Anything but Love

TWENTY-TWO

“Daddy, I’m f-f-freezing!”

Sam’s eyes flew open. Not that he saw too much. It wasn’t pitch-black in his bedroom, but it was pretty damn dark.

He instantly knew three things. His daughter was standing beside his bed, the sun was on the verge of rising, and, holy hell, it was cold.

“Da-deeee!”

“Hold on, honey.” He grabbed his Blackberry from the nightstand. Six fifty a.m. Eleven degrees. Outside anyway. Inside? Not that cold, but fricking cold. “Must be a problem with the heater, Mina. Let Daddy check.”

“But—”

“Go wake Ben. We’ll get a head start getting ready for school. I’ll make pancakes.”

She hugged her favorite teddy bear tight to her chest and frowned. “Don’t wanna go to school.”

“Mina—”

“Too cold.”

“Okay.” Sam had already thrown off the covers. He slept in boxers and a tee. He used to sleep in the buff, but that didn’t seem right now. Not when the kids could walk in unannounced at any hour. The privacy talk he’d given them had faded from their memories, since he didn’t have the heart to enforce it. He squinted down at his daughter. “Why are you wearing a boa?”

“The feathers keep me warm—like a bird.”

“And the sock monkey sock cap?”

“Wool keeps me warm—like a sheep.”

“Ah.” He plucked her off the floor—teddy bear and all—and onto his lap. “How about I hug you warm—like a daddy.” He squeezed his daughter tight, his heart bouncing when she giggled.

“Can I sleep with you Daddy?”

“I need to check the furnace, sweetie. But go ahead and crawl in.” He lifted the covers. “I warmed it up for you.”

“Yaaaaay!”

“Dad.”

Sam flicked on his bedside light while pulling on sweats and a hoodie. He glanced toward the skinny silhouette hovering on his threshold. “Yes, son?”

“I think the furnace is on the fritz.”

“I think you’re right. Want to help me check it out?”

Ben shrugged. “Sure.”

Sam didn’t miss the reluctance in Ben’s tone, but he didn’t take offense either. “Be right back,” he said to Mina then guided his son down the hall and the steps, flicking light switches along the way. Ben followed in sullen silence. Ben wasn’t intrigued with mechanics or carpentry. Instead of building stuff or fixing stuff, he liked to make stuff up. He was more of an intellectual, a dreamer. He preferred brain-buster electronic games as opposed to outdoor sports. A bit of an artistic nerd, Ben spent his spare time reading fantasy books or doodling anime characters in one of his many sketchbooks. Sam didn’t mind, but he knew Ben took some heat at school from some of the other boys. Going on nine, he was short for his age and on the puny side. And Ben was quiet. Painfully quiet. Unlike his chatty, effervescent sister.

For over a year now, Sam had been pushing Ben to try new things. Even if he didn’t like tinkering with engines, it would help to know how they worked. No interest in playing football? Fine. But if he understood the concept and rules at least he could offer an educated opinion when cornered by his sports-minded classmates.

As they hit the first floor and headed toward the basement, Sam reflected on an incident a few months back. He’d been stoked when his son had contributed several ideas for a jungle gym Sam had started building for a local playground. But when Sam had invited his son to help with the actual construction, Ben had looked at a hammer like it was an object from Mars. Still, Sam felt compelled to teach Ben a handful of basic survival skills. Every man should know how to change a flat tire or how to swap out a fuse. Or in this case, how to reignite an extinguished pilot light, which is what Sam assumed was the problem with the fritzed furnace—and it was.

“Luckily,” he said to Ben, “this should be a quick fix. See here? We lost the pilot light. Must’ve been a draft. First thing we’re going to do is turn this gas valve to off. See?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Now we wait three or so minutes then switch the valve to pilot setting. See here? Three positions. On, off, and pilot setting.”

Hands thrust in his hoodie pockets, Ben nodded.

“Next step. Hold a lighted match to the pilot opening while pushing the reset button on the pilot control panel.” Sam pointed. “This button here. Hold that button in until the pilot flame burns real bright, then set the valve to the on position.” He glanced over his shoulder, swallowing a sigh because of the bored look in Ben’s eyes. “If you ever forget,” Sam said, “there’s a list of directions right here. Most manufacturers provide an instruction sheet.”

Ben leaned forward and squinted at the posted directions. “Has it been three minutes?”

Sam smiled a little, moved by his son’s feigned interest. He then went through every step just as he’d described.

“It’s not working,” Ben said after Sam’s third attempt.

“No, it’s not. Valve must be clogged.” Sam didn’t bother explaining this part. Ben was shivering and Sam was suddenly anxious to check on Mina. He nabbed a roll of wire from his workstation and got down to business. Unfortunately, nothing he tried worked. Which meant they had a faulty thermocouple or worse.

“Now what?” Ben asked as he pulled his hood up over his ears.

Sam rose and guided the boy upstairs. “Now we dig out the space heater and call a professional.”

“Want me to start breakfast while you do that stuff so we’re not late for school?”

