Free Enticing Interlude (Tempest #2) by Michelle Mankin Page A

the body, right off the bat. His lips curved into a small smile, and his shoulders seemed to relax a little.
    I bet he’d been watching Bryan all week. I scooted in closer, then realized we had a problem. “Uh-oh. I think your fingers are too small for my guitar, Carter.”
    “I’m not little,” he protested, his lip jutting out.
    “I didn’t mean to imply that you are,” I replied carefully. “We’re just going to have to put off our lesson until we can get you a smaller guitar, one that fits your hand better.”
    “Ok.” His disappointment was easy to read. “I wanted to play something for my mom.” He thrust the guitar back at me and turned his head to the side, but I caught a glimpse of the threatening tears glassing up his eyes.
    Holy hell. It definitely wasn’t ok. “How about I show you a few basic chords tonight? And then tomorrow I’ll take you shopping, and we’ll get you a guitar of your own?”
    Finally I received a genuine smile. One that lit up Carter’s lightly freckled face and made his eyes sparkle. I didn’t realize how tightly wound I’d been until my muscles loosened in response to it.
    We worked together for a while, and I was pleased to discover that Carter was an attentive pupil, listening, absorbing, and applying everything I taught him. I was even able to tease him out of his funk, earning another grin with my efforts. I thoroughly enjoyed the lesson.
    When our time was up, I grabbed the guitar neck in one hand and Carter’s hand in the other. “Let’s go find your mom, buddy. I wanna see her face when you show her what you’ve already learned.”
    Lace answered the door when I knocked. I smiled at her as I took in her appearance. Obviously she and Bryan had been busy. Her lips looked thoroughly kissed, her hair was messed up, and her shirt was buttoned unevenly.
    Lace rolled her eyes in silent response to my quirked brow. “Bridget’s in her room folding clothes,” she told us as she led us in.
    Bryan was lounging on the sofa in the living room. He looked like a happy man, and only had eyes for Lace. He put his legs up on the coffee table and patted a spot on the couch beside him. Clearly he was ready to start right back up where they had left off, and Lace didn’t hesitate. Without another word, she rounded the coffee table and resumed her position beside him.
    With Carter’s small hand still in mine, I continued down the hall. I heard her as we passed the kitchen and a moment later we traced the sound to its source.
    Bridget.
    She was whistling the tune to “Blackbird.” Her back was to us in the doorway and her hips were swaying enticingly. I vaguely noted the huge pile of folded clothes on the bed in front of her.
    “Hey, Mom.” Carter released my hand and hopped onto the bed.
    Bridget’s arms quickly shot out to steady the now swaying pile and kept it from tumbling over. She must’ve sensed my presence because she turned, and her cheeks blushed a becoming shade of pink. “Hello, Justin,” she managed after a prolonged pause during which she reached up a hand and smoothed her hair. The bangs had been slightly mussed as if she’d repeatedly run her fingers through them.
    “Hello, Bridget,” I returned just as formally, though I wasn’t pleased that she seemed to want to go back to pretending we were distant acquaintances. She’d have to be encased in glass not to feel the connection between us. “How was your week?”
    “Fine, but too long,” she admitted.
    “Mine, too,” I allowed, continuing to watch her, wondering why she was acting like this. Carter bounced on the bed. She gave him the same adoring look that I was becoming fond of.
    “Carter did real well on his first lesson,” I informed her. “He picks things up with very little instruction.”
    “Watch what I can do, Mom.” Carter held out his hands, and I handed him the guitar. He balanced the instrument on his lap and strummed through the chords I had taught him. I took advantage of the