"Here goes," she said at last, and heaved the ball straight into the gutter. A groan went up from the sidelines, accompanied by a few cheers.
"That's the spirit!" Jane called. "Don't let him intimidate you!"
Kerry managed a weak smile. "That's me. Proud and defiant."
Chris surveyed the untouched pins with a shake of the head. "For somebody as graceful as you are..."
"Dancers are the clumsiest people on earth when they aren't dancing," Kerry told him.
"Really?"
"Besides, my muscles are in my legs, not my arms." Before anyone else could comment, she added, "Or my head."
"Atta girl!" Jane called. "Dump another one!"
Maybe it was a desire to show she wasn't entirely a failure, or maybe it was just luck, but on her second try Kerry managed to knock down a respectable eight pins.
"Well?" she asked Chris, feeling proud of herself.
"Mmmph." He looked up at the score display. She knew her total of twelve points must seem pathetic against his spare and strike. "Well, it's a start."
"Does Melanie bowl?" Kerry didn't suppose her prize pupil had time for any other activities than dancing, school and baby-sitting, but who could tell?
"Let my precious daughter loose among these wolves?" Chris draped his arm around Kerry's waist. "Not on your life."
"Who's a wolf?" Ken Oakland strolled by.
"Not naming any names."
"Eat your heart out, Layne." Ken posed with his bowling ball, his back to them. It seemed to Kerry that he strutted more than necessary as he moved forward to lay it down
The ball zoomed straight along the lane. Pins shot everywhere.
"Strike!" Ken crowed as he walked past them. "Like me to give your friend some lessons?" He looked pleased with himself, as if his success somehow diminished Chris.
It was Ken's second strike in a row. Chris glared at the score, and Kerry was surprised to realize that he took his game seriously, or at least his rivalry with Ken.
Her playing improved only mildly, but from then on the two men didn't seem to notice. They were out to beat each other, and it was a close game.
"Are they always like this?" she asked Jane.
The older woman shook her head. "I think it's called macho rivalry."
"You mean it's because of me?"
"I've never seen Chris like this with a lady," she said. "He doesn't bring many women around, and then he isn't possessive. I'm not sure why Ken is needling him."
The game ended with Ken ahead by two points. Announcing that he'd won a beer, he dispatched a grim-faced Chris to the snack bar and took a seat beside Kerry.
"Hi." Ken slid over until his leg touched hers. "You sure are a pretty lady."
"Thanks." She would have scooted away, but it would be awkward; the rest of the group, while pretending to busy themselves with other things, were paying close attention.
"How'd you meet this loser, anyway?"
"Are you referring to Chris?" She wasn't going to tolerate hearing him insulted.
"Hey, lighten up. It's a joke, all right?" Ken laid his arm along the back of her seat, just touching her neck. "You two aren't engaged or anything, right?"
"No, of course not." Kerry didn't feel like explaining that she taught Chris's daughter. She wanted to tell this pushy guy as little about herself as possible. "So—you're in traffic. Does that mean you investigate accidents or what?"
Ken ignored the question. "How about going out with me sometime?"
"Thanks, but—"
He leaned closer. "I could show you a real good time. Old Chris is a great guy, but kind of a stick-in-the-mud. You like sports cars? Wait'll you get a load of—"
Kerry sensed rather than saw that Chris had returned. Ken stiffened slightly, then shrugged and moved away.
"Nice chick," he said. "Maybe I'll take her out sometime."
Without answering, Chris tossed him a can of beer. "We'd better be getting back," he told Kerry without meeting her eyes.
No one else objected, although it was obvious the evening had barely begun. Kerry wished she knew what to say. She'd never had to cope with anything like this before. "Okay. I'm ready."
They exchanged their rented shoes and walked out together, Chris moving stiffly. Kerry felt eyes burning into their backs until they were through the door and into the parking lot.
"What's going on?" she asked as they approached the car.
"You tell me."
