After ten minutes she’d narrowed her choices down to a big, cuddly bear that looked as though it would be a long-lasting childhood companion and a set of beautifully made children’s cutlery. Then her eye was caught by a dollhouse display across the aisle. She drew closer, unable to stop herself.
“Oh, wow. The chandeliers even have little wooden candles,” she said, peering inside the house.
A classic two up, two down model, it featured a central staircase, peaked roof and Victorian fittings. She took in the self-striped wallpaper, the wainscoting, the perfectly proportioned settee and armchair and mantelpiece and shook her head in wonder.
“I think this is nicer than any real house I’ve ever lived in,” she said, awestruck by the attention to detail.
Harry gave it an assessing glance. “No garage, though.”
“Shocking, I know.”
A saleswoman zeroed in on them, professional smile in place. “Beautiful, isn’t it? They come in kit form and you can pick and choose which accessories you want. We even have a selection of wallpapers for you to choose from.”
Pippa smiled and took a step back. Even before the woman had opened her mouth she knew that she would never in a million years be able to afford to buy a dollhouse like this. Harry, however, ran an assessing hand over the rooftop. He ducked his head to inspect the inside more closely.
“How much did you say it was?” he asked, glancing across at the saleswoman.
“The kit itself is four hundred. The furniture starts at twenty and goes up.”
Pippa raised her eyebrows. Good God, did people really spend that much money on a kids’ toy that would be bashed around, drawn on and abused for a few years, and then disdainfully ignored as its young owner outgrew it?
“Alice is a little too young for that kind of thing yet,” she said diplomatically.
Harry circled the display to check out the rear of the house and Pippa gave the stroller a little push to keep Alice pacified.
“If your husband is the handy type, we have plans for dollhouses, too. Not quite as elaborate, but still very nice.”
Pippa blinked, taken by surprise by the woman’s words. She glanced across at Harry to see if he’d heard, an embarrassed laugh rising in her throat. He was busy reading the back of one of the accessory packs, apparently oblivious to what the woman had said.
“There are also some less elaborate dollhouses in the next aisle, if he’s not handy. Although he looks as though he might be.” The saleswoman gave a little titter.
Pippa opened her mouth to explain that Harry wasn’t her husband—far from it—but the phone rang at the front of the store and the woman laid a hand on Pippa’s arm apologetically.
“Excuse me, will you, but I need to get that.”
Pippa shut her mouth with a click as the woman bustled off, stifling the urge to go after her and force the truth on her. It was no big deal, after all, if some nameless woman in the local toy store made a mistaken assumption about her and Harry. No one would ever know, it didn’t mean anything.
Pippa stole a glance at Harry, worried he might have overheard the conversation after all and thought she’d deliberately let the woman maintain her assumption. He’d moved on to inspect the Nerf gun display, looking like a big kid as he considered the colorful boxes and brightly colored guns. She couldn’t help smiling at his absorption. Boys and their toys.
Her smile faded as she imagined how they must have looked to the sales assistant—her and Alice and Harry, gathered together like a little unit. It wasn’t impossible to see them as a family, even though Alice was blond and blue-eyed and Harry and she were so dark.
For a dangerous few seconds the image held in her mind. Then she shook her head and it dissolved and reality reasserted itself.
“Sex, sex, sex,” she muttered under her breath, turning away.
Maybe she did need to get those T-shirts made, after all.
After a moment’s determined concentration, she settled on the teddy bear, deciding that cutlery was too dull a present for Alice’s first Christmas. The saleswoman gave her a bright smile as they approached the cash register.
“He’s a lovely bear, isn’t he? Is it for your little one?”
“Yes.” Pippa bit her lip anxiously, dreading the woman making another reference to Harry as her husband. This time Pippa would leap all over her the minute the word was out of her mouth. She didn’t want Harry thinking she was starting to get ideas. God, that was the last thing either of them needed.
She was on tenterhooks for the full two minutes it took the other woman to ring up the sale, but the h-word didn’t pass the saleswoman’s lips again and soon they were stepping out into the bright afternoon sun. Lifting her face to the warmth, Pippa let the tension go.
Stupid to get so wound up over an easy mistake that was essentially meaningless.
She put the incident behind her and managed to get almost all her shopping done before they returned home midafternoon. Harry amused Alice while Pippa did some laundry, then she found herself inviting him to stay for dinner. By ten they were dozing on the couch, tangled in one another’s arms while Alice slept on her rug on the floor.
Pippa wasn’t sure what woke her—a noise from Alice, a dog barking outside—but she stirred, rubbing her cheek against Harry’s T-shirt-covered chest. He smelled so good. Felt so good, too. Like a big, warm rock.
She smiled at the image, then turned her head and pressed a kiss to his chest, aware even as she did so that she wouldn’t have dared such a purely affectionate gesture last week. Somehow, she’d dropped her guard where little things like that were concerned. In the same way that she’d never quite got around to kicking him out of her bed every night this week, either.
She frowned, but before she could start to overanalyze things Harry stirred, his chest expanding as he took a deep breath and stretched his arms overhead.
“What time is it?”
