Broken (8 page)

Shrugging on a robe, I went to the door. I knew the only person it would be was Adam, so I raked my fingers through my mass of wavy hair and wiped the sleep from my eyes. Adam held up a soaking wet grocery bag and smiled warmly as the raindrops ran from his flattened, drenched hair into his eyes. Apparently his penchant for cooking included breakfast, so I quickly let him inside.

He lit the fire and put on coffee while I scurried to the bathroom to fetch him a towel, then left him to cook breakfast while I took a quick shower and dressed. By the time I returned to the living room, the smell of bacon was wafting from the kitchen, making my tummy rumble and my mouth water.

There was a buzz in the air after the previous night, both of us taking sideways glances at the other and giggling nervously when we were caught. Sliding onto a stool at the breakfast bar, my chin resting dreamily on my hand, I watched Adam serve up bacon, eggs, and waffles. Reaching for the plate closest to me, I went to slide it over, but he moved it away.

“You need to kiss the cook first,” he teased. “That's the rule of the kitchen.”

Leaning over the counter, I tried to give him a peck on the cheek but he pulled away, disappointed. “Are you kidding me? After last night's kiss, that's the best you can do?”

“I can't perform on an empty stomach, Sugar,” I retorted.

He laughed. “It's the chicken or the egg, isn't it? Is it food required before a kiss, or a kiss to get the food?” His eyebrows danced as he waited for my response.

“The more food ya gimme, the more kisses you'll get.” I grinned cheekily.

“How can I refuse a beautiful girl who's also logical?” He slid the plate in front of me. “You win. Eat first and then you'll owe me.”

We both sat at the breakfast bar while we ate, intermittently watching each other, stoking the fire in my belly with every glance. It made me feel like a schoolgirl with her first crush, only this crush was on the hot jock, the coolest guy in school, and he seemed to be crushing on me just as much.

I soaked up the last of my egg yolk with the bacon and sat back, my stomach full.

“Finally,” Adam said, spinning my stool around to face him. His lips were on mine as his hand slipped into my hair, pulling my head lightly to his. I leaned into it, wanting to feel the connection with not only our mouths, but also our entire bodies.

Adam's free arm snaked around my waist and pulled me into him until I was standing between his open legs, our kiss heating up until a soft moan escaped me and was captured in Adam's parted lips.

“That's more like it.” He sighed as we came up for air.

Yes, that was more like it. That was the sort of kiss I would never grow tired of. The kind that I wanted to write about and sing songs about.

I giggled; I couldn't help it. Being with Adam made me feel lighter, light of spirit, and light of heart with not a care in the world.

“I wrote my first kissin' scene last night,” I told him hesitantly. “I used our kiss as inspiration. Hope that's okay.”

The broad grin on Adam's face told me it was. “Can I read it?”

Adam sat by the computer while I pulled up the chair beside him.

“It's at around page thirty-six.”

He hit the Page Down key until he found the beginning of the scene, then cleared his throat while I sat there nervously chewing my lip. Then, to my surprise, he began reading it aloud:

Adam's eyes flicked up at me and locked with mine for a moment, before returning to the story.

Adam was silent for a full minute as he laced his hands behind his head and leaned back in the chair, his gaze holding mine captive. Finally he sat forward, his elbows resting on the table.

“Wow,” he puffed. “All that from one kiss.”

Smiling, I tried to divert my gaze but couldn't. His hold was too strong. “Artistic license plays a big part, of course,” I said casually, feeling anything but casual.

“It was fireworks, wasn't it?” His eyes glazed over, and I realized I wasn't the only one who felt that something major had transpired the night before when we'd kissed.

Reaching out, I took his hand and squeezed it gently.

“So you could feel how hard I was?” he asked with a crooked grin on his perfect lips.

My face flushed as I nodded.

“Good, so now you know what you do to me. The ball is in your court.”

Removing my glasses, I rubbed my tired eyes and yawned. I'd been burning the midnight oil trying to keep ahead of my deadline, and it was now close to 3:00 a.m. It was quiet, too quiet. The iPod had run out of juice hours ago but I had been too engrossed in what I was doing to get up and charge it. The fire had also gone out, and there was a chill in the air.

The solitude consumed me as I sat alone in the silence, a melancholy sweeping over me. My eyes began to blur with silent tears. I knew they were partly because I was dead tired, but there was something else gnawing at me.

