirmed Limpdick was staying put in Honolulu, but it wouldn’t take much for the guy to hop on a puddle-jumper and show up on her doorstep. Did Limpdick have family on Kauai? Did he have any other reason to visit the Garden Isle, or was it possible he’d just wait in Honolulu until his leave was up and he had to report to his new command? Did Limpdick know where Sheri lived?
He made a note to ask Mac for more details.
Mac had said the family worried Sheri might feel vulnerable enough to take Limpdick back. That her urge to do the right thing for her babies might make her cave to pressure from the ex to get back together. It was worth keeping an eye on things, but from what Sam had observed so far, Sheri seemed stronger than her brothers gave her credit for.
He tapped his pen on the table and forced himself to keep his mind on his task list.
Make friends with the neighbors, Sam jotted, putting a star by it for emphasis. He’d seen a neighborhood watch sign on the street where Sheri lived. Might be smart to introduce himself to a few people, maybe volunteer to help. If Limpdick came sniffing around, it would be smart to have neighbors keeping an eye out for him.
Install better locks at the house. Surely Sheri couldn’t argue with that, especially if he explained he was doing it to keep the babies safe.
He jotted a few more notes to himself, including a reminder to research Price’s mistress. Both Mac and Sheri had mentioned the affair, and they’d said she was a stripper in Arkansas. Was she still there? Sam wanted to find out.
Thinking about Sheri made his gut twist, and he tapped the pen on the paper, distracted. He knew it was dumb to harbor a longtime crush on a girl he’d only met once at a party in college. Dumb, which is why he felt okay taking the job. Crushes were harmless, and nothing that would impact his ability to do his job. Certainly nothing that would cause him to break his promise to Mac about not laying a hand on her.
You already laid a hand on her, idiot.
He frowned, remembering his roving hands on the beach. Okay, so he’d screwed up. It wouldn’t happen again. He’d make sure of it.
He shook his head and picked up the pen again. A college crush was a manageable thing, but things felt different now that he was here. Now that he’d met the grownup version of Sheri and realized what a stunning, intelligent, sexy woman she’d turned out to be—he was feeling a lot more than a crush. He didn’t know what to call it, but he knew he needed to be careful.
Much more cautious than he’d been the last time he’d screwed up and other people paid the ultimate price.
Sam finished off the pizza and closed his notebook. He trudged back to the car and made the return trip to Sheri’s house. The breeze was warm and fragrant, and he felt grateful the Jeep gave him the option for fresh air instead of air-conditioning. The smell of the sea and the island plumeria was a good reminder that this was a pretty sweet job.
Just be careful, he reminded himself.
When he walked through the door of her house, the smell of warm garlic and sage hit him sharply in the gut, giving him an odd pang of longing for his mother. He moved tentatively into the kitchen, surprised to see no one there. The oven was on, so he peered inside. A baking sheet sat cheerfully in the middle, covered with neat rows of chicken thighs covered in something crispy and brown.
“Potato flake chicken,” a voice said behind him, and he turned to see Sheri standing in the doorway. She wore a pale-gray skirt and a sea-green top made out of some sort of silky material that wrapped around her torso and draped elegantly over her lovely, freckled shoulders.
He opened his mouth to say something intelligent, but all he got out was, “Guh.”
She laughed and padded barefoot into the kitchen, nudging him aside with one hip to check something in a pot on the stovetop. “Thanks, I think. I was just trying on some of the outfits I bought when I went shopping with Kelli the other day. I was thinking about this one for my first day. Does this skirt make my butt look big?”
She stepped back from the stove and did a quick pirouette, giving a self-conscious little laugh as her bare toes squeaked on the tile floor. He opened his mouth to say something, but his tongue failed him again. “Ung.”
He cleared his throat and stepped back, feeling hot all of a sudden. Must be the oven. “You look—wow. I mean yes. No. That is, uh—your butt. Great. Really. I have to go check my—something.”
