Stroke of Fortune

by Christine Rimmer

  Right now, well, there wasn’t much more than a powerful yearning that eleven months apart hadn’t done a thing to kill.

  “I’d imagine there’s not much more to say right now, is there?”

  “No, Mrs. Carson. I guess there’s not.”

  Grace handed her the baby and left, and Josie did her best to put their conversation from her mind.

  Flynt finally appeared in the baby’s room at a little after nine. Josie was just snapping Lena back into her sleeper after a diaper change.

  “Here,” he said. “Let me hold her.”

  Her silly heart going a mile a minute in pure gladness at the sight of him, Josie lifted the baby from the changing pad and passed her over.

  He put the little darling on his shoulder—and turned his back to Josie. “Go ahead. Take a break.”

  She stared at those broad shoulders, at the back of his head. Dismissed, she thought. I am dismissed—and after spending a whole day looking forward to seeing him. Not to mention after his mama almost offered me money to saddle up and get the heck out of Dodge.

  He turned then, in time to catch her crossing her eyes and sticking out her tongue at him. He blinked—and then he let out a laugh of pure surprise. That got her laughing, too.

  Too bad he grew serious again so darn fast. “Josie, listen…”

  She composed her expression. “All right. What?”

  “We’ve got to watch it.”

  “What, exactly, is ‘it’?”

  “You know what.”

  She did, of course. “Maybe you think we should watch it. I don’t happen to agree with you.”

  He turned from her again—but only to put Lena in her crib. Then he faced her once more. “We can’t be around each other too much. You’ve got to…keep your distance.”

  “Why?”

  He rubbed the back of his neck, as if the muscles there pained him. “You sure are full of ‘whys’ lately.”

  “Well, maybe I am. Maybe it’s time someone asked ‘why’ now and then, instead of just blindly letting things go on as they are. Things aren’t so good as they are. Or maybe you haven’t noticed.”

  “Things are the way they are. They’re not going to change.”

  “That’s right. They won’t. Not if you don’t let them.”

  “It’s not a matter of ‘letting.”’

  There was too much space between them. She decided to fix that. She took a step toward him, and another.

  “Stop, Josie. Stay right there.”

  “Why, Flynt Carson, you are afraid of me.”

  He muttered a low curse.

  She smiled. “Swearing is not going to save you.” She backed him against the baby’s crib and she got right up to him, right in his face.

  His hungry gaze met hers, then slid lower to lock on her mouth. “Back off, Josie.”

  “No, I will not. But you are lots bigger than me. I think you can get away—if you really want to.”

  She waited, giving him the chance to get clear of her if he meant to. He didn’t move. The warmth of him was all around her. The air seemed to hum and shimmer between them.

  She said, “Things are going to change, Flynt Carson. I’m going to see to it.”

  “No.” The word sounded wrung out of him.

  “Yes.”

  “Josie…” It was a plea.

  She showed no mercy. She pressed herself against him—oh, it felt just wonderful, to be this close to him again—and she tipped up her mouth for him to take.

  Desire hung on a thread for an endless second or two.

  And then, with a desperate moan, he yanked her close and lowered his mouth to cover hers.

  Eight

  Flynt’s mind kept giving orders: Stop. Let her go. Pull away. Now.

  But the rest of him refused to listen.

  He had her in his arms. Her sweet mouth was open under his. Her soft hands clutched his shoulders, all the captivating curves and hollows of her pressing against him, promising him everything—what he longed for, what he couldn’t forget, what he was never again to have.

  Unless…

  He pulled his mouth from hers—not far, just enough that he could say what needed saying into her beautiful, flushed face. “Josie, admit it. Admit it now. Say that Lena is—”

  She slid a soft hand between them, covering his lips. “No,” she whispered, her eyes so tender, the single word weighted with passionate regret. “Remember. You said you wouldn’t ask again. And honestly, there is no point in asking, not unless you’re ready to believe the answer when you hear it.”

  He just looked at her. She was right, and he knew it. There was no point in her telling him the same thing again.

  He closed his eyes, nodded. That soft hand slid away.

  Grasping her shoulders, he set her body back from his. “Go on to your room now,” he said, his voice thick with the hunger that wasn’t going to be satisfied. “I’ll stay with Lena awhile.”

  Josie showered and put on the big red T-shirt she liked to sleep in. Then she spent an hour or so at her computer, answering e-mails and checking out the Web sites of a few colleges that offered correspondence degrees. She planned to sign up for at least a course or two in the fall.

  About ten-thirty, she shut the computer down and reached for the mystery that waited in the corner of her desk. When she finally closed the book, it was six minutes short of midnight. She switched off the lamp.

  And then she just sat there in the dark, looking out over the moonlit garden, idly rubbing the pads of two fingers over her lips, remembering the feel of Flynt’s mouth there.

  Was she getting anywhere with him, really?

  It was so hard to tell. And it had only been one day, after all. One day. And one night.

  He’d already kissed her.

  That was a good sign, wasn’t it?

  Then again, to be totally truthful about what had happened, well, she’d pretty much thrown herself at him. Just pushed herself right into his arms and shoved her mouth up under his.