"You can't think—" She studied him in dismay. "Chris, I'm not responsible for that guy's obnoxious behavior."
"I didn't see you doing anything to discourage him." He jerked the car door open for her.
Momentarily at a loss for words, Kerry slid inside. Intellectually, she knew this was a display of jealousy, but it made no sense.
"Why are you so angry?" she asked as Chris took the wheel. "I didn't do anything."
"That's the point," he growled, staring straight ahead but not turning on the ignition. "You helped Ken show me up as a fool in front of my friends."
"I thought he was the one who looked stupid," Kerry said.
"Oh? Maybe he thought you were interested. Maybe they all did." Chris's frown might have melted the dashboard if he hadn't finally transferred his glare to her. "Why didn't you just tell him where to get off?"
"How?" Kerry asked.
"Oh, come on. A guy practically drapes himself on top of you, and you don't know what to do? How old are you, Kerry?"
"Twenty-eight." She hated his accusing tone, but she hated even more feeling that she'd let him down.
"From Melanie, I'd expect something like that. Not from you." He paused. "Are you serious?"
"About what?"
"That you didn't know how to tell him off?"
Kerry nodded slowly. "I figured it would just embarrass everybody if I made a scene, and I knew you'd be back soon."
"Guys like Ken need to be embarrassed." He didn't sound so angry anymore, though. "Come on, I know you're no social butterfly, but you used to be engaged. Surely you've got enough experience with men to know how to put one in his place."
"It never came up," Kerry admitted. "Dancers may get involved with each other, but we also have to work together. Guys aren't usually that blatant."
"Was your fiancé a dancer?"
"No." She welcomed the change in subject and the softening of Chris's tone. "He conducted an orchestra."
Chris whistled. "A big shot.”
"You got that right. Conductors are like movie directors. They think they were chosen by God." After holding George in awe during their courtship, Kerry saw him now with all his flaws. "I was more of an ornament than an equal to him."
Chris stirred the engine to life. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have come down on you like that. It's just—Melanie's mother, Lou—well, she used to enjoy flirting. It drove me crazy." He exhaled deeply. "I'm the one who made a fool of myself, aren't I?"
“I wouldn’t say that.”
His fingers tapped against the steering wheel. "How are you at miniature golf?"
"No worse than at bowling."
With a chuckle, he headed toward the freeway.
The golf center in Anaheim sprawled around a mock castle that housed an enormous video arcade. Circling to the back, the two of them rented clubs and balls and set out to defeat gravity, water traps and windmills.
Chris won by an overwhelming margin. Kerry didn't mind, especially since he put his arms around her several times to demonstrate the proper way of holding a club.
"It would be a shame if I got good at this," she joked as they strolled back to the cashier's booth. "Then you couldn't show me how to swing."
The overhead lights glinted off his teeth as he smiled. "You've got a point."
They turned in their equipment and retreated to the castle snack bar for a pizza. "Since I cheated you out of one at the bowling alley, it's the least I can do," Chris explained as they dug into extra-thick layers of cheese and crust.
"I do
n't usually eat like this." Mentally, Kerry reminded herself to spend an extra hour at the health club tomorrow.
"Do you good. You're too thin." He hesitated. "I know you dream about dancing again, but, Kerry—"
She held up her hand. "Don't. Please. It might happen. I've got a few years yet, and medical science is making tremendous strides."
He looked as if he wanted to argue but refrained. "I hope you're right."
They ate in silence for a while.
"Kerry," Chris said, "was it boring for you tonight? Hanging out with my friends—bowling, stuff like that?"
"Not at all." She scraped a strand of cheese from her cheek. "I enjoyed it. Except for Ken."
"But it's not—" He searched for words. "It's not like an evening at the ballet. It's not stimulating—artistic—whatever you're used to doing at night."
"Actually, I rent a lot of DVDs in the evenings," Kerry said. "I like kung-fu movies."
Chris nearly choked on a bite of pizza. "You do?"
