“I am, yes.”
“Gram and Grampa live in Buckhead,” Simon inserted, making an effort to stay involved in the conversation. “My mom grew up there, didn’t you, Mom?”
Joanna nodded. “I did.”
“Grampa’s a surgeon. He cuts people open and fixes their hearts,” Simon added artlessly. “He says I can be a surgeon, too, but I want to be a marine biologist. Or an architect. Grampa says architect is just a fancy name for a carpenter who can draw, but that’s not right because they use computers and math and physics and design stuff. I saw a video about them. I think I’d like being an architect, but marine biology sounds fun, too. Mom said when we move, I’ll get to—”
The pasta Simon had balanced on his fork while he’d chattered fell with a plop onto his lap. He winced and looked quickly at his mother. “Sorry. It fell on the napkin, though.”
She was already helping him clean up the small mess. “Just be more careful, okay? Don’t try to talk and eat at the same time.”
She didn’t seem annoyed by the accident, Adam noted, drawing his fascinated gaze away from the precocious kindergartner. Was she actually a bit relieved that Simon had been interrupted again when he’d started to mention a move?
She didn’t seem to want to discuss her plans, whatever they were. Was she reluctant to talk about them because she didn’t want him to know where she and Simon would be living? She wouldn’t go to that extent to keep him away from his son, would she? That hardly seemed to fit with Trevor’s concern that she’d had ulterior motives for showing up here this week. So far, she seemed to be doing everything she could to hold Adam at arm’s length. Frankly, it was beginning to annoy him.
“What would you like for dessert, Simon?” Trevor asked. “Cheesecake? Pie? Or we have an excellent chocolate lava cake that you can order à la mode, if you like.”
“That means with ice cream! I like à la mode.”
Adam had to give Trevor credit. In his easy manner, he’d drawn out quite a bit about Joanna during this deceptively simple meal. They’d learned that she was a professor. The daughter of a surgeon. Adam was no expert on Atlanta, but even he recognized the expensive neighborhood Simon had mentioned so casually.
No wonder Simon was such a genius. He might’ve gotten Adam’s gray eyes and cowlick, but the rest had come straight from his mother. Adam wasn’t looking forward to the prospect of telling Joanna or Simon about his own dysfunctional family background.
Was there anything this kid needed that he didn’t already have? Especially anything Adam might have to offer?
* * *
TIRED FROM HIS busy day, Simon was already drooping by the time he’d finished his dessert. Still, after politely thanking their hosts for dinner, he wanted to linger at the small amphitheater near the lakeside bar to hear the calypso band. Relieved that the meal had gone relatively well, Joanna had kept her goodbyes polite but brief. It had been left unspoken but taken for granted that she and Adam would be seeing each other again soon. Adam had looked as though he wanted to say something more before they parted, but after a glance at Simon, he’d merely wished them good-night.
A handful of people danced around the tiny stage, their rhythm enhanced by a few too many tropical drinks. Simon was fascinated by the movement and the bright colors and the steel drum. Joanna sat next to him on a low bench and he snuggled against her to watch the festivities. Before the end of the second number, he’d fallen asleep.
Enjoying the party herself, she waited a few minutes before trying to rouse him for the walk back to their cabin. She was tempted to order a piña colada to sip while Simon dozed in her lap, but she knew she should get him ready for bed. He would need his energy for tomorrow.
“Looks like your date conked out on you.”
Moistening her lips, she glanced up to find Adam standing nearby, watching her and Simon without smiling despite his light words. He stood mostly in shadow, one side of his face illuminated by a tiki torch. The flame flickered in his dark eyes, seeming to mirror the inner turmoil he’d probably experienced that day. She knew her own emotions were pretty well shredded after the past fifteen hours.
“He’s had a full day.”
“Starting very early.”
She remembered the jolt of panic she’d felt when she’d woken at dawn and seen Simon’s bed empty. The relief when she’d found him. The shock when she’d identified his companion. “Very early. He wanted to listen to the music for a while before turning in, but he didn’t last long.”
“So he inherited your appreciation for music?”
Her thoughts drifted in response to the question, back to moonlit hours spent snuggled on a bench much like this one—if not this very one—listening to other bands. Getting up occasionally to dance in the sand, their fingers laced, bodies pressed together, mouths close enough for the occasional kiss. Until the tension had built too high, and they’d slipped away to find privacy. And a bed.
That all felt like another lifetime now.
She swallowed hard. “Yes, he loves music.”
Adam studied her face. Was he thinking back to the same things she was? Had he remembered their previous encounter as fondly as she had, or had she been nothing more to him than a pleasant diversion he’d forgotten about since? Still, he’d immediately recognized her face and knew her name on the beach this morning. She supposed there was some gratification in that.
But it was getting late. Looking down at Simon, she jostled him gently. “Come on, honey, let’s go back to the cabin. You need to get to bed so you can rest for tomorrow.”
“I don’t want to go yet. I want to hear the music,” Simon roused enough to respond, a hint of whine in his protest. As well-behaved as he generally was, he could be a pill when he was tired, which he certainly was now. She hoped he wasn’t about to show one of his rare flashes of five-year-old temper here in front of...well, in front of everyone.
Adam motioned toward the lodges. “As it happens, I’m headed that way myself. How about a lift, buddy? You can ride on my shoulders if you like.”
Distracted and intrigued, Simon lifted his head to peer at Adam. “I’d be really high up, wouldn’t I?”
Adam smiled faintly. “Yes, you would. You’d be able to see a long way.”
Simon promptly climbed onto the bench and held up his arms. Joanna felt a ripple of dismay at the sight of her son reaching out to the man he didn’t know was his father. And something else...maybe a little possessiveness? Or was it fear of something she couldn’t quite define?
Adam crouched in front of the bench while Simon climbed on, then straightened with the boy high on his shoulders.
Giving her a slightly crooked smile, Adam asked, “Ready, JoJo?”
From his lofty perch, Simon giggled drowsily. “That’s a funny name for her. Aunt Maddie usually calls my mom Jo, but sometimes she calls her Joey.”
Joanna fell into step beside them. “Not if she wants me to respond.”
“Maybe I should call you Dr. JoJo.”
She lifted an eyebrow. “Not if you want me to respond.”
“Oh, I absolutely want you to respond,” he said lightly.
Something about his tone made her miss a step on the pebbled pathway. She pulled herself together sharply with an admonition that she had to keep her wits about her this week. She couldn’t think clearly if she allowed herself to be dazzled again by infatuation—or whatever it was she had once felt for Adam, if only for a weekend.
It didn’t help to see him with her—their—son on his shoulders, both laughing when Adam bobbed and weaved