“You think I want that? You and the kids mean the world to me. The world.”
“So, what? We wait this out?”
“You got a better idea?”
He dropped his head back and stared at the ceiling. “No.”
“Okay. Well, I need to get back to work. And you’re probably swamped, too.” She took a step away. “I’ll see you later.”
“Sure.”
She glanced over her shoulder as she left. Michael had already swiveled to face the desk. If anything, his shoulders looked even more tight and hunched.
Good one. Way to go.
What else should she have done? Let him fester in his misguided guilt? Let him go on thinking that he was some kind of freak for having a perfectly understandable response to a difficult, tragic situation?
She stopped in the hallway and pressed her palms to her face, trying to clear her head of the many confusing thoughts and feelings whirling through it. It was useless, however, and she was just as confused and unsettled when she returned to her studio.
She picked up the ring she’d been working on, but her mind kept throwing up the image of Michael’s tense posture. If only there was something she could do to help him…
You can. Stay away from him. Keep your distance. Let this thing die a quick, painless death.
It was the right answer, the only answer—and she hated herself for the little stab of disappointment she felt at the idea of having to distance herself from him.
Which proved that the voice in her head was right.
* * *
MICHAEL WROTE A NOTE on the blueprint. The balance between the two wings of the Watsons’ beach house was all wrong. He needed to chat with them and—
Who was he kidding? Approximately ten percent of his brain was focused on the plans in front of him. The other ninety percent was reviewing what Angie had told him.
She was attracted to him, too. She’d been turned on by his sexy dream. She refused to feel guilty about something she viewed as almost inevitable, given their proximity and involvement in each other’s lives. She firmly believed that this, too, would pass and that their friendship would endure.
He hoped like hell she was right, because the part that was stuck in his imagination like peanut butter was the turned-on part. Not the part about their friendship enduring. Not the part about him feeling guilty or not guilty—to his shame. All he could think about was Angie wanting him. Angie being aroused by the notion that he’d dreamed about sex. Angie looking at him and thinking the same things he’d been thinking about her.
Bloody hell.
He rested his head in his hands. When it came to sex, what turned him on had always been pretty vanilla by today’s standards—sex with a willing woman who meant something to him. He’d never felt guilty or conflicted about his own needs and desires, even when he was married. Until now.
He didn’t want to want Angie. He didn’t want his wife’s best friend to be the object of his sexual attraction. But there Angie was, lodged in his brain in the slot marked sex. He’d seen her in her underwear. He’d held the delicate silk of her bra in his hand. He’d listened to her talk about sex. He’d imagined her naked, looking at him with smoky, knowing eyes. He’d gotten hard over her. He was hard now, thinking about the dangerous, dangerous possibility her confession laid before him.
Because if she wanted him, and he wanted her, and they were both consenting adults, what was to stop them from acting on their needs, wants and desires?
Because you both love Billie. Because it would make a lie of everything you shared with her if you rushed into her best friend’s arms. Because you have never been the kind of asshole who was led around by his dick.
The tension leaked out of his body as he answered his own question. Nothing would happen between him and Angie. He wasn’t that guy, and she wasn’t that woman. They both loved and respected Billie too much to betray her with some muddy, grubby affair.
It was a relief to have drawn the line so clearly in his own mind. It didn’t stop him from feeling guilty at having gone there in the first place, but it helped. It helped a lot.
He stood and went to check on Charlie, aware that it had been twenty minutes and his son had been ominously silent. He found him where he’d left him—in his room, still playing with his train set. Charlie’s expression was one of rapt attention as he guided an engine over a suspension bridge, his small, chubby fingers clenched tightly around the diecast metal.
“You okay in here, matey?” Michael asked.
Charlie glanced at him distractedly. “Train go choo-choo.”
“I know. Pretty cool, hey?”
Charlie nodded, his mouth curving into a grin that was pure Billie. Guilt and grief tangled in a hard knot in Michael’s chest.
How could he even think of himself when he had Charlie and Eva to look after? How could Michael even consider being with another woman the way he’d been with Billie? Even if that person was Angie? Especially if that person was Angie?
He dropped to his knees and reached for one of the many carriages that lay abandoned beside the track.
“How about we take things up a notch?” he suggested.
* * *
ANGIE WORKED HARD TO AVOID being with Michael as much as possible over the next two weeks. It wasn’t too difficult, since it was obvious he was doing the same with her. When the kids were in the room, she had no trouble meeting his eyes or responding to his jokes—being normal, in other words. But the moment it was only the two of them the conversation they’d had in his study took center stage and she could barely look at him without thinking about all the things she’d banished from her mind.
Like how good he smelled.
And the way he filled out his suit.
And the way his mouth kicked up at the corner when he was trying not to smile.
Every time they were alone, she headed for her studio or her car or the bathroom and gave herself a severe talking-to. He never tried to stop her, never addressed the elephant in the room. They had said all that needed to be said. They were enduring now. Waiting for normal services to resume.