  He’d taken it from there.

  Oh, my goodness, had he ever. The only thing wrong with that kiss had been the length of it: much too short.

  Josie leaned back in her desk chair and stretched. Lena usually woke around two or so. If Josie went to bed right now she could get a couple of hours’ sleep before—

  Josie blinked and stood from the chair. She leaned on the desk and craned close to the window.

  She could have sworn…

  Yes. There was someone down there—two people. A man leading a woman along the garden path. They paused. For a moment, the two shadows merged into one. Josie sighed. A kiss, a passionate one.

  And also brief. Now the man was stepping back, grabbing the woman’s hand again, leading her away.

  The woman seemed to hesitate. The man turned back, said something, and a shaft of moonlight fell across his face.

  Matt. Flynt’s younger brother.

  Josie smiled. How sweet. Matt and his special lady. A secret meeting in the garden in the middle of the night. Matt urged the woman onward, deeper into the shadows of the greenery. Josie, her romantic heart beating a little faster for them, leaned right up to the glass, not even pausing to think that, should one of the lovers look toward the window, her own face might very well be seen, floating ghostlike, just beyond the glass.

  The woman paused again briefly and slanted a nervous look over her shoulder, the moon lighting her face as it had that of her lover. Something must have drawn her eye upward, for all at once, she was looking straight at Josie’s window. For one split second, the woman’s eyes locked with Josie’s. Josie gasped as recognition dawned.

  Then Matt pulled his lady into the shadows, and the two disappeared around a bend in the path.

  Josie remembered to breathe. She sank into her chair again and stared at her dark computer screen, shaking her head in disbelief.

  The woman Matt had kissed in the garden worked at the Mission Creek Library. She and Josie often exchanged ho
w-are-you’s when Josie dropped in to pick out another big stack of books.

  Her given name was Rose.

  And her last name was Wainwright.

  Josie might have told Flynt what she’d seen in the garden in the middle of the night.

  But after the toe-curling kiss in the baby’s room, he decided to avoid her for two days running. By then, it was Friday. At 6:00 p.m., Grace relieved her for her weekend off.

  That gave her time to think the situation over.

  Really, she couldn’t predict how he might react if she told him she’d seen his brother kissing a Wainwright. As a Carson, Flynt would be way too likely to mess everything up for the lovers.

  Josie didn’t want that. She felt kind of… What was the word? Proprietary. Yes. She felt proprietary and protective toward Matt and Rose. She knew their secret. But no one was getting it out of her. They were bucking generations of senseless hatred and bad blood and Josie was one hundred percent on their side. The way she saw it, if a Carson and a Wainwright had found love together, well, more power to them.

  Flynt said things would never change. To him, Carsons and Wainwrights would forever be enemies—and he had blown his chance at love and happiness and did not deserve another.

  Josie thought otherwise. To her mind, a person had to think otherwise. If change wasn’t possible, why not give it all up now? There’d be no point in going on.

  By the first Sunday in June, four days after the kiss and three days into Flynt finding an excuse to leave any room Josie happened to be in, she decided she’d had about enough of his running away from her.

  She returned from her mother’s house at six that evening. She had a pretty good idea he’d be stopping in to see the baby at some point. He’d probably do what he’d done Thursday night—wait until Josie left the nursery before going in. So she tricked him. She put Lena to bed and she turned off the light and sat there in the rocker in the dark, facing the door.

  It took him an hour, but he came at last, hesitating in the doorway, as if he sensed a trap. The hall light behind him outlined his tall body, leaving the front in shadow so she couldn’t see his face.

  But he saw her. “Damn it, Josie.”

  She stood. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

  He swore again.

  She went to him in the doorway and looked up into his shadowed face. “I want to talk to you.”

  “It’s not a good idea.” He started to turn.

  She caught his hand. “Wait.”

  He froze.

  Josie twined her fingers with his. He allowed her to do that—not that he gave her a reassuring squeeze or anything, but he didn’t yank away. She would think of that as a good sign.

  “Please,” she whispered. “Let me say what I have to say.”

  She could feel his eyes on her, studying her. Finally he agreed. “All right.”

  “Come on.” She slid around him, keeping hold of his hand. “Let’s go where we won’t wake the baby.” She tugged him toward the double doors of the sitting room across the hall.

  Should he have let her drag him into the other room? Probably not. But Flynt found himself going where she led him, anyway.

  Once she got him there, she let go of his hand. He moved toward the sofa and she paused at the doors to make certain they were both firmly shut.

  Flynt switched on a floor lamp at the end of the sofa, then turned as Josie came toward him. God, she was beautiful. She wore flared jeans that hugged her hips and a snug little shirt with cap sleeves. The lamplight gleamed off her pale, straight hair. Those green eyes were focused on his face and the look in them was way too knowing. She kept coming, until she was right next to him and he caught the tempting scent of her.

  He gestured at the sofa beside them, waited until she sat down and then moved away and took one of the two velvet wing chairs on the other side of the big coffee table.

