“About the camping trip?”
“It’s the chance of a lifetime. The Washington coast—I’ve heard it’s fabulous—”
“We’ve got plans.”
“To paint the living room? We could do that any old time!”
“Peter, please.”
He was silent for a minute or so. The he asked, “Do you remember when I was eleven?”
Here it comes, Carol mused darkly. “I remember,” she muttered, knowing it would’ve been too much to expect him not to drag up the lowest point of her life as a mother.
“We were going camping then, too, remember?”
He said remember as though it was a dirty word, one that would get him into trouble.
“You promised me an overnight camping trip and signed us up for an outing through the Y? But when we went to the meeting you got cold feet.”
“Peter, they gave us a list of stuff we were supposed to bring, and not only did I not have half the things on the list, I didn’t even know what they were.”
“You could have asked,” Peter cried.
“It was more than that.”
“Just because we were going to hike at our own pace? They said we’d get a map. We could’ve found the camp, Mom, I know we could have.”
Carol had had visions of wandering through the woods for days on end with nothing more than a piece of paper that said she should head east—and she had the world’s worst sense of direction. If she could get lost in a shopping mall, how would she ever find her way through dense forest?
“That wasn’t the worst part,” Peter murmured. “Right there in the middle of the meeting you leaned over and asked me what it would cost to buy your way out of the trip.”
“You said you wouldn’t leave for anything less than a laser tag set,” Carol said, tormented by the unfairness of it all. The toy had been popular and expensive at the time and had cost her a pretty penny. But her son had conveniently forgotten that.
“I feel like I sold my soul that day,” Peter said with a deep sigh.
“Peter, honestly!”
“It wasn’t until then that I realized how much I was missing by not having a dad.”
The kid was perfecting the art of guilt.
“Now, once again,” he argued, “I have the rare opportunity to experience the great out-of-doors, and it’s like a nightmare happening all over again. My own mother’s going to pull the rug out from under my feet.”
Carol stopped at a red light and pretended to play a violin. “This could warp your young mind for years to come.”
“It just might,” Peter said, completely serious.
“Twenty years from now, when they lock those prison doors behind you, you can cry out that it’s all my fault. If only I’d taken you camping with Alex and James Preston, then the entire course of your life would have been different.”
A short pause followed her statement.
“Sarcasm doesn’t suit you, Mother.”
Peter was right, of course, but Carol was getting desperate. At the rate this day was going, she’d end up spending Saturday night in front of a campfire, fighting off mosquitoes and the threat of wild beasts.
Because she felt guilty, despite every effort not to, Carol cooked Peter his favorite chicken-fried steak dinner, complete with gravy and mashed potatoes.
After the dishes had been cleared and Peter was supposed to be doing his homework, Carol found him talking on the phone, whispering frantically. It wasn’t hard to guess that her son was discussing strategies with James. The three of them were clearly in cahoots against her.
Carol waited until Peter was in bed before she marched into the kitchen and righteously punched out Alex’s phone number. She’d barely given him a chance to answer before she laid into him with both barrels.
“That was a rotten thing to do!”
“What?” he asked, feigning innocence.
“You know darn well what I’m talking about. Peter’s pulled every trick in the book from the moment you mentioned this stupid camping trip.”
“Are you going to come or is this war?”
“It’s war right now, Mister Preston.”
“Good. Does the victor get spoils? Because I’m telling you, Carol Sommars, I intend to win.”
“Oh, Alex,” she said with a sigh, leaning against the wall. She slid all the way down to the floor, wanting to weep with frustration. “How could you do this to me?”
“Easy. I got the idea when you told me it was too much to hope that you’d miss me.”
“But I don’t know anything about camping. To me, roughing it is going without valet service.”
“It’ll be fun, trust me.”
Trusting Alex wasn’t at the top of her priority list at the moment. He’d pulled a fast one on her, and she wasn’t going to let him do it again.
“Is Peter sleeping?” Alex asked softly.
“If he isn’t, he should be.” She didn’t understand where this conversation was heading.
“James is asleep, too,” he said. “After the cold shoulder you gave me this afternoon, I need something to warm my blood.”
“Try a hot water bottle.”
“It won’t work. Keep the door unlocked and I’ll be right over.”
“Absolutely not. Alex Preston, listen to me, I’m not dressed for company and—”
It was too late. He’d already disconnected.
Eight
Standing in front of her locked screen door, Carol had no intention of letting Alex inside her home. It was nearly eleven, and they both had to work in the morning. When his car pulled into the driveway, she braced her feet apart and stiffened her back. She should be furious with him. Should be nothing; she was furious!
But when Alex climbed out of his car, he stood in her driveway for a moment, facing the house. Facing her. The porch light was dim, just bright enough to outline his handsome features.
With his hands in his pockets, he continued to stand there, staring at her. But that seemed such an inadequate way to describe the intensity of his gaze as his eyes locked with her own. Not a muscle moved in the hard, chiseled line of his jaw, and his eyes feasted on her with undisguised hunger. Even from the distance that separated them, Carol saw that his wonderful gray eyes had darkened with need.