“I promised Mina pancakes.”

“I’ll get out the Bisquick. Can we add blueberries?”

Sam’s heart ached as he squeezed his sensitive son’s shoulder. A boy who preferred libraries and kitchens to garages and work sheds. “Sure.”

Two hours later, Sam was on his way to the Rothwell Farm. He’d dropped Ben at school. He’d tried to drop Mina at school but that didn’t go so well. For the first time this year, he’d totally buckled and given in to her desperate sobs. He just didn’t have it in him today to deal with the guilt and misery of deserting her in a place she didn’t want to be. No sitters were available and Mina was being especially clingy anyway. He could take her home, but that would mean huddling in front of the space heater until the repairman showed and that wouldn’t be until late afternoon. Besides, Sam had promised Harper he’d come over early to work on her kitchen. It was the one room, aside from her bedroom, that she used a lot and there were some safety issues.

“Remember what I told you,” Sam told Mina as they rolled into the driveway. “Daddy’s here to work.”

“Okay.”

“Miss Day is a busy lady, so leave her be.”

“Okay.”

“I stocked your backpack with a mess of movies and cartoons, three books, and your Miss Kitty color set, so you have plenty to keep you busy.” He pointed to the ratty teddy bear Mina had dolled up in a pink dress and tiara. “And Princess Pinky to keep you company.”

“We’ll be good, Daddy, don’t worry.”

Sam smiled across the seat at his daughter. He’d bundled her up against the cold—coat, scarf, gloves, thick leggings, and insulated boots. She’d accessorized by topping her sock cap with a tiara and augmenting her pink wool scarf with a purple-feathered boa. She was cute as a button, but she was also a handful. Deep down Sam acknowledged that maybe part of the reason he’d buckled and brought Mina on the job was because she’d work as a buffer between him and Harper. He’d put in a few hours yesterday, working on her stairway. They’d pretty much kept to themselves—him sanding and varnishing wood, her yakking on the phone and flipping through entertainment channels like a celebrity news junkie. But whether they were inches apart or in entirely different sections of the house the sexual tension between them raged. Sam figured the presence of his daughter would diffuse that tension—one way or another.

Harper answered the door dressed in clingy activewear and her phone pressed to her ear. “Yeah. I got it. I know. On it. Have to go. What?” She held one finger up to Sam, holding him off for a minute. He was used to her doing that, not that he liked it. “I’m supposed to be on a short holiday, Martin. Okay. Fine.”

Sam took in her appearance as she ended the call. Her thick hair was pulled in a high ponytail and an iPod was visible in a sports armband. She wasn’t sweaty or flushed so Sam assumed she was preparing for a workout and not just finishing up. He struggled not to admire the way her formfitting attire accentuated her curves—although he was beginning to think she’d turn him on even if she was draped in a gunnysack. He held her gaze, acknowledged the mutual sparks, then the glitch when Mina moved out from behind Sam and into Harper’s view.

“Hi,” Mina said.

Harper tucked her phone into her waistband and raised a lone brow. “Hi.”

“This is my daughter, Mina. Mina, this is Miss Day.”

“Don’t worry,” Mina said. “I won’t bug you. I have movies and Princess Pinky to keep me busy.”

“It’s been an unusual morning,” Sam said.

“Our furnace is on the futz.”

“Fritz, honey.”

Mina sighed, shrugged. “Fritz. Futz.”

Harper’s other brow rose. “Nice tiara.”

“Daddy bought it for me.” Mina leaned a hard right, peeking past Harper. “This place is haunted, you know.”

“So I’ve heard.”

“Seen any ghosts?”

“Not a one.” Harper moved aside and waved them in. “Let me know if you do.”

“You betcha!” Mina rushed forward, dragging along her bear and backpack.

Harper stared at Sam, pressing her hand to his chest. “Cute kid, Rambo.”

“Thanks.”

“Shouldn’t she be in school?”

“Yup.” He looked down to where her palm burned through his jacket.

She snatched it back. “I’m not sure this place is kid safe.”

“I’ll keep an eye on her.”

“You sure don’t have much furniture,” Mina said while spinning in the center of the living room.

“Not yet,” Harper said. “You can sit in that red chair if you want. It’s pretty comfy.”

“Okay.” Mina set her bear on the chair and her pack on the floor then peeled off her scarf, gloves and coat. They landed in messy puddle.

Normally Sam would have told her to pick them up, but he was waiting for a snarky comment from Harper, a roll of the eyes, a disgusted groan. Something. Anything detrimental regarding his daughter. That would sure as hell snuff his attraction to the shallow publicist.

Harper shifted and crossed her arms as Mina dragged the portable mini-DVD player from her Miss Kitty backpack. “Would you like something to drink?” she asked Mina.

“Do you have hot cocoa?”

“No, but I have herbal tea.”

“Chocolate milk?”

“Skim milk.”

Mina wrinkled her nose. “No, thank you.”

Sam suppressed a smile while shrugging out of his jacket.

“Wanna watch a movie with me?” Mina asked.

