The Great Bedroom War Read online

  The Great Bedroom War

  Book Two of the Return to Redemption Series

  Romance Writers of America® Golden Heart® Finalist

  by

  Laurie Kellogg

  The Great Bedroom War

  By Laurie Kellogg

  Electronic Edition

  Copyright 2012 Laurie Kellogg

  This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations. Thank you for respecting this author’s hard work.

  http://www.LaurieKellogg.com

  Disclaimer

  This novel is a work of fiction. Any references to real people, events, establishments, organizations, or locations are used only to provide authenticity and are used factiously. All other characters, places, incidents, and dialogue are products of the author’s imagination and should not be construed as real. Any resemblance between the novel’s characters and setting and actual individuals or places is completely coincidental. All inaccuracies or mistakes are the author’s fault and accidental. The author apologizes for any factual discrepancies or typographical errors. If you find any, please contact the author so she can correct them for future copies.

  Editor

  Gwynlyn MacKenzie

  Copy Editor

  Heidi Luchterhand

  Proofreader

  Elizabeth Walls

  Acknowledgements

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  EPILOGUE

  About the Author

  Excerpt of A Little Bit of Déjà Vu

  Acknowledgements

  Dedicated to my brother and sister

  Whenever we argued as children, our father constantly reminded us we should cherish each other since, as siblings who share the same mother and father, we’re genetically closer than we will ever be to anyone else. (Now there’s a scary thought.)

  First and foremost, I praise God for giving me the imagination and ability to write. So many people have contributed to my writing career and helped mold me into the author I’ve become. I’d like to take this opportunity to thank:

  My husband who’s given me more support than any writer could hope for, and who is the kind of man who inspires all of the best characteristics of the heroes in my stories

  My son, not just for his encouragement and marketing advice, but for blessing me with the best daughter-in-law any woman ever had, who gave me an adorable grandson

  My wise daughter who never doubts me and who did me the favor of marrying a wonderful man, who is also a talented author

  My mom, who gave me the love of reading and who never lets me forget there are other things in life besides writing

  My late father and my dear friend, Sheri. Both of you believed in me but left us too soon to share in my joy. I miss you both every day.

  My most faithful cheerleaders, my sister and sisters-in-law

  My nieces and nephews, who motivated me to keep going and compelled me to set an example of perseverance

  My brother and brother-in-law, who never considered my writing a hobby

  My previous neighbor and good friend who convinced me to join RWA® and begin to write

  My critique partner and sister-of-the-heart who never lets me down in pointing out why my babies aren’t pretty enough for the runway

  My beta-readers and good friends

  Romance Writers of America® and all its generous members who helped me learn to use the talent I was blessed with

  The members of the RWA® chapters Bucks County Romance Writers, New Jersey Romance Writers, and The Golden Network

  All my Golden Heart® friends from 2004, 2006, 2007, 2009, 2010, and 2011— especially my 2009 Ruby-Slippered Sisters who I share a multi-author blog with at http://www.rubyslipperedsisterhood.com

  The Great Bedroom War

  CHAPTER 1

  Every red-blooded American male has one of two things on his mind at the end of a romantic evening. Samantha Riverá prayed her date was wondering if the Phillies had won.

  She slanted an uncertain smile at Adam Chase as he walked her to the wraparound porch that hugged one corner of her home in Redemption, Pennsylvania. “A penny for your thoughts?”

  “That’s all?” His chuckle warped into a soft snort. “Considering the rate of inflation, what I’m thinking is worth at least a buck. Although it would probably get my face slapped.”

  Her stomach lurched. Okay, scratch baseball....unless he was considering sliding into a metaphorical home plate.

  “Ahhh.” Sam gave a slow, perceptive nod worthy of a carnival psychic. “S-E-X.”

  “Hey, I admit it’s been a while, but I still remember how to spell it,” he said, laughing. “I was actually wondering if you have any idea how long it’s been since—”

  “Is this the third Tuesday in September?” she teased, trying not to recall the last incredible night she’d spent in her ex-husband’s arms.

  “I meant for me.” Adam turned serious, ignoring her attempt to be funny. “This is our sixth date, Sam. Do you realize how hard it is—”

  Oh, jeez. She smothered a smile over his choice of words. Evidently she was the one with sex on the brain. Except, despite how much her body had hungered to be touched since her divorce, emotionally she wasn’t ready.

  Not even for second base.

  “—I mean, what I’m trying to ask, not very successfully,” he began again. “Are you interested in me as more than a friend, or not?”

  “Of course.” A woman would have to be lying on a mortician’s slab not to be attracted to a golden hunk like Adam. His sun-streaked hair, bronzed face, and broad shoulders made him look more like a California surfer than a prominent doctor.

  “Then quit trying to laugh your way out of asking me in for coffee.”

  She froze in her tracks, sucking in a deep breath and inhaling the cloying scent of the petunias she’d planted along the walkway. “I-I’m sorry, Adam. I can’t yet. I have a teenage daughter to set an example for, and I need to feel a lot more than physical attraction to sleep—”

  “You’re not over Nick, are you?”

