Before We Kiss (Fool's Gold #14)(51)

Sam nearly said that he was staying with Dellina, but kept his mouth shut. No one needed that information. His partners would make too big a deal of it.

They went with Kenny down the hallway to the foyer. At the entrance, the three of them stopped and stared at the two girls waiting there. Because they were girls. Maybe seven or eight years old. One was thin, with bright red hair and green eyes. She was with a blonde girl who wore glasses.

The redhead smiled shyly at Kenny.

“Chloe?” he said, walking toward her. “What are you doing here?”

“Allison and I need your help,” she said. “Allison is making her mom a jewelry box for her birthday. It’s her summer project for the FWM. Her dad was supposed to help her finish it, but he had to go out of town on business. Her mom’s birthday is Saturday. All it needs is painting and then varnish. Can you help us with that?”

She stared at Kenny as she spoke, her eyes wide, her expression hopeful. Jack chuckled.

“Someone’s got a crush,” he whispered. “That’s so cute.”

Which was code for later Jack would torment Kenny about the kid.

Kenny, all six feet four inches and well over two hundred pounds of him, shifted uneasily from foot to foot. “Ah, maybe one of your mom’s friends could do it. I’m not good at art projects.”

“It’s not an art project,” Allison said quickly. “The box is made. We just have to paint it. We have money for the paint and varnish. We’d ask Chloe’s mom, but she’s working. You know Chloe doesn’t have a dad, right?”

Sam winced. “She hits below the belt. He’s a goner.”

“Totally destroyed by two little girls,” Jack said admiringly. “You have to respect their tactics. Simple but effective.”

“They’ll be ruling the world in less than a decade.”

Kenny looked over his shoulder. “Could either of you two—”

Jack and Sam were already backing away.

“Sorry, bro,” Sam said. “I have my folks to deal with.”

“I’m busy,” Jack told him.

They rounded the corner, then turned and headed to the conference room.

“It’s nearly lunchtime,” Jack said. “Want to go to Jo’s Bar?”

Sam shook his head. “I’m not sure where my mom is. Let’s order in.”

“Good idea.”

* * *

BY NINE-THIRTY that night, all the kids’ bags were stuffed and standing neatly in boxes that lined the wall of Dellina’s living room. The T-shirts—a bright yellow that would be easy to spot if anyone wandered off—were rolled and wrapped in ribbon and resting on the very top of the bags. Big name tags hung from the handles. She’d spoken to Fayrene and confirmed the pickup time for the morning. She had rented a delivery van to get everything up to the hotel.

Now, as she worked on the gift bags for the adults, she went item by item, confirming that she wasn’t missing anything. With the women’s bags, she was going to nestle the Tiffany’s box on top. The pretty blue would be an eye-catcher. Dellina had to admit she’d been hoping the store would throw in a buy-ten-get-one-free bonus, but no such luck. There were three extra pairs of the watches, but she suspected Sam had ordered them specifically for him and his partners.

She had just placed the heavy packages at the bottom of the guys’ bags when she heard her front door open. She glanced into the living room and saw Sam walking toward her. He looked pale and shaken.

“The book signing?” she asked.

He pulled out a chair and sank into it. “Oh, yeah.”

“There wasn’t a, um, demonstration, was there?”

“No.” A heavy sigh accompanied the word. “She kept her clothes on and my dad stayed in the audience.” He raised his head. “At first it was fine. She talked about marriage and staying connected, both emotionally and sexually. Then she took questions. A woman who had read her previous work asked about a sexual technique and for the next fifteen minutes my mom explained the importance of clitoral stimulation.”

Dellina sank into a chair on the opposite side of the table. She couldn’t decide if she was happy or sad that she’d missed the event.

“Did that clear the room?” she asked.

“No chance. The women were all nodding and poking their husbands in the arm, as if wanting to make sure they got the importance of the message.”

“Well, sure,” she murmured.

Sam stared at her. “Are you trying to help?”

“Not really.”

He grinned. “Fine. I’ll carry my pain on my own.”

“How can you build character otherwise?” She stood. “Can you talk while I work, because I still have to finish these bags, then go over the schedule one more time.”

“Sure. Let me help.” He rose and moved next to her. “Tell me what goes where.”

She pointed to the list on the wall. “In that order, please. I’ve played around with how to fit everything into the bags without them getting crushed. Then we put them in the large boxes for delivery in the morning.”

Which all sounded so professional when what she was really thinking was how well Sam had known his way around her clitoris that lone night they’d been together. And that while the lessons his mother taught could be embarrassing, they had a purpose. Education was important. Like her learning about her G-spot and how she still wanted to know where it was, exactly, and what it felt like when it was happy.