by Julie Caille
“Luke,” said a woman’s voice. “Hi, surprise, it’s Christina! Guess what, I’m in Houston. Remember that conference I told you about? I decided to come after all. It’s this weekend, at the George R. Brown Convention Center. Anyway, I’m staying at the Hyatt, room 1123. Call me, okay? Let’s try to get together while I’m here. Tonight would be best for me if you can manage it. I’m really anxious to see you. Love you. ‘Bye.”
The message ended.
Alicia stood frozen for an instant, then her hand moved to press the Save button. The answering machine belted out a few beeps and whirs, then subsided into unsympathetic silence.
So. Christina was a current element in Luke’s life. She was a real, live, flesh-and-blood woman. She also possessed a voice as wonderful as her face—soft and clear and low.
Alicia walked numbly into the living room and sat down. What should she do? That was the first thing to be decided. Should she let Luke know that she had heard the message? Or should she pretend to know nothing about it?
“Damn him,” she muttered aloud. It felt good to say that, so good that with all the force she could muster, she punched one of the sofa pillows. “Damn him for doing this to me. I don’t deserve to be treated this way.”
Anger and resentment sizzled through her, like alcohol in her blood. Why was he keeping this woman a secret? There could be no good reason, none at all. Except that he thought it was none of Alicia’s business.
She remembered the night she’d first realized that Kenny was cheating on her. He’d come home late, half-drunk and reeking of another women’s perfume. And sex.
She hadn’t handled it well. She’d hurled accusations at him, demanded to know whom he’d been with. At first, he’d refused to answer, then he’d lied to her, claiming he’d been out with the guys. He’d said she was imagining things, suggested she was paranoid. It was what he’d said every time after that until the day she had filed for divorce. Then he’d suddenly turned honest.
Well, Kenny had been a bastard, but he’d taught her a few lessons. Accusations didn’t work. Demands for the truth didn’t work. Men revealed things when they wanted to and not before. Hadn’t Luke reaffirmed that simple verity? He’d told her about his dyslexia when he was damned good and ready. Not a decade ago when they were engaged to be married. Not when he’d asked for her help in his store.
And so it would be with Christina. There would be no point in asking. He would say she was just a friend. No one important. You’re imagining things, Alicia. She’d heard it all before and she couldn’t bear to hear it again.
Clutching a pillow to her chest, she sank back against the sofa cushions. Her battered pride just wasn’t up to any more abuse. If he wanted her to know, then he’d tell her. If not, he wouldn’t. It was as simple as that.
* * *
Luke locked up the store at six o’clock, impatience seething within him. He’d spent the last five days thinking about Alicia. Missing her, aching for her. Gathering the courage to ask her to marry him.
It had been hard enough the first time around, but at least then he’d been sure of her feelings. This time he wasn’t. During their lovemaking, he’d almost been sure, but afterward, well, he hadn’t known how to behave toward her when Ronnie was with them. She’d seemed to want him to keep his distance, and so he had. He didn’t want to rush her or push her into something she wasn’t ready for. Above all, he didn’t want to do anything to jeopardize the progress he’d made in his courtship.
If only he understood her, he reflected. But women weren’t like circuit boards; they didn’t come with a schematic. The flow of their thoughts didn’t follow a predesigned route. Compared to the complex workings of a female mind, resistors and capacitors and diodes were child’s play.
As he drove home, he tried to remember the carefully laid-out speech he’d concocted. When he’d thought it up at three in the morning, it had seemed a heck of a lot easier to say. The words had poured through his brain, along with the courage to speak them. But now his heart was pounding.
He felt a bit silly, getting all worked up about a simple marriage proposal. It reminded him of that song from Camelot, the one where King Arthur trembled and hid from Guinevere, or so the singer claimed. Luke’s mouth twisted. Maybe this was something all men shared, this fear of rejection that made it so hard for a man to ask a woman to spend the rest of her life with him. He tried to envision some of the guys he knew proposing to their wives. He pictured shy, introverted Dave Thompson popping the question to his Suzanne. Man, that was a tough one. Far easier to imagine the indomitable Suzanne doing the popping.