Leaning across the table, Kerry said, "You have this idea that I'm some rarefied specimen who can't abide ordinary life. Chris, it's not that way. I have my work the way you have yours. I didn't understand everything you guys talked about tonight, any more than you understand everything at the studio. So what?"
"It's not the same thing," he said. "It's not just ballet—your whole world is different from mine. In fundamental ways, Kerry. Oh, hell, what am I talking about? We have a good time together, and that's what counts."
He wouldn't be satisfied for long just having a good time, and neither would she. But Kerry didn't know him well enough yet to push the matter, so she let it drop.
"You'll be pleased to learn that the Ballet Fair raised three thousand dollars for the studio," she said. "Thanks for your help."
"I didn't do much. Melanie deserves a lot of credit." He beamed with pride. "She amazes me." Then he stopped, his mouth tightening as if something troublesome had occurred to him.
Was he thinking about New York? Kerry hadn't brought the subject up recently, and as far as she knew, neither had Melanie. There was no need to press the matter, not this early in the school year, but it obviously concerned Chris.
She didn't want to say anything now. Maybe she'd guessed wrong about his thoughts. In any case, it was sure to be a sore subject. Would there always be gaps between them, no-man's-lands where neither dared to tread?
"Melanie's wonderful," Kerry said gently. "She means a great deal to me." She pushed the rest of the pizza toward him. "Take it home. But don't let her eat more than one piece, okay?"
"What makes you think there'll be any left by the time she gets done baby-sitting?" Chris asked as he picked up another slice.
She merely chuckled.
At the police department, Chris felt a bit embarrassed walking in Monday after his display of jealousy at the bowling alley. Fortunately, he and Ken worked in different divisions, so they weren't thrown together.
Putting the incident in perspective, he could see how off- base he'd been. Ken was nothing but a bantam rooster; there was no reason on earth why Kerry would be interested in him.
Yet the sight of another man with his arm around her had sparked a fury in Chris. Damn it, the guy had no right to touch her, none at all—although it seemed almost funny now, as he remembered how stiffly she'd sat there waiting for him to return.
She hadn't been stiff at the miniature golf course; she'd practically melted into the curve of his body as he helped her swing. Maybe he should have pursued his advantage further, invited himself in when they reached her house, but he hadn't wanted to move too fast, for either of them. He and Lou had jumped in both feet first and lived to regret it.
He didn't know why he put so many obstacles in his own way. Kerry was nothing like Lou. Except—
Except that, in the end, they had moved in different worlds, too. There had been gaps neither of them could bridge, not even when a cruel twist of fate threw them back together again.
He felt sometimes as if he'd failed with Lou, as if, had he been a different person, he might have saved her. Which was nonsense. But at least they might have given Melanie a more joyful childhood.
How did you ever know for sure if you were doing the right thing with a child or with a woman? Maybe if he were some artistic type—but then, that conductor fellow hadn't come out so well, either.
The week sped by. On Friday, overwhelmed by paperwork, Chris spent the day in his office and didn't reach home until nearly suppertime. When he walked in the door, he headed straight for the kitchen.
Melanie had laid out a supper of cold cuts and a relish tray. Unlike her usual flourishes, the items had been tossed randomly into the serving dishes.
"Mel?" he called, moving through the modest house toward the bedrooms. "You here?"
"Yes, Daddy." Her voice came from the bathroom, but the door was open and he peered inside.
His little girl—not-so-little girl—stood in front of the mirror putting on makeup. She'd pulled her hair free of its usual ponytail and curled it so it fell loose around her shoulders, and she was wearing a glittery top over her jeans.
Damn, she looked grown-up. Too grown-up for fifteen, but he could hardly ask her to wipe off her makeup and pull her hair back.
"Got a date?" He hoped he sounded casual.
"Jamie's coming over with some pictures he took of Tom and me." Melanie applied lipstick carefully, a darker shade than she usually wore.
"Looks like you did some shopping today."