Even though she tried like hell to ensure that their new distance didn’t affect the children, Eva picked up on the fact that Angie was spending less and less time around the house.
“You’re never here anymore,” she complained as Angie prepared to leave on Friday night.
Angie couldn’t help herself—her gaze darted from Eva’s confused, hurt expression to Michael’s face before coming back to her godchild again. “Sure I am,” she said after a slightly too long pause. “I’m here every day.”
“But you never have dinner with us. And the other night when I asked you to watch the movie with us you said you had to go. And on the weekend when I asked Daddy if you could come roller skating with us he said you were too busy and that I couldn’t bother you.”
Michael moved forward, almost as though he was going to physically intervene in the conversation in some way.
“Sweetheart, it’s a busy time, that’s all.” Angie slid an arm around Eva’s shoulders. “But maybe you and I could go shopping again soon. Or go check out a movie?”
Eva looked at her, her eyes still clouded with concern. “Is that a promise?”
“Absolutely. We can make a date right now, if you like.” Angie looked to Michael, raising her eyebrows in question. “When would suit you?”
He glanced at the calendar on the fridge. “We’re going to the beach tomorrow with one of Eva’s friends. But there’s nothing booked for Sunday. And all of next week is free.”
“Then how does Sunday sound?” Angie suggested.
“Good.”
“Then it’s a date. I’ll pick you up at two, okay?”
“Okay. Awesome, Auntie Angie.” Eva beamed at her, throw
ing her arms around Angie’s waist.
Angie bent to drop a kiss on the top of her head. “It will be awesome.” She very carefully didn’t look at Michael as Eva ended their embrace. “I’ll see you all later.”
Angie half expected him to follow her to the door, but he didn’t. She paused on the porch.
She missed the easiness and comfort of their old relationship. She missed him.
Well, suck it up. Maybe it’s a good thing that you’re realizing how much you’ve relied on him. He’s got his own life and you’ve got yours. And that’s the way it should be.
She drove home and spent the evening cleaning out her closet. She slept heavily and woke to the phone ringing the next morning. She saw with some astonishment that it was past ten—way past her usual waking time—and she groped on her bedside table for the receiver.
“Hello?”
“It’s me. Michael.”
She fell back onto her pillows. “Hi.” Her voice caught and she cleared her throat. “Let me try that again. Hi.”
“Did I wake you?” He sounded surprised.
“Sort of. But I needed to get up.”
“You’re busy, then?”
His voice always sounded deeper over the phone. Richer, the bass more pronounced.
“What, today, you mean?”
“Yes.”
Where was this conversation going? “I have a few things I should probably do. Like washing and cleaning and whatnot. Why?”
“We’re going to the beach today, and Eva asked me if you could come, too.”
She waited for him to say more but he didn’t. As invitations went, it wasn’t the most enthusiastic she’d received. But she knew why that was the case. A part of her didn’t like it, but most of her knew that Michael’s reluctance to spend a day with her was wise.
“It’s probably not a great idea. Right?”
She could hear the thread of hope in her own voice and she winced. Could she be any more conflicted and torn and pathetic?
“It’s up to you. I know the kids would be happy to have you along.”
“It’s not just up to me. You know that.”
“What do you want me to say? That I want you to come, too?”
Yes.
“No.”
He sighed, the sound loud down the line. “This is so messed up.”
“No kidding.”
“Come to the beach, Angie. I miss you. The kids miss you. Like you said the other day, it’s not as though we’ll leap on each other like sex-crazed maniacs. We’re both rational adults. We can handle this.”
She didn’t give herself time to think. She wanted to go. She wanted a day with Michael and the kids. Maybe that made her a bad, weak-willed, evil person, but so be it.
“Okay. Should I come to you or do you want to swing by and pick me up?”
“We were thinking of going to Edithvale,” Michael said, naming a suburban beach halfway around the curve of Port Philip Bay.
“Then I’ll come to you, otherwise you’ll have to double back. Give me forty minutes or so and I’ll be there.”
She ended the call and lay for a moment, thinking about the day ahead. Sun, surf, Michael, the kids… It would be good, and it would also be a chance for her and Michael to prove they could handle this…situation without having to resort to almost-estrangement.
A little voice in the back of her mind spoke up pointing out that all her justifications were exactly that—excuses for doing what she wanted and spending time with Michael.
Nothing is going to happen. I won’t let it. But surely there’s no harm in us spending a day together at the beach?
She didn’t let the voice resurface with more arguments—she rolled out of bed and hit the shower and pawed through her chest of drawers until she reached the tangled pile of her swimsuits. Because she wasn’t a fool or a tease, she chose her most conservative suit, a black two-piece with a boy-leg bottom and a halter-neck tankini top. It wasn’t exactly Victorian, but it wasn’t a little bitty bikini, either.
She slathered sunscreen on all the bits she could reach, grabbed a hat and pulled on a pair of black capri pants. A change of clothes, her sunglasses, sunscreen, her beach towel and a book went into her bag and she headed for the door.