He wanted her.
Heaven help her, despite all her arguments to the contrary, she wanted him, too.
Before he’d marched two steps toward her, Carol had unlocked the screen door and held it open for him.
“I’m not going camping,” she announced, her voice scarcely audible. Her lips felt dry and her hands moist. Once she’d stated her position, her breath escaped with a ragged sigh. She thought of ranting at him, calling him a coward and a cheat to use her own son against her the way he had, but not a word made it from her mind to her lips.
Alex turned and shut the front door.
The only light was a single lamp on the other side of the room.
They didn’t move, didn’t breathe.
“I’m not going to force you to go camping,” Alex whispered. “In fact, I…” He paused as he lowered his eyes to her lips, and whatever he intended to say trailed into nothingness.
Carol felt his eyes on her as keenly as she had his mouth.
In an effort to break this unnatural spell, she closed her eyes.
“Carol?”
She couldn’t have answered him had her life depended on it. Her back was pressed to the door, and she flattened her hands against it.
Not once during her marriage had Carol felt as she did at that moment. So…needy. So empty.
He came to her in a single, unbroken movement, his mouth descending on hers. Carol wound her arms around him and leaned into his solid strength, craving it as never before. Again and again and again he kissed her.
“Alex.” She tore her lips from his. “Alex,” she breathed again, almost panting. “Something’s wrong….”
She could feel his breath against her neck and his fingers i
n her hair, directing her mouth back to his, kissing her with such heat, Carol thought she’d disintegrate.
Her tears came in earnest then, a great profusion that had been building inside her for years. Long, lonely, barren years.
With the tears came pain, pain so intense she could hardly breathe. Agony spilled from her heart. The trauma that had been buried within her stormed out in a torrent of tears that she could no more stop than she could control.
Huge sobs shook her shoulders, giant hiccupping sobs that she felt all the way to her toes. Sobs that depleted her strength. Her breathing was ragged as she stumbled toward the edge of hysteria.
Alex was speaking to her in soft, reassuring whispers, but Carol couldn’t hear him. It didn’t matter what he said. Nothing mattered.
She clutched his shirt tighter and tighter. Soon there were no more tears to shed, no more emotion to be spent. Alex continued to hold her. He slid his arms all the way around her, and although she couldn’t understand what he was saying, his voice was gentle.
Once the desperate crying had started to subside, Carol drew in giant gulps of air in a futile effort to gain control of herself.
Slowly Alex guided her to the sofa and sat her down, then gathered her in his arms and held her tenderly.
Time lost meaning to Carol until she heard the clock chime midnight. Until then she was satisfied with being held in Alex’s arms. He asked no questions, demanded no explanations. He simply held her, offering comfort and consolation.
This newfound contentment in his arms was all too short-lived, however. Acute embarrassment stole through the stillness, and fresh tears stung Carol’s eyes. Her mind, her thoughts, her memories were steeped in emotions too strong to bear.
“I…I’ll make some coffee,” she whispered, unwinding her arms from him, feeling she had to escape.
“Forget the coffee.”
She broke away and got shakily to her feet. Before he could stop her, she hurried into the kitchen and supported herself against the counter, not sure if she could perform the uncomplicated task of making a pot of coffee.
Alex followed her into the darkened room. He placed one hand on her shoulder and gently turned her around, so she had no choice but to face him. “I want to talk about what happened.”
“No…please.” She leveled her eyes at the floor.
“We need to talk.”
“No.” She shook her head emphatically. “Not now. Please not now.”
A long, desperate moment passed before he gently kissed the crown of her head. “Fine,” he whispered. “Not now. But soon. Very soon.”
Carol doubted she could ever discuss what had happened between them, but she didn’t have the strength or the courage to say so. That would only have invited argument.
“I…I think you should go.”
His nod was reluctant. “Will you be all right?”
“Yes.” A bold-faced lie if ever there was one. She would never be the same again. She was mortified to the very marrow of her bones by her behavior. How could she ever see him again? And then the pain, the memories came rushing back…
No, she wouldn’t be all right, but she’d pretend she was, the same way she’d been pretending from the moment she married Bruce.
The message waiting for Alex when he returned to his office the following afternoon didn’t come as any surprise. His secretary handed him the yellow slip, and the instant he saw Carol’s name, he knew. She was working late that evening and asked if he could pick up Peter from track and drop him off at the house.
The little coward! He sat at his desk, leaned back in his chair and frowned. He hadn’t wanted to leave her the night before. Hadn’t wanted to walk out of her kitchen without being assured she was all right. Carol, however, had made it clear that she wanted him to leave. Equally apparent was the fact that his being there had only added to her distress. Whatever Carol was facing, whatever ghost she’d encountered, was ugly and traumatic.
So he’d left. But he hadn’t stopped thinking about her all day. The thought of her had filled every waking minute.
Even now, hours later, he could remember in vivid detail the way she’d started to unfold and blossom right before his eyes. Because of him. For him.