“I have business upstairs,” Harper said. “A workout and some fancy footwork.”

“Dancing?”

“Something like that.” She eyed the staircase, checked her phone. The woman was itching to make her escape. “Do you like cupcakes?”

“Do I ever!” Mina’s eyes lit.

Sam’s ears perked. “Thought you were a health nut.”

“Health conscious,” Harper corrected. “I used all-natural and low-fat ingredients.”

“You bake?”

“Don’t look so shocked, Rambo.”

“Who’s Rambo?” Mina asked.

“Never mind, honey.” Sam followed Harper into the kitchen, his gaze drawn to the old cookstove she’d used for baking cupcakes. The same cookstove used by Mary Rothwell. An original appliance that had never been replaced. He shook off a weird feeling, eyeing the cupcakes Harper produced from the fridge. “Mina’s allergic to peanuts.”

“No nuts,” Harper said as she took one from the plastic cupcake holder and placed it on a paper plate. “Apple-cinnamon with low-fat buttercream icing. Want to try one?”

“No thanks.”

“Suit yourself.” She whizzed out of the kitchen with the cupcake and an attitude.

Sam dragged a hand through his hair, tempering a raging hard-on. “Shit.” By the time he peeked back into the living room, Harper was gone and Mina was immersed in a movie and her cupcake. He stepped back into the kitchen and nabbed the toolbox he’d left there the day before. He had a list of things Harper had asked him to look into and he had a list of his own. He’d always considered the kitchen the heart of the house and this heart needed mending. He wasn’t surprised when Harper had asked him about restoring the cabinets and counters to a vintage 1940s look. What surprised him was that he instantly visualized a scheme and that they’d easily agreed on style and colors. It was one of the only amicable moments of their short acquaintance.

Considering Sam needed to be home when Frank showed up to service his furnace and considering Mina would be hungry for lunch in a few hours, Sam figured he had three hours ahead of him at most.

Out of nowhere, Rae crossed his thoughts. It bothered him that he was suddenly unclear regarding his feelings for her. And the more he thought about his verbal clash with Luke, the greater his unease. Sam had reacted and spoken in the heat of the moment. He didn’t like being at odds with family and he especially didn’t care for the feeling that he might be in the wrong and that Luke’s feelings for Rae were sincere. He was pretty clear on the fact that Rae was hung up on Luke. He could see it now.

“Hell.”

The moment Sam pushed Rae from his thoughts, Harper was waiting in his mind’s eye. He could name a dozen reasons not to pursue the attraction. Unfortunately none of them snuffed his desire. Anxious to divert his thoughts, Sam immersed himself in basic repairs. The actual carpentry and painting would come later.

Time flew.

He checked on Mina twice, and both times she was lost in a movie. Once she peeked in to ask him for a glass of water and notified him that she still hadn’t seen a ghost (“Drat!”). Other than that she was true to her word. She didn’t bug Harper. She didn’t bug him. She kept herself entertained, which surprised him a little. She’d been so clingy earlier in the day.

Before he knew it ninety minutes had passed and Sam had a question regarding the lighting. He’d probably have to interrupt some phone call or Skype session or whatever Hollywood gossip show Harper was immersed in, but he didn’t want to assume and all he needed was a quick answer.

He smiled at Mina as he passed but she was focused on her DVD player. He scaled the stairs and moved down the hall and into Harper’s room—just as she dropped the bath towel she’d had clutched to her body. A body still glistening with water droplets. She was reaching for the underwear laid out on her bed. A lacy black bra and thong. Oh, yeah. Sam was close enough to make out details. Close enough to smell the remnants of her shampoo. It was a blip of a moment—maybe two seconds max—but the image of Harper’s lush naked body was burned on Sam’s retinas forever.

She sensed him, turned, and gasped. “Don’t you knock?” she asked, clutching her undies over her sexy assets, not that they covered much.

“The door was open.”

“No it wasn’t.”

It wasn’t?

She grappled for the towel and Sam raked his memory. Had he really waltzed into this room like he owned the place?

“How come Miss Day gets to walk around in her birthday suit and I don’t?”

For the love of … Sam turned and ushered his daughter out of the room. “We’ll talk about it later.” He imagined Harper throwing a shoe at his head. He couldn’t remember ever feeling this flustered. Flustered was not in his vocab. At least not until this moment. He couldn’t even remember why he’d come up here in the first place. His brain was scrambling. How was he going to explain to Mina why he was in the bedroom with a naked lady?

While he urged his daughter to pack up her gear, Sam gathered his coat then paused and plucked his Blackberry from his pocket. Knowing Harper’s phone was always nearby, he thumbed an apology.

SORRY ABT THAT.

The response was immediate. NOT AS SORRY AS ME.

LEAVING NOW.

GOOD. WAIT. CUPCAKES IN FRIDGE. TAKE 4 KIDS.

Sam blinked at the message. What the … B BACK L8R 2 CLEAN MESS IN KITCHEN. He waited a heart-pounding three seconds before she texted …

BRING WINE.