  They regarded each other. He was frowning, but a soft smile curved that mouth of hers. Her eyes gently reproached him for his little trick of luring her to the couch—and then not staying there to sit beside her.

  She stated the obvious. “The past few days you’ve been avoiding me.”

  He answered with caution. “It seemed like the best way to handle things.”

  “Why?”

  He felt his frown deepen to a scowl. Why? was her favorite question lately. She seemed to ask it every chance she got.

  He was tired of responding to it. Especially since she never accepted the answers he gave her, anyway.

  She must have seen that he intended to stonewall on that one. She spoke again. “You’re planning to ask me to marry you, right? As soon as you get the paternity test results.”

  He almost blinked. But not quite. “Got it all figured out, huh?”

  “Pretty much. Right now you’re denying yourself. And me. I guess it makes you feel noble to do that, right?” He saw no need to reply. So he didn’t. She went right on, anyway. “Well, I don’t see any real point in your staying away from me. Especially if you’re thinking that we’re going to get married soon. It makes no sense. It’s just plain dumb.”

  “Thanks for your input. Is that it?”

  “No.”

  “What else, then?”

  “I think it’s pretty obvious. I want you to stop avoiding me.” Now she was frowning, leaning forward across the coffee table.

  He found himself thinking back on what she’d said a minute ago. About them getting married as soon as the test results came through. He realized this could be progress they were making here. “Just a minute. Is this your roundabout way of telling me that you’re Lena’s—”

  She was shaking her head. “Don’t even say it. You know what we agreed.”

  He told himself to ignore his own disappointment. She was right. They did have an understanding and he ought to abide by it. “Fine.”

  She said, “I just think, well, I hate to see us waste this time. Time is precious, Flynt. Most people don’t realize how precious until most of it is gone.” She had a pair of canvas sneakers on her feet, the kind with thick soles and round toes. Right then she leaned her elbows on her knees and stared down at those sneakers, as if the answer to some important question might have been scrawled across the tops of them.

  He looked at those pretty, slim hands, folded between her knees, at the crown of her white-gold head, at the soft curve of her cheek. The desire to reach across the table and lay his palm against that cheek was so powerful right then, he almost gave in to it.

  But she lifted her head just in time. “Maybe I shouldn’t have got in your face like that the other night.”

  He didn’t quite follow. “Got in my face?”

  “You know, trapped you up against the baby’s crib, practically forced you to kiss me.”

  That did amuse him. A low rumble of a laugh escaped him.

  “Don’t laugh at me.” She pulled her shoulders back and stuck her chin in the air. “Please.”

  “Laughing? Who’s laughing?”

  “Oh, very funny.” She stood—and then couldn’t seem to decide where to go from there, so she dropped onto the couch again. “I know you think you’re some big macho guy, that there is no way I could force you to kiss me. And you’re right. There isn’t. But I do know how you feel about me. It’s the same way I feel about you. It’s pretty powerful.”

  He opened his mouth to argue that point. And then he shut it without saying a word. Why deny what they both knew to be achingly true? He wanted her. She wanted him. It wasn’t news to either of them.

  She went on, “I understand, I truly do, that you don’t want to give in to how you feel about me right now. And I ought to respect that. I want you to know that I will respect that, from now on.”

  He wanted to kiss her so bad, it hurt. “You will?”

  She nodded. “I just want us to have a little time, you know? To talk. To laugh together. To enjoy each other’s company. If you think about it, we’ve never done that. I’ve been your housekeeper an
d for one night, I was your lover. Now I’m Lena’s nanny. And that could be a good thing.”

  “I never said it wasn’t.”

  “I mean, we could use this time, if we were smart. I’m right here, in your private wing of this house—for a little while, anyway. If you’d only stop treating me like I’ve got some scary contagious disease, we could start getting to know each other better.”

  He had to admit she had a point.

  She was right about something else, too. He did intend to marry her—as soon as she could bring herself to admit the truth about Lena.

  He cleared his throat. “Well,” he said.

  “Yeah?” She leaned even closer, so damned adorably eager.

  “I don’t see anything wrong with what you’re suggesting.”

  Her face seemed to glow from within. “You don’t?”

  “No. It makes sense to me.”

  She sat up straight again. “Well, good—no, better than good. Great.” She stuck out her hand.

  He realized she wanted him to shake on it.

  Why not?

  He reached across the coffee table and took her hand in his.

  Nine

  After their talk in the sitting room on Sunday night, Flynt stopped avoiding Josie. He came to the baby’s room twice the next day. They did just what she had asked for. They talked. They played with Lena.

  Monday night they had dinner together while Lena napped. Flynt had a table set up in the sitting room. They had prime Carson beef, new potatoes and asparagus.

  He found he thoroughly enjoyed Josie’s company. He’d always known she was bright, but he’d never realized what a pleasure it could be just to sit and talk with her. She asked incisive questions and she had her own opinions, which she rarely hesitated to share.

  He enjoyed that meal so much, he suggested they do the same thing on Tuesday night.

  Josie smiled at the invitation. “Flynt Carson, I was starting to think you were never going to ask.”