It was noon before Steve had a chance to go into his office. He made sure no one was looking, then closed the door and reached for the phone.
“Book Ends, Laura speaking,” a woman said in a friendly voice.
“Is Meg available?” he asked, sounding as businesslike as possible.
“May I ask who’s calling?”
Steve hesitated. “Steve Conlan.”
“One minute, please.”
It took longer than that for Meg to get on the line. “Steve, hi.” She seemed tired but happy to hear from him. That helped.
“How are you?” he asked, struggling to hold back a yawn.
“Dead on my feet. I’m not as young as I used to be.”
“Does Lindsey know you slipped out of the house last night?”
“No, but I should never have stayed out that late.”
Steve didn’t have any argument there. They’d left the Albertson’s store when a stock boy stumbled upon them in the wine section, embarrassing Meg no end—although Steve had rather enjoyed the way her blush had brightened her cheeks.
With no other idea of where to take her at that hour, Steve had driven down to Alki Point in west Seattle, where they sat on the beach and talked.
They hadn’t discussed anything of earth-shattering importance, but he discovered that they had a great deal in common. Mostly, he discovered that he liked Meg. He was already well aware of what Meg, the sensuous and beautiful woman, was capable of doing to him physically. Last night, he learned about Meg, the person.
They hadn’t kissed again. Steve was convinced they both knew how dangerous kissing had become. It wouldn’t take much for their kisses to lead to more … a lot more. And when that happened, he didn’t plan to have it take place on a public beach.
He didn’t know where the time had gone, but when he’d looked at his watch he’d been shocked. Meg, too. It was after three in the morning. They’d rushed their farewells without making arrangements to see each other again.
“When can we get together?” he asked.
“I don’t know ….”
Was this how it was going to be? Would they have to start over each and every time they met? “Would you rather we didn’t meet again?” he asked.
“No,” she said immediately.
“We’ve got to make some decisions,” he said, angry with himself for not saying anything about it on that moonlit beach. They’d discussed so many different things, from politics to movies to lifelong dreams, yet hadn’t talked about their own relationship.
“I know.”
“Would tonight work?” he asked. “Same time?”
She hesitated and he gritted his teeth with impatience.
“Okay.” The longing in her voice reassured him.
“Fine,” he said, relieved. “I’ll pick you up at your house at eleven.”
“I have to go now.”
“Yeah. Me, too.”
Steve replaced the receiver and glanced up to find Nancy standing in his office doorway, her arms folded in disapproval.
“Was that Meg?” she demanded.
“That’s none of your business,” Steve said sharply.
“We need to talk about her and I’m tired of you putting me off.”
“I’m not discussing Meg Remington with you.”
“How could you date someone like her?” Nancy asked, her face wrinkled in disgust.
“Might I remind you that you were the one who introduced us?”
“Yes, but she deceived me. Steve, be serious! Can you honestly imagine introducing her to Mom and Dad?”
“Yes,” he answered calmly.
Nancy threw her arms in the air. “This is your problem. You’re thinking with your you-know-what.”
“Nancy!”
“It’s true!”
“Stay out of my business. Understand?”
“But … “
“I make my own decisions,” Steve said forcefully.
“And your own mistakes,” Nancy muttered, walking out of the room.
“We’re both crazy,” Meg said, sitting next to Steve in his car. She sipped from a can of cold soda, enjoying the sweet taste of it.
“Candidates for the loony bin,” he agreed.
“I wasn’t sure I’d be able to get away,” Meg confessed. “Brenda’s spending the night with Lindsey, and those two are going to be up half the night.”
“Did you tell them you were leaving the house?”
“No,” she said, “but I left them a note. Just in case … Although I’m hoping they won’t come downstairs. Oh, and this time I should remember to bring home some milk.”
“I was thinking Lindsey and I should have another meeting,” Steve began. “Only this time I want you to bring her to the shop. I’ll show her around and explain that the whole biker, ex-con routine was a joke.” He waited, then looked at Meg. “What do you think?”
“I’m afraid hell hath no fury like a teenager fooled.”
“That’s what I was afraid you were going to say.” Steve finished his drink and placed his arm around her shoulder. “One thing’s for sure. I’m through with sneaking around in the middle of the night.”
Meg covered her mouth as she yawned. “I’m too old for this.”
“You and me both.”
Meg finished her soda, too, and leaned back against Steve, his chest supporting her back. She didn’t dare close her eyes for fear she’d fall asleep.
“Nancy isn’t any too happy about me seeing you, either.”
“I’ll talk to her, explain everything.” Except that, like Lindsey, Steve’s sister probably wouldn’t be too pleased.
“It’s settled, then,” Steve said. “I’ll talk to Lindsey and you’ll talk to Nancy. Neither one of them is going to enjoy being the butt of a joke, but it wasn’t like we planned this. Besides, it serves them right for manipulating us like they did.”
“You’d think they’d be pleased,” Meg inserted. “Their plan worked—not the way they wanted, mind you, but we’re seeing each other and that’s the whole point. Right?”
Steve chuckled and stroked her hair. “Right.”
“I wish it wasn’t like this,” Meg whispered.
