“I would have liked school a lot better if my teachers looked like you.”

Ginger’s pulse quickened at the sound of Scott’s low Southern drawl at the classroom door.

“Is this a bad time?” Scott crossed the room and leaned on the edge of her desk. His intense gaze made her blush.

“Not at all. Why?”

Scott smirked, brushing Ginger’s cheek with his fingers.

“You feeling okay? You look flushed.”

“Yes. No. I’m fine.”

He grinned. “You’re a lousy liar, but I like that about you.”

Ginger had more than a few sleepless nights lately, wrestling with her attraction to Scott. But a romance with a student’s father was out of the question, even if he made her skin tingle.

“Scott, I’m happy to discuss your daughter’s progress in class, but we absolutely cannot talk about anything personal.”

“That’s fine.” Scott smiled. “Talking wasn’t exactly what I had in mind anyway.”

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

MEGAN KELLY is a mom, a wife, a friend and a writer. As a shy girl, reading swept her away to places she still hopes to visit one day. Writing gives her the opportunity to experience some of those adventures (although she’d make a terrible cabin boy in disguise, couldn’t possibly find clues by hiding under her blankets and never plans on doing anything more frightening than public speaking—which is scary enough). She loves hearing from readers at megankellybooks@att.net.

Dear Reader,

Telling Ginger’s story in Stand-In Mom has been a project dear to my heart. She started her existence as a secondary character in The Fake Fiancée, but by the end of the book, I wanted to be her best friend. Readers responded the same way, asking me to find her happiness. Ginger’s husband divorced her when they couldn’t conceive a child. Now she’s determined to forget men and find love by adopting a baby.

So, of course, she falls for a guy.

I have to say, I wasn’t sure what I’d do with Scott when he showed up. He’s not what Ginger wants and seems to be in the way of her finding happiness—which made it even more fun for me as a writer. By the second chapter, I was rooting for him. These two have kept me on my toes, and I’ve loved every minute of it. This story made me laugh and cry as it unfolded, and I hope it touches you, too.

Old friends drop in, which was fun, as well. Dylan Ross from The Marriage Solution reappears as Scott’s boss, as does Ginger’s best friend, Lisa Riley, from The Fake Fiancée. It was nice to visit with them again.

I’d love to hear what you think of Ginger and Scott’s story. Please visit my website, megankellybooks.com, find me on Facebook or Twitter and visit our Harlequin American Romance authors’ blog at harauthors.

blogspot.com.

Best to you all,

Megan Kelly

Stand-In Mom

Megan Kelly

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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For Kimberly Killion, whose patience

and input made this book a reality.

Thanks for holding me together at a difficult time;

For my editor, Johanna Raisanen,

whose advice makes me a stronger writer;

For my kids, who make my dream of being

a mother such a joy to live;

And as always, for my husband. I wouldn’t know

how to write about Love without you in my life.

Chapter One

As Christmas parties went, it didn’t suck, but Ginger Winchester would have given her left eye to be anywhere else. The ballroom in the James Brothers Hotel glittered with decorative touches to put everyone in a holiday mood. A band provided music, and she hadn’t lacked for partners in the two hours since she’d arrived. But she’d rather have been home with a mug of hot chocolate and a book than dragged along by her best friend and forced to celebrate.

Until she saw him.

The man didn’t look familiar, although Ginger didn’t know all the employees at Riley & Ross Electronics, her hosts this evening. She sipped her white wine, watching him over the rim of her glass, as the band charged into an energetic version of “I’m a Believer.” Even in a town the size of Howard, Missouri, she could run into a stranger. She smiled to herself. She’d like to do more than run into this guy.

He looked up then, directly at her, as though he’d heard her thoughts from fifteen feet away. Ginger didn’t blush often and now was no exception. She nodded slightly. He smiled back, raising his beer bottle in a salute. His lack of a wedding ring didn’t guarantee he was single.

Short brown hair shimmered with bronze highlights under the chandeliers. His dark suit emphasized his tall, lean frame. Light danced on prominent cheekbones and caressed his full lips, much as she’d like to. He looked to be in his early thirties, with lines at the corners of his eyes. Laugh lines? She liked the idea of him being a happy person. She’d been that way not so long ago. Maybe this stranger could bring some joy to her world tonight.

After the call from the adoption agency earlier that day, she needed some holiday cheer. She hadn’t been approved as a foster parent yet, the first step of many in adopting a baby. She thought she’d have a little visitor for the holidays. Now she’d be alone. Again.

“Having fun yet?” Lisa Riley asked, appearing at her side.

“Loads.” Ginger rolled her eyes for her friend’s benefit, not wanting Lisa to pick up on her distress. She wouldn’t ruin Lisa’s holidays, nor did she want her to guess just how entertaining her fantasies of the man had been. He’d be a great distraction for her woes. Maybe she could finagle an introduction without being too obvious. “I don’t know many people here, though.”

“That hasn’t stopped you from dancing.”

Ginger forced a grin. “The band’s talented. Good variety of music. There are a couple of nice single guys here.”

“And a couple with not-so-nice intentions.”

“Ooh, point them out.” Ginger noticed the frown before Lisa turned away. Lisa and her husband, Joe, had coerced her into coming, and Ginger aimed to have a good time. If that included collecting some phone numbers or spending time with a guy in private afterward, that wasn’t any business of the Rileys’.

After all, Lisa and Joe had each other, as well as her two children, Abby and Bobby. Ginger was alone now and probably would remain so.

“Do you want to introduce me to some of the nicer guys?” she asked to placate Lisa. “You’d know who’s unattached with pure intentions.” Not that she wanted anybody too pure of heart. Gesturing toward the mystery man with her now empty glass, she said, “What about him?”

Lisa followed her gaze. “I don’t recognize him. He might be the new guy in Dylan’s division.”

