Storybook Dad (Harlequin American Romance) (6 page)

There was lots more of the same—Emily paddling through stage
four rapids. Dangling from the edge of a cliff. Jumping over a series of fallen
trees, bareback on a horse. Scuba diving and waving at an underwater camera. And
all the while, no matter what she was doing, she was looking incredible.

He swallowed once, twice. “No. I’m afraid I can’t.”

She pushed the album shut and turned to face him, her lips
lusciously plump as they parted to dress him down once again. “I may have MS,
Mark,” she hissed. “But MS doesn’t have me.”

Reaching out, he cupped his free hand around the back of her
head and pulled her close, the intoxicating feel of her soft hair giving way to
the reality that was her mouth—warm, enticing and oh so exciting.

When her lips parted to allow access to his probing tongue, he
pulled her still closer, their bodies melding against one another effortlessly
until the ring of her phone snapped them both back to reality.

She stepped away, her eyes glazed, her voice breathless. “I
have to get that. Trish is out today.” Without waiting for a response, she
grabbed the receiver. “Bucket List 101. This is Emily.”

Mark took the reprieve offered by the call to get his body
under control, the intensity of their kiss making his thoughts run in a
direction not conducive to their present setting. Never mind the fact that he
barely knew her....

“Oh, hi, Kate. Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. Really. I don’t know why
you think my voice sounds funny. I was just a little busy, that’s all.”

He tried to give her privacy, to refrain from eavesdropping on
the one-sided conversation, but it was hard. Especially when he’d always been
sort of good at lip reading, and he couldn’t seem to keep his gaze off her
kiss-swollen lips....

“Yes, yes, I’m still coming.” She glanced in his direction,
focusing on his face for mere seconds before taking in the clock over his head.
“No, I didn’t realize how late it was getting. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.
Uh-huh. Yeah. Okay. I’ll see you then.”

Slowly, she lowered the phone to its base, her cheeks crimson.
“That was my friend Kate. The one who found all of—” she turned and pointed at
the framed childhood drawings that had captivated him the day they met “—
those
. Anyway, I was due at her house for a barbecue
thirty minutes ago and, well, I’m late.”

“Can I come?” he asked, before realizing what he was saying.
But instead of retracting the bold question, he let it stand, buoyed by the
memory of her lips on his.

“Don’t you have to get home to Seth?” she asked.

“Seth is spending the evening with my mother. He won’t be home
until late tomorrow, probably after dinner.”

Emily opened her mouth to speak, but closed it again when he
reached for her hand, his voice husky with the kind of emotion he knew he’d have
to dissect later—when he was alone.

“Please, Emily? I’d like to go with you.”

Chapter Six

The second they looped around the side of the house and
into Kate’s line of vision, Emily knew she’d made a mistake.

To bring a guy who looked like Mark to a barbecue with a heavy
concentration of couples versus singles was bound to raise a few eyebrows under
any circumstances. Add the fact that it was Kate—a woman who bemoaned Emily’s
single status on a regular basis—who was throwing the barbecue and, well, she
was doomed.

“Emily! You’re here!” Her friend disengaged herself from a
small group of people Emily recognized from the Memorial Day barbecue Kate and
her husband had thrown six weeks earlier, and met them just inside the hedge
that bordered the east side of the couple’s property. Extending her hand, Kate
widened her eyes at Emily and then beamed up at Mark. “Hi, I’m Kate. Emily and I
have known each other since our finger painting days.”

His laugh was strong and sure. “And I’m Mark. Emily and I have
known each other since she stuck a compass in my hand and tried to lead me
astray in the woods three days ago.”

“I didn’t lead you astray,” she protested. “I gave you the same
coordinates as everyone else. You just seemed to be a little distracted in the
beginning, that’s all.”

He swept his hand in her direction, making her keenly aware of
the white skirt and powder-blue tank top she’d donned that morning, knowing her
day would be spent in a classroom rather than in the woods or on the lake. “Who
knew I had to focus on the compass?” he quipped to Kate with a wink for good
measure.

Emily felt her mouth gape, and worked to compose herself even
as her friend’s eyes crackled with the kind of excitement that left her own
stomach in knots.

Great.

“Come. Come. You have to meet my husband, Joe.” Looping her arm
through Mark’s, Kate fairly dragged him across the French patio and over to the
pickup game of basketball taking place on the other side of the yard between Joe
and an eight-year-old guest. “Joe and I met in high school. He was distracted by
me when we crossed paths at the diner.”

Hoping the lump in the pit of her stomach was a by-product of
hunger rather than her shortsighted concession in bringing Mark to the barbecue,
Emily headed over to the food table, her history with Kate filling in the rest
of the story Mark was no doubt hearing. It was one she knew well, considering
that she had been sitting at the same table in the now infamous local hangout
when Joe had walked in with four of his buddies from the basketball team that
fateful day. The second Kate and Joe had spotted one another across the
restaurant, their romantic fate had been sealed.

