for our more adventurous young diners.”
“I can recommend the girandole,” Adam said with a nod to Simon. “That cream sauce will make you want to lick your plate—though I doubt your mom would approve.”
“You doubt correctly.”
Simon giggled. Adam smiled at Joanna. His gray eyes gleamed like polished steel in the flickering candlelight. She swallowed hard and dragged her gaze away.
“I want the girandole,” Simon announced, mangling the pronunciation only slightly. “With shrimp.”
“Excellent choice, sir,” Trevor affirmed, making the boy giggle again.
Brought back to the present, Joanna placed her own order for a scallops and risotto dish she hoped she’d be able to swallow, considering how tight her throat felt. She then made an effort to mask her discomfort during this deceptively innocuous dinner with their host. She doubted very much she was the only person at the table aware of the undercurrents swirling beneath their lighthearted small talk.
At least she didn’t have to figure out how to make conversation. Trevor took care of that by asking Simon to tell them about the aquarium visit. Simon happily launched into a detailed play-by-play recount to which, to give them credit, both men listened graciously, inserting appropriate comments and questions. Joanna was content to sit quietly and let her son be the center of attention. She supposed this was a good way for Adam to get to know Simon a bit, in a public setting with no pressure or expectations on either side. To Simon, Adam was just one of two nice men with whom he was having a special dinner.
She glanced at Adam’s face to see if she could judge how he felt about that, only to find him looking back at her. He appeared to be dividing his focus equally between her and Simon. Was he still annoyed with her, despite the dinner invitation? Still suspicious of her? Did he doubt that Simon was his son? Could he really look at this boy and not see himself sitting there?
He talked easily with Simon, and not in an overly patronizing tone her bright son found annoying. A pang went through her as she watched Simon respond eagerly to the male attention.
Simon would have enjoyed dinner with just her at the buffet, too, she assured herself. She and Simon never had trouble having fun together or making lively conversation. But maybe she should have made more of an effort to find more male role models for him. She’d planned to sign him up for some sort of team sports when he got older, but five seemed so young.
Perhaps she really had been selfish. Her mouth suddenly dry, she reached for her water glass, looking at Adam over the rim as she took a drink. How much would she have to share her son with this man she barely even knew?
* * *
SIMON WAS AN amazing kid. Well-behaved. Funny. Smart. Almost scary smart for his young age. Adam figured the boy would probably be designated as gifted. From what he’d read, kids like that could be challenging to parent, trying to keep them both intellectually stimulated and socially engaged. Joanna appeared to be handling the balance well, judging by what he’d seen so far. Simon was obviously eager to learn, and he’d seemed to mix well with the other kids on the outing earlier. Adam had been impressed with how well he’d interacted with Cody, a child with far different needs.
He was frankly fascinated by Simon, finding himself searching the boy’s face for familiar features, wondering what Simon had been like as a baby, as a toddler, what he would look like as an adult. Fatherhood was one of the things Adam had written off, something he’d taken care to avoid. Or at least, he’d believed he had. He thought he knew himself too well to trust he’d settle in easily to routine domestic life. Despite the three years he’d worked relatively happily here at Wind Shadow, he didn’t consider himself the type to stay in one place for long, or to live up to the lofty expectations of others. With little particularly positive experience with family in his past, he’d never regarded himself as daddy material.
He was the type who slipped out in the night rather than face hard goodbyes.
He looked at Joanna, who picked delicately at her scallops while listening to her son’s cheery babbling. He’d reluctantly agreed with Trevor’s suggestion that a casual meal in a public setting would be a safe way to get acquainted with the boy and learn a bit more about Joanna’s agenda, if she had one. Still, this meal had to be as uncomfortable for her as it was for him, though she was doing a good job of hiding her emotions behind a fixed smile. He couldn’t help comparing it to the genuine, happy smiles he remembered from before—smiles that lit her eyes and crinkled her nose, pushed shallow dimples into her cheeks and were often accompanied by infectious laughter.
Even with the more forced expression, she looked beautiful this evening, her features illuminated by the candles on the table. She’d brushed her hair to a glossy chestnut curtain and accented her striking green eyes with what looked to be minimal makeup. Her sleeveless peach-colored blouse was cut just low enough to give a tasteful glimpse of creamy skin. He shifted in his chair and stabbed his fork into his steak.
“So, anyway, the aquarium wasn’t as big as the one back home, but it was still really fun,” Simon concluded when he’d shared all he could think of to report about his outing.
“There aren’t any aquariums in this country as big as the one in Atlanta,” Trevor replied with a chuckle. “I haven’t had the pleasure of touring that one, but I’ve read about it.”
Adam glanced again at Joanna to see if she reacted to hearing Trevor mention her home city. Obviously, as owner of the resort, he had access to his guests’ records. Did she wonder if Adam had snooped into her personal information? Because she would be wrong. This was the first he’d heard that she and Simon lived in Georgia.
“Atlanta, huh?” Adam said, dragging his gaze from Joanna back to the boy. “That’s where you live?”
Simon chased a pasta spiral with his fork. “We live in Alpharetta. But we go to the aquarium in Atlanta sometimes. And to the zoo. And the children’s museum, and the science center with the planetarium. That’s my favorite.”
“It sounds as though you stay busy.”
“We do things on weekends, because Mom doesn’t usually work then. And sometimes my school takes field trips. When I don’t have school and Mom’s working, my nanny, Rose, takes me places. Mostly the park. I like to feed the ducks there. Mom says there will be a lot of parks when we move, too. And a lot of boats and museums and...”
Joanna cleared her throat. “How’s your dinner, Simon?”
He scooped another forkful of pasta and shrimp into his mouth and said around it, “It’s good.”
She smiled and handed him his napkin. “I’m glad you’re enjoying it. But don’t talk with your mouth full.”
“Where do you work, Joanna?” Trevor asked conversationally, earning a quick look from Adam. They’d agreed before Joanna and Simon arrived that this meal would be pleasant and friendly, no interrogations. Yet he suspected Trevor had proposed this casual gathering as a way to scope out Joanna’s motives, which his suspicious friend still questioned. Still, Adam supposed this was an innocent enough topic.
Her reply was indirect—not where she worked, but what she did. “I’m an assistant professor of psychology.”
Adam felt his fingers tighten around his fork in response. It probably shouldn’t surprise him that she was an academic, but he was still a bit taken aback.
“So it’s Dr. Zielinski?” Trevor asked.
She smiled faintly. “Just call me Joanna.”
Adam reached for his wineglass.
Trevor seemed intrigued. “Psychology, huh? Have you worked in a clinical setting, or solely in academics?”
She toyed with the scallops remaining on her plate. “I’ve had a few private clients, but teaching has been my main focus until now.”
“Considering a change?”
“Yes.”