Dylan Ross, Joe’s partner, headed up the R&D department, inventing computer programs and troubleshooting existing ones. Mystery Man looked too strong and too vital to be a computer nerd.

“New guy?” Ginger tried to appear only mildly interested.

“Some genius from the South that Dylan snatched up when his company downsized. In Alabama, I think. Dylan considers hiring this guy to be a real coup.”

“I can imagine.” She’d consider snatching him up to be a coup, too. Strong, clean hands gripped his bottle. His lips curved in a smile in response to the blonde woman now chatting with him. Ginger wanted those hands on her, that mouth smiling at her. The rush of heat she felt just looking at him surprised her. In the past year since her ex-husband walked out, she’d never experienced such an immediate attraction.

The song ended. “We’re going to slow it down now,” the band leader announced. Lights lowered in the center of the room as they began playing Eric Clapton’s, “Wonderful Tonight.” The singer’s husky baritone intensified the sexy mood in the room.

A man claimed the blonde woman and led her away.

Spotting her chance, Ginger said, “I’m going to get another drink. Meanwhile, could you find out his name?”

“Whose?” Lisa’s gaze followed hers. “Oh.”

“See if Joe or Dylan knows if he’s single.”

“Ginger.”

“Don’t worry, Mother Hen.” She patted Lisa’s arm as she moved by her. “I know what I’m doing.”

“I doubt that,” Lisa muttered, making her smile.

Ginger wound her way past him, not too close, but catching his eye on her way to the bar set up on the far wall. If he didn’t follow, she’d go back and introduce herself. She dug through her tiny handbag for a tip. “Chardonnay, please.”

“Could y’all wait on that?” a man said at her side, his Southern inflection sliding over the words like honey. The singer on the stage had nothing on this guy in the sexy voice department.

The bartender looked to her for a decision. She glanced at her mystery man and let a smile flirt across her mouth, thrilled when it drew the attention of his hazel eyes. “Why would I wait?”

“It’ll be easier to dance with me if your hands are free.”

“Am I dancing with you?”

His eyes locked with hers. “I surely hope so.”

Her heart thrummed in her ears for a beat, then another. She spoke to the bartender without shifting her gaze. “Looks like I’ll have to come back for that drink.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She heard the laughter in the bartender’s voice but didn’t mind. She felt like giggling herself. Her new partner escorted her to the dance floor, his hand at the small of her back burning through the satin of her cocktail dress. Before she turned to him, she swallowed the lump in her throat. Pleasure, anticipation and sheer giddy attraction welled inside her.

He held her right hand and placed his other warm hand on her waist. Shivers ran across her skin as she touched his black-clad shoulder. She could feel his strength as they moved smoothly into the dance. About six foot one or two, she guessed, the perfect height for her in heels.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

“Ginger.”

“Unusual.” He laid her hand against his chest and touched a ringlet she’d left dangling from her temple. He twirled the curl around his finger. “Because of this?”

She nodded. She couldn’t actually feel him stroke her hair, but the impression of his touch tingled down her neck.

“I was born with shocking-pink hair. Picture cotton candy.” She smiled when he chuckled. “My parents hoped it would calm down to a ginger shade more like my mom’s, but it never did.”

“It’s not really red, and it’s certainly more dazzling than orange. What do you call it?”

“Apricot.” In the heat of his interest, she felt dazzling.

“That sounds about right.” He picked up her hand again but held it clasped against his chest. Her fingers stroked against the edge of his emerald silk tie.

“And you?” she all but croaked.

His mouth widened into a smile, showing beautiful white teeth. “My hair’s just brown.”

She laughed softly and shook her head. Up close, the bronze highlights held red and blond streaks. Lots of time in the sun, she supposed, remembering Lisa said he came from the South. If this was the guy Dylan hired. She only had his slow drawl and Lisa’s guess to go by. “I meant your name.”

“Scott.”

“Nice to meet you.”

“The pleasure’s all mine.”

“Are you new to the area?”

“How did you guess? My accent?” The corners of his lips tipped up in a rueful smile. “My part of the South has less of a twang than other places. Maybe it’ll ease up some after I’ve been here awhile.”

“Oh, I hope not.” Ginger stared over his shoulder, unable to believe she’d admitted such a thing. His chuckle made her wish for the dance floor to open up, like in the movie It’s a Wonderful Life. Her cheeks burned. Having a swimming pool to drop into sounded heavenly at the moment.

“Glad y’all like it,” he murmured, drawing her closer. He led her across the floor with confidence. “But I should try to fit in here. Put some stiff Yankee talk in my conversation.”

Ginger laughed. “It’d be a shame if y’all sounded like us.”

“Now y’all—I mean, you are making fun of me.” He winked at her.

She enjoyed the moment as their bodies adjusted to each other in wordless communication. He smelled of man rather than aftershave. Just strength and vitality, making her mouth water. The tan skin of his neck so close enticed her lips. She pulled back before temptation made her do something she’d regret. “Are you married?”

His hold on her loosened; his expression sobered. “Not anymore.”

Hearing he was single made her pulse accelerate, although part of her wondered why any woman would let a man this adorable and sexy get away. Did he eat crackers in bed? Hog the covers? These things didn’t matter to Ginger; she wasn’t looking for long-term. “She must have been crazy to let you go.”

He shook his head, and his gaze drifted off. Great. Now his thoughts centered on another woman, one he obviously had feelings for still. Ginger knew she should cut her losses and leave him to his memories. He had the look of a man recently set free—lost and hungry but too conflicted to act. Yet.

The music ended, and she sensed he would lead her off the dance floor, return her to the bar with some expression of thanks, maybe buy her that wine, but she’d never hear from him again. The first notes of “Lady in Red” sounded, and Ginger gripped his shoulder. She felt a kinship with him, although she’d long ago passed the stage of being saddened by her divorce. Maybe a nudge would lead him in the right direction. Toward her. “I’m not married, either. Not anymore.”