"I had that money left over from my birthday." She blotted the lipstick lightly on a tissue. "I should still have enough saved up by the end of the year for my recital costume."
"I can pay for that." Did she think he begrudged her a little frivolous spending, just because she didn’t do as much baby-sitting as she used to? "Thanks for fixing dinner. Care to join me?"
"I already ate," Melanie said.
"Right." He went to the table and began slapping bread and meat together, wondering why nothing looked as appetizing when you had to eat it alone.
The doorbell rang.
"I'll get it!" Melanie sang out, and raced through the living room to the door. It struck Chris in the split second before the door opened that maybe she had a date with someone other than Jamie. Some respectable-looking boy, some—
"Hi." Why was the punk wearing a headband with a skull and crossbones, plus a matching sweatshirt? The symbol didn't belong to any local gang that Chris knew, but he hated having his daughter associate with a guy like that.
Still, he tried to act pleasant as his daughter made introductions. The boy shook his hand fast, as if the contact scorched him, then turned to Melanie. “Why don’t we go for a drive?”
“Can’t I see the pictures first?” She indicated a laptop tucked under his arm.
“I’d rather we looked at them somewhere more private."
Naturally, the kid had no manners.
"Where are you headed?" Chris asked.
Jamie shrugged.
"Nowhere special," Melanie said. "Are we?"
Jamie shook his head.
It was like swimming against the stream, but Chris refused to abandon his job as a parent. "What time do you think you'll be back?"
When Jamie didn't answer, Melanie said, "Not late, Dad." She stood on tiptoe and kissed his cheek. "We'll be fine."
"Have a good time," he forced himself to say, although he didn't see how that was possible.
As the door closed behind them, he realized he wasn't used to questioning Melanie that way. She managed her life well, and he never worried about her when she was at the studio or baby-sitting. This dating business was a whole new ball game, though.
If that creep laid a hand on her...
Angry at himself, Chris stalked back to the kitchen. Jamie was just a kid. A mixed-up kid, yes, but nothing Melanie couldn't handle.
Right?
Sitting down with his sandwich, he thought about calling Kerry, but he was in n
o mood for company. In no mood to do anything but slouch down in front of the TV and wait for his daughter to come home.
"Your dad doesn't like me."
They were sitting in a hamburger joint, the laptop open in front of them. The pictures were terrific, although Jamie didn't seem satisfied with them. Unlike the stiff images she'd come to expect of herself, Melanie found that these captured the vibrant spirit she felt while dancing.
"He doesn't know you." She toyed with the straw in her orange soda. "He's not used to me dating, either."
"He took one look at my headband and wanted to throw me out," Jamie said. "I guess he’d prefer some guy in a tux driving a Porsche."
"My dad's not status-conscious," Melanie protested. "You have to admit, a skull and crossbones isn't likely to reassure him."
"You don't like the way I dress?" he demanded.
"Hey, can't we just talk about this?" Melanie didn't like his surliness. "I don’t like having to watch every word I say for fear of offending you."
"Oh, to hell with it." Jamie stood up and closed the program. "Come on. I'll take you back to your safe little house and Daddy the cop can keep all us criminal types away."
"Great," Melanie snapped, but didn't say anything more until they were in the car. There were too many people hanging around, some of them kids she recognized from school.
As he started the engine, she said, "Does this remind you of anything? Like the last time we went out?"
Jamie glared down at the steering wheel. "I guess it just goes to prove we don't have much in common."
"What're you so touchy about?" she demanded. "I'll bet you dressed that way on purpose. Like you were testing my dad to see how he'd react."
Startled, he met her gaze. "I didn't think about it."
"I like you," Melanie said. "We could have fun together. But I don't want to be on trial all the time. If you don't like what I wear, I expect you to say so, and I want the same freedom with you. Okay?"
"What about your dad?"
"What about him?"
"How am I supposed to act when he looks at me like I crawled out of a hole?" Jamie said.
By Leaps and Bounds Page 9