Michael’s Audi was in the driveway, all four doors open when she arrived. Eva bounced out of the house as Angie made her way up the drive.
“I told Daddy you’d come if he asked,” she said triumphantly.
“You were right.”
“I’m helping pack the car.”
“Good girl.”
Eva turned and headed into the house, while Angie walked to the car. The rear cargo section was already piled with a stack of beach towels, a beach ball, blow-up water wings, a baby change bag and a folding beach shade. Angie added her own bag, wedging it into the farthest corner. When she stepped back Michael was approaching with a blue plastic cooler.
“That looks heavy.”
“So it should. It has enough food and drink in it to feed a small army.” He was wearing a pair of colorful board shorts, his strong shoulders and arms on display thanks to a black tank top. His biceps flexed, bulging impressively as he hefted the cooler and slid it into the remaining empty space.
For the first time it hit her that today might be more complicated than she’d imagined. Somehow, she’d glossed over the fact that Michael would most likely be bare-chested for the bulk of the day when she’d weighed up her options.
Not something that was easy to ignore with him standing in front of her, six foot one of strapping, muscular man in his prime.
“Right. That’s it for supplies. Now we just need to buckle the kids in, pick up Greta and we’re away,” Michael said, hands on his hips as he considered the rear of the car.
“I’ll get the kids.” She headed for the house, pleased to have a task. Especially one that wouldn’t involve her having to look at Michael’s muscular, lightly haired calves.
She hustled the kids to the car. Michael locked up and they hit the road, detouring to pick up Eva’s friend Greta before heading for the beach.
Angie kept her gaze front and center as they drove, one ear on the girls’ chatter, the rest of her resolutely refusing to notice the way Michael’s thigh muscles flexed every time he hit the brake. They were lucky enough to find a parking spot near the beach. Angie herded the kids onto the sand while Michael made three trips to the car to transfer their gear.
“Right. Let’s set up the shelter,” he said once he’d dumped the last load.
Angie followed his lead, mimicking his moves to set up her side of the sunshade frame before they attached the cloth. Eva and Greta immediately claimed the prime spots, stripping down to their bikini bottoms and Lycra sun protection shirts.
“We’re going for a swim,” Eva announced, ready to run for the water.
“A few rules first.” Michael told the girls they were to only swim where he could see them and that they were not to go deeper than their waists. Then he made them put on their hats and smeared zinc cream onto their noses and across their cheeks. Angie did the same for Charlie, tying his floppy terry-cloth hat beneath his chin as the girls scampered to the water.
“I don’t like the chances of that staying on long,” Angie said doubtfully as Charlie immediately began pulling at the ties.
“We can but try.”
Angie handed Charlie a spade and bucket before popping the stud on her capri pants and shedding them. She was very aware of Michael in her peripheral vision and she knew the exact moment he looked away. She told herself it was a good thing and plonked her own hat on then led Charlie down to the wet sand to help him build castles.
The day slipped by beneath a clear blue sky. The girls swam, dried off and then swam again. Angie built castles and d
ug moats with Charlie and watched fondly as he destroyed them all like a pint-size Godzilla. Michael called them all to the sunshade for sandwiches, fruit and juice boxes and more sunscreen, then the girls hit the water yet again.
Charlie was tired after a morning of wreaking havoc on his self-made sand metropolis and he lay down on Angie’s towel and fell asleep with his thumb in his mouth.
With the girls gone and Charlie asleep, it was the first time she and Michael had been alone all day. Angie looped her arms around her knees and gazed at the shimmering ocean. All around them were families and couples basking in the hot Australian sun. The sound of laughter and conversation and the smell of suntan lotion drifted along the breeze. Beside her, Michael stirred restlessly.
“I might take a dip,” he said after a long, uncomfortable silence.
“Okay.”
He stood. She made the mistake of glancing at him as he pulled up his tank top. He’d put on a bit of the weight he’d lost but he was still lean and his belly and chest muscles rippled invitingly as he dragged the top over his head. Angie swallowed audibly and dragged her gaze away.
Was it hot on the beach or was it just her?
It shouldn’t be you. And you know it.
As always, guilt came hard on the heels of desire, a one-two punch that was becoming only too familiar.
“Won’t be too long,” Michael said.
She murmured something noncommittal, then made a big deal of checking on Charlie as Michael walked to the water’s edge. She couldn’t stop herself from watching him wade into the water, however. His board shorts got progressively darker as he went deeper, clinging damply to his hips and backside before he dived beneath an incoming wave and momentarily disappeared from sight. When he surfaced, his chest and shoulders gleamed in the bright sun. He wiped water from his eyes and pushed his hair off his forehead. Then, as though he could feel her avid, intent gaze, his head turned toward shore and they locked eyes across fifteen meters of sand and surf.
For a heartbeat she stared and knew that he knew exactly what she’d been thinking. What she’d been wanting. He was the one who looked away, breaking their connection, something which only increased the guilt weighing on her shoulders.
Within Reach Page 14
