Page 90 of A Soldier's Return

Distracted for the moment, Chloe’s truculence faded. “Really? What kind of prize?”

“A toy stuffed sea otter. It’s really cool.”

“I bet I can win it! I’m really good at guessing stuff.” Chloe rushed away, leaving Eben and Sage alone.

She was intensely aware of him, the smell of expensive cologne that clung to his skin, his tailored blue shirt, the crisp folds in his silk power tie.

His business attire ought to be a major turn-off for her. It should have reminded her just how very far apart they were.

She had always thought she preferred someone like Will, who wasn’t afraid to get his hands dirty. But she couldn’t seem to control the wild impulse to loosen that tie a little, to spread her hands over the strong muscles beneath the expensive tailoring.

She cleared her throat and forced herself to meet his still-veiled gaze. “Chloe should have a great day today. We have lots of fun things planned for the children.”

“Great. I know she’s excited—more excited than she’s been about anything in a long time.”

“That’s what we like to hear.”

“Okay, then. I guess I’ll see you later.”

He turned away and headed out the door. Sage watched him for only a moment—but even that was too long and too revealing, apparently. When she turned back to her campers she found her assistant director watching her with a knowing look.

“You know, it’s really too bad you’re not the kind of woman who would consider a summer fling,” Lindsey murmured as Eben closed the door behind him.

Wasn’t it?Sage thought, but she quickly turned her attention to the children.

He was dead meat.

Roast him, fry him, stick him on a spit. Sage Benedetto was going to kill him.

With one eye on the digital clock on the dashboard, Eben accelerated to pass a slow-moving minivan towing a pop-up trailer. He was supposed to have been at the nature center to pick up Chloe twenty minutes ago and he was still an hour away from Cannon Beach.

Sage might have disliked him before—their disturbing, heated morning kiss notwithstanding—but her mild antipathy was going to move into the territory of loathing if he didn’t reach her soon to explain.

He was beyond tardy, approaching catastrophically, negligently late.

He steered the Jag off the highway and dialed the center’s number again, as he had done a half-dozen times since the moment he had emerged late from meeting with his team of Portland attorneys.

He’d gotten a busy signal for the last half-hour, but this time to his relief the phone rang four times before someone picked up. He recognized Sage’s low, sexy voice the moment she said hello.

“Hello. Eben Spencer here,” he said, feeling far more awkward and uncomfortable than he was accustomed to.

Somehow she seemed to bring out the worst in him and he didn’t like it at all.

“I’ve, uh, got a slight problem.”

“Oh?”

“I’m afraid I’m just leaving Portland. I had a meeting that ran long and, to be perfectly honest, I wasn’t paying attention to the time. I’m hurrying as fast as I can, but I won’t be there for another hour, even if the traffic cooperates. I’m very sorry.”

He heard a slight pause on the line and could almost hear her thinking what a terrible father he was. Right now, he couldn’t say he disagreed.

“No problem,” she finally said. “I’ll just take her to Brambleberry House with me. Conan will be over the moon to see her again.”

“I can’t ask you to do that.”

“You didn’t ask. I offered. And anyway, I certainly can’t leave her here by herself. I could take her to your beach house but I wouldn’t feel right about leaving her alone there either. I don’t mind taking her home with me. Like I said, Conan will love the company.”

“In that case, thank you.” He had to struggle not to grovel with gratitude.

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