When he pulled into the driveway, he broke out in a sweat. Telling himself he was an idiot, he reached over and switched the air-conditioning to max, letting it blow over his face and neck for a few moments. Then he got out of the truck and went into the house.
He paused in the foyer, listening for sounds that would tell him where Alicia was. All he could hear was Ronnie and a friend—probably Brian—whooping it up above his head.
“Alicia?” he called out.
As if on cue, she appeared at the head of the staircase dressed in jogging clothes. “Hi,” she said far more coolly than he expected. While he stared at her in confusion, she bounded down the stairs and headed for the front door. “I’m glad you’re here—I wanted to get some exercise before supper. Keep an eye on the kids, okay? Sharon’s coming for Brian in half an hour. See you in a while.”
The door thudded shut.
Left alone, Luke stood very still, his hat in his hand, his ego somewhere around his knees. Damn it, he knew she was wacky, but this sure beat all. He’d thought she’d be glad to see him.
Daffy trotted down the stairs, tail wagging, her adoring brown eyes fixed on his face. Luke squatted down and scratched her ears, and received an enthusiastic lick for his efforts.
“Thanks,” he grumbled. “At least somebody’s happy to see me.” Still grappling with his disappointment, he gave Daffy a final pat and rose to his feet. “C’mon, let’s go see if you’ve had your supper.”
In the kitchen, Daffy went to peer into her dish. She gave it a tentative lick and looked plaintively at Luke.
“Okay, okay.” He scooped two cups of food from the bag in the laundry room and tipped it into the dog’s dish. As he set the measuring cup in the sink, the blinking light on the answering machine caught his eye.
Scowling, he got himself a cold beer and took a long swig before he walked over and punched the button. “Luke,” began a familiar voice. “Hi, surprise, it’s Christina...”
He listened to the entire message, conflict brewing inside him like a storm. Ah, jeez, what timing. Of course he wanted to see Christina, but it was Alicia’s first night back. These past few days of aching and emptiness had nearly driven him mad.
On the other hand, it might be best to put off the marriage proposal for a day or two. He couldn’t pass up an opportunity to be with Christina; she was too important to him, too necessary. And since Alicia didn’t seem to consider a reunion with him to be a big deal, maybe she wouldn’t mind if he went out for the evening.
As for his offer of marriage, he was beginning to think that caution would be the best policy. A smart man would wait to see how the woman behaved before he took the plunge. Yes, that’s what he’d do. He’d let a day or two pass, wait for just the right moment, the right setting, the right mood. Maybe another dinner date would be a better time to spring the big question.
Next he debated whether or not to tell Alicia about Christina. Something inside him resisted. Explaining Christina meant explaining a whole lot of other things he didn’t like to talk about. Nobody knew about Christina, not even Joey.
On the whole, he’d prefer to wait until he was sure of Alicia—sure of her love, her loyalty, her understanding. Then he’d share Christina with her.
After she agreed to marry him.
* * *
Despite the comfort of Ronnie’s company, the evening seemed empty without Luke.
Alicia tried to block him from her thoughts, but that proved impossible. She kept getting flashes of him with Christina, their two dark heads bent close in laughter over a romantic dinner in some dimly lit restaurant. And it hurt. It was too much like the old days when she’d endured endless evenings at home, not knowing where her husband was, knowing only that he was somewhere with the despicable Tracy.
To make it worse, she had to conceal her pain from Ronnie. For his sake, she had to be strong. She had to watch his face as he worked on his story, composing heartrending sentences about how his parents had died, how he had cried, how Luke had comforted him. After a while, they put the pages away and got out a board game, which they played until bedtime.
After Ronnie went to bed, Alicia returned to the living room and scanned the TV Guide, hoping to find something to distract her. She settled on an old rerun of The Music Man and stretched out on the sofa. She soon found herself empathizing with Marian the Librarian as she warbled her way through the song “My White Knight.” Marian only wanted a man who would love her, someone honest, quiet, straightforward and gentle. Alicia knew just how Marian felt.