She held his gaze as he began moving to the song, their bodies in accord.

How could she keep him with her? Judging by his reluctant withdrawal, the reminder of his wife had been a blow. Ginger recalled those first shell-shocked weeks after Kyle left her. Scott’s breakup must be recent.

“I haven’t done this.” He gestured to their bodies with their clasped hands. “You know, been out. Not since … being single again. I didn’t want to be alone tonight, but coming to a party of strangers?” He shook his head.

“It’s hard the first time, but it gets easier.”

The twist of his mouth expressed his doubt. Would he make the effort again? Her mood deflated. He still had a thing for his ex. She could help him over this first hurdle, but she doubted he’d be interested in trying.

Although he remained in her arms, Scott wasn’t really with her anymore.

“I’m sorry.” His words came out forced. “I’m not very good company, I guess.”

“Don’t worry about it. Let’s finish the dance, okay?”

He nodded and led her to the music, dancing several steps in silence. Gradually his body relaxed. “Nice song.”

His breath whispered across her temple.

“Good band.”

“Exceptional partner.” He laid her hand on his chest, patting it into place.

She started when she felt his left hand go to her waist. After a second, he pulled her closer until she pressed flush against his body. His hesitation must have been to test her willingness. If he only knew.

We’re in a hotel, she wanted to say. Test me upstairs. I’ll show you willing.

But she didn’t say anything—with words. Instead she linked her hands behind his neck, letting a finger stroke against his nape. She felt his shiver.

When the song ended, Scott looked into her eyes. “Another? Or would y’all prefer that drink now?”

The intensity of his hazel eyes made her mouth go dry, but a glass of wine wouldn’t alleviate the problem. A kiss from Scott might. “I’m fine here.”

“This one,” the bandleader said, “is for those of you who are missing family this time of year.”

They began playing “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas,” and Scott stiffened.

“Want to get out of here?” He shook his head. “No, wait. I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. Outside maybe? The terrace—is there a terrace? Doesn’t matter, it would be too cold.”

Ginger smoothed her hand down his tie. “Wherever.”

He blinked.

“We could go out and walk in the lobby for a minute.” Get him away from the music and the memories.

He held her hand, dodging dancers and groups on the edge of the dance floor. Ginger avoided making eye contact as they passed. Some of these people would recognize her if they looked closely—her hair shone like neon—although few would have seen her dressed so elegantly. More likely, they knew her with paint under her nails rather than on them. Her Cinderella clothes would have to come off. She grinned, hoping for the moment to happen sooner rather than later.

She followed him out of the ballroom to the long carpeted hallway. The lights were dimmed, creating shadows for quiet conversations. Mirrors and slim tables lined the walls of the one hundred-and-fifty-year-old hotel, alternating with insets of maroon vases containing various white flowers. They strolled to a deserted area farther along, where a wide window overlooked the snow-covered grounds.

“Sorry,” Scott said. “Y’all sure pulled the short straw with me.”

She laughed, running her eyes over his long form. “I don’t think so.”

“Not literally, maybe,” he agreed. “But your other partners tonight wouldn’t have fled the dance floor like the room had caught fire.”

He pronounced it “cot far,” making her suppress a grin. And he thought he didn’t have a twang?

“Hey.” She tugged his hand to make him stop walking and face her. “I’m not out here with anyone else. I came out with you.”

His expression softened. “I appreciate that.”

Then his words caught up with her. “Have you been watching me dancing all night?”

“You’re very popular.”

Her chin lifted. “Then why didn’t you ask me to dance earlier?”

“You’re very popular.”

“What does that mean?”

Scott shrugged. “I don’t deal well with competition.”

Had his wife cheated on him? Ginger swallowed, hoping he hadn’t asked anyone about her. Since her ex-husband left her, she’d filled some of her free time with men. It irritated her that she felt guilty about it now. With Scott. That early wild streak had mellowed once she’d decided to adopt a baby on her own; still, she had to live with her choices.

He squeezed her fingers. “But you dance as though there’s nothing more important than that song and that moment. Very full of life.” He stepped closer. “You look like a flame with your bright hair and yellow dress. And I wanted to be near that, to watch your green eyes light up and feel your body sway.”

Scott drew her to him and she forgot guilt. She only felt admired. As a woman, by a man. A shiver ran over her.

“Cold?” he murmured.

“Not even close.”

He grinned as he lowered his lips over hers, warm and persuasive. She didn’t need persuading, but she appreciated the gesture as she opened her mouth to him. Scott pulled her nearer, his hands caressing her back. Her stomach clenched with need and desire burned out any chills she might have had.

He put a hand against her cheek, eyes on hers. “This is wrong. It’s too fast.”

She might agree, but she doubted she’d ever get another chance with him. He attracted her like a compass needle finding true North. Judging by the intensity of his gaze, desire tugged at him, too. “It doesn’t feel wrong.”

“No, maybe it doesn’t.” His thumb traced across her lips. “But I don’t really do this.”

“I wish you’d make an exception.”

His eyes darkened before he bent to kiss her. Heat burst across her skin. His hands tightened, securing her to him, and she was grateful for the anchor as her head swam. When Scott pulled away, his face was flushed with need.

Ginger swallowed, nervous when she hadn’t been in ages. “Do you want to … do something about it?”

“Is that an invitation? Like ‘your place or mine?’”

She nodded. How would she bear it if he said no?

His lips brushed hers. “I’d like that. Very much.”

The truth of his declaration nudged her stomach as the kiss deepened. “So.” His kiss found her cheek, then his breath was at her ear. “Your place or mine?”

No way would she let him change his mind during a car ride. “What about here?”

He tilted his head in question. She’d thrown him a curve ball.