Looking at the bottom corner of my laptop screen, I checked the date—it was Christmas morning. This would be the first Christmas I would be without any sort of family. I had only known my parents for a short time before they'd passed away, but I had lived with Mimi for ten years and she'd always made Christmas as special as she possibly could. After college, I had moved back to Charles's hometown and his family had embraced me instantly. Every year the entire extended family would come together. We would attend church and sort through all the donations of toys that had been made, distributing them to the less fortunate. It was one of the things that really made me feel like I was contributing to our town, and seeing the children's faces always brought a tear to my eye. But that was in the past. There would be no more Charles or his mother, who loved to fuss around in the kitchen all day. I would never see his uncle, who always ate far too much and then fell asleep on the sofa with his pants undone. There would be no pumpkin pie this year, or any type of pie for that matter.

“Well, you left him,” I muttered to myself. “This is your doin' and nobody else's.”

I wiped my teary eyes and decided to call it a night. Dumping my clothes in a heap on the floor, I climbed into bed and was asleep before my head hit the pillow.

Loud banging on the bedroom window startled me awake, and I jumped out of my skin, squealing when I saw a ham dancing along the windowsill. I closed my eyes and rubbed them, certain I had imagined the dancing ham. Daring to look through partially opened eyes, I checked again. Nope, still there. Adam's grinning face sprung up from below the window and he blew me a kiss, then signaled to the back door.

What was he doing here so early? I checked the time. Oh, it was 10:30 a.m. My late night had meant a late start to the day.

Sliding the door open, I stepped to one side and marveled at the armful of bags of food Adam was carrying.

“Sorry to frighten you,” he said as he leaned down to kiss my forehead, the shopping balanced precariously in his arms. “I was out here knocking for at least fifteen minutes. I finally had to wake you up.”

He placed the bags of food on the kitchen counter before swooping back over and literally sweeping me off my feet and into his arms.

“Merry Christmas, Buttercup.”

Flinging my arms around him, I buried my face in the warmth of his neck. “Merry Christmas to you, too, Sugar.” I squeezed tight, so grateful that I had Adam in my life.

He must have sensed my relief and nuzzled my hair. “You didn't think I'd let you spend the day alone, did you?”

I shook my head, but didn't lift it from his broad shoulder.

“And you know how much I enjoy cooking. We're going to have a feast!”

Tears prickled my eyes and I dried them subtly on Adam's shoulder. When I stepped away, he studied my face.

“We're both away from our families for the holidays, but we have each other, right?”

God, I was so selfish. Of course Adam was away from whomever he usually spent Christmas with, because he was here with me. He had told me all about his parents, his two older sisters, Kathleen and Melanie, and his twin brother Will, all of whom still lived in England. But it had never dawned on me that he went home to be with them at this time of year.

“Why didn't you go home to see your family for Christmas? What would y'all normally do?”

He gave me a half-smile. “I spent the last few months back in England with them. I needed a break.” He pulled me back in for a hug. “They were driving me fucking crazy.”

“Too much of a good thing.” I laughed, and he nodded before giving me a pat on the backside and sending me to the bedroom to get dressed.

By the time I came out, dressed in my last half-decent top that didn't need washing, Adam was deep in chef mode. He looked to have everything under control, so I went to the laptop to start writing again. Before I'd had a chance to open the file, coffee and a bagel with cream cheese were placed beside me.

“I could get used to this,” I said as I took a huge bite of the bagel.

Adam smiled and went back to work in the kitchen as if waiting on me was nothing at all, which made me sure he didn't realize just how much I appreciated it. Back in Mississippi, I had been the stay-at-home wife and had been expected to do absolutely everything. Charles would no sooner make me a cup of coffee than fly—that was considered woman's work to take care of while the men did important things like talk politics and religion for hours on end.

I was deep in thought, working through a scene, so I didn't realize that Adam had stopped the food preparation and was watching me.

He cleared his throat, then waited for me to look up. “So, I was wondering…” He hesitated and seemed to draw in a deep breath for courage. “It's getting quite cold outside on the deck, and the view from your bedroom window is pretty impressive.”

I knew where this was going, but it was a rare occasion that Adam wasn't brimming with confidence, so there was no way I was bailing him out. Instead, I decided to have a little fun with it. “Hmm, as you would know from this mornin', when you were peerin' in like a Peepin' Tom.”

He chuckled. “I meant the view
out
of the window…although the view in was pretty breathtaking too.”

I tried to keep a straight face, but couldn't help smiling at his remark.

He smoothed the whiskers on his chin. “Um, do you think it would be okay if I moved the easel into your room and set up in there? If I moved the chaise from under the window, there would be plenty of space.”