Terms of Surrender by Sheila Seabrook Page A

home.”
    Gage saw the smile on her mom’s face fade. “Bill, the girls are here—”
    “Now, Fran.”
    On her way past, his mom squeezed Gage’s forearm. “We’ll be back tomorrow.”
    His dad grunted again. “You have enough work at home, Fran. You shouldn’t be taking on more than you can handle.”
    Gage didn’t want to cause an argument between his parents. “Dad’s right, Mom. You don’t need to maintain my place.”
    His dad grabbed one of the glasses, gulped down the iced tea, set the glass back on the table and headed toward the driveway. “Make sure you water those plants every day.”
    “I will,” Gage said to his back. “And you stay out of the heat.”
    With a wave of his hand, the older man shuffled down the driveway and disappeared around the corner of the house. Frances stood on tiptoes and gave Gage a kiss on the cheek. “Don’t let your dad bother you.”
    Bending to give her younger son a kiss on the forehead, she sent the twins a wistful look, then turned her back on them and walked away. As she disappeared around the corner of the house, Gage pulled his attention back to Mike who was fidgeting like a teenage kleptomaniac. “About Harley—”
    “Man, I could use a drink,” Mike interrupted him. “You sure you don’t have something hidden? You know, like Dad used to hide his booze from Mom?”
    “Positive. I’ll make you a deal.”
    His brother peered at him, suspicious.
    “I’ll call Adam and arrange a boys night out so you can get that drink. Harley can babysit the twins. You can all sleep here tonight.” When it looked like his brother might turn him down, Gage lowered his voice. “You’re not doing yourself or the girls a lick of good hanging on to the past.”
    After a couple of minutes of silence, Mike straightened on the seat and slowly pushed himself up, looking more like a ninety-year-old than a thirty-two-year-old man in his prime. “You’re right. I could use a break. I’ll collect the girls, go home and pick up few things, and be back here after supper.”
    “Great.” Gage pulled out his cell phone and as he watched Mike cross the yard, punched in Adam’s speed dial number.
    He’d sworn not to get involved, yet here he was, putting himself smack in the middle. But he had no choice. Mike desperately needed help, and he knew without asking that Harley would do whatever she could to help him, too.
    Gage might be attracted to Harley. In fact, he might even be wildly, insanely lusting for her, but Mike would always be in control of himself.
    Now, all he had to do was convince Harley that Mike wanted and needed her.

CHAPTER EIGHT

    Later that night, after a quick shower, Gage grabbed a fresh shirt and jeans, dressed, and went to find Harley.
    For the better part of the day, she’d hung around the house, polite, apologetic, careful to stay quiet and out of his way. And he was getting damn sick and tired of her tiptoeing around him.
    As he tucked in his shirt, he wandered through the house and into the kitchen, where he found her on her hands and knees on the floor.
    He stopped in the doorway and let his gaze drift over her.
    For lack of other clothes, she was still wearing the belted t-shirt. The material caressed her backend, and with every move she made, it slipped over her curves like a lover’s hand.
    His hands.
    Palms itching, it dawned on him that she’d had plenty of time to go back to her house before Mike and the twins returned. Instead, she’d hung around all day, trying to stay out of his way and blend into the walls.
    As if that was possible.
    It was obvious she didn’t want to go back to her house and he was glad she had an excuse to spend another night. A bit of his guilt eased.
    His attention dipped to her backside again where the t-shirt rode up, revealing nothing more than bare skin and the soft nylon of her white panties. He folded his arms over his chest and leaned against the doorjamb. “What are you doing, Cinderella?”
    She jumped to