“It is a hotel,” she said.

“Good point.” His mouth crooked, making him look endearingly nervous. “I’ll go check availability.”

As Scott strode to the reservation desk, Ginger pulled out her cell phone. Relieved to get Lisa’s voice mail, she left a brief message. “It’s 9:40. If you don’t see me in the next hour, I’ve gotten a ride home.”

If all went well, no one but Scott would see her for several hours. Or until morning.

He came toward her with a big grin and a key card. “I’ve never done this before. Checked in to a hotel without luggage.”

She laughed. “Come to think of it, I haven’t, either.” It struck her that she might be leaving in the morning in her cocktail dress. “Wait.”

His smile faded.

“I should retrieve my coat. In case, you know, coat check closes before we leave.”

“Right. Me, too.” He changed direction and marched back to the main hall. A man on a mission. The butterflies in her stomach stilled, calmed by a wave of tenderness toward him.

When they passed the gift shop, reality struck, almost making her stumble. Condoms. How could she be so stupid? Of all the nights to switch purses. She’d planned to spend the evening with Lisa and Joe, not spend the night with a guy.

“Is there anything else we’ll need?” she hinted. “Unless you …?”

“Unless I what? Here we are. Do you have your coat stub?” Scott handed his to the checker then turned to her.

Damn. Joe had her coat check stub. She didn’t know if mentioning his boss’s name would make Scott hesitate or not. Earlier he’d seemed undecided about them being together; she didn’t want to give him another reason to balk.

She stretched up to whisper in his ear. “My girlfriend’s husband has it. Why don’t you go to the gift shop while I get the check stub?”

“What do I need at …?” Light dawned across his face. “Gift shop, right. I’ll be back in a second.” He kissed her, hard. “Don’t change your mind while I’m gone.”

“You, either.”

She spotted Joe with a group of men. He was too polite to make a scene that would embarrass her. She touched his arm to draw him aside and explained the situation.

He produced the ticket from his pocket and offered it to her, capturing her hand in the process. “If you want to call me for a ride later, I’ll come.”

She pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Thanks, Joe. Hopefully, this guy has enough manners to drive me home, but otherwise, I’ll call a cab. Do me a different favor, though?”

“Does it involve not telling Lisa?”

“I’d never ask that of you.”

“Good thing.”

She grinned. “But if you could keep the news to yourself for a while, just to give me time to get out of view?”

“She won’t be happy.”

“She’s been unhappy with me before.”

He grimaced. “I wasn’t referring to you.”

Ginger chuckled. “Thanks.”

“Sure you don’t want me to talk to him?”

“Do I need your approval to date your employees?”

Being a gentleman, he didn’t comment on her wording. This was as far from a date as one could get. “Make sure you call Lisa tomorrow. She’ll be worried about you.”

Which meant he was worried. Her throat tightened. “Sure thing.”

Ginger claimed her coat, finally, looking over her shoulder for Scott. So much time had elapsed, he could have had second, third and fourth thoughts by now.

She spotted him as she approached the gift shop. He hovered by the entrance. Had he seen her with his boss and decided she wasn’t worth risking his job? Joe would never fire him for being with her, but Scott wouldn’t know that, would he?

“I thought you’d left,” she said.

“No.” He looked startled. “Were you hoping I had?”

“Not at all.” Thank God she wouldn’t have to seduce him all over again. “What are you doing in here? Did they not have what we need?”

“Got that.” He patted his pocket.

Ginger laid a hand on his arm. “I have what I need, too.”

Their eyes met, then his stiff posture loosened. He understood she meant him.

He exhaled a huge breath. “Okay, then. Let’s go.”

She laughed. “You sound like I’m going to perform a root canal on you.”

“God, I hope not.” He smiled and walked toward the elevators. “I’m just relieved. It took so long getting your coat, I thought y’all had come to your senses.”

“Nope. How about you?”

“Not planning on being sensible for a while. It’ll feel good.”

“That’s the plan.” Once in the elevator alone, she let him push the button for their floor before she pulled him to her. She ran her hands over his chest as he bent toward her. His lips covered hers, surprising her with his passion. Maybe he didn’t need warming up. She smiled against his mouth, pleased he hadn’t been having second thoughts, after all.

“What?” he asked. “Do I kiss funny?”

She started to assure him otherwise but stopped. “Hmm. I’d better double-check.”

“Is that a challenge?”

“You asked.”

His mouth closed on hers, his lips capturing her bottom lip, then his tongue swept in, arousing, claiming, inflaming her with need. Their breathing grew erratic.

When she came up for air, she shook her head. “Not funny.”

He ran his hands over her back, her hips, her breasts, sending her pulse racing. The elevator dinged as it slowed to their floor, drawing them apart. The doors opened, and they stepped out, heading toward their room. Silent, side by side, but not touching.

He stopped and drew the key card out of his pocket. The lock flashed green.

Scott opened the door and flipped on the light. “Ladies first.”

He breathed in Ginger’s exotic scent as she walked into the room. Something flowery but not cloying. More seductive than sweet. It made him think of hothouses, but maybe that was his overheated body. She’d done that to him, too.

The last time he’d felt an attraction this strong—Samantha, of course, and it was just wrong to think of her now. Not fair to any of the three of them. The similarities between the two women—both physically and in their “seize the day” outlooks—had drawn him to Ginger. But the way her touch made his blood burn led him here. That, and the concern in her eyes when that damned song started. He didn’t need to hear about missing the ones you loved. Not tonight.

Ginger tossed her coat on a chair, drawing his thoughts back to her. Her hips swayed under that silky dress in a way that roused him. Not a chance she wore anything under there. She leaned across the desk in the corner and turned on the lamp, and his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. He trailed his eyes over her backside, thinly veiled by her dress and arched toward him, and he imagined things he could do to her on that desk. As she turned, he took a moment to appreciate the play of the light over her breasts, creating shadows and highlighting exposed skin.