  She swallowed her reflexive denial. The shame and resentment that Adam’s astute diagnosis ignited became a fire-breathing dragon puffing from her neckline and singeing her cheeks. Instead of answering, she gazed up at the Queen Anne Victorian farmhouse her ex-husband had surprised her with seven years ago for her twenty-fifth birthday. Admitting the truth was bittersweet—like swallowing a piece of jagged, hard candy whole.

  She wanted to be over Nicolás Riverá. Except in the thirteen years she’d been married to the second-generation Mexican-American, he’d become ingrained in her life—and psyche.

  “It’s been over a year since he left you and Dani,” Adam pointed out, no doubt interpreting her silence as ambivalence.

  “That’s not entirely accurate.” She could imagine the way Nick would bristle at Adam’s words. All Nick would hear was an implication that he was an irresponsible lout who’d abandoned the mother of his child the way his biological father had left Nick’s mom. “I deserted Nick when I refused to move to Los Angeles with him. After growing up in Philly, I thought he’d had enough of living in the city, too.”

  “I can understand you not wanting to leave the slower pace of a small town. But divorcing hi
m—”

  “My reasons weren’t just about leaving the life I’ve made here.” Although, it truly would’ve broken her heart to say good-bye to her friends, not to mention the covered bridges and country charm surrounding Redemption. Samantha shook her head and heaved a regret-filled sigh. “That was the tip of the iceberg. Our marriage was in trouble long before that.” Ever since she’d lost their son.

  “So what’s the problem?” Adam wound a blond tendril of her shoulder-length hair around his index finger. “Forget him and move on.”

  “Right. It’s kind of tough to forget the father of my child when he calls every few days and is still paying most of my bills, even though, legally, he doesn’t have to.”

  And how could she not remember a guy who’d washed and refueled her car every week and always saved her the last peanut butter cup?

  Despite Nick’s self-imposed commitment, he’d never fallen in love with her the way she’d prayed. Instead, his perfunctory devotion became a sharp wedge between them, chipping away at their relationship like one of Michelangelo’s chisels.

  “I don’t get you, Sam. If your ex is so great, why the hell did you divorce him?”

  “Because he’s a total control freak who has to call all the shots. For example—did he discuss his transfer to L.A. with me? No. He simply came home one afternoon and told me we were moving.” She waved toward the house. “Not only did he buy our home—which I admit I love—without consulting me, he also contacted a realtor to sell it before I could even object to moving three thousand miles away from you, our sick daughter’s doctor.”

  “It’s nice to know you think I’m that indispensable.” Adam chuckled, making light of her concern the same way Nick had.

  She fired a withering look at Adam. “I realize some of the most prominent specialists are in Los Angeles. But Dani and I trust you.”

  “Sorry for laughing. You’re right. He was a high-handed jerk.”

  “I was also sick of feeling like an obligation. Nick only married me because I was pregnant.”

  All her life she’d been a burden to someone—first to her great aunt for accepting custody of Sam after her parents were killed and then to Nick. But unlike her begrudging relative, there wasn’t much her ex-husband hadn’t insisted on doing for her. Except give her the only things she really wanted—his love, his trust....and another baby.

  “What you have to understand is Nick has an overdeveloped sense of responsibility,” she explained. “He acted as if, in fulfilling his duty, he earned the right to make every doggone decision in our marriage.” She glanced at her watch, surprised to see how late it had gotten. “Look, it’s almost eleven-thirty.” She dug her keys out of her purse. “I have to be up at six for work.”

  The defeat in Adam’s eyes was a first-class ticket to Guiltsville. She had no respect for women who led men on. She squeezed his arm and smiled. “I’m sorry. I won’t blame you if you don’t call again. But I really enjoy your company, so I hope you’ll be patient with me a little longer.”

  He shook his head, wearing an understanding smile. “I’m not about to give up, yet.”

  His obliging attitude was one reason she liked him so much. Nick would’ve kissed her senseless, trying to change her mind. But disturbingly enough, Adam’s accommodating nature was also one of the things that tended to irk her. How pathetic was that?

  His longing gaze dropped to her silk camisole, making her regret wearing something so clingy. “I’ve been hooked on you since you first brought Dani to me.”

  The dragon’s flames licked their way up to her forehead. How many times had she accused Nick of having a jealous imagination when it came to their daughter’s doctor?

  A flash of lightning lit the sky, and a gust of wind skimmed her bare shoulders, making her shiver. When several cold raindrops splattered her face, Adam gently brushed her lips with his. “You’d better go inside before you get soaked. Sweet dreams.”

  Not likely. Fantasies, maybe. However, she hadn’t slept soundly enough to dream since Nick moved out.

  “Thanks for a wonderful evening.” She sprinted up the four porch steps, and the sky released a deluge as if it had been waiting for her to get under cover. She unlocked the new deadbolt Nick recently asked his brother, Justin, to install. Turning, she waved to Adam, who still stood next to his BMW, disappointment etched on his drenched face.