Halfway through the movie, the phone rang.
“Alicia?” queried the voice at the other end of the line.
Alicia’s heart sank. “Hello, Mother. How are you?”
“I’m well as usual, thank you. I haven’t heard from you lately.” The statement rippled with accusation.
Stifling a sigh, Alicia carried the receiver into the living room. “I haven’t had much news.”
“Well, I still like to hear from you.” Her mother then launched into a monologue about her grandchild. “I thought you intended to bring him up here. I can’t understand what you’re waiting for.”
Alicia twisted the cord around her finger. “The plan has changed, Mother. Ronnie’s going to stay here and live with Luke. He’s settled in school now and made new friends. It seems to be for the best.”
“That’s ridiculous. How can it be for the best? The child needs a mother. What kind of father can that man be? He isn’t even a blood relative.”
“Blood has nothing to do with it. Luke will make a splendid father. Ronnie won’t lack for a thing.”
“Except a mother,” her mother said tersely. “Do you think this is what Caroline would have wanted?”
“Yes,” Alicia replied, “I do.” As she spoke the words, full acceptance of their rightness bloomed in her heart. “Ronnie wants to stay with his uncle. They have a strong emotional bond. Yes, I do think it’s the right choice. I believe it’s what’s best for Ronnie.”
There was a short silence. “Then why are you still there? I hope you’re not doing something you’ll regret.”
Like what, Mother? Sleeping with Luke? Or falling in love?
“Don’t worry about me. I know what I’m doing.”
She could almost see her mother’s skeptical expression. “I hope so. I trust you learned something from that nasty business with Kenneth. What about Nick Easton? If you aren’t careful, you’ll lose that one, too, and he’s worth keeping, unless I miss my mark.”
Like a fish, Alicia thought without humor. Reel him in while he’s still hooked. “Please don’t get your hopes up, Mother. Nick and I are just friends.”
“A clever woman could change that. You’ve got to be practical, Alicia.” When Alicia said nothing, her mother sighed. “Well, lollygagging around Houston isn’t going to help matters. You’ll be lucky if you still have a job when you get back.”
“My job is fine and I’ll be going back soon. How’s Daddy?”
For a while the conversation strayed to less personal matters, then Alicia mentioned the box of Caroline’s things.
“Yes, of course I want to see what’s in it,” Mrs. Brant said in an altered, rather shaky tone. “I—” She sniffed and broke off. In the background, Alicia could hear her blowing her nose. “I do want to see. Alicia...”
“Yes, Mother?”
“You and Ronnie are all I have left. I may not have said it well, but...I don’t want to see either of you hurt again.”
“Please don’t worry, Mother. I’ll be fine, and Ronnie’s in good hands.”
“He’s my only grandchild. It doesn’t seem right that I never get to see him.”
“You could visit him here.”
“With our teaching schedules, that’s difficult. And you know your father doesn’t like to fly. His asthma always flares up. The air on those planes is so unhealthy.”
“When Ronnie comes north to visit me, I promise I’ll bring him to see you. He and I have gotten to be great friends.”
By the time she hung up the phone, Alicia was too drained and tired to enjoy the movie. She switched it off, looking across the room, where Daffy was sleeping behind the overstuffed chair. “Hey, girl, do you need to go out?”
Daffy did. When the dog had disappeared into the backyard, Alicia took a seat at the kitchen table and flipped through the pages of Ronnie’s story. He had made a lot of progress, written far more than she’d expected. As Mrs. Glover had suggested, he was extremely bright. She wished she could stay to help foster that brightness. It was going to be very hard to leave him.
When Daffy returned, Alicia locked the doors, wondering how late Luke would be. She certainly wasn’t going to wait up for him like some lovesick fool. If he wanted their relationship to go anywhere, he was the one who was going to have to make the next move. Not that it looked as if that were likely to happen. For the first time since her return, that fact struck home.
