Marine for Hire (11 page)

“Sheri?” he called. “Where are you?”

“I’m out here,” she yelled back, but her voice sounded faint. Nervous. Sam felt the hair rise on the back of his neck as he glanced quickly into the babies’ room, relieved to see they were both sleeping soundly.

Still, something wasn’t right. He could feel it.

“Sheri?”

“I’m out here. At the front door. And, um, Sam?”

“Yeah?”

“There’s someone here you need to meet.”

Chapter Thirteen

Sheri breathed deeply, on the brink of hyperventilating. She fought to calm her jangling nerves while buying herself some time to figure out how the hell to handle the most awkward situation she’d encountered since the day she’d shown up at her Mommy and Me group with thong panties static-glued to her sweatshirt.

She blinked, her eyes still adjusting the darkness. The porch light was dim, but she could still see that familiar, handsome face staring coolly back at her.

“Jonathan,” she said at last.

It was partly to warn Sam, who’d come into the room behind her, and partly to remind herself of her ex-husband’s name. She realized her hand hurt and glanced at it, then released her death grip on the door and watched the blood drain back into her fingers. She turned back to her visitor and regarded him through the rusty screen door.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

“Sheridan,” he said, brushing invisible dust off the immaculate sleeve of his navy whites. “Is that the most polite greeting you can manage for the father of your children?”

Sheri felt her skin prickle with disgust, and wondered where Sam had left that weird-looking chef’s knife. She imagined plunging it into Jonathan’s chest, then forced herself to take three deep breaths before speaking. “Be grateful I didn’t slam the door in your face, you cheating, scum-sucking, low-life, spineless piece of—”

“Hi, I’m Sam.”

Her half-naked manny stepped up beside her, using his broad shoulder as a shield between her and Jonathan. Sam had a towel around his waist, a sheen of water glistening across his chest, and a look that suggested he would be happy to punch a hole in the screen door and strangle Jonathan with his bare hands if Sheri gave the order.

She considered it, then decided blood was too difficult to scrub off the doorstep.

“A little late for a visit, wouldn’t you say?” Sam said. His tone was casually cheerful, but the ice in his voice made Sheri shiver. Or maybe that was the memory of what the two of them had been doing just seconds before. His bare torso was inches away, and Sheri could feel the warmth radiating from his skin. She fought the urge to touch him, to lean into him and absorb all that strength and delicious heat.

“I’m sorry, who did you say you were?” Jonathan asked, folding his arms over chest. “I must have missed that.”

“Sam is my manny,” Sheri said, matching her ex-husband’s folded arm stance. It was less an effort to look tough and more that she felt the belt on her robe slipping.

“Manny?” Jonathan asked in the same tone he would have used to say “gigolo” or “stripper
.
” He narrowed his eyes at Sam. “What the hell is a manny?”

“A male nanny,” Sam supplied. “Often utilized in a caretaker capacity to provide domestic support and a positive male role model in situations where the paternal figure has abandoned his familial obligations.”

Jonathan blinked, trying to figure out if he’d just been insulted. “What?” He snorted. “Did you see that on
Oprah
?”

“
The View
, actually,” Sam said, his tone eerily cheerful. “It was an episode discussing the idea of whether men who cheat on their wives and abandon their infant sons should be castrated or publicly stoned.”

“I must have missed that episode,” Sheri said, edging her body between the two men in case one decided to lunge for the other. “Let me repeat the question, Jonathan—why are you here?”

“Haven’t you gotten my messages? I’ve been trying to reach you. I think it’s time we stop this nonsense and get back together. It’s the right thing to do for the boys.”

Sheri blinked, digesting his words the way she imagined she’d digest a piece of rotting meat. “Are you out of your fucking mind?”

Jonathan frowned. “For crying out loud, Sheridan. I hope you don’t speak to our children using that sort of profanity.”

