Summer Kisses (90 page)

After how many times they’d woken each other, no wonder they’d slept so late. The musky fragrance of their lovemaking filled his nostrils and aroused him all over again. How could he want her with the same level of urgency he’d felt in front of the fire the night before?

When a heavy set of footsteps thudded in the hallway, the rest of his body stiffened to match his erection. It must have been the back door that’d woken him. It couldn’t be Tommy. So who was in the house? Robert?

He struggled to unwind himself from Abby, and a knock rapped on the door.

“Abby, are you still sleeping at this hour?”

Her body jerked. “What?” She groggily lifted her head and wiped the sleep out of her eyes. Without warning, the door swung open, and Peter appeared in its opening, wearing his military fatigues.

Matt yanked the sheet up to cover Abby. Her brother’s face became a thundercloud at seeing them entwined in the blankets.

Peter’s nose wrinkled, and he sniffed, obviously noticing the heavy scent of sex permeating the room. “What the hell is wrong with you?” he bellowed. “You’ve known this jerk a little more than a week.” Pete turned his attention to him. “And you. I told you to keep your sleazy paws off of my sister!”

Yanking the sheet up higher, Abby pointed toward the hall and yelled. “Peter, get out of here! You have no right to barge in here like this.”

“You should be glad it was me who showed up and not Rob. I can’t believe you’d take a chance on screwing up your engagement for a quick roll in the hay with this bastard.”

“Out—now!” she hollered.

Peter strode back down the hall, leaving the door open. Matt sprung out of bed and pulled on some clothes. When he finished, he turned to Abby. “I’m sorry. I’ll go talk to him.”

“I don’t think you should. He’s liable to beat the living daylights out of you.” She got up and rooted through a drawer.

“Thanks a helluva a lot. Why aren’t you worried about me beating the shit out of him?” He shoved his feet into his sneakers without taking time to put on socks.

“Don’t get your ego bruised. Peter outweighs you by at least twenty pounds.”

“Weight isn’t everything, Baby.”

“Oh, stop it!”

He stomped out of the bedroom and slammed the door. When he got to the kitchen, Peter started to get up from his seat at the table. Matt shoved him back down in the chair, pointing his finger in her brother’s face. “First of all, your sister is no longer engaged to Robert. Secondly, I didn’t sleep with her until they’d broken up. And thirdly, this is Abby’s house. You owe her an apology. What gives you the right to waltz in here and pass judgment on her?”

“I’m her brother. It’s my place to look out for her. At least, until she gets married, again.”

He dragged Peter out of the chair toward the door. “Let’s take this outside.”

Her brother yanked his arm out of Matt’s grip and shied away from him. “Are you nuts? I’m not gonna fight you.”

“I don’t want to deck you. I just want to talk to you. Privately.” Matt stomped out the door and tramped all the way to the back of the yard well out of earshot of the house.

Peter glared at him once he caught up. “Okay, so what’d you need to say that’s so damn confidential?”

“I only wanted to tell you I’m relieving you of the responsibility of looking out for your sister from now on.”

“Why? Have you proposed to her?”

“I don’t need to.”

Abby’s brother crossed his arms over his chest. “Who do you think you are to arbitrarily decide when I should stop looking after my sister’s welfare?”

“I’m Abby’s husband.”

Peter’s eyes widened. “You can’t be married. It takes time for a licen—”

“I married her, all right. Almost seven years ago.”

“What? What kind of a con are you trying to pull? Do I look so gullible you think you can pass yourself off as Matt Foster?”

Matt tried to think of a way to convince Peter of who he was, but he couldn’t cite anything to prove it. “I can verify who I am if you give me some time. On the spot, I can’t.”

“Sure you can.” Peter crossed his arms. “It’s simple. Just tell me what I used to call Abby when she was younger.”

Matt raised his hands and dropped them in defeat. “I’m sorry. I don’t remember. Anything. I have amnesia.”

“Isn’t that convenient. Come on, give it up.”

“Remember when we met how you felt as if you knew me?”

Peter fell silent and stepped back, studying Matt’s face and shaking his head. He peered closer and stared into his eyes. Suddenly, a look of recognition washed over his features.

“You believe me now, don’t you?”