His groin tightened to a deeper ache. She strolled back toward him and only then did he realize he stood like an idiot just inside the door. He’d been so transfixed by the sight of her, seductive and alluring, he hadn’t moved.

He’d noticed her on the dance floor earlier, appreciated her from a distance, and would have been satisfied watching the party girl having fun. Until he saw her standing off to the side in an unguarded moment, watching the others, and seeming lonely and out of place. Something had stirred inside him, recognizing a kindred spirit.

Ginger caught his eye and flipped off the overhead light switch, casting the room into a dim glow. Her hands slid across his chest, up to his shoulders, and he pulled her against him, his mouth devouring hers. Hot, hard, wet. He had to slow down. She deserved wooing—or at least some patience. Not to be attacked by a sex-starved man.

Her fingers brushed his stomach. His jacket opened as she slipped her hands inside, caressing his chest, sliding the material from his shoulders. She was undressing him, and he’d only contributed hot kisses.

Leaning back, he pulled off his jacket and let it drop to the floor, then ran his hands over her bare shoulders. He bent to taste the freckles there, then kissed his way up her neck, smiling as she shivered. His hands trailed up her ribs, fingers making lazy circles. Ginger pressed against him, her breasts prodding his chest. He let his thumbs trace slowly upward as his lips captured hers, his tongue sweeping inside her mouth. He wanted to savor her, to slow down and relish every second. Lick every inch of her warm skin until she burned as hot as he did already.

He ran the pad of his thumb across her nipple, and she moaned his name. His erection jutted against her abdomen like a heat-seeking missile. He caressed her shoulders, her arms, her breasts, his hands restless over her, learning her shape as he listened for the catch of her breath to discern what she liked. His fingers unhooked the clasp at her neck, and the top of her dress loosened. One shift had it dropping to her waist, trapped by the press of their hips. His breath caught at the sight of her breasts, all creamy skin and feminine curves, and he lowered his head to savor her.

“Scott,” she moaned, pushing her hips against him.

He bent her backward, one hand supporting her shoulders, one cupping her bottom, the lushness there enticing him to caress. The soft warmth of her skin filled his mouth; his tongue flicked over her nipple. Her perfume blended with her natural womanly scent, stirring him. Little noises in her throat urged him on.

She opened his shirt and pushed it down his shoulders. Scott shrugged free of it so she could touch him, then shuddered when she did. Desire burned him. He walked her toward the king-size bed, not letting any space fall between them.

“Let’s get this off,” he said, peeling the dress over her hips. Tearing it off was more likely, but he called on his years of experience to slow down. Despite feeling like a teenager with his first girl in the backseat, he was a man who knew how to please a woman, and he desperately wanted to make this pleasurable for Ginger. To thank her for reminding him how good sex felt, for helping him feel alive again.

He’d been wrong; she wasn’t naked under the dress. His hands revealed a tiny flesh-colored thong, sexier than bare skin. He swallowed the lump in his throat, his fingers moving on their own to his zipper as she shimmied—there was no other word for the wiggle of her body—out of the thong. Bending slightly without losing eye contact, she slipped off her high heels, then stood before him wearing only a small smile and earrings. Naked and alluring; a goddess with a most devoted worshipper.

He kicked out of his pants and his shoes, all patience gone. Heat, need, urgency took control of him. He couldn’t form a coherent thought, but he knew women liked words.

“Y’all are so beautiful. I’ve lost my breath.” His knees quivered so much, he could barely stand. His arms shook as he pulled her close again, but restrained his impulses and reined in his desire. He yearned to thrust into her, bury himself deep and hold her to him until neither could endure another moment without moving.

He encountered a bobby pin in her hair and gently removed it, then set to work on its companions. The barrette baffled him, and after a clumsy attempt, he broke the kiss. “You’ll have to do it. I’m afraid I’ll hurt you.”

Her mouth twisted briefly before her hands rose, drawing his gaze to the outthrust of her breasts. He forgot to question her odd expression as waves of apricot hair fell to her shoulders.

She set the barrette on the table, then lay back, not taking her eyes from his, inching upward on the bed to make room. He yanked off his boxers and her gaze flickered down. Her tongue came out to lick her lips as though her mouth were as dry as his. He swelled with masculine pride, glad he could make a woman this gorgeous want him. Eyes locked on her, he slid his body over her.

He took, and she gave. She took, and he gave. He formed words, but mostly he showed his appreciation in physical ways—ways Ginger approved of with gasps and groans. She moaned when he nipped at the curve of her hip, sighed when he licked her navel, and fisted her hands in his hair when he sucked at her lush breasts.

Despite her slender body and porcelain skin, she was no china doll needing his restraint. She drew her hands and mouth over him, lingering and enjoying. When she encircled him to guide him into her, he nearly came apart. It had been a long time since he’d been touched this intimately.

She pushed at his shoulder, and he rolled with her, delighted to have her atop him with his hands free to explore. He groaned as she rode him, gritting his teeth against the intense pleasure. It almost killed him, waiting to reach his own climax until he’d satisfied her. When she shattered, he barely had a second to congratulate himself before his next thrust pushed him over the edge.

When his heart calmed and his breathing smoothed out, he rolled to the side, pulling her with him. She cuddled close, limp, and he smiled, sated and content that he’d brought her pleasure, as well.

As he drifted, lazy thoughts floated in and out of his grasp. His mind replayed the softness of her body, the textures and scents of her, the sounds of her moans. Great sex, lovely woman.

It wasn’t until later that the fragments formed a cohesive thought. He’d just had the most incredible, hair-catching-on-fire sex of his life.

And he didn’t know the woman’s last name.