“Just past ten.”
“Hmmm. Why are you still dressed?”
She snorted out a laugh and let her concerns slide away. She could worry later. Right now, she had bigger, hotter things to occupy herself with.
“It’s a good question. I could ask the same of you.”
His hands closed around her upper arms as he pulled her higher on the couch so he could kiss her. She lifted her leg and draped it over his hip, arching her back so her breasts pressed against his chest.
“I haven’t made out on the couch since I was a teenager,” she murmured as he broke their kiss.
“The way I remember it, there are rules for the couch. Hands outside clothes, in case your mum comes in.”
“Like you respected that rule,” she scoffed.
His laugh was a rumble in his chest as his hand slid onto her breast. He caressed her through the fabric of her dress, plucking at her nipples then soothing them with his palm. She rode his knee and rubbed her hand along the hard length of his erection through his jeans.
After twenty minutes she was feeling more than a little frustrated and horny.
“I don’t remember it being this frustrating,” she said.
“That’s because you know what comes next now. Back then it was a voyage of discovery.”
He slid a hand under her skirt and up her thigh, fingers gliding over her skin. She gave a little moan of appreciation as his fingers dipped between her thighs. She knew what he’d find there—damp silk and lots of heat. She pressed herself into his hand shamelessly, urging him on.
“What if your mum comes?” he whispered against the soft skin of her neck.
“Oddly, not really thinking about my mum right now. And if anyone’s going to come…”
He laughed again, his fingers stroking her through her panties. She shuddered her approval.
“You’ve done this before, haven’t you?”
“Not like this.” There was a serious undertone to his words.
She wondered what he was implying. That sex was different with her? Or was she reading too
much into three little words? Was he simply playing along with their silly, nostalgic little game?
Her breath caught in her throat as he slipped his fingers beneath the elastic of her underwear.
“You are so hot…” he murmured.
The sound of glass smashing nearly sent her rolling off the couch. Harry pushed her to one side and shot to his feet, instantly on the alert.
“What was that? Was that out in the street?” she said, dragging her dress down.
He grabbed his boots and jammed his feet inside. “Yeah. That was out in the street.”
His face was tight, his jaw set as he straightened and headed for the hall. Alice started to cry, startled by the sudden activity. Pippa scooped her up and went after Harry, alarm making her movements tight and jerky.
“Harry… Don’t go out there. I’ll call the police if there’s a problem.”
Frankston was a tough neighborhood, with more than its fair share of problems. Street violence was common, especially on the weekends when the young men of the area had been drinking heavily. Every week there was a report in the local paper of property damage or a bashing or stabbing.
Harry was already flinging the front door open and flicking on the outside light. He stepped onto the porch, an intimidating silhouette. Pippa ran the last few meters, Alice clutched to her chest.
“Harry—”
The rest of her warning died in her throat as she stepped onto the porch and saw the man standing on her front lawn, baseball bat in hand.
“You know what you are? You’re a freakin’ liar,” Steve yelled.
He strode toward Harry’s Monaro, arms swinging back. The baseball bat came down in a crushing arc, smashing into the rear passenger window. The sound of glass breaking echoed around the street, as loud as a gunshot.
Pippa reached out with her spare hand to grip the back of Harry’s T-shirt. His back was as hard as a rock and she could feel the adrenaline surging through him.
Dear God. This would not be good.
Harry twisted to face her, resting his hand on her shoulder.
“It’s okay. I’ll calm him down and send him home.”
She transferred her grip to the front of his T-shirt. “He’s drunk. He could do anything, Harry.”
“I can handle him.” He eased away from her, forcing her to let him go.
He dropped a quick kiss onto her mouth before descending the stairs.
Steve smiled in triumph when he saw him coming, resting the bat on his shoulder. “Ready to spin more bullshit for me, Harry?”
“I never lied to you.”
“You said you hadn’t touched her.”
“When I said that, I hadn’t. You need to put the bat down and go home, mate. Before someone calls the cops.”
Lights were starting to turn on in the street. The neighbors came out onto their front porch in their dressing gowns, faces concerned. Pippa spared them a quick glance before returning her focus to Harry.
“You threatening me?” Steve lifted the bat from his shoulder, his expression belligerent.
Pippa held her breath, terrified things were about to spiral out of control. This was so horribly crazy. Like a scene from a movie.
“How many people do you think heard you smash the car window?” Harry gestured toward the street, indicating the rubbernecking neighbors.
Steve glanced around, taking in their growing audience, his brow furrowed. He was very drunk, Pippa realized. It was probably a miracle he was still standing.
Steve aimed the end of the bat at Harry, sighting down the length of wood as though it were the barrel of a rifle. “You’re supposed to be on my side. You’re supposed to be my mate, you disloyal prick.”
“I am your mate.”
Steve shook his head. “No. You sold me out, you bastard. You sold me out.”
“What is this, high school? No one’s taking sides. You’re just too pissed to see it.”
Steve jabbed the bat in the direction of the house. “She stitched me up. You know she did. She stitched me up and you don’t give a shit because she wiggled her ass at you and all you can do is think with your dick.”
