Missionary Daddy

“You? In an African orphanage? With dirt and flies and poverty? And no beauty salon?”

Sam gave a self-deprecating laugh. “Yes. How weird is that?”

She told her sister the rest, about the children, the lack of food, the despair. Most of all, she talked about Eric.

When she finished, Ashley’s soft brown eyes danced with speculation. “Are you in love with this guy?”

Sam made a face to quell a sudden invasion of nervous butterflies. “I barely know him. And now that we’ve met again, I think he hates me.”

“Oh, come on, Sam. There is not a red-blooded male in this country who hates you.”

“Then let’s say he doesn’t like me much. He holds me at an arm’s length and when I try to talk to him, he’s as cool as a Frappuccino.”

Ashley grinned. Having found her own true love, Ashley saw romance everywhere. “I think you’re way off base. Maybe the guy likes you a lot. And maybe he’s intimidated because you’re famous and he’s just a missionary.”

“Eric Pellegrino is not just a missionary. Nor is he intimidated by anything. He seems to despise what I do. And maybe he should. He’s dedicated to a noble cause. I’m dedicated to shopping and accessorizing.”

“Yes, but you’re so good at it!”

They both laughed, but Sam wasn’t joking. Along with her desire to change her own life, she wanted to change Eric’s opinion of her. She just didn’t know how.

When Eric walked into the Youth Center arts-and-crafts room, the first person he spotted was Samantha. Like radar, he seemed to find her. It was maddening. Yesterday, he’d spotted her going into the Noble Foundation. The day before, he’d driven past the mall and amidst all the cars and people, he’d seen Sam.

Now, here he was, that funny feeling in his gut, watching her with the teens. She and the girls, plus Anne Williams, were hub deep in conversation about hairstyles of all things. The boys sat at the table, chins on hands, looking bored to the point of coma.

Tiffany had brought a fashion magazine and was pointing to a picture. Sam placed a finger on each of the girl’s cheekbones, indicated the shape of her face and said something that made the slightly pudgy girl smile.

Eric had to give Sam that much. She was kind to the kids although they still treated her with a star-struck adulation that set his teeth on edge. She was only a person. No better than the rest of them.

He felt in the back pocket of his jeans for the letter that had arrived today.

“Hey, guys,” he called to the dying-of-boredom boys. They whirled as if he’d saved them from a fate worse than death. Chuckling, he understood all too well. To a guy, discussing girls’ hairstyles was pretty deadly.

“What’s up, Eric?” Lanky Jeremy scraped a chair out from the table to make room for their leader.

“Got some news today.” He unfolded the letter and placed it on the table. “From Africa.”

Sam, who had been describing some bizarre thing called shine serum, stopped in mid-sentence and looked up at him. He hadn’t intended to notice her at all tonight and yet, here he was soaking in the way sprigs of blond hair framed her face and brought out the beauty in her gray eyes.

“Africa?” she asked, tone eager. “From your orphanage?”

Technically it wasn’t his orphanage anymore though he’d founded and built the place. The missions’ board was in charge. “From the boys I’m trying to adopt.”

Three of the teenagers in the group had been adopted. Those three always wanted up-to-the-minute details on Eric’s process to adopt Matunde and Amani. They huddled around his back, staring down at the letter. Telephone or Internet contact with the new director was spotty at best, so every time he received a letter from the boys, he was pumped for days.

To his surprise, Sam rose, too, and came around to his side of the table. “Matunde and Amani?”

His surprise doubled. “You remember them?”

“Of course I do. I have a picture of them that I treasure.”

“Oh, right.” The photo she used for publicity. That was why she remembered his boys.

Sam pressed in beside him, leaning onto the table to read the letter along with the others. Right at his elbow, she brought with her the luscious scent of some perfume that probably cost enough to fund the orphanage for a year. And as annoyed as he tried to be about that, his senses couldn’t help appreciating the warm, feminine fragrance or the way her slender arm grazed the side of his.

“Did you say you’re adopting them?” Sam asked, turning her head so that their faces were only inches apart.

A hitch in his chest, Eric was trapped between Sam, the table and a huddle of kids. He couldn’t escape if he wanted to—and he most definitely wanted to. Yes, indeed. He needed to get far away from Miss Rich and Famous.

“Trying to. International adoptions are long and complex. The rules change constantly.”

“So what are the rules saying right now? Can you or can you not bring the boys to America?”

She seemed genuinely interested, just as she had in Africa. Why was it that the Sam he talked to was not the Sam he knew her to be?

“The government officials who will make the decision know me, at least by reputation. They’re the same people I’m working with to develop the new African adoption program for Tiny Blessings.”

“So, when are the boys coming?”

“I don’t know. These things take time.”

“But why? They’re orphans, alone in the world. You love them. They should just get on an airplane and come.” She dragged out the chair beside him and sat down, turning to prop a fist on her beautiful cheekbone.

His pulse, already misbehaving, skittered dangerously.

Eric looked around and realized that the kids had moved away. A clutch of girls shot sly glances at him. One giggled when he caught her staring.

What was that all about?

Bewildered, he returned his attention to Sam’s question. “If all goes well, I’m shooting for Christmas.”

“Nothing will go wrong. You’ll get them. You and the boys are going to have the best Christmas ever.”

He wanted that with all his heart. Nothing could go wrong. He’d promised their father to care for them. He loved them. They loved him. Everything would work out. It had to.

“You’ll be a wonderful father, Eric.” Sam spontaneously pressed a hand over the top of his. Little jolts of electricity shot all the way up to his shoulder. “I saw you with them. You already are.”

Eric tried to remember why Sam Harcourt turned him cold, but with her sweet eyes looking at him this way and their hands touching, his mind was blitzed.

“Hey, you two. Any chance we can have a meeting tonight? Or is this a private party?” Caleb Williams ambled toward them, his wife Anne at his side. Their smiles had Eric wondering. Did they think there was something going on between him and Sam?

Man, were they ever confused.

“Time to get started, I guess.” By sheer force of will he got up and moved to the head of the table, leaving Sam where she was. Instantly, his vacant chair was filled by one of the girls and the chitchat began about Nikki’s haircut. Should she get a skunk stripe or not?

Eric was hard-pressed not to laugh but he noticed Sam took the question with complete seriousness.

He called the meeting to order and was pleased that the kids had followed through with their assignments. Very quickly, he collected price lists, tentative work schedules, booth ideas and a host of other details the kids had come up with on their own.