Page 61 of Love Everlasting

But not as much as it would if things didn’t work out with Debbie …

A lump wallowed in her throat. “I understand, Jack, and I won’t say a word, but how … long will it take?”

He coaxed her head back to his chest. “Miss Myra tells me the process is broken down into three basic parts: certification, placement and transition, and then severance to adoption. Which means there’ll be mandatory trainings to attend, paperwork to file on our finances and health, a background check, and a home study. She says it can take anywhere from a few weeks to a few months barring any problems. Then, depending on how busy the courts are, an adoption date can be set within a couple months or longer once all appropriate documents are submitted and processed. Which, by the way” —he pressed a kiss to her nose— “are all ready to go, just awaiting your signature.”

“Problems,” she whispered, the dread in her voice heavy against his chest. “What kind of problems?”

He kissed her head, wishing he didn’t have to tell her, but he knew the damage would be far greater to be blindsided if the adoption fell through. “With parental termination,” he said quietly, “although the likelihood is remote given Debbie’s mom’s history and lack of interest.”

Her sigh breezed across his skin. “Well, we’re just going to have to pray about it then, every step of the way.”

“I’d say that’s a given, babe.”

He winced when her nails dug into his sides once again as she cut loose with a joyous shriek. “But Oh. My. Goodness!” She smothered his chest with a flurry of kisses, working her way up to capture his mouth with such passion, his moan was lost in her kiss. She broke loose with another high-pitched squeal as her feet danced against his. “I am so over-the-moon excited, Jack O’Bryen,” she said with a giggle, burrowing her head into the slope of his neck, “that I’m pretty sure I won’t sleep even a wink.”

“Yep …” His low chuckle rumbled against her hair as he rolled her back over, swooping in to capture her mouth with his own. “My plan exactly.”

Chapter Thirty-Three

“You do realize I’ll have to get up very early to run extra miles after this meal, don’t you?” Sam groaned as he pushed away from the glass patio table on Jazz’s river-view condo veranda, pretty sure additional sit-ups were in his future too.

Arms crossed, Jazz leaned in to give him the benefit of her low-cut tank top that tempted as much as the seductive smile she wore. “Not if I give you a workout here,” she said with a mischievous wink, rising to collect the dirty dishes from the table.

Opting to steer clear of Jazz’s idea of a workout, Sam stood to help, relieving her of the dishes in her hands. “Nope, you cooked, I clean. House rules.”

“But this is my house, mister,” she teased, sliding her arms around his waist from behind, “so why are you the one making the rules?” Her fingers fiddled with a button on his dress shirt, which had long been stripped of his tie and opened at the collar, with sleeves rolled to his elbows.

He craned his neck to press a kiss to her hair before piling more dishes on his stack. “Because I’m bigger than you, Miss Augustine, and because at this venture in our relationship, I’m the one with enough self-control to keep us in line.”

“Humph.” She removed her hands, but not before allowing a rebellious glide down the sides of his thighs, reminding him once again that Jasmine did not agree with his new moral code. “I liked you better before you got religion,” she said with a pout.

Sam could do nothing but grin on his way to the kitchen. “No you didn’t, babe, so you may as well admit it.” He placed the dirty dishes on the counter while she followed him in, rinsing spaghetti sauce off each one before stacking them in the dishwasher. “Deep down you like my commitment to faith just like you liked it in Jack because you, Jasmine Joy Augustine,” he said with a stern arch of his brow while he loaded the dishwasher, “are just like me—a sucker for a challenge.”

Rinsing a tomato-sauced dishrag under the tap, she sighed as she squeezed it, orange water streaming into the sink. “And you, Dr. Cunningham, have become most proficient at offering them, it seems, especially in areas near and dear to my heart.”

He hooked her waist before she could leave to wipe off the table, brushing a tender kiss to her lips. “But just think how fun it’ll be on our honeymoon,” he whispered.

Those gorgeous blue eyes narrowed while her mouth took a twist. “It was fun before, Sam,” she muttered, smile as flat as her tone. “I just hope you remember how.”

He dove for her neck, making her squeal when he nibbled the soft flesh of her ear. “Don’t you worry about my memory, Nurse Augustine, because it’s only exceeded by my skill in making love.”

“Yeah, that’s the problem, Doc,” she said with a pout, wet dishrag in hand as she looped her arms around his neck to give him a lingering kiss. “I remember all too well, and it’s killing me.” She apparently gave the dishrag a squeeze because a stream of cold water dribbled down the collar of his Armani slim-fit shirt.

“Hey!” Sam gripped her arms and pushed her away before swatting at the dribble of water at the back of his neck. “Okay, Augustine, orange water on my best dress shirt? This is war …” Snatching the wet rag, he locked her to his chest with one hand while he rinsed the rag under the tap with the other, Jazz’s giggles bouncing off the walls as she thrashed in his arms.

“Sam, I’m sorry,” she said with a heave, laughter rippling her words. “I’ll never do it again, I promise—”

“I know, babe, but just to make sure …” Butting her to the counter, he cut her off with a possessive kiss that took the fight out of her as she melted into his arms … right before he squeezed and dribbled the sopping rag down her back.

She squealed and darted away, scrambling to the other side of her island table, hands braced to a chair. “Okay, Sam, we’re even now,” she said, voice breathless and eyes lit with a mischief he didn’t trust for one solitary moment.

He slowly walked toward the island, grin decadent as he sloshed the rag back and forth in his hands. “That’s just it, babe—I’m not looking for ‘even,’” he said with a shuttered look, “I’m looking for world domination.”

She bolted for the sink, snatching up the sprayer so fast, Sam didn’t know what hit him until a blast of water pelted him in the face, drowning him, his shirt, and his favorite Cole Haan shoes. “Domination sounds nice, Sam, but if you think you’re going to win this battle, you’re all wet.”

Ignoring the geyser of water splatting off his face, he confiscated the sprayer with ease, both of them laughing as he immobilized her with a steel hold, drenching her until she was soaking wet. “Give up?” he breathed in her ear, giving the spray a rest.

“Always.” Her body relaxed in his arms as she surrendered with a languorous kiss that turned up the heat so high, his clothes should have been dry. One hand cupped to the back of his neck, her other slid down the front of his shirt to slowly undo the buttons. “We need to get out of these wet clothes,” she whispered.