But it hadn’t worked that way for Emily. Ever.

Sure, she’d dated her fair share of guys throughout high
school, college and beyond, but none of them had ever quite reached the bar
she’d set for someone who would be her life’s mate. No, that person had to be
smart, funny, motivated, creative and outdoorsy. He had to enjoy conversation
and silence. And he had to look at her as if she was someone special.

Like Mark had just now when he was telling
Kate about the orienteering class....

Emily stilled her hand over the bowl of pretzels and shook her
head. Oh, no. She would not allow Kate’s
you-need-to-find-your-soul-mate-and-you-need-to-find-him-now mantra start
playing in her head.

Four out of five goals was good enough. Especially in light of
her illness.

“Em, he’s gorgeous. Gor-geous. I am so, so,
so
happy for you.”

She swatted away her gushing friend with a handful of pretzels
before popping one in her mouth and removing herself from the earshot of a few
other guests.

“What?” Kate persisted, staying on her heels. “Am I wrong? Is
Mark not gorgeous?”

Lifting her hand to block the sun, Emily scanned the backyard
until her friend’s outstretched finger pointed the way to the basketball court
and the game that had grown to include five men and the eight-year-old. Even
from where she was standing she couldn’t help but enjoy the view.

Mark Reynolds was truly a fine-looking man. His hair, which had
caught her attention from the start with its rich brown color, was the kind a
woman could get her fingers lost in. His smile, whether flashed in her direction
over a piece of pizza, or accompanying some good-natured trash talk, as was the
case at that moment, was of the knee-weakening variety if she’d ever seen one.
And his chiseled jawline…

She closed her eyes, popped a second and third pretzel into her
mouth, and then opened her eyes again, this time honing in on her closest
friend. “Yes, he’s attractive—I’d have to be an idiot not to see that. But I’m
not interested.”

Kate’s left eyebrow rose. “Not interested? Are you nuts?”

“He’s just someone I know. Barely.” At Kate’s foot tapping, she
continued. “He stopped by the office today to drop off some, um, paperwork I
didn’t need, and I felt sorry for him. So I invited him along. No big deal.
Really.”

The right eyebrow rose alongside the left. “And dinner at Sam’s
Pizza, what was that?”

Emily pulled her focus back from the basketball court where it
had strayed once again, seemingly independent of her brain and the conversation
she was trying to have and discard. “He told you about Sam’s?”

Kate grinned so widely that Emily actually found herself
glancing at the patio for evidence of any canary feathers her friend may have
swallowed. “He did.”

Emily folded her hands across her chest. “And did he happen to
tell you the only reason I went at all is because his son was so insistent and I
didn’t have the heart to say no?”

“His son?” Kate sputtered. “He has a son?”

“Seth is four and a half. And if you saw him, and he’d asked
you
to come along for pizza, you’d have gone,
too. Trust me.”

Turning her head, Kate looked back at the court. “So he’s
divorced, then?”

“No, he’s a widower. His wife died sometime in the last six
months or so.”

“He sure seems happy to be here with you.”

She had to laugh at that. “You mean playing basketball with
your husband, right?”

“Have you not seen how many shots he’s missed since we’ve been
standing here?”

“So maybe he’s not a basketball guy, Kate. Believe it or not,
those do exist. Difficult to fathom, I know. But still…”

Her friend made a face. “I know that. But I also know he
is
a basketball guy, based on what he told Joe when I
introduced them.”

“Maybe he lied,” she quipped, shrugging.

“Or maybe he’s spending more time looking over at you rather
than focusing on the game.”

“Kate. Please.” She heard the exasperated tone in her voice,
saw the heads of several people turn toward them as a result. Gritting her
teeth, Emily tried her best to get a handle on her increasing agitation before
every eye in the place was trained in her direction. “We’re just
friends
. That’s it.”

Without waiting for the retort she was quite sure would come,
she headed back to the food table and a recently added plate of brownies. She
was about to reach for one when Mark appeared at her side, breathing
heavily.

“The…game just…ended so Joe could start on the burgers and
dogs. So what do you say we…we check out that horseshoe pit…over there—” he
gestured toward the back edge of the property “—while he cooks? That way…maybe I
can…catch my breath a little.”

For a moment, she considered declining. To accept would mean
giving Kate another reason to keep needling her. But in the end, Emily agreed.
After all, with any luck, Joe would need Kate’s help at the grill and her friend
would finally turn her attention to something else.

One could hope, anyway.

“I’m in,” Emily said, grabbing one last handful of pretzels
from the bowl at the end of the table. “Anything to get out from under this
scrutiny for a little while.”

“Scrutiny?” Mark echoed. “What kind of scrutiny?”

Oops. She hadn’t meant to share that thought aloud.

She simply shrugged. “Never mind. Let’s go.”

* * *

H
E
TRIED
TO
FOCUS
on the game, he really did. But it was hard.
Damn hard.

