Free Tempting Mr. Wrong (Wrong Man) by Kerri Carpenter

chest.
    “’Cause she was disappointed with the meal she made tonight. That’s all.”
    Mya glanced down at his plate. “It’s gross.”
    Couldn’t argue with the truth. “How about this? How about I go talk to her and make sure she’s okay. And you stay in here.”
    “Do I have to finish my dinner?”
    He wasn’t some kind of sadist, and he definitely didn’t condone child abuse. “No, I think you ate plenty. Besides, we have those amazing ice cream sandwiches to look forward to.” Thank God there was something edible that Carly couldn’t mess up. He winked at Mya.
    “Yay. Can I watch TV?”
    “Sure, kid. While you do that, why don’t you draw a picture for your aunt? I saw you with some crayons earlier. I bet a picture would make her feel happier.”
    Mya’s face lit up, and she took off to gather her crayons and paper. One crisis averted. Now, on to the other. But as he crossed to the door, he knew this one wouldn’t be as easy as diverting a four-year-old’s attention to a new subject.
    Lance walked through the door into the backyard. It smelled like freshly cut grass. Not from their yard, though. Must be the neighbors , Lance thought. But the reminder that someone needed to take care of the lawn gave Lance a job for the next day. The weather was still warm. Not surprising for North Carolina in September.
    Carly was sitting on one of the swings hanging from the large swing set. With her head hanging down and the fact that she wasn’t that tall to begin with, she almost passed for a kid.
    Except his body responded to her in a very grown-up, very adult way. Quietly, he crossed the yard and sat on the second swing. Or tried to. He’d apparently grown quite a bit since the last time he’d played on a swing set.
    Carly didn’t speak, and Lance had no earthly clue what he should say. So he decided to offer his specialty: silent support. She broke the quiet a few minutes later. “I’m sorry I lost it in there. Is Mya okay?”
    “Yeah, she’s fine. She’s coloring a picture for you.”
    She smiled slightly. “It was only me and my brother growing up, you know.” Her words held a defensive tone.
    “Okay,” Lance said.
    “I mean, our parents were both military. I imagine Chris told you that.”
    He nodded. “Yep.”
    “We spent a lot of time moving from house to house. We were like these little gypsy children that traveled to our aunts’ and uncles’ places and then to our grandparents’ house, and then back again. Sometimes we got to live with our parents, too. Or at least one of them.”
    Chris hadn’t mentioned that part. Lance supposed he should have figured it out. Where else were the two of them supposed to live while their parents served? Tough childhood. He’d moved once when he was ten. It had sucked.
    “Sounds rough.”
    “Sometimes it was. Sometimes it was fun. We got to see a lot of places, meet a lot of different people.”
    Lance shifted on the uncomfortable swing. “My mom always said that kids needed the three S’s : schedules, stability, and set activities.”
    Carly reached over and gave him a playful pinch. “That explains a lot.” She twisted her swing a couple times, paused, and then let it unwind, spinning her in circles. “I’m not complaining,” Carly said. “Please don’t think I’m complaining.”
    He studied her. This poor kid was in way over her head. But instead of crying or yelling or bemoaning the fact that at twenty-six she’d become a mom, a cook, and a housekeeper overnight, she didn’t want to complain? Hell . Complain away , he thought.
    “I think if you want to take a moment to bitch or vent, I’m all ears.”
    Meeting his gaze, she waited a moment, her mouth set in a stubborn position. Lance could see the indecision in her eyes. “Seriously,” he told her. “If I were you, I’d be cursing up one side of this yard and crying my eyes out down the other. Think I can’t take it? Think I haven’t heard worse?” he asked.
    “It’s not