three times, four if you counted the heavy petting they’d shared in the shower. They’d been insatiable, turning to each other time and again, consumed by the need to give and receive pleasure.
He was the best lover she’d ever had... Admittedly, she hadn’t had that many men in her bed, but she was convinced that if she had, he’d still be the best. Tender, demanding and confident and, surprisingly, uninhibited, Linc seemed to shed his calm, reserved, everything-can-be-worked-out attitude with his clothes and morphed into a dirty-talking, demanding, unrestrained lover.
Tate had no complaints. Nope, she couldn’t think of one. Well, maybe a little one: she was in his bed and he wasn’t touching her. That, she decided, could be easily remedied. Tate rolled over, and instead of encountering Linc’s hot, hard, naked warmth, her hand landed on a small body wearing flannel pajamas covered in helicopters. Tate immediately glanced down at her chest and sighed her relief when she realized that she was wearing one of Linc’s T-shirts.
Thoroughly confused, she lifted her head to look over Shaw’s sprawled-out body and saw Ellie lying on Linc’s T-shirt-covered chest, her face tucked into his neck and his hand covering her small back. His eyelashes were spikes against his cheeks, and heavy stubble covered his jawline.
Tate noticed the baby monitor on the bedside table next to him and tried to make sense of the time between falling asleep naked and now. She’d acquired a shirt, Linc had pulled on some clothes, and the huge bed they’d made love in had been invaded by two little people.
They looked like a family, Tate thought, panic creeping up her throat. This was what she’d had as a kid, two parents, lazy Saturday morning sleep-ins.
“Welcome to life with kids,” Linc drawled, his growly voice dancing over her skin.
Tate pushed her elbow into the bed and rested her head in her hand. She looked across Shaw to Linc, who had yet to open his eyes. “When did they wake up?”
Linc cracked open one eye and lifted his wrist to look at his high-tech watch. “Shaw wandered in at about five, Miss Ellie was bellowing at six.”
Tate winced. “I didn’t hear a thing. You should’ve roused me.”
Linc rolled his head and his smoky eyes met hers. Heat curled through her at the appreciation in his gaze. “I tried. You didn’t even stir when I poured you into my shirt.”
“That might be because we only got to sleep a few hours ago.” She gestured to Ellie. “But thanks. I owe you.”
“You do,” Linc replied, his smile lazy. “If we were alone, I’d show you how you could repay me.”
Tate blushed, thinking of how well he’d loved her. She opened her mouth to make a witty retort, but her brain had nothing. Zip. Not because Linc was six feet something of pure, primal male but because she’d rolled back in time. Remembering the little girl she’d been, climbing into her parents’ bed at the crack of dawn, waking up in her dad’s arms, her face tucked into his neck, hearing his whiskey-rough voice telling her to go back to sleep.
She’d had a few years of happiness and security, but that had been ripped away when Kari and Lauren dropped into their house and lives. Nothing lasted forever, and as sweet and wholesome as this little scenario was, her past reminded her that it wasn’t hers to keep. Sex was one thing, but playing happy family with Linc and these gorgeous children was not something she could indulge in. She might come to like it and, worse, come to yearn for it. She’d lost one family unit; she wasn’t going to set herself up to lose another.
Tate was about to sit up when Ellie’s eyes slowly opened and focused on her face. She yawned and lifted her little hand in Tate’s direction, her extraordinary blue eyes full of love. Smiling, she crawled off Linc’s chest, over the still-sleeping Shaw and into Tate’s arms. Ah, dammit, Tate thought as Ellie’s chubby arms wound around her neck and the little girl burrowed closer, her nose under Tate’s jaw, her hands tangled in her long hair.
This was trust at its purest form, Tate thought, holding Ellie tight and closing her eyes, feeling the wash of love breaking over her, holding all the pent-up power of the sea. Oh, God, she couldn’t fall in love with Ellie, couldn’t start thinking of being her family, her primary caregiver, of making a family with her.
How was she supposed to look after a little girl with the type of career she had? Babies and border posts were not a happy combination at the best of times, and taking Ellie with her would be utterly impractical.
Keeping Ellie with her would mean sacrificing her career—a career that earned her a lot of money and that she loved. With Ellie in her arms, Tate stood up and walked over to the window of Linc’s bedroom, pushing aside the heavy drapes to look down at the icy road below. She released a heavy sigh. If she even dared to imagine giving up her freedom and her independence to raise Ellie, how would she support them? She had a healthy bank account and she could probably buy an apartment—not in Manhattan obviously—and ensure that they had a roof over their heads. But she’d still have to feed them, clothe them, pay the utilities, and to do that she’d need a job. A job, in this context, meant staying in one place, and Tate shuddered. She hadn’t had a fixed abode in years, and she didn’t think she could do it.
A bigger worry was that Ellie was starting to attach to her, as she’d just shown by leaving Linc’s arms to crawl to her. Would she psychologically damage her niece when she gave her back to her mom? How would being a human equivalent of pass-the-parcel affect Ellie long-term? Would she have trust issues? Tate wouldn’t blame her if she did.
Tate felt Linc’s hands on her waist and sighed when his big body pressed up against hers, her back to his chest, his chin resting on the top of his head. “Is this all feeling a bit too real?” he asked, his deep voice gentle.
Tate nodded, a ball constricting her throat. “I don’t think I can do this, Linc.”
She had to pull back, she had to find that place of inner solitude that served her so well. She had to retreat to her mental island where emotions couldn’t affect her.
“Do what, Tate? Us?”
“No, that I can do because I know it’s just sex.” Not understanding the reason for Linc’s sudden tension, she ignored it.
“I’m not sure I can be what Ellie needs,” Tate said, her voice cracking. “She’s starting to trust me, starting to rely on me, but in a couple of days, or in a few weeks, I’m going to hand her back to Kari—”
“If you find her.”
“Reame will find her,” Tate stated. He had to; she couldn’t imagine having to make the final and crucial decisions about Ellie’s future. That was Kari’s job, dammit. “I’m worried that I will end up hurting her by loving her, by bonding with her knowing that that bond will be severed soon.”
Linc rubbed his chin over her hair, and Tate felt the reassuring squeeze on her hips. “Tate, trust is a learned skill. When we teach children to love and to trust by being loving and trustworthy, they learn that they can expect that from other adults.”
Tate snorted her disbelief. “Can’t see Kari teaching Ellie those life lessons.”
“Me, neither.” Linc released her to stand beside her, leaning his shoulder into the wall, his face solemn. “I accept that you are worried about Ellie’s well-being, but I suspect that you are also worried about your emotions, your state of mind.”
Tate
