Dani. He’d loved watching her feed their daughter.
Was that how she’d spent the extra money he’d been sending her every month? On implants so that wife-poaching S.O.B., Chase, would have a bigger handful to squeeze?
No. Nick immediately shook his head. She would never become that vain or desperate.
He jerked his gaze to her face, and dread uncoiled in his stomach like a viper preparing to strike. Her face seemed fuller and softer too, like when she’d been pregnant with their son.
After losing Michael, Nick had suggested adoption, but Sam had argued that an unrelated sibling couldn’t help Dani if she needed a bone marrow transplant in the future. His wife had insisted that, if she could save their daughter’s life with a high-risk pregnancy, she was more than willing to take her chances.
That had been easy for her to say since she hadn’t had to watch herself go into convulsions and nearly die. Nick winced from the lump in his throat the memory always caused. Sammy had no idea how the death of their son had devastated him. She’d been unconscious and spared Nick’s nightmare. He’d been forced to choose between staying by her side or watching their baby fight for his life in the NICU.
By the time she’d had to deal with their tragedy, Nick had been way beyond tears.
As he studied the gentle swell of her bottom, his fly tightened. Sammy had always had a knockout figure—especially the first few months she was pregnant.
And now....whoa.
He’d strangle Adam Chase if he’d put her health in jeopardy.
Nick swallowed the sour taste of fear and rolled his gaze toward the ceiling. What the hell was wrong with him?
The woman he loved could be carrying another man’s child in a potentially dangerous pregnancy, and all his body would let him think about was seeing her naked again.
Preferably as soon as possible.
If nothing else, their separation had allowed him to concentrate on something other than sex. Whereas, during his marriage—and, okay, before it too—merely being in the same room with Sam was enough to muddle his thinking and make El Capitán snap to attention. He’d thought approaching middle age had tamed the unruly soldier in his jeans.
Apparently not.
Turning away, he stomped down the hall to walk off his hard-on. He’d be damned if he’d kick off his reunion with Sam by advertising how much he still ached for her.
~*~
Samantha pulled a clean tissue from her pocket and handed it to three-year-old Joseph, whose allergy meds had apparently worn off.
“Oh, by the way, I forgot to tell you,” Casey, her boss, said, “Kaitlin’s mother wants to order one of your Magic Worry Pals for her daughter’s birthday.”
“Did she mention a color preference or if she wants a cat or dog?”
“No, but pink is probably a safe bet. Or haven’t you noticed it’s the only color the child ever wears?” Casey chuckled. “Anyway, how’s your business doing?”
“A little too well.” Sam sighed, squatting to wipe a blob of paste off the tile floor. Working at the preschool didn’t leave much time for her home-based business. “I have a dozen little critters I need to finish.”
Casey pointed toward the classroom door and frowned. “Hey, wasn’t that Nick out in the hall?”
Sam froze at the mention of Nick’s name and glanced at the door. “Not likely. He couldn’t possibly have finished everything he had to do in L.A. already.”
And even if he had, why would he show up at the school?
Casey shrugged. “Maybe I’m dreaming.”
That could very well be. Casey had only met Nick once, right after Sam began working at the school—a week after she filed for divorce. Consequently, if her boss had to identify Nick in a police line-up, she’d be equally inclined to finger any tall, dark, and hunky man.
“The kids are busy right now. Why don’t you go make sure?” Casey suggested. “I’ll holler if I need you.”
“Thanks.” Sam smoothed the wrinkles out of her white slacks
Was that how she’d spent the extra money he’d been sending her every month? On implants so that wife-poaching S.O.B., Chase, would have a bigger handful to squeeze?
No. Nick immediately shook his head. She would never become that vain or desperate.
He jerked his gaze to her face, and dread uncoiled in his stomach like a viper preparing to strike. Her face seemed fuller and softer too, like when she’d been pregnant with their son.
After losing Michael, Nick had suggested adoption, but Sam had argued that an unrelated sibling couldn’t help Dani if she needed a bone marrow transplant in the future. His wife had insisted that, if she could save their daughter’s life with a high-risk pregnancy, she was more than willing to take her chances.
That had been easy for her to say since she hadn’t had to watch herself go into convulsions and nearly die. Nick winced from the lump in his throat the memory always caused. Sammy had no idea how the death of their son had devastated him. She’d been unconscious and spared Nick’s nightmare. He’d been forced to choose between staying by her side or watching their baby fight for his life in the NICU.
By the time she’d had to deal with their tragedy, Nick had been way beyond tears.
As he studied the gentle swell of her bottom, his fly tightened. Sammy had always had a knockout figure—especially the first few months she was pregnant.
And now....whoa.
He’d strangle Adam Chase if he’d put her health in jeopardy.
Nick swallowed the sour taste of fear and rolled his gaze toward the ceiling. What the hell was wrong with him?
The woman he loved could be carrying another man’s child in a potentially dangerous pregnancy, and all his body would let him think about was seeing her naked again.
Preferably as soon as possible.
If nothing else, their separation had allowed him to concentrate on something other than sex. Whereas, during his marriage—and, okay, before it too—merely being in the same room with Sam was enough to muddle his thinking and make El Capitán snap to attention. He’d thought approaching middle age had tamed the unruly soldier in his jeans.
Apparently not.
Turning away, he stomped down the hall to walk off his hard-on. He’d be damned if he’d kick off his reunion with Sam by advertising how much he still ached for her.
~*~
Samantha pulled a clean tissue from her pocket and handed it to three-year-old Joseph, whose allergy meds had apparently worn off.
“Oh, by the way, I forgot to tell you,” Casey, her boss, said, “Kaitlin’s mother wants to order one of your Magic Worry Pals for her daughter’s birthday.”
“Did she mention a color preference or if she wants a cat or dog?”
“No, but pink is probably a safe bet. Or haven’t you noticed it’s the only color the child ever wears?” Casey chuckled. “Anyway, how’s your business doing?”
“A little too well.” Sam sighed, squatting to wipe a blob of paste off the tile floor. Working at the preschool didn’t leave much time for her home-based business. “I have a dozen little critters I need to finish.”
Casey pointed toward the classroom door and frowned. “Hey, wasn’t that Nick out in the hall?”
Sam froze at the mention of Nick’s name and glanced at the door. “Not likely. He couldn’t possibly have finished everything he had to do in L.A. already.”
And even if he had, why would he show up at the school?
Casey shrugged. “Maybe I’m dreaming.”
That could very well be. Casey had only met Nick once, right after Sam began working at the school—a week after she filed for divorce. Consequently, if her boss had to identify Nick in a police line-up, she’d be equally inclined to finger any tall, dark, and hunky man.
“The kids are busy right now. Why don’t you go make sure?” Casey suggested. “I’ll holler if I need you.”
“Thanks.” Sam smoothed the wrinkles out of her white slacks
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