There was so much anger in his voice. Pippa tightened her grip on Alice, instinctively resting her hand on the back of her daughter’s head, as though the small gesture could protect Alice from her father’s rage.
“She got pregnant. It was an accident. You think you’re such a catch she’d go to all that trouble for you?” Harry countered.
Steve swayed on his feet, his angry snarl dissolving into confusion as he tried to process Harry’s words.
“Mate, go home,” Harry said quietly. “Better yet, I’ll take you home.”
Pippa tensed as Harry held out his hand for the bat. When Steve didn’t immediately object, Harry risked taking a step closer. He was about to close his hand around the end of the bat when Steve took a jerky step backward, snatching the bat away, his chin coming up. Pippa forgot to breathe again.
“I’m not going anywhere with you, you lying asshole.”
Pippa caught the faint, far-off sound of a police siren in the distance. One of the neighbors must have called the police. Something she should have done the minute she realized what was going on.
Harry glanced toward her and she knew he’d heard the sirens, too, and understood what they meant.
Steve would end up in court over this.
Shame and grief and anger churned in her belly. How on earth had she ever lain down with this man? What was wrong with her that she hadn’t seen the ugliness and weakness that was on rampant display here tonight?
Her gaze shifted from Steve’s tense form to Harry’s. Any second now things were about to get physical. She could feel the violence in the air, like the crackle of electricity. Adrenaline and fear coursed through her. Harry might be hurt. Steve wasn’t even close to being rational. If he got worked up…
Alice squirmed in her arms and Pippa realized she was holding her too tightly. She relaxed her grip a little and let out her breath and reminded herself that Harry knew Steve. They’d grown up together. Gone to school together. Come of age together. If anyone knew how to handle Steve when he was like this, it was Harry.
They were practically twins under the skin, they had so much in common.
Pippa stilled as the thought echoed in her mind. Her whole body tensed as realization washed over her, chilling in its awful clarity.
Because she’d done it all over again—fallen for the wrong man. It was such a sudden, startling, brutal revelation she closed her eyes.
She’d been so determined to never be that woman again—that stupid, delusional, self-defeating woman. It had all been so clear in her mind in those first, ugly days when she’d understood that she would be raising her unborn child on her own. She’d thought it was a lesson that had been etched in her bones. Hard-won self-knowledge that would serve her a lifetime.
And yet she’d spent the past month flirting and laughing and having sheet-searing sex with a man who was Steve’s spiritual brother in more ways than she cared to count. Worse than that—if that wasn’t bad enough—she’d sold herself on the relationship by telling herself it was all about sex and fun, while secretly she’d been harboring white-picket fantasies about Harry.
Treasuring those small moments when he was gentle and attentive with Alice.
Basking in his easy, ready affection.
Allowing him to invade every corner of her life. Her house, her bed, her mind.
Allowing herself to imagine she and Harry and Alice as a family, a little unit, the three of them against the world.
All of this with a man who was roguish and charming and utterly, utterly incapable of being the kind of man she needed him to be.
Just like Steve.
You idiot. You stupid, stupid, foolish woman.
Down on the lawn, the standoff came to a crashing end as Harry feinted to the left, then lunged forward and grabbed the business end of the bat. He yanked on it, hard, and Steve stagger
ed off balance. Quick as lightning Harry pulled the bat from his grasp, tossing it behind him, well out of Steve’s reach.
“Now—” Harry said.
Pippa screamed a warning, but it was too late, Steve’s swinging fist had already connected with Harry’s right cheek. His head snapped back on his neck and he staggered. Dumb instinct told Pippa to go to him and she actually took a step forward before she caught herself. She had Alice to think of. She couldn’t go throwing herself between two angry men.
She quickly saw that Harry didn’t need her to throw herself anywhere; he easily dodged Steve’s second punch, shoving the other man in the side to send him sprawling. Steve scrambled to his feet and came at Harry again, swinging wildly. Harry sidestepped him, pushing him as he passed and sending him to the ground a second time.
Steve pushed himself to his feet, swearing black and blue. The police sirens grew in intensity. Pippa willed them to arrive now so this nightmare could be over.
“Cops’ll be here any second…” Harry warned as Steve wove on his feet.
Steve came at him again, a desperate, almost frenzied attack. Harry dodged and blocked and absorbed the blows, never once going on the offensive. The moment Steve showed signs of flagging, Harry wrapped his arms around him, hugging him close, effectively immobilizing him.
He got his leg behind Steve’s knee and pushed him backward, knocking him off balance. He went down to the ground with him, grappling Steve onto his belly and levering Steve’s arm up behind his back. Steve howled in protest as Harry planted a knee between his shoulder blades and let his weight rest on the other man. After a few seconds of struggling and swearing, Steve finally gave up, resting his forehead on the grass.
Pippa let out a shuddering breath. It was over. This part of it, anyway. There was still the police to be dealt with, of course. And the neighbors.
And Harry.
Because after her moment of clarity there was no place for him in her life. He was a folly she couldn’t afford. A mistake she refused to make.
Suddenly You Page 21