Steve kissed the top of her head. “So do I.”
Meg smiled, twisting in his arms so they faced each other.
Steve’s hands lingered on her face. His mouth was so close she could feel his breath against her cheek. A shiver of awareness skittered down her spine.
Meg closed her eyes and lifted her mouth to Steve’s. He hesitated for a fraction of a second, as if he had second thoughts about what might happen next.
His kiss was warm and gentle. But his gentleness didn’t last long. There was a hunger in Steve, a hunger in Meg that flared to life like a fire stoked.
“Meg … “
“I know … I know.”
“Tomorrow,” he said and drew in a deep, even breath.
“Tomorrow,” she repeated, but she had no idea what she was agreeing to. She opened her eyes and leaned back. “What about tomorrow?”
“We’ll talk to Lindsey and Nancy.”
“Okay.”
Fifteen minutes later, Steve dropped her off at the house.
It wasn’t until he drove away that she realized she’d left her purse in his car. Her purse with the key to her house …
“Damn,” she muttered, hurrying into the backyard, hoping Lindsey had forgotten to lock the sliding glass door. She hadn’t; it was locked tight.
No help for it—she searched until she found the spare key, hidden under one of the flowerpots on her porch. It’d been there for so many years she wasn’t sure it would work.
Luckily it did. As quietly as she could, Meg slipped into the house.
She climbed the stairs and tiptoed into her room. She undressed without turning on the light and was in bed minutes later.
The neighbor’s German shepherd barked, obviously from inside their house, and Lindsey looked up from painting her toenails. �
��There it is again,” she said.
“I heard it, too,” Brenda said.
“Wolf doesn’t bark without a reason.”
Ever curious, Brenda walked over to the bedroom window and peered into the yard below. After a moment, she whirled around. “There’s someone in your backyard,” she whispered, wide-eyed.
“This isn’t the time for jokes,” Lindsey said, continuing to paint her toenails a bright shade of pink. “We were discussing my mother, remember?”
Brenda didn’t move away from the window. “There is someone there.”
“Who?”
“It’s a man …. Oh, my goodness, come and look.”
The panic in her friend’s voice made Lindsey catapult to a standing position. Walking on her heels to keep her freshly painted toenails off the carpet, she hobbled toward the window.
Brenda was right; she did see someone in the yard. “Turn the lights off,” she hissed.
Lindsey’s heart lodged in her throat as she recognized the dark form. “It’s Steve Conlan!” She saw him clearly in the moonlight; he wasn’t even making any attempt to hide.
“What’s that in his hand?”
Lindsey focused her attention on the object Steve was carrying. It looked like a purse. Gasping, she twisted away from the window and placed her back against the wall. She gestured wildly toward the phone.
“What’s wrong?” Brenda cried. “Are you having an asthma attack?”
Lindsey shook her head. “He broke in to the house and stole my mother’s purse.” Brenda handed her the phone and Lindsey dialed 911 as fast as her nervous fingers would let her.
She barely gave the operator time to answer. “There’s a man in our backyard,” she whispered frantically. “He took my mother’s purse.”
The emergency operator seemed to have a thousand questions she wanted Lindsey to answer. Lindsey did the best she could.
“He’s a convicted felon …. I can give you the name of his probation officer if you want. Just hurry!” she pleaded.
“Officers have been dispatched.”
“Please, please hurry.” Lindsey was afraid that unless the police arrived within the next minute Steve would make a clean getaway.
Steve debated whether he should leave Meg’s purse on the front porch. It would be easy enough to tuck it inside the mailbox, but then she might not find it until much later the next day.
He walked around the house to the backyard, thinking there might be someplace he could put it where she’d find it in the morning.
There wasn’t.
The only thing he’d managed to do was rouse the neighbor’s dog. He would’ve rung the doorbell and given her the silly thing if there’d been any lights on, but apparently she’d gone to bed. He wasn’t especially eager to confront Lindsey, either. Not yet.
He still hadn’t made up his mind, when he heard a noise from behind him.
“Police! Freeze!”
Was this a joke? Maybe not—whoever it was sounded serious. He froze.
“Put the purse down and turn around slowly.”
Once more Steve did as instructed. With his arms raised, he turned to find two police officers with their weapons drawn and pointed at him.
“Looks like we caught ourselves a burglar,” one of them said, switching on a huge flashlight.
“Caught him redhanded,” the other agreed.
Six
“If you’d let me explain,” Steve said, squinting against the light at the two officers. A dog barked ferociously in the next-door neighbor’s yard. A man in pajamas had let the dog out and joined the audience.
“Do you always carry a woman’s purse?”
“It belongs to—”
“My mother.”
Although Steve couldn’t see her face, he recognized the righteous tones as belonging to Meg’s daughter. Lindsey and her friend stood beside the two officers and looked as if they’d gladly provide the rope for a hanging.
“Wolf.” The neighbour silenced the German shepherd, but made no move to go inside.
“My name’s Steve Conlan,” Steve said, striving to come across as sane and reasonable. This was, after all, merely a misunderstanding.
“I wouldn’t believe him if I were you,” Lindsey advised the officers. “It might not be his real name.” Then in lower tones she added, “He has a criminal record. I happen to know for a fact that he’s a convicted felon.”
