Slow Heat

His mouth brushed her neck. And then her jaw… He made his slow, purposeful way to her mouth and as she made a low sound of helpless arousal, he wrapped his arms tight around her and kissed her with a lot of tongue and temper and desperation.

“We have to deal with your dad,” she murmured.

With another rough breath, he let her go and turned away, temper winning. “Don’t worry about the hotel. Just get Tag out of here before my dad teaches him any more bad tricks. The rest is my problem, not yours.”

Sam hated doing as Wade asked, but short of forcing herself on him, she had little choice. So she took Tag home, tucked him into bed, and then herself. Lying there staring at the ceiling, she thought about Wade’s father, and then hers, who’d never so much as checked on her and Tag. She chewed on that for a while, his utter lack of support with the Jeremy thing, the complete non-help he’d given her with Tag, and she knew they had to talk. She was finally over being a part of the McNead empire. There in the dark, she nodded at her decision. It was a good one. And for the first time since Wade had hit the post, she relaxed.

First thing the next morning, she was back at Wade’s, knocking with determination on his door.

No one answered.

She looked back at her car. Tag was bouncing on the front seat eating an Egg McMuffin. Breakfast of champions. She reassured herself that she wasn’t a bad pseudo-parent, that this was only the second day this week that she’d fed him fast food.

Okay, third.

But she was going to work on that. Really, she was.

Unfortunately she had a crazy schedule today. She had a Heat team meeting to get to in one hour, then she’d take Tag to the tutor’s and herself back to work, where she had to oversee an ET photo shoot, finish organizing the upcoming charity dinner, and arrange for several etiquette workshops for the bull pen players per Gage’s order. She had a conference call scheduled with her father as well, at her own request. He wasn’t going to like their conversation, as she was going to tell him she didn’t plan on renewing her contract for next season.

This McNead was going off on her own, thank you very much.

She knocked on Wade’s door again.

Still no answer. She pulled out her cell phone and called Wade’s. After two rings, the shade on the window next to the front door opened.

Wade stood on the other side of the glass. He wore gray sweatpants low on his hips, a wrap around his ribs, and nothing else. His hair was wet from a recent shower and messily falling over his forehead. His eyes were shadowed, and so was the jaw he hadn’t shaved.

He had his cell phone in his hand at his side, attitude blaring from every pore of his mouth-watering body.

She met his gaze and waited expectantly with her phone to her ear.

With a slow shake of his head, like maybe she was an unfathomable pain in his ass, he opened his phone and put it to his ear.

“Hi,” she said.

He just lifted a brow.

She wished she could do that, convey so much with one look. It sure would save a lot of time, something she was extremely short of at the moment. “I brought you and your dad breakfast.” She hoisted the bag to show him. “Not your beloved fries because it’s too early, but I hear that their Egg McMuffins clog arteries just as effectively.”

He didn’t smile. “How do you know my dad’s still here?”

Ah, he speaks. “Because you wouldn’t have kicked him out. Even though I’m sure you gave it more than a passing thought,” she added politely.

He sighed and shoved his fingers in his hair. “I’m not opening this door to you. One houseguest is my limit at this time.”

Ouch. But she’d figured he’d still be mad at her for interfering, even if she’d done so with only his best interests in mind. Telling herself she’d worry about the consequences later, she took another glance at Tag-still behaving-and opened the front door herself.

“I should have locked that,” he said, slipping his phone into his sweatpants pocket.

She handed him a coffee.

“Bribery won’t work.”

She was betting otherwise. “Drink up.”

He blew out a breath and did as she asked. She waited, and he drank some more, and they shared breathing space for a few minutes.

“Okay,” he finally admitted. “So I needed caffeine.”

She arched an agreeing brow and handed over the food.

He set the coffee down on the window ledge and opened the bag. Grabbing an Egg McMuffin, he sank his teeth into it.

She waited.

After another moment, he nodded.

“Feeling human again then?” she asked, keeping her smile to herself.

“I’ve got a start on it anyway.”

“Good.” Going up on her tiptoes, she brushed her lips over his. His eyes revealed their surprise. She rarely made the first move, instead letting him be the aggressor, sexual or otherwise. The realization startled her, and made her want to touch him more. She took a peek at Tag. His head was down. He was playing his Game Boy. “How are you feeling?” she murmured to Wade, setting a hand to his chest.

He looked down at her hand. “What did you have in mind?”

“Not the same thing you do.”

He let out a breath. “I’m good enough to play today.”

“You’re on the DL.”

“I’m good.” His eyes darkened and he wrapped his fingers around her wrist. “Keep touching me like that and I’ll show you how good.”

“Your dad-”

“Sleeping off a hangover, no doubt.”

“Nope. I gave that stuff up, remember?” John stepped in the foyer. He was dressed in yet another eye-popping Hawaiian shirt and cargo shorts, a newspaper tucked beneath his arm, looking chipper but a little edgy. The lack of alcohol was definitely getting to him. “Hello, kids.”

Sam smiled and handed him a coffee.

“Thanks, darlin’.” John eyed his son. “I meant what I said, Wade. I’m here to quit.”

“And I meant what I said,” Wade told him. “I catch you with an ounce of alcohol, even cough syrup, and this little Brady Bunch experiment is over.”

John nodded. “I’ll be in the other room. Don’t want to cramp anyone’s style.”

“You’re cramping my life,” Wade said.

John’s mouth curved. “At least you admit I’m in your life.”

He was gone before Wade would comment on that but Sam heard the low, inaudible growl deep in his throat and gently pushed on his chest to hold him in place. “I see it’s going well.”

“Don’t worry,” Wade said, looking down at her. “I’m not going to kill him. Yet.”

“Wade.”

He closed his eyes. “Is this where you lecture me on being nice?”

“This isn’t my job. I’m not going to lecture you on anything. I just wanted to say-”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“But-”

“Ever.”

She studied his dark eyes, the muscle ticking in his jaw. “That’s ridiculous.”

“Really?” he asked. “Because I seem to remember a situation in reverse, only a few weeks back, when Tag got delivered to you. You didn’t want to talk about it. And you sure as hell didn’t want help from me either.”

True enough. “But I wasn’t being stubborn and obstinate.”