His frown deepened. She’d never talked about her marriage. Alex assumed it had to be the source of her anguish, but he didn’t know why. He didn’t even know her late husband’s name. Questions bombarded him, and he cursed the lack of answers.
And now, his sweet coward had gone into hiding.
“Will you talk to her, Mr. Preston?” Peter begged as he climbed inside the van in the school parking lot. “Mom’s never gone camping, and I think she’d probably like it if she gave it half a chance.”
“I’ll talk to her,” Alex promised.
Peter sighed with relief. “Good.”
Sounding both confident and proud, James said, “My dad can be persuasive when he wants to be.”
Alex intended to be very persuasive.
“I tried to reason with Mom this morning, and you know what she said?” Peter’s changing voice pitched between two octaves.
“What?”
“She said she didn’t want to talk about it. Doesn’t that sound just like a woman? And I thought Melody Wohlford was hard to understand.”
Alex stifled a chuckle. “I’ll tell you boys what I’m going to do. We’ll pick up hamburgers on the way home, and I’ll drop you both off at my house. Then I’ll drive over to your place, Peter, and wait for your mother there.”
“Great idea,” James said, nodding his approval.
“But while I’m gone, I want you boys to do your homework.”
“Sure.”
“Yeah, sure,” James echoed. “Just do whatever it takes to convince Mrs. Sommars to come on our camping trip.”
“I’ll do everything I can,” Alex said.
Carol let herself in the front door, drained from a long, taxing day at the hospital and exhausted from the sleepless night that had preceded it. That morning, she’d been tempted to phone in sick, but with two nurses already out due to illness, there wasn’t anyone to replace her. So she’d gone to work feeling emotionally and physically hungover.
“Peter, I’m home,” she called. “Peter?”
Silence. Walking into the kitchen, she deposited her purse on the counter and hurried toward her son’s bedroom. She’d contacted Alex and asked that he bring Peter home, with instructions to phone back if he couldn’t. She hadn’t heard from him, so she’d assumed he’d pick up her son and drop him off at the house.
Peter’s room was empty, his bed unmade. An array of clean and dirty clothes littered his floor. Everything was normal there.
This was what she got for trying to avoid Alex, Carol mused, chastising herself. Peter was probably still waiting at the high school track, wondering where she could possibly be.
Sighing, she hurried back into the kitchen and reached for her purse. She had to get him his own cell phone, she decided—it would help in situations like this.
The doorbell rang as she walked through the living room. Impatiently she jerked open the door and her eyes collided with Alex’s. She gasped.
“Hello again,” he said in the warm, husky way that never failed to affect her. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”
“You didn’t.” He had, but she wasn’t about to admit it. “Apparently you didn’t get my message…. Peter must still be at the school.”
“No. He’s at my house with James.”
“Oh.” That hardly expressed the instant dread she felt. They were alone, and there was no escape, at least not by the most convenient means—Peter.
Alex stepped into the house and for the first time, she noticed he was carrying a white paper bag. Her gaze settled on it and she frowned.
“Two Big Macs, fries and shakes,” he explained.
“For whom?”
Alex arched his eyebrows. “Us.”
“Oh…” He honestly expected her to sit down and eat
with him? It would be impossible. “I’m not hungry.”
“I am—very hungry. If you don’t want to eat, that’s fine. I will, and while I’m downing my dinner, we can talk.”
It wouldn’t do any good to argue, and Carol knew it. Without another word, she turned and walked to the kitchen. Alex followed her, and his movements, as smooth and agile as always, sounded thunderous behind her. She was aware of everything about him. When he walked, when he breathed, when he moved.
His eyes seemed to bore holes in her back, but she ignored the impulse to turn and face him. She couldn’t bear to look him in the eye. The memory of what had happened the night before made her cheeks flame.
“How are you?” he asked in that husky, caring way of his.
“Fine,” she answered cheerfully. “And you?”
“Not so good.”
“Oh.” Her heart was pounding, clamoring in her ears. “I’m…sorry to hear that.”
“You should be, since you’re the cause.”
“Me? I’m…sure you’re mistaken.” She got two plates from the cupboard and set them on the table.
As she stepped past him, Alex grabbed her hand. “I don’t want to play word games with you. We’ve come too far for that…and we’re going a lot further.”
Unable to listen to his words, she closed her eyes.
“Look at me, Carol.”
She couldn’t do it. She lowered her head, eyes still shut.
“There’s no need to be embarrassed.”
Naturally he could afford to be generous. He wasn’t the one who’d dissolved in a frenzy of violent tears and emotion. She was just grateful that Peter had slept through the whole episode.
“We need to talk.”
“No…” she cried and broke away. “Couldn’t you have ignored what happened? Why do you have to drag it up now?” she demanded. “Do you enjoy embarrassing me like this? Do you get a kick out of seeing me miserable?” She paused, breathless, her chest heaving. “Please, just go away and leave me alone.”
Her fierce words gave birth to a brief, tense silence.
Grasping her chin between his thumb and forefinger, Alex lifted her head. Fresh emotion filled her chest, knotting in her throat as her eyes slid reluctantly to his.
Right Next Door Page 25