Chapter Two

Ginger came awake slowly, aware of a soft prickle against her face and a crick in her neck. What had she slept on?

Realization hit and she stilled. Scott. Her eyes fluttered open. Definitely a chest under her head and curly male hair tickling her nose.

She gave an inaudible groan. She hadn’t meant to actually sleep with him. Sex, sure, that was no problem, but she never spent the night. That led to entanglements. She must have slept like the dead not to have woken up by now. Being in his arms felt natural. A bad sign.

The slender opening in the drapes showed a black sky, but in late December that could mean midnight or nearly dawn. Light from the desk lamp she’d turned on the night before illuminated Scott’s face, serene in slumber.

His arm lay under her head but didn’t encircle her. Although snuggled against him, she could probably steal out of bed without his notice. Testing the theory, she inched her behind backward, then stealthily slid one foot toward the edge, watching his face for a reaction. His eyelids remained closed and his body still. She hated to wrench away from his warmth and considered waking him for a little good morning sex instead.

But the debate lasted only for a moment. She had to get away. Just wanting to stay longer warned her he’d breached her defenses already. He was too nice and his loneliness too touching. A guy like him—fun and kind and attentive—threatened her peace of mind.

Ginger lifted her head from his arm, freezing at a noise from him. Assured he slept on, she slid off the bed and grabbed her belongings from the floor. The bathroom provided a safe haven as she yanked on her clothes. She washed her face, grimacing at the remnants of cosmetics she left on the washcloth. Remembering why she’d gone to bed in her makeup, she smiled. Scott was a heck of a guy, seduction-wise. She scraped wet fingers through her curls, fluffing up or patting down as needed to alleviate her bed-head.

She had to skedaddle before he woke. Never had a morning-after felt so sordid, especially when the night before had been so lovely. Although they were strangers, having sex with him had been powerful and moving. Now it felt as though she’d done something to run from. She couldn’t face him.

So, of course, he woke when she opened the bathroom door. The disoriented expression on his face made him look rumpled and cuddly and dangerously adorable.

“What—?” He cleared his throat. “Where are y’all going?”

“Home.” She kept to the shadows of the room. His accent came thicker in his half-awake state. Why’d he have to be even cuter now? She was supposed to be leaving, firmly walking out the door without a backward glance. Had-a-great-time-thanks-see-you-around, not oh-my-stars-I-want-you-again.

“I’ll drive y’all home. Hold on a minute.” He threw off the covers, revealing his long tanned body as he sat upright.

Seeing him naked while she wore her cocktail dress from the night before emphasized the wrongness of the situation. “No, I’m fine.”

“Oh, do y’all have a car here?”

Ginger shook her head. “I can take a taxi.”

And won’t that cause talk if I’m seen. She glanced at the clock. One forty-five. The Riley & Ross party crowd should all be gone by now. She hoped.

He studied her a moment longer than her composure could take. She glanced around for her purse, spotting it on the desk by the still-lit lamp. Lunging, she grabbed it and turned her back to the harsh light. She felt naked and exposed—and not in a good way.

“Thanks for last night,” she said. “I had a lovely time.”

His eyebrows rose. “And that’s it?”

She lifted her lips in a smile. “What did you need to hear?”

Ginger cringed at her harsh phrasing, especially when he floundered, lost for words. But her statement clarified the interaction between them. They’d had great sex. Really great sex. The end.

“I don’t even have your phone number,” he said. “Or know your last name.”

She hid her wince. “Would you really call me?”

He nodded with less assurance than he probably meant to reveal before shrugging. “I’d like to have the option.”

Ginger swallowed her hurt.

“I don’t have a phone installed yet, and I’ll be getting a different cell number with the 816 area code. I came up this week with the movers to get the house settled and meet some of my coworkers.” He ran a hand over his face. “Y’all have no idea what I’m talking about, do you? We didn’t exactly exchange information.”

“You work in the R&D Department at Riley & Ross Electronics. You’re the new guy from Alabama.”

“Atlanta, actually, and how did you know?”

Ah. Being from the most cosmopolitan city in the South explained his lack of a heavy accent. “I asked about you.”

He nodded. “That would be safe.”

As though she’d thought of safety. It had been curiosity, pure and simple. Well, maybe not so pure. And this was turning out to be not so simple, either.

“But I’m still pretty much a stranger around these parts,” he added.

“Not to me.” Ginger closed her eyes even before his surprised grunt of laughter reached her ears. How embarrassing.

“I guess that’s true.”

She bent over the desk and scribbled her name and phone number. “If you decide to call.”

“It might be a while. I have to move more furniture in the next weeks, then get settled in.”

She forced a bright, fake smile. “After the New Year, then.”

“I’m serious, Ginger.”

Exactly the problem. She closed the door quietly behind her. Scott was a serious guy. The kind who’d want a relationship, which, if it worked out, should lead to marriage and a houseful of kids.

Which just wasn’t possible with her.

SCOTT ROSE TO USE THE BATHROOM, shaking his head. Maybe Ginger hadn’t had the same soul-shaking experience he’d had. To her it might have been just sex.

To him … Well, he couldn’t define it. He scratched his chest and picked up the notepad containing her number, wanting to put it somewhere secure. He frowned. She’d only written her first name and a phone number. Didn’t she trust him to know her full identity, even after sleeping together? Would he call the number and reach a pizza joint?

Would he even call the number to find out?

He ran a hand over his jaw as he glanced at the bed, feeling slightly sick at the warm, rumpled sheets with their scent of sex. He’d cheated on his wife. Not in actuality, considering the circumstances, but guilt churned in his gut anyway. He hadn’t so much as kissed anyone except Samantha since they’d met over six years before.

He’d enjoyed the time spent with Ginger and wanted to take her to bed again. Both feelings intensified his shame.