“Oh, that’s rich. The guy who abandoned his wife and newborn twins for a
stripper
suddenly gives a shit about their well-being?”

Jonathan regarded her with a familiar steely look that made the hair prickle on her arms. “We need to talk,” he said. “I’m leaving for my new command in ten days. Naples. Remember how we used to talk about going to Italy? There are joint jobs there. If we’re going to rekindle things between us, I really think—”

“You’re not thinking at all, Jonathan. Not sanely, anyway. You’re supposed to call if you want to see the boys.”

“I did call,” he replied icily. “About an hour ago. Was there a reason you didn’t answer your phone?” He raised an eyebrow at her through the rusted screen, and Sheri resisted the urge to unfold her arms and cinch the belt on her robe.

“I left my phone in the kitchen. That’s none of your business anyway,” she snapped. “And if you refer to the conditions of our divorce paperwork and custody agreement, you’re required to provide twenty-four hours’ notice if you want to see the boys.”

“This is ridiculous, Sheridan. I shouldn’t have to make an appointment to see my wife and kids.”

“I’m
not
your wife,” she snapped. “And you sure as hell haven’t had any interest in seeing the boys the last seven months. You hightailed it out of here before they could even sit up.”

“You’re exaggerating. I would think someone concerned with their kids’ well-being would be more focused on staying levelheaded when dealing with the only father they have. I know what’s best for this family, Sheridan. For
you.
”

Sheri gripped the edge of the door again, imagining it as his skull with her fingers digging into his eye sockets. She hated how hurt and betrayed she felt even now, staring down the man who’d pledged “for better or worse” and then fled the first chance he got. She swallowed hard, fighting back the threat of tears.

Beside her, Sam inched closer and rested a hand in the small of her back. “I think it’s time for you to go now, Price.”

Jonathan narrowed his eyes at Sam before turning back to Sheri. “You need to let this go. The thing with Candy just happened, but if you look at the big picture of what’s best here—”

“You
just happened
to trip over your shoelaces and fall with your dick in another woman?” Sheri snapped. “You
just happened
to forget you had a wife and kids? You
just happened
to decide not to come home one day? Spare me, you lying piece of shit. You don’t know what’s best for anyone but yourself.”

A hint of alarm flickered over Sam’s face, and Sheri grimaced at the shrewish sound of her own voice. But goddammit, she was pissed. She had a right to her feelings, didn’t she?

Jonathan shook his head. “I suppose Saint Sheridan has never been swayed by emotion and ended up doing something passionate and impulsive? Come on, Sheri. Kids need to have their mother and father together. Don’t you want to do the right thing for our children?”

Sheri took a step back as the twin barbs found their mark. She bumped against Sam’s chest and felt him hard and warm against her spine. The sound of his voice startled her.

“You heard what the lady told you,” Sam said, his words tipped with ice. “I suggest you leave now and come back at a more reasonable time for a visit. If you want to see the boys, you need to phone Sheri and adhere to the terms of the custody agreement. Until then, don’t show up here unannounced again. Is that clear?”

Jonathan narrowed his eyes at Sam, then flicked them dismissively over Sheri. “This isn’t over.”

Sam glared back, radiating danger. “It most certainly is.” He shut the door in his face.

Sheri shivered. Sam looked down at her, concern etched on his features.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Just angry. Really, really angry.”

“I understand. Why didn’t you tell me he’d been harassing you?”

She looked away, feeling guilty. “It wasn’t harassing, exactly. Just some phone calls and text messages. I didn’t think he’d show up here.”

“Now that he has, I don’t want you here alone. Not ever. I understand if you need to let him see the boys, but I’m going to be here supervising.”

“It’s not your job description to be
my
babysitter.”

He shook his head. “Are you kidding? Taking care of you and the boys is exactly my job description. Sheri, what if I hadn’t been here tonight? What if he’d forced his way in?”

She shivered again, not meeting Sam’s gaze. “I don’t think he’d do that.”

