For the Girls' Sake - By Janice Kay Johnson Page 0,71

cold but stirring warmth in her.

Shelly’s piercing voice penetrated Lynn’s euphoria. "Daddy’s kissin’ Mommy! Look, Rose. How come he’s kissin’ Mommy?"

Adam drew back. "It would seem I’m making a public demonstration of my affections."

"He kisses me,” Rose declared.

"Not like that," Shelly said in a tone of horrified fascination. "Not on the lips!"

Facing the girls, his free arm looped around Lynn’s waist, Adam said, "I like kissing Mommy, too. Mommies and Daddies do kiss on the lips."

"Eew." Shelly made a troll face.

“Trust me," Adam said with amusement, "you’ll understand someday."

"What if a boy at preschool wants to kiss me on the lips?" Rose asked seriously.

"You pop him in the nose," he suggested.

The girls burst into giggles and scrambled onto a long log washed in by the sea and half-buried on the beach so that it made a perfect balance beam for three-year-olds. They could fall without hurting themselves.

"Rose already asked why you were sleeping with me," Lynn said, as she and Adam paralleled the girls’ path.

"What did you say?"

"Nothing. She got distracted. You told her you don’t wear pajama tops because they end up wound around you like a mummy’s wrapping, and so I had to explain that a mummy is not like me."

He laughed, creasing his cheeks and warming the cool planes of his face. The fluttering in her chest Lynn felt at the sight of him was becoming familiar. She’d married this man in cold blood, and now she was feeling everything she had when she’d imagined herself in love with Brian.

Everything, she admitted silently, and more.

In comparison, what she’d felt for Brian had been...a crush. A girlish stage that would have passed if they hadn’t rushed into marriage. If only she hadn’t been so inexperienced, so socially inept, she would have known whether her feelings for him were special or not.

Was she fooling herself again, just because...well, because she so enjoyed being with Adam? Lynn stole a sidelong glance at the man striding beside her, looking astonishingly carefree for the buttoned-down, austere stockbroker he was. She had fallen in love awfully fast, hadn’t she?

But in her heart she knew better. She had begun the tumble a long time ago. That day in the hospital, probably, when she’d seen how much he adored his Rosebud. When she realized he felt all the same conflicts she did. Every kindness he’d given her since, every smile at the girls, every willing boost onto a kitchen chair, every game played, every grave answer to a silly question, had polished the slide down which she rocketed. How could she help it? Despite his doubts, Adam was a wonderful father. Beneath his usual rigid courtesy and occasional bluntness, he was a marshmallow. Nothing was too good for Shelly and Rose. Or her, now that he felt an obligation to her. He was chivalrous, kind and determined to do the right thing.

What’s not to love? she asked herself frivolously.

Her feelings were anything but. She knew how lucky she was. Adam would be a good husband if it killed him. His moral standards wouldn’t let him look at another woman, even if he didn’t love his wife. But it wasn’t just that. They could be happy together; these past two weeks demonstrated that. She was sure he was contented, at least.

All she had to do was keep her mouth shut. He must never, never know that this marriage was no longer one of convenience and friendship for her. He’d only feel uncomfortable, perhaps even obliged to make up some pretty lies to reciprocate. She couldn’t bear that.

Be grateful for what you have, Lynn told herself. Why spoil it by wishing for more? If Adam came to love her in return, well, it would happen. Perhaps slowly, but heartfelt emotions couldn’t be forced, shouldn’t be pretended. She would never want that.

She had lived her entire life appreciating what she had and not hoping for too much. She could go on that way.

What she wasn’t sure she could do was bear the regular separation from Adam. Although she hadn’t yet said aloud, I will sell the bookstore, the idea had taken root and was settling in. Owning her own bookstore had been a lifelong dream, and she loved every moment of it. Working for someone else, even in a wonderful store like Powell’s in Portland, would never bring her the same joy.

And oh, how she’d miss Otter Beach! The sound of the surf and the bark of sea lions out on the stack, the tangy air, the fresh