LITMIR.BIZ

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      Pausing to pet the dog, Adam then went directly to the port-a-crib. Brooklyn began gurgling and kicking her feet. Her big blue eyes appeared focused on Adam.

      Hardly a month old and she was already a flirt, Eve thought with a shake of her head.

      “Hi, short stuff,” Adam teased, tickling the baby’s belly.

      The sound of Brooklyn’s delighted laughter filled the air, warming Eve’s heart.

      Walking away from the crib, Adam crossed back to the kitchen. His eyes swept around the room. Keeping a straight face, he asked Eve, “Need help?”

      “No.” The word came out like a warning shot fired at a potential intruder. “I’ve got everything under control here.”

      Rather than dispute her claim, Adam slid onto the closest stool. Propping his upturned palm beneath his chin, he just stared unabashedly at her.

      “What are you doing?” she demanded.

      “Waiting for your nose to grow,” he replied simply. “Happened in a fairy tale. Little wooden boy lied, his nose grew something awful.”

      She held up her hand to stop him from going on. “I am aware of the fairy tale,” she informed him through gritted teeth, “and I am not lying.”

      He gave her a knowing look, pretending to humor her. “Lucky for you, fairy tales don’t come true.” He slid off the stool and looked around. Enough was enough. It was time to get down to business. “All right, where do you want me to get started?”

      She gave up the protest with a heartfelt sigh. “Do you have a magic wand?”

      He laughed. “I don’t think you need that much help. Just a little,” he added, trying to bolster her morale. “Why don’t we divide up the work? Would that make things easier on you?”

      “I used to be able to handle everything,” she told him with an air of helplessness.

      The water in the pot finally simmered down, sinking to its new level. A lot of water had gone over the side. Wanting to replenish what was lost, she grabbed the pot by its handles in order to refill it and immediately yelped, releasing the pot again. Why she’d suddenly forgotten that there was no coating on the pot handles was completely beyond her.

      Grabbing her hands in his, Adam quickly moved her toward the sink. He turned the faucet on and ran cold water over her palms.

      What was wrong with her? She knew to do that, to instantly apply cold to the affected area in order to minimize the damage. Had giving birth completely diminished her brain power?

      “And you’ll be able to handle everything again—soon,” Adam promised her, still holding her hands beneath the running water. “But for now, there’s nothing wrong with accepting a little help when you’re not firing on all four cylinders,” he added mildly. Releasing her hands, he reached for a towel and offered it to her. “Why don’t I take over the mashed potatoes—I am assuming they’re going to be mashed.” He looked at her, waiting for confirmation.

      She bit back a wince as she wiped the towel over her tender fingers. “Yes, they’re going to be mashed.”

      He regarded the potatoes for a moment, then raised his eyes to meet hers. “You make them with garlic, parmesan and mozzarella cheeses and milk?”

      “That was the plan, more or less.” She wouldn’t have thought of adding the cheeses, but that did sound good.

      “Great.” He reached for the whisk she kept housed in a colorful jar on the counter, along with several other utensils. “I can take out all my aggression on the potatoes.”

      Opening the refrigerator to take out the one dessert she’d prepared last night, Eve stopped to give him a puzzled look. “What aggression?”

      “Just a little joke,” Adam assured her as he moved over to the sink and, using pot holders, drained the potatoes. A cloud of steam rose, but he deftly avoided coming in contact with it, drawing back his head. “Apparently very little,” he commented more to himself than to her.

      “I’m sorry, but you’ve thrown me off by coming now. I didn’t expect you until later,” she told him, then turned her attention to the stuffing she’d placed in the oven earlier.

      Opening the top oven, she raised the aluminum foil away from the rectangular pan, wanting to reassure herself that nothing was burning. This represented three-quarters of the stuffing. The remaining quarter was inside the turkey, absorbing the bird’s juices for added flavor. She would make sure that Adam sampled it. She wasn’t quite sure why she was so set on showing him she was a good cook, but in the last few minutes, it had become very important to her.

      “Sorry, I didn’t mean to throw you off,” he apologized. “But the store’s closed today and I had nothing to do. I don’t like having a lot of time on my hands.”

      That much was true. There’d been a quick touching of bases with not only his handler—who was on his way to spend the holiday with his sister and her family—but with Sederholm, as well. He’d gone to see Sederholm to find out firsthand how things were coming along with the replacement shipment. He’d had to listen to the cocky college senior delineate his getaway plan, the one he intended to use on his parents by skipping out on the evening meal. Sederholm had sounded more than a little paranoid as he assured him that everything was on schedule and that he’d have his supply “soon.”

      Once he’d gotten all that out of the way, Adam caught himself thinking about Eve. Constantly. That very fact should have thrown up all sorts of red flags for him. He should be trying to stay away from her. It just wasn’t working out for him. Being away from Eve only made him want to see her more. The trite saying was right. Absence, even absence involving a mere matter of hours, made the heart grow fonder.

      Adam sighed. He was becoming entrenched in this “helpful lover” role he’d taken on. So much so that it was taking center stage with him. He knew the danger. It made him let his guard down, interfered with his focus. Which in turn endangered not just him and the people he worked with, but Eve and Brooklyn, as well.

      He couldn’t allow anything to happen to them.

      Maybe they’d all be better off if he just walked away.

      Damned if he did and damned if he didn’t. What was the right call? He honestly wasn’t sure.

      Tomorrow. He’d think about that and make up his mind tomorrow. Today, there were different priorities to consider.

      “So I thought I’d come over and see if I could lend you a hand or at least some support,” he continued. “My mother used to say that I was pretty handy in the kitchen.”

      “Your mother?” she echoed. He didn’t strike her as the type to talk about his mother. She didn’t think of him as warm and fuzzy.

      “You sound surprised.” Adam grinned, amused. “Even I had parents.”

      “I didn’t mean to imply that I thought you didn’t, but you don’t exactly talk about your family.”

      Adam forced his voice to sound light, as if the subject and what had happened hadn’t been carved into his heart.

      “There’s a reason for that.”

      Was it her imagination, or was he working that whisk particularly hard? He really was taking out his feelings on the potatoes. “And that is?”

      “I don’t have a family,” he told her simply. “Not anymore.”

      He’d told her that his sister was dead, but he hadn’t mentioned anything about his parents. She felt instant empathy in her soul. “Your parents are dead?”

      “Yes.”

      The single word was completely devoid of any feeling, any telltale indications of the boy who had once been cut to the quick at the sudden deprivation. He hadn’t had time to grieve.

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