  Remorse squeezed her throat as she closed the oak and leaded-glass door, locked it, and hung her handbag on the coat tree gracing the large foyer. A light blinked from the antique telephone table beside the staircase.

  Why hadn’t Dani answered the phone?

  Sam crossed the hardwood floor and accessed the voicemail.

  “Hi, Sammy-Bee,” Nick said, using the nickname he’d given her the day they’d met. He’d teased her about the girlie dresses her maiden aunt had forced her to wear, even to play outdoors, and she’d kicked him in the shin.

  “She’s another Mohammad Ali,” fourteen-year-old Nick had warned the neighborhood boys who’d hassled him when he refused to retaliate against a puny eleven-year-old girl. “She may look like a butterfly, but she stings like a friggin’ bee.” Then he’d invited her to join their game of manhunt.

  “I guess you two must’ve gone out tonight.” His husky voice reminded her that over twenty years had come and gone.

  She snorted softly, recalling Adam’s suggestion to forget her ex. Hearing his deep voice sent shivers up and down her back, making it hard to put the infuriating man out of her mind. Especially when every time she looked at their daughter, a feminine version of him stared back.

  Sure, their child had inherited Sam’s smile, fairer complexion, and gender. However, from the tip of Dani’s nose to the ends of her midnight waves, her genetic code came from her dad.

  “Our daughter’s been dodging my calls,” he continued.

  Ahh, that explained why Dani hadn’t answered the phone earlier.

  “I wanted to find out how she’s feeling and if she needs anything.”

  The only thing the child needed was an attitude adjustment. Although, Sam didn’t suppose Dani would be a normal teenager if she weren’t a little belligerent.

  “I also wanted to tell you I mailed her a check for some new school clothes, so don’t let her con you into buying them for her.”

  Idiot. Would the man ever stop? Why did he think he was paying child support? And did he honestly think she would wait until the end of September to do their child’s school shopping?

  “Anyway,” he said, regret in his voice, “I hope the two of you are doing something fun.”

  No way would she tell him she’d been on a date and give him the chance to say I told you so about their daughter’s doctor.

  “Tell Dani I love her, and if she doesn’t stop dodging my calls, I’ll assume she doesn’t need her cell phone and cancel it. Give me a ring when you get back. I really want to talk to you, Abejita.” His endearment—which he’d told her meant ‘little bee’—evoked too many sultry memories of him whispering passionately in her ear.

  After a full day of chasing toddlers as a preschool aide and dodging Adam’s advances all evening, she was too exhausted to deal with Nick. He would have to wait until tomorrow.

  A crash of thunder rattled the windows. Samantha cringed, thanking God she was home. After miraculously surviving the car accident that killed both of her parents during a downpour, she couldn’t help becoming anxious during storms.

  She checked the front door’s lock again, dashed up the wide, curved staircase, and followed the long hallway to the back of the house. She peeked into her daughter’s room and smiled. At fourteen, the child had yet to give up the nightlight casting a glow on her bed. The iPod docked in her combo alarm clock/stereo playing softly on the night table was a new habit she’d developed, along with a passion for anything purple.

  Dani slept wound up in the sheets with only a few dark curls sticking out of her bright violet cocoon. The sight of her baby safe and snug—and
healthy for the moment—chased away the bone-deep chill the rain had given Sam, leaving a warm fuzzy feeling in its place.

  Smiling, she closed the door and tiptoed to her room in the house’s turreted front corner that she adored.

  When they’d bought the pale yellow farmhouse on the outskirts of Redemption, they’d done extensive renovating—adding a family room and study off the kitchen downstairs and a large bedroom above it for Dani. The second floor’s overhaul, which included central air, a master bath, and sitting area, gave them three bedrooms with twenty-first century dimensions and a lot more closets and modern amenities than most hundred-plus-year-old homes could claim.

  The wind whistled outside, and the five huge windows circling the turret’s alcove flashed intermittently like a row of strobe lights. While she changed into a cotton nightshirt and brushed her teeth, rain pelted the glass and tree branches brushed the house’s clapboards.

  Before her divorce, she’d never given a second thought to the spooky sounds the old building made. Even when Nick worked late, she’d been reassured by the knowledge he’d soon be home. Now, however, if she didn’t distract herself from analyzing every creak, rattle, and groan tonight, she’d never get to sleep.

  She fisted her hands to stop their trembling and turned down the bedspread. After sliding between the sheets, she used the remote to turn on the TV and grabbed one of the half-finished ultra-plush animals she made and sold on consignment to supplement her meager income. The only way she could fill the orders piling up was to use the time in bed, while she flipped between Leno and Letterman, to stuff a few floppy cats and dogs.

  Three years ago, Sam had designed the original Magic Worry Pal to comfort Dani when she was alone in the hospital overnight, hoping it would give her a way to identify and face her fears. The two things that made Sam’s toys unique and popular with kids were the tiny flashlights looped onto the animals’ paws—to chase away the creepy shadows—and the hidden pocket in their bellies. The top-secret compartment concealed a small writing pad and a vanishing ink marker so children could record their fears and have them magically disappear overnight.