Marine for Hire by Tawna Fenske Page B

while, right? I mean, they’re babies. It’s not like they’re going on a date and need to impress anyone. That should be okay, right?”
    Sam looked up, then nodded wisely. “Absolutely. That’s what it says in all the childrearing books.”
    “I figured. They handled it okay after I left this morning?”
    “They did. There was a little crying, but I stopped after about an hour.”
    Sheri laughed, soothed by his sense of humor in spite of her guilt pangs over leaving the boys. She had to work—not just to keep a roof over their heads, but for her own sanity. Still, there were moments she feared every choice she made had the potential to damage the boys for life.
    Sam dumped the tomato into the bowl, then reached for an avocado. He held it up for a moment, studying it like he wasn’t entirely sure what to do with it. Probably considering the proper kind of cut, whether he should do it rondelle or chiffonade or one of those other fancy techniques she’d only read about in cookbooks. She bit her lip, wishing she could be more useful.
    “Want me to do it?” she asked, standing up. “I have this cute little avocado cutter my ex-mother-in-law gave me before she realized I was a total disaster in the kitchen.”
    “Avocado cutter?”
    “It’s silly, but it works.”
    She scooted around him, then bent down to rummage through the lower drawer. It took her a moment to find it, and she had to paw through at least a dozen other abandoned kitchen tools she’d bought with the hope of being a better cook.
    When she stood up, he was staring with his mouth slightly open.
    Whoops. Had she shown off more than her avocado peeler when she’d bent down?
    “Here,” she said, plucking the plump avocado from his fingers as she tried to ignore her flaming cheeks. “I can finish this if you want to get the rest of the food plated.”
    “Of course,” he said, brushing past her en route to the silverware drawer. The kitchen was small, and Sam was not, so his hard, chiseled frame pressed into her as he moved to grab napkins and silverware.
    “Pardon me,” he said, brushing against her as he slipped past on his way to the fridge. “More wine?”
    “I’m good for now,” she said, gasping a little as he brushed against her again, electricity sparking everywhere they made contact. She finished slicing the avocado and tossed it into the bowl, then remembered a great vinaigrette she’d grabbed at the grocery store a week ago and shoved in the upper cupboard for when she ran out.
    She stretched up to reach it, her T-shirt riding up above the waistband of her skirt as she felt around for the bottle.
    “Here, let me,” Sam said, moving behind her to reach over her head. “Which one?”
    His body pressed hot and solid against hers, hard in all the right places. She gasped, afraid to move or even breathe, certain she was going to explode with desire or simply melt back against him and beg him to touch her.
    “White bottle,” she squeaked. “Brown polka dots.”
    He shifted a little, grazing her backside with the fly of his shorts. Was it her imagination, or was there something hard jutting against her tailbone?
    “Got it.” He lowered his arm, and Sheri turned, bringing them face-to-face in the cramped little kitchen. His breath ruffled her hair, and she breathed in the scent of kitchen spices and dish soap and hot, delicious man. Sam swallowed, and she watched his Adam’s apple move, watched a flicker of something spark in his eyes.
    “Here you go,” he breathed, swallowing again. “Need anything else?”
    God, yes.
    She took the bottle from him, gripping it hard to keep from grabbing him. “That’s it. Thanks.”
    “You’re welcome,” he said, and stepped away.
    Heat surged through her as she finished tossing the salad with the dressing, wondering if this was all in her imagination, or if he was feeling it too. God, she hadn’t been this discombobulated by a man for years. Maybe ever. Her whole body buzzed with heat