“Matt?” Peter threw his arms around him in a rib-crushing hug. “I don’t believe it. Abby refused to accept you were dead. She must be on cloud nine.”

“She doesn’t know. I don’t want to tell her, yet.” Matt snapped his fingers. “Hey, I just thought of something. I can show you my military file if you still—”

“No, I believe you.” Pete slapped his back. “Shit, do you know how guilty I felt after you got yourself killed while I was so pissed off at you?”

Matt spent the next half hour explaining his situation to Peter. “—so to sum it up, I don’t want her to feel obligated to stay married to me. I want her to love who I am now. And I’m not sure how I feel about her. As you pointed out earlier, we’ve only known each other ten days.”

“From what I saw, the two of you looked in love.”

“We’re definitely in-lust.” Matt slung his arm over Pete’s shoulder. “Come on, let’s go have some breakfast.” He stopped short just outside the door. “Whatever you do, remember to call me Mac.”

Abby watched Mac and Peter stroll back toward the house, after talking and laughing together for over half an hour. This was the second time in two days Mac had done this.

What was it with him that he could turn a couple of men—who were ready to throttle him—into bosom buddies? She couldn’t imagine what he could’ve possibly said to Rob and her brother to make them both do such an about-face.

When Peter strode through the back door followed by Mac, she hollered at her brother, “You have some nerve barging into my bedroom. If you ever do anything like that again, I’m through as your sister. You got that?”

“Okay, I’m sorry. You’re right. This is your house, and it’s your life,” Peter agreed without offering any of his usual excuses for his overprotective behavior.

Mac punched him on the arm and chuckled. “So, you never did tell me. What did you call Abby when she was younger?”

“Peanut.” Peter smiled and ignored the dirty look she threw him. “So how’s the bike running?”

“Not bad. But I’ve only been out on it once, in rain so cold I froze my ass off. When I got back here, I was shaking so much Abby had to undress me.”

She waited for her brother’s typical explosion and did a double take when it didn’t come. Instead, Peter laughed, which was so completely out of character she wondered if Mac could cast spells on people. After all, he’d talked her into sleeping with him after she’d rejected every other man since losing Matt.

Tommy and Royce thought he was the best thing since ice cream, and she wasn’t entirely sure Mac wouldn’t even win out over that. Lucy swore he was an angel, and he even had macho Sergeant John Gilbert eating out of his hand.

Mac’s charm was beginning to irk her. The man could probably make friends with Norman Bates if he put his mind to it. “What’d you tell my brother?”

Peter jumped in and answered for him. “Mac just pointed out you’re two mature adults who’ve decided to become lovers, and I should butt the hell out. So that’s what I’m doing.”

Mac stepped behind her and slid his arms around her midriff, pulling her back against his chest. “And after we give Pete breakfast, he’s going to leave us alone so we can go back to bed for the rest of the day.”

“I don’t think so.” She pried his arms from around her. “Peter’s right. I’ve only known you ten days. Our whole relationship is moving entirely too fast.”

Her brother waved his hand. “Don’t listen to me. The length of your relationship with Mac isn’t what’s important. It’s how well the two of you have gotten to know each other.”

She stared at Peter, her mouth gaping. “Not well enough, apparently. Because I can’t for the life of me figure out what kind of spell Mac put you under to make you willingly butt out of my life without even a peep.”

Her brother kissed her on the cheek. “The man talks sense, and I’m a sensible kind of guy.” He turned to Mac and pumped his hand. “Look, I just stopped by to say good-bye to Abby before I head back to Fort Dix. I’ll get out of your hair so you can go back to what you were doing.” He winked at Matt. “Call me if you need any help with....” He chuckled and turned bright crimson. “Well, you know what I mean.”

After Peter left, Abby planted her hands on her hips. “What’d you and Pete talk about all that time?”

“You, me, the Harley....” Mac looked up a moment as if mentally replaying his conversation. “Yup, that’s about it.” He pulled her close and kissed her, whispering into her lips. “Last night was incredible, Sweetheart. What do you say we go back to bed?”

She pushed him away. “No. I agree it was wonderful. But I want a relationship that’s built on more than burning up the sheets.”