“I’m not a felon,” Steve growled. “And it is my real name. Officers, if you’d give me the opportunity to—”
“His parole officer’s name is Earl Markham.” Lindsey cut him off, her voice indignant. “He told me himself!”
“I know Earl Markham,” the younger of the two policemen said. “And he is a parole officer.”
“I know him, too,” Steve barked impatiently. “We went to high school together.”
“Yeah, right.”
The scorn in Lindsey’s voice reminded Steve of Meg when she was furious with him. Like mother, like daughter, it seemed.
“If you’d let me explain.” Steve tried again, struggling to stay calm. It wasn’t easy with two guns aimed at him and a man in pajamas clutching the collar of a huge dog—thank goodness for the fence. Not to mention a couple of teenage girls accusing him of who knew what.
“Don’t listen to him,” the other girl was saying. “He lies! He had us believing all kinds of things, and all because he thought we were Lindsey’s mother.”
A short silence followed her announcement. “Say that again?” the older officer muttered. “How well do you know this man?”
“My name’s Steve Conlan.” Steve tried yet again.
“Which may or may not be his real name.” This, too, came from Lindsey’s friend.
“If you’ll let me get my wallet, I’ll prove who I am,” Steve assured them. He made an effort to sound vaguely amused by the whole situation. He lowered one arm and started to move his hand toward his back pocket.
“Keep your hands up where I can see them,” the older cop snapped.
“What’s going on?” The voice drifted down from the upstairs area of the house. A sweetly feminine, slightly groggy voice.
Steve glanced up, and to his great relief saw Meg’s face framed in the second-floor window.
“Meg,” Steve shouted, grateful that she’d finally heard the commotion. “Tell these men who I am, so they can put their weapons away.”
“Steve?” she cried, shocked. “What are you doing at my house?”
“Do you know this man?” the cop asked, tilting his head back and shouting up at Meg.
“Ma’am, would you mind stepping outside?” the second officer asked. He mumbled something Steve couldn’t hear under his breath.
“I’ll be right down,” Meg told them, and Steve watched her turn away from the window.
“Have you been sneaking around seeing my mother?”
“Lindsey, it’s not like it seems,” Steve said, experiencing a twinge of guilt at the way he’d misled the girl. He’d planned to talk to Meg’s daughter soon, but he hadn’t intended to do it in front of the police.
“I’d be more interested to find out why he has your mother’s purse, if I were you,” the second teenager said.
“I already know why he’s got Mom’s purse,” Lindsey said loudly. “He stole it.”
“No, I didn’t!” Steve rolled his eyes. “I was trying to return it.”
“You have my purse?” This was from Meg. “Oh, hello, Mr. Robinson. Hi, Wolf. I think everything’s under control here.” Man and dog went back inside a moment later.
“My purse!” she said again.
Steve relaxed and lowered his arms. “You left it in my car,” he said.
“Thank goodness you found it.” Meg, at least, displayed the appropriate amount of appreciation. “I didn’t know when I’d get it back.”
Now that the flashlight wasn’t blinding him and the officers had returned the guns to their holsters, Steve saw Meg for the first time. In fact, he
couldn’t take his eyes off her. She’d thrown a flimsy cotton robe over her babydoll pajamas but despite that, they revealed a length of sleek, smooth thigh whenever she moved. The top was low-cut and the robe gaped open and … Meg grabbed the lapels and held them together with both hands. It didn’t help much.
Steve was afraid he wasn’t the only one who’d noticed Meg’s attire. Both officers looked approvingly in her direction. Steve was about to ask the younger of the two to wipe the grin off his face, but he held his breath and counted backward from ten.
He got to five. “Lindsey, go get your mother a coat.”
“I don’t have to take orders from you,” the girl snapped.
Meg blinked and seemed to realize that despite the robe, such as it was, her nightwear left little to the imagination.
In an apparent effort to deflect a shouting match, one officer asked Lindsey a few questions, while the other engaged Steve and Meg in conversation.
“You know this man?” he asked Meg.
“Yes, of course. His name’s Steve Conlan.”
“Steve Conlan.” The officer made note of it on a small pad. “That’s what he said earlier.”
Steve pulled out his wallet and flipped it open, silently thrusting it out. The cop glanced at it and nodded.
“He didn’t steal my purse, either,” Meg went on.
Steve cast the other man an I-told-you-so look, but said nothing.
“You went out with Steve behind my back?” Lindsey cried, peering around the second policeman. Her eyes narrowed. “I can’t believe you’d do something like that—after our talk and everything.”
Meg cast her a guilty look. “We’ll discuss this later.”
But Lindsey wasn’t going to be so easily dissuaded. “After our talk, I really, really thought I was getting through to you. Now I see how wrong I was.”
“If you’d give me a chance to explain …” Steve began, wanting to avoid an argument between Meg and her daughter.
Static from the police officer’s walkie-talkie was followed by a muffled voice. The two men were obviously being dispatched to another location.
“Everything okay here?” the policeman asked Meg.
“It’s fine.”
A Mother's Wish Page 8