He backed into the counter and looked for an escape route, dimly aware that the wall wasn’t the best option. He thought about punching his way through it, but decided to brave the danger and edge past her. She had bent over the oven by then, poking at the chicken with a fork and squinting against the intense heat.
He did his best not to bump her, not to come into contact with those fragrant curls or the silky blouse that hugged her curves or that perfect, shapely ass. Good God, it was hot in the kitchen.
Escape.
He made a beeline for his room, and was halfway through the dining area before he realized he hadn’t properly answered her question.
“You look amazing,” he yelled from that distance, not willing to go back into the danger zone for anything. “You’ll knock ’em dead at work.”
“Thanks,” she yelled back, looking mildly perplexed as she pushed the oven door shut with her hip. “Dinner’s ready in ten minutes. I felt like cooking since it’s my last day at home. It’s nothing gourmet like you make, and nothing super-nutritious and organic like normal moms whip up, but it’s good comfort food if you want it.”
He nodded and hustled to his manny cell, closing the door behind him. He leaned heavily against it, shaking his head over his own stupidity. Even now, his hands were twitching with the urge to touch her. He couldn’t believe how close he’d come to reaching out just to feel her body, warm and lush beneath that silky top. Or to stroke the curve of her backside through the skirt.
“Comfort food,” he repeated, still breathing heavily. “Not the sort of comfort I need right now,” he murmured, and went to take a cold shower.
…
Sheri swallowed her last bite of mashed potatoes, savoring the final, buttery bite as she put down her fork. Dinner had gone pretty well, considering. The chicken had been perfectly crunchy, with just enough Parmesan and pepper mixed in with the potato flakes to make the skin crisp and flavorful. It wasn’t fancy, but it was one of the few things Sheri could remember her mom cooking for their big military family.
Sam had been quiet throughout the meal, though he’d had two helpings and still managed to spoon mashed carrots into Jeffrey’s mouth, while she took care of feeding Jackson. Having an extra set of hands around was incredible, though it took every ounce of strength Sheri had not to think lusty thoughts about those hands. She imagined his broad fingers roaming across her body, making her whimper and wriggle beneath his touch.
She took a shower after dinner, eager to clear her head. She’d been foolish to ask his opinion on the skirt. She’d meant it innocently enough, but what had she been thinking? Why would any man in his right mind answer the question “does this make my butt look big?” Apparently, she’d gone too long without a man in the house. She’d forgotten the basic rules of coed cohabitation.
Still, it felt good to have him ogle her. Maybe too good.
After she’d bathed the twins and Sam had scrubbed the kitchen, she tucked the boys into their cribs. She was just patting Jackson’s back when Sam poked his head into the room.
“I think I’ll turn in a little early,” he said. “Big day tomorrow. For both of us, I guess. You’ve got your first day of work, and I’ve got my first full day alone with the little guys.”
Jeffrey gurgled happily in response, and Jackson batted at the mobile dangling over their cribs. Sheri smiled.
“They already know your voice,” she said. “They like you.”
“I like them.” He hesitated in the doorway, watching her, watching the twins. “You heard from your ex lately?”
She frowned. “Why do you ask?”
“No reason. Mac mentioned he’d been calling. Asked me to keep an eye out for him.”
“I’ve had a few voicemails from him. Stupid stuff about getting back together. I’m sure he’s just drunk dialing.”
“Let me know if you hear from him again, okay?”
“Why?”
“I’d just feel better knowing if he plans to show up here and see the boys. Or you.”
“I doubt it’ll come to that. Jonathan’s not one to follow through.” She frowned, wondering if she should be annoyed by the line of questioning. He sounded nosy, maybe even a little possessive, but she couldn’t seem to work up any real indignation about it. Besides, it was Sam’s home, too, at least for now.
She yawned, too tired to give any more thought to the matter. “I think I’m going to head to bed.”
“Sleep well.”
“You, too. Thanks for everything, Sam.”