He brushed an errant tendril of hair from her eyes. “You spent a year and a half with Rob, and the two of you couldn’t generate enough heat to even warm your bed up, let alone get it smoking. Setting the sheets on fire is part of falling in love. Without that, a couple might as well be roommates.”

“But we need to find out if we can handle being roommates before we worry about sharing a bed.” She opened the refrigerator and took out the coffee and orange juice. “I meant what I said before, Mac. If you’re serious about a future together, you have to slow down.”

He plowed his fingers through his hair. “I don’t have time to slow down, damn it!”

~*~

Matt cringed inwardly when Abby glanced over her shoulder at him, confusion clouding her clear emerald eyes.

“What do you mean you don’t have time?”

One day, he’d learn to keep his big trap shut.

“Uhh—nothing. I’ve just lost too many years of my life already. I don’t want to miss out on anymore of it.”

“Well, whether you like it or not, love isn’t something you can hurry. It happens in its own time.”

He hated to admit it, but she was right. His whole reason for waiting to reveal himself to her had been to make sure there was more to their marriage than the three-alarm fire that started every time they got close to each other. However, knowing she had a valid point didn’t ease his ache for her. And the army would be contacting her in another week or so—if not sooner.

“Okay.” He smiled and squeezed her hand. “I see your point. I have to call the employment agencies and find a piano tuner this morning, anyway. I also want to contact the music department at Julliard to get a recommendation for a music teacher in this area.”

“Julliard? Don’t you think you’re starting a little high on the food chain? I can’t afford the quality of teacher they’d recommend.”

“Look, money can’t be an issue here. I’ll move heaven and earth to see he gets the chance to develop his talent.”

“What do you mean
you’ll
see he gets the chance?”

He released a frustrated huff. “Abby, you told me I could be Tommy’s dad. Which is it? Can I or not? Since you agreed, you’ve done nothing but try to snatch him back.”

“Yes, I want you to be
like
a dad to him, but that doesn’t give you the rights or the responsibilities of being his father. They’re reserved for whoever I eventually marry.”

Like hell. No way was he letting her take his parental rights and hand them over to some joker who wouldn’t give a shit about his kid. “Well, until you find yourself a husband, I’m paying for Tommy’s lessons, and that’s final.”

With any luck, his back pay would come to more than what Abby received in benefits. He hoped he would get enough to at least get his son started.

“No, you’re not. I’ll find the money from somewhere.” She filled the coffee carafe with water.

He smirked to himself, watching her measure grounds into a filter. Abby was in for a rude awakening when the government discontinued her benefits and she had to accept his support. Of course, there was still the small matter of finding work so he could provide for her and Tommy. The last thing he wanted was for his wife to be forced to take a full-time job and have his son shipped off to some babysitter every day after school and all summer long.

She threw the coffee measure back into the can. “Gifted or not, I don’t want my child turned into some compulsive little Mozart or emotionally disturbed prodigy.”

“You can’t turn a child into a prodigy. He either is one, or he isn’t. It’s one more reason to call Julliard. Anyone they suggest won’t waste his time lying to us about whether Tommy is gifted or not.”

When she turned away with a determined set to her chin, Matt spun her around to face him. “What’s the matter? Are you afraid to find out how good he really is? Scared you might be forced to admit a gift like his shouldn’t be left to stagnate? His talent isn’t going to go away simply because you ignore it.”

~*~

Abby stared at Mac, refusing to rise to his baiting. “Stop it. You’re doing the same darn thing Matt always did. Daring me to give you your way.”

He poured two glasses of orange juice. “I’m glad to hear the late great Matthew Foster wasn’t so damned perfect. I’m not trying to get my way. I’m attempting to make you see reason.”

“Exactly how will it hurt my son if he’s gifted and I do nothing but hire an ordinary piano teacher?”

“He’ll never reach his full potential. If you give him the chance, he might become another Arthur Rubinstein or Henry Mancini.”

“If his sense of humor turns out to be anything like his father’s, he’s more likely to follow in Victor Borge’s footsteps. Matt had talent that was never developed, and he never suffered for it.” She shrugged her shoulders. “So what if Tommy doesn’t end up rich and famous. Maybe he’ll be happier for it.”

Mac stiffened, his glass of juice poised at his lips. “What do you mean your husband had talent that wasn’t developed?”