His hand crumpled the notepaper into a ball. The next weeks’ obligations made it impossible to call her anyway. First, he’d be in Georgia, packing up and trying to celebrate one last Christmas with the girls in the only home they knew. He wanted to make this year special, despite the confusion and grief and awkwardness of their changed circumstances. He’d do his best to make it seem normal, to continue the traditions he’d never paid much attention to. Samantha had always handled it, just as she had done everything where the girls were concerned.

Then he would bring his daughters to their new home with him here in Missouri. He’d just enrolled Shelby in second grade and Serena in the day care his boss’s mother owned. He’d endure their tears and tantrums, and Shelby declaring him “the worst father ever” for making her leave her friends in Powder Hill. His kid had a smart mouth for a seven-year-old, he thought with a smile. No doubt her teenage babysitter, whom the girls had spent too much time with during the past several months, had been a poor influence. But that would change now. Everything would change now.

God help them, every one!

“SO, WHO WAS HE?”

Ginger rolled her eyes at Lisa’s question, the smell of yeast making her stomach rumble. Her friend kneaded bread dough in her bakery kitchen, looking like a fifties mom in her patterned apron. She’d scraped her blond hair back into a ponytail that made her appear closer to seventeen than twenty-seven.

Lisa had made a success catering sweets and desserts for parties and special events. The kitchen she’d built in her basement declared it as a place of business: clean, efficient and utilitarian. Stainless steel appliances stood in sleek lines, but touches of Lisa’s personality showed in the bright yellow walls with stenciled cherry stems.

Ginger stood on the outside of the wraparound counter and watched Lisa move with unconscious grace and skill. The question didn’t surprise her; after leaving the party the night before, she owed her friend an explanation and reassurance. That didn’t mean Ginger had to like it. “What makes you think there was a ‘he’?”

“Joe told me.”

Of course he had. Ginger had expected no less. “It was the new guy in Dylan’s department. Scott.”

“I figured, since that’s who you’d set your sights on.” Lisa punched the dough with a strong fist. “And? What’s he like?”

“Really, Lisa. Comparing notes this early in your marriage? I doubt Joe would thank me for telling you.”

“Don’t be snotty.”

“You know I don’t kiss and tell.”

Lisa peered at her. “Did you do more than kiss him?”

Ginger didn’t speak as memories flooded her: Scott’s strong, tanned hands caressing her body, his lips delighting every nerve ending, his careful tending to her needs before his and his gentle ways of loving.

Lisa stilled. “Ginger, I worry about you. It was no big deal when you took home guys you’ve known all your life. But this …”

“It’s my own business who I go home with.”

Lisa glared at her. “I’m your friend. I love you enough to make you mad at me. Even to lose your friendship if it’ll keep you safe.”

“I’m safe.”

“I’m not talking about safe sex, although I’m glad to hear you haven’t completely lost your mind.”

“Gee, thanks.” Ginger would be angrier if she hadn’t been thinking the same thing. Especially since sleeping with Scott a few hours before. That had been a huge mistake, although she didn’t regret having earth-shattering sex. But the shattering of her peace of mind since then worried her. She didn’t want him to know about the guys she’d been with in the past year, trying to appease her loneliness. Being with someone occasionally had helped her get through Kyle’s leaving.

They had been married, happily she’d thought, for four years. Now she was alone. If hooking up with a nice, single guy once or twice a month alleviated her melancholy for a few hours, who did it hurt?

But being with Scott changed that. She cringed to think he’d find out she’d been what her mother would call “loose with her affections.” Not that she had. She’d kept a tight rein on her heart, or rather, the pieces of it she had left after Kyle rejected her.

Because she couldn’t have children.

Ginger tried to suppress the constant ache the thought produced. She couldn’t forget. Her infertility was as much a part of her as her arm. Sometimes when she was with a man, she could shove the reminder from the forefront of her mind. The guys she spent time with didn’t care. They desired her, laughed with her and appreciated her as a woman.

She scowled at Lisa. “You couldn’t possibly understand.”

Lisa raised an eyebrow. “My first husband left me, in case you’d forgotten. For a younger babe he’d been sleeping with since she turned legal.”

“But you have Joe now.”

Her face softened. “Yes, I got extremely lucky.”

“And you’ve got Abby and Bobby and can have more kids.”

Lisa’s wide gaze darted to Ginger’s at the mention of another baby.

“Don’t wait,” Ginger said, watching her friend read her expression. It never failed—at the mention of babies, Lisa walked on eggshells around her. “I know Joe loves Abby and Bobby, but he’ll want his own children.”

“He’s not like that. He’s a great father already.”

Ginger nodded. “But men like their own genes passed on. That’s why Kyle wouldn’t even talk about adopting.”

The instant she mentioned the word, Ginger realized her mistake. Lisa would ask.

“Have you heard anything from the adoption agency?”

Ginger looked away. She knew she’d have to tell Lisa eventually, but saying it out loud would make it more real.

“Oh, no,” Lisa said, obviously reading her face. “What happened?”

“I got turned down for a home visit.”

“When?”

“Yesterday afternoon. Before the party.” She could almost hear Lisa’s thought process: So that’s why you went looking for comfort with Scott.

“That’s so unfair,” Lisa said instead. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Ginger shrugged. “It’s the holidays. Why should we both be depressed?”

“You weren’t seriously thinking of keeping this to yourself for two weeks, I hope.” She rounded the counter and hugged Ginger. “I’m so sorry. It’s just not right.”

“I know that and you know that.” Her yearning for a child was even stronger now than when she and Kyle had gone to the fertility clinic to discuss options. “The adoption agency is concerned about me providing for a baby. The money, a sitter, the whole shebang.”

Lisa’s face creased into a frown. “Can they do that? I mean, I’m a mom and I have to worry about money and sitters.”