On impulse, she went to the phone and dialed Nick’s number. “Hi, Nick,” she said to the answering machine. “Just wanted to say hi. I know you usually check your calls, so wherever you are, I hope you’re thinking of me. I miss you. The separation has been difficult for me, too.” She paused, wondering if she had just made an irrevocable mistake. “Call me when you can,” she finished lamely. “‘Bye.”
Somehow that made her feel better. And after all, saying you missed someone wasn’t a declaration of love. Nor was it cruel or misleading or wrong.
Clinging to that thought, she went up to bed.
It was past one in the morning when she finally heard Luke. He was hushing Daffy, whose sharp woof had woken her from a dreamless sleep. Alicia lay very still, her heart pounding as Luke’s familiar footsteps climbed the stairs. When he paused outside her door, she came close to calling out to him. Her pride stopped her. What if he had just come from that woman’s bed? What if he reeked of her perfume, smelled of her body?
While these unpalatable thoughts passed through her head, he continued on down the hall to his room. His bedroom door clicked shut.
Alicia rolled over and scrunched her eyes shut. But the tears still escaped, slipping down her cheeks to dampen her pillow. Maybe for once her mother was right.
Chapter Twelve
The doorbell rang shrilly, setting off a cacophony of howls from Daffy. Luke screwed open an eye and glared at the clock on his bedside table. To his surprise, it told him it was past ten in the morning. Damn, he must have been exhausted.
Memory quickened within him as he rolled over and stared at the ceiling. Alicia was back. He hadn’t proposed. Nothing had been resolved between them.
When the doorbell rang again, twice in a row, he threw off the sheets and reached for his cutoffs. Man, had he been having dreams. Glorious dreams, erotic dreams, and all of them about Alicia.
Wondering why she hadn’t answered the front door, he hurried downstairs, cursing under his breath as he stubbed his toe on the stairs. “Damn it, Daffy, stop that!” he snapped. “Quiet! Sit down!” He yanked open the door and stared at the man who had just started to walk back to his car, a black Lincoln Continental. “Yeah?” Luke said churlishly.
The man turned around, regarding him with one arched and very elegant brown eyebrow. “Is this the home of a Mr. Luke Garrick?”
Luke disliked him on sight. The visitor was cool, impeccably attired and clearly well-to-do. None of th
is gave Luke the least clue as to what the guy was doing in his driveway, but he didn’t much care. Nor did he feel like being polite.
“A Mr. Luke Garrick?” he responded with sarcasm.
The man smiled. “Forgive me if that sounded rude. I only meant...are you Mr. Garrick? I know the address is right, but—” He broke off as though to say more would be indelicate.
Luke had a sudden vision of himself. When he first crawled out of bed, his hair had a tendency to stick straight up. He was also unshaven and his eyes felt gritty. Worse, he had on nothing but a pair of frayed shorts, whose zipper—he was afraid to glance down—he was pretty sure was only partway pulled up. No wonder the guy seemed dubious; he must look like some barefoot derelict on a street corner.
Luke shoved a hand into his pocket, then jerked it out again when it occurred to him that he might put stress on the zipper. Hoping to set the other man at an equal disadvantage, he widened the door so that Daffy could sidle out.
“So who wants to know?” he inquired as his faithful dog galloped over and shoved her nose into the visitor’s crotch.
The man handled himself well. Instead of stepping back, he stood very still, then slowly put out his hand, giving Daffy an alternative to sniff. Like a true lady, she took the proffered bait, shifting her attention to the long, manicured fingers. Her tongue slurped out. After a few seconds, the man transferred his hand to her ears, a tribute Daffy accepted with a smug look.
“The name’s Easton,” the man said, his eyes fixed on the dog. “Nick Easton. I’m looking for Alicia Brant.”
Luke felt as if a sledgehammer had just plowed into his stomach. For at least ten seconds, his brain went blank. “She’s mentioned you,” he said at last.
“Then you must be Luke.” Easton walked forward and extended his hand—the same hand Daffy had just finished licking. “It’s nice to meet you at last.”
Easy, Luke warned himself. This guy’s not competition, despite the expensive wheels. The car, he now realized, was a rental. He shook hands, but found he couldn’t smile. “When did you get here?”