Emily was the kind of girl who would make cars swerve off roads
when she went jogging down a busy street. She just was. But what took his own
first swerve all the way into a tree with no hope of recovering was the fact
that her beauty was only part of the story. She was also smart and engaging,
with a completely unpretentious and slightly self-deprecating manner where her
looks and her body were concerned.

Her physical prowess, however, was a different matter. That,
she took pride in. Not a boastful kind, but rather a self-satisfied one. As if
she’d worked hard to learn certain skills and didn’t feel the need to hide her
ability in those areas from anyone.

“It’s your toss, Mark.”

In fact, she was so skilled at so many things, he found himself
wanting to start stretching his own limits a little. See what he could do,
too…

“Earth to Mark… Come in, Mark.”

The repeated sound of his name brought him back to the moment.
“I’m sorry?”

Emily pointed to the horseshoe in his hand. “It’s your
toss.”

“Oh, yeah.” He pulled his arm back and then swung it forward,
his horseshoe sailing through the air and landing a full twelve inches from its
target. “Wow. That was lame.” Her laugh tingled down his spine and brought an
answering smile to his own face. “You think that’s funny, eh?”

She held up her hands and gave them a little shake. “I
shouldn’t be laughing. Don’t mind me.”

“Like it’s easy to ignore the woman who’s beating your pants
off at horseshoes.” Before she could respond, he moved on, tackling a subject
he’d been wondering about since they’d arrived. “So tell me…why aren’t you
married or coupled off, like most of your friend’s guests seem to be?”

Emily launched her last horseshoe at the target, the sound of
metal on metal bringing another smile to the lips he couldn’t seem to forget
kissing. “Well, that’s a bit of a loaded question, don’t you think?”

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to come across as nosy. I guess I just
can’t fathom why you haven’t been snatched up by at least a dozen different guys
by now.”

Shrugging, she wandered over to a pair of Adirondack chairs
nestled beneath a large oak tree and claimed one as her own. “It’s okay. I don’t
really mind. I guess I’m just on edge about that particular topic, thanks to
Kate.”

He took the other chair. “She’s a little pushy where your love
life is concerned, huh?”

For a moment, he was afraid he’d offended Emily again, but when
she finally answered, her words painted a very different picture. “Kate is one
of those people who has a life plan. One that’s actually written out on a piece
of paper. All the goals she wants to hit are spelled out right there, in order,
with bullets. Last I checked, she was on number six, I think.”

“Number six?”

Emily nodded, her gaze fixed on the trunk of the oak tree. “The
sixth bullet point. Which, between you and me, means she’s trying to have a
baby. It could be a girl or a boy this first time around. But whatever it is
will necessitate a specific gender where bullet point number seven is concerned.
Because she’s supposed to have one of each, you know, according to her life
plan.”

“A life plan? Really?”

“Uh-huh. And Kate believes the things on her list are the same
ones everyone else is supposed to want. You know…get married, work for a few
years, develop a few hobbies, have a child, and so on and so on. It’s why she’s
having a little difficulty accepting the fact that my life has taken a very
different path. And while sometimes I think she gets it—at least in a grudging
way—there are other times where I actually feel as if I’ve disappointed
her.”

“By not getting married?” he asked. “Come on, I can’t believe
that’s true. Besides, there’s still plenty of time for you to hit a few bullet
points of your own. Lots of women these days wait to get married into their
early thirties and beyond. Sally and I just did it a little early. More like
Kate and Joe.” He silently cursed the way his tone softened at the mention of
his late wife, afraid that Emily would jump on the same apology bandwagon his
friends rode and pull him from the place he was at that moment....

With Emily.

“I guess that’s it. But as I try to tell her all the time,
sometimes plans change. And that doesn’t always have to be a bad thing,
right?”

Silence enveloped them as they slipped into their own
thoughts—his about the events he hadn’t anticipated when he’d met and married
Sally, and hers about things he could only guess at.

“Come and get it before it’s gone!” Joe bellowed from the
grill. “Got plenty of burgers and hot dogs for everyone. But if you snooze, be
prepared to lose, folks.”

Despite the answering rumble of his stomach, Mark found himself
wishing for another moment or two alone with Emily. There was something about
her quiet confidence that made him feel alive—a feeling that had been sporadic
at best since Sally’s diagnosis, illness and subsequent funeral. Maybe part of
it was simply having the chance to talk about something other than his wife’s
death and how Seth was coping—subjects few of his friends seemed capable of
deviating from these days. More than that, though, was the growing attraction
Mark felt for the woman seated by his side. Stealing a glance in her direction,
he searched for a way to put a smile back on her face. “Hey, what do you say we
grab something to eat and have a rematch? And this time I’ll actually
try
.”

Her eyes crackled to life. “Are you implying I only beat you
because you weren’t trying?”

“I’m not implying that, I’m saying that,” he teased.