“I’ve known guys like him. He’s not going to take no for an answer. Not from you, anyway. He needs to hear it from me. Firmly.”

He looked so big and dangerous standing there in her foyer with the moonlight glinting on his torso through the window. Sheri felt her mouth go dry.

“I can’t ask you to deal with my asshole ex,” she said. “It’s my problem, I should be the one to deal with it.”

He shook his head. “Do you
ever
let someone else help you?”

She frowned and toed a spot on the carpet. “No.”

“Try it sometime,” he said, putting his hands on her shoulders and turning her around. “Like right now, for instance.” He began marching her toward her bedroom, his hands firm and commanding and so stupidly sexy, she almost tripped over her feet.

“Sam, I don’t—”

“Enough! You’re going to bed. You have a long day at work tomorrow, and you need to rest. I’m going to clean up the kitchen.
You
are going to get a good night’s sleep.”

“But—”

“No buts. This is how it’s going to be, whether you willingly accept help or if I have to tie you to your bed.”

She shivered a little at his words and turned to face him in her doorway. She gave him a tentative smile. “Is this your way of avoiding the awkward conversation?”

“What awkward conversation?”

“The one that begins, ‘We shouldn’t have done that’ and ends with ‘It’ll never happen again.’”

Part of her wanted him to argue—to insist it should have happened, and it ought to happen again.

Instead, he nodded. “Right.”

She nodded to herself as though affirming her own words in her mind. Then she looked up at him and offered a small smile. “Good night. And thank you. For everything.”

She turned and walked into her bedroom, the word
everything
echoing in her brain.

…

Sam spent an hour cleaning, careful not to bang cupboards or make any noise that might disturb Sheri or the boys. The quiet gave him plenty of time to consider the fact that Limpdick had finally made contact. That he’d escalated beyond threatening text messages and had actually shown up in person to reclaim her. Every molecule of Sam’s being was on alert, ready to do whatever it took to protect Sheri and her boys. This is what he’d come here to do.

You didn’t come here to sleep with her.

He grimaced, recalling Mac’s order for Sam to keep his hands off Sheri.

Okay, so he’d screwed that up. He’d screwed up a lot of things in his life, but he hadn’t meant to let things go this far with her. What the hell had he been thinking?

He hadn’t been thinking, at least not with his head. Not with
that
head. She was vulnerable. She’d made it clear she didn’t want a relationship. He’d been a jerk to sleep with her, especially knowing how angry she’d be if she knew who he really was. That he’d been lying to her all along.

He gritted his teeth as he folded a dish towel. God, what if he’d ruined everything?

No
. He could still get out of this. Still do his job without disappointing Mac or ruining things with Sheri. He just had to keep his distance, to make it clear to her this couldn’t happen again.
Ever.

Sam moved quietly down the hall, peering in at the boys to make sure they were still sound asleep. Then he moved to the end of the hall and looked into Sheri’s room. She’d left the door ajar, and he could see her lying on her side beneath the flowered coverlet.

He felt his gut twist, and he wondered what it would be like to crawl into bed behind her, pulling her close to his chest as she tucked her backside against him and curled her body into his. He thought about breathing in the scent of her hair, feeling her breasts soft against his forearms as he held her tight to his body.

No
, he told himself, and stepped away from the door.
No
.

He could still save this. He could stay up all night making sure Price didn’t come back. He could stand guard over the boys, over Sheri, protecting them all. Mac never needed to know what had happened, especially if it was just a onetime thing. It never had to happen again.

He stole another glance at her sleeping form and took a deep breath. “Never again,” he commanded himself, and turned to walk back to his room.

He dialed Mac’s number, halfway hoping the call would go straight to voicemail.

Mac answered on the first ring. “Sam,” he said crisply. “I got your e-mail about Price’s text message. How’s my sister?”

“Safe. Everything’s fine.”

“Did something happen?”