“No problem. It’s my job.” He hesitated again. “It is a job, you know. I have to be careful about not crossing any lines or doing anything that might create an unprofessional environment or jeopardize our working relationship or—”
“I get it,” she interrupted, feeling her cheeks flush. She looked down at her babies so she wouldn’t have to meet his eyes. “I won’t ask you any more questions about my butt.”
“Good.” He cleared his throat, hesitating again. “But since you already asked me that one, and since I did a pretty lousy job answering it, let me just state for the record that you have the most spectacular ass I’ve ever seen in my life.” He swallowed, then nodded. “I needed to put that out there in case there was any confusion.”
“I appreciate that,” she said, stifling the urge to giggle or smile or do anything else that would give her away as a wanton hussy instead of a demure, mild-mannered mother of two. “Thank you for clarifying.”
“If you could refrain from mentioning that to your brother, I’d appreciate it.”
“Noted.” She hid her smile behind her hand.
He nodded again. “Good night, Sheri.”
And with that, he wandered off down the hall.
…
Sleep didn’t come easily that night for Sheri.
She wanted to pretend it was the nervous jitters of starting a new job in the morning, but that was only part of it. She felt dizzy with the knowledge that Sam was sleeping just inches away through the thin walls painted apricot on his side and pale turquoise on hers.
How had that happened?
Not the wall colors, though that was odd, too. How had she come to be a single mother of twins with a gorgeous, sensitive, sexy man sleeping in another room instead of in her bed?
Not that she needed another macho guy in her bed. Jonathan had been plenty for one lifetime, thank you very much. There were times she wondered what she’d seen in him, but mostly she knew. Security. Strength. The familiarity of a big, strong military man who reminded her of her father, her mother, her brothers, her uncles, and pretty much every other member of the Patton family for as far back as Sheri could remember.
Not that there was anything wrong with the military, per se, but Jonathan had made her aware of a pattern. He, like so many of his friends, was a macho, knuckle-dragging jerk who cared more about climbing the ranks than climbing into bed with her and telling her she was smart or beautiful or that she made him see stars when they kissed.
Sam’s different, whispered a tiny voice in her head. And he’s not military.
Maybe so, she whispered back. But Sam is off-limits.
Right now, with a new job and new single motherhood, she needed a nanny, not a man. She needed him to do a job, not to do her. He was here to help her juggle it all—the career, the babies, the house—and she couldn’t risk a distraction that might cause one of them to drop the ball.
Of course, they had agreed this was a trial period. If Sam moved on in a couple weeks and she found a different nanny, maybe then she and Sam could—
Stop it!
She rolled over to adjust the baby monitor, hoping to hear the breathy little murmurs of her sons’ sleep sounds. Then she remembered Sam’s insistence that she leave it with him for the night.
“It’s your first day at your new job tomorrow,” he’d reminded her after dinner. “My whole job is centered around making it easier for you to be a working mother. If they need to be fed or changed in the middle of the night, it makes sense for me to handle it.”
She hadn’t argued, and she’d appreciated his foresight. But now she longed for the comfort of their sleepy little murmurs. Maybe she should just peek in on them…
She was out of bed and wrapping herself in her purple satin robe before she’d even completed the thought. She tiptoed down the tiled hallway, careful not to make any noises that could wake Sam or the babies.
Their bedroom smelled like baby shampoo and talcum powder, and she breathed it in, feeling calmer already. She took a few steps toward the cribs and peered down. Their little bodies were pressed close to the bars, and Jeffrey had reached through to curl his fingers around his brother’s big toe. Jackson slurped his fingers and made breathy little sounds in his sleep.
“You guys are the best,” she whispered softly, resisting the urge to touch them. No sense waking them up.
She watched them a few more moments before stepping away from the cribs. She turned and tiptoed toward the door, pivoting one last time to gaze at their little sleeping forms in the glow of the nightlight. Then she stepped into the hallway with her eyes still on the cribs, feeling her way along the wall.
A hand clapped over her mouth and Sheri struggled to scream as she collided with a solid wall of muscle.