“I don’t know what they’re allowed to do and how much of the flak I’m getting is just this woman disliking me for some reason. When you give birth, you don’t have to jump through hoops to earn the right to be a mother.” She gulped a breath. “I don’t want to rock the boat, just in case she’s playing by the book. It’s better I lie low and cooperate.”

“Help is available,” Lisa said. “Dylan’s mom would make a spot for your baby at the day care she owns. The baby would be safe and cared for during the day.”

“I don’t like the idea of sending a newborn to day care, even one as reputable as the Wee Care.” But she’d have to. She couldn’t afford to quit her job or take a couple years’ leave of absence, which would be the same as quitting. She couldn’t expect the school district to hold her job. Her current financial situation would only allow her to stay home during the summers.

“The adoption agency is very concerned about backup. What happens when I have a meeting at school or something comes up? You know how I’m always being assigned to some committee.” She blew out a breath. “The witch at the agency was all over me about my lack of support. I don’t have any family here now that Mom moved. Obviously no husband. From the drilling I endured, you’d think single people never adopt kids. Why am I different?”

Ginger studied her hands before she spoke the words that plagued her. “Do you think she can sense I’d be a bad mother?”

“That’s ridiculous. You’ll be fantastic. You shouldn’t stand for that kind of treatment. You need to talk to someone else at that agency. Or go somewhere else.” Lisa frowned. “There are other adoption agencies in Kansas City, right?”

Ginger nodded. “I might try that. Ms. Booker seems dead-set against me for some reason.”

“As for help on a moment’s notice—when you’re not bringing the baby to Aunt Lisa, that is—Dylan’s brother has eight kids and a list of babysitters when you need someone reliable.” Lisa’s gaze flew to hers. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have mentioned Adam and Anne’s family.”

“I’m happy for them.” Other people having kids didn’t bother her, even them having eight children. Seeing pregnant women sometimes made her tear up, and envy ate acidy holes in her stomach, but she didn’t begrudge anyone the kind of happiness she longed for. “It’s not as though I think they got my share of kids.”

When Ginger met her, Anne Ross had been near to bursting with child number eight, a beautiful girl they’d named Penelope. Dylan, the proud uncle, had brought a picture to Lisa and Joe’s when Ginger had been at the same picnic. He didn’t know of her condition, and she’d begged Lisa and Joe to keep it between them.

It was bad enough Ginger’s own husband had found her defective. She didn’t need the whole town gossiping about it.

Just imagining the pity she’d receive made her blanch.

“So, this Scott guy,” Lisa started, “what’s he really like?”

“Are you asking as the wife of his boss or as my nosy, pushy friend?”

Lisa chuckled and washed her hands at the sink. “Both.” “He’s extremely nice. Well-mannered and polite.” “Uh-huh. That was for the boss’s wife. Now spill.” Ginger grinned. “He’s incredible in bed. Very giving, if you know what I mean. Strong, hot body, tanned all over, except for his swimsuit lines.” She closed her eyes as she recalled tracing those borders and what lay between.

Lisa giggled. “Wait. Maybe I shouldn’t hear this. I’ll probably have to see him at some function, and I won’t be able to block out this image.”

“Sweetie, you don’t know what you’re missing.” But Ginger was relieved not to have to think about Scott and how amazing the sex had been. Because remembering made it feel like more than sex, and it wasn’t. Couldn’t be.

“When do you plan to see him again?”

Ginger swallowed and tried to keep her expression calm. “What’s the point? You can’t improve on perfection.”

“But if being with him was perfect, why not have seconds?”

Ginger lifted her lips in an artificial smile, hoping Lisa couldn’t tell she’d clenched her teeth. Her friend insisted not every man would care about Ginger’s barrenness, and most men would be open to adopting if that were their only option to build a family.

Ginger didn’t believe it. She’d had a man, one who’d already committed his life to her. That man, with love in his heart, had found her lacking. What chance did she have making a stranger want her once she told him?

“Perfect,” she said, “is an illusion. The more you try to repeat it, the more you notice flaws.”

She couldn’t risk seeing Scott because she wanted to so badly. He’d gotten to her, touched her in secret places that had nothing to do with sex. When he’d said he didn’t want to hurt her, he’d meant by pulling her hair removing her barrette. But Ginger sensed he could seriously break her heart. And she just couldn’t risk that happening again.

THE NEW YEAR TURNED AND SCOTT still hadn’t called Ginger. He fingered the hotel notepaper in his pocket while he waited to meet his daughter’s second-grade teacher. The principal reminded him more of a used car salesman than an educator, and he’d already snagged Scott to serve on a committee. Scott knew his daughter wouldn’t be sent to the principal’s office, though.

Shelby was a good kid, saving her smart-aleck remarks for him. Testing him, his mother-in-law assured Scott. Apparently, Shelby had been angelic when she and Serena stayed with their grandparents while he’d been here getting the house ready. Shelby could test him all she wanted; he’d always be there for her. Even without a psychology degree, he knew Shelby feared he’d leave her and her sister. Acting out and pushing the boundaries made her a normal kid, considering all she and Serena had endured.

How could he put them through anything as traumatic as seeing him with another woman?

He’d carried the paper with Ginger’s phone number every day, worried he’d lose it. The crinkle and stiffness in his pocket the first days reminded him of their time together. But he’d been in Georgia then, retrieving his daughters from their grandparents’ house and enduring everyone’s tears. Now the paper had worn smooth, and its weight in his pocket wasn’t so much physical as mental. Guilt sometimes made him consider throwing away Ginger’s number, but he hadn’t. Nor had he called. He couldn’t bring himself to do either thing.

The office door opened and he rose, turning to meet the new teacher, who stumbled to a halt, hand on the doorknob, eyes wide and apricot hair secured in a ponytail.

His breath caught in his chest as his heart thudded. Hell of a way to find out his lover’s last name.

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