Friday's Child

by Kylie Brant

  “Surely there’s a decorating firm you can hire.”

  “No dekraters,” Chloe said wisely from her perch in her father’s arms. “They’re brainless bozos who have as much taste as a dog in—”

  The rest of the sentence was mercifully cut off by Michael’s hand over Chloe’s mouth. A dull red flush crawled up his cheeks. Glaring at his daughter, he muttered, “You know what I say about big ears on little pitchers?”

  She peeled his fingers away from her mouth “You say I’m pretty as a pitcher.”

  Michael looked hunted. “Not quite the same thing,” he muttered.

  Kate burst into laughter. Chloe joined in mirthfully.

  “I’ll go get the car,” Trask said. Kate looked at him from the corner of her eye. His deep voice matched his daunting physical appearance. He was several inches taller than his employer and was solid enough to qualify as half a defensive line. His hair was black, without a trace of gray, although his face bore signs of at least five decades of hard living. With his deep-set eyes and prominent forehead, he made an imposing figure. Even at the conferences, he’d never looked directly at her, instead examining the ceiling or a spot past her left shoulder with great concentration while she’d spoken. But he seemed more comfortable in the company of Michael and Chloe and, indeed, had been as patient with the child tonight as her father had. Kate was beginning to suspect that beneath the man’s rather alarming appearance existed a good-size soft spot for his small charge.

  “Me, too,” Chloe declared. She wiggled down from Michael’s arms and danced over to Trask, slipping her hand into his. “I’ll drive, Trask. You can rest.”

  As they walked toward the door, Kate heard Chloe tell Trask earnestly, “Maybe we can get you a clown mouth for your room, too, Trask.”

  The man’s tone was dry. “You’re too generous.”

  Michael shook his head as they walked out of sight and glanced at Kate. “You wouldn’t happen to still be laughing at me, would you?”

  Kate feigned astonishment. “Me? Take amusement from another’s embarrassment?” Then she ruined it by giggling again. “You should have seen your face.”

  A corner of his mouth kicked up engagingly. “I’ve found the refreshing honesty of children to be vastly overrated. I swear, the kid can’t remember that I asked her to hang up her coat, but she’s as good as a tape recorder when it comes to repeating things she shouldn’t have heard anyway.”

  “That’s children,” Kate agreed. “Sometimes my students will play school, and I have to wince when I hear the one playing teacher. I know they’re mimicking me, and I have to tell you, the experience keeps me humble.”

  He moved closer to her to allow a family more room to enter the restaurant, and when he looked down at her again, the smile had faded from his lips. One long, curly tendril had escaped from the low ponytail she’d secured her hair in, and he reached up and smoothed it away from her face. She started a little at the intimate gesture.

  “You’re a good sport, you know that? Not many women would want to give up an evening to help a little girl celebrate her birthday at ‘Freddy’s House of Horrors.’”

  “Oh, come on,” she chided. “It wasn’t that bad.”

  He cocked an eyebrow at her. “Which part? The part where you got the Skee-Ball dropped on your toe, or when you wound up wearing half a pizza?”

  “My toe is fine,” she assured him. “I’m sure your clumsiness was only due to the fact that I was beating you. And it was one slice of pizza. The blouse will wash.”

  He eyed the still-visible stain on the front of her silky white blouse doubtfully. When Chloe had made that sudden grab for another piece of pizza, he and Trask had reacted like old pros. He’d reached for the pitcher of pop, while Trask had steadied the table. He’d made a move as if to stop the pizza from reaching its inevitable destination but had checked himself. Kate had been grateful. She’d much rather deal with the stain than his hand’s proximity to her breast.

  “Like I said,” he repeated, “you’re a good sport. Send me the bill for the blouse.”

  She shook her head. “I think I’ll be able to get the stain out. And Chloe really seemed to enjoy herself tonight.”

  “With three adults lavishing her with their undivided attention, what’s not to enjoy? But judging from the number of times she said so, yeah, I’d say you’re right. And we haven’t even got to the best part of the evening yet.” At her uncomprehending look, he explained, “The presents.”

  “I really should be getting home.”

  “What? And miss all the ‘sa-prises?’” Michael asked, his tone shocked. His voice lowered as he leaned toward her and murmured, “Stick around, Miss Rose. The best is yet to come.”

  “You hid the sa-prises real good, Daddy,” Chloe said as the car moved up a long driveway. “I never did find them.”

  Michael snagged one of his daughter’s pigtails. “Are you admitting that you were snooping, munchkin?”

  She shook her head vehemently. “Uh-uh! Honest! I was just helping Mrs. Martin clean. I cleaned in all the closets and under all the beds.”

  “And anywhere else a present might be found,” Michael added amusedly. “I’m sure Mrs. Martin appreciates your yearly acts of assistance.”

  “Do you still need to stop in the stables to speak to Hank, Michael?” Trask’s deep voice rumbled.

  Michael snapped his fingers. “Gosh, thanks for reminding me, Trask. I do have to talk to Hank tonight. You don’t mind, do you, munchkin?” he asked Chloe. “It won’t take long.” He explained in an aside to Kate, “Hank’s our stable manager. I need to stop in and talk to him about my stallion’s training.”

  “Can I come in and pet Diablo?” Chloe wheedled.

  “No!” Michael and Trask answered as one. Michael went on, “I mean, you can come in, but you mustn’t try to pet Diablo. I’ve told you that. But you can look at him.”

  “Okay,” Chloe said cheerfully, and Kate knew that the little imp had gotten what she’d wanted all along. Meeting Michael’s gaze, she smiled inwardly. The poor man really did have his hands full.

  Dusk was beginning to blanket the ground in long shadows, but outside lighting had been strategically placed along the winding drive. Kate gasped in spite of herself when they got closer to the house. Gone with the Wind’s Tara had nothing on this home. It had Southern antebellum architecture, with porches on each of its two stories. Graceful white columns lined the front of the house.

  The stables stood near the back of the property. At Michael’s urging, Kate got out of the car and joined them. She didn’t understand his grin or the long look he exchanged with Trask when Chloe ran into the stables ahead of them. Then came an earsplitting shriek, and both men burst out laughing.

  “Daddy! Daddy!” Chloe exited the stable the same way she’d entered it, at maximum speed. “Daddy, come look! There’s a new horse in our stable.”

  “A new horse?” Michael said, sounding puzzled. “Now, how do you suppose a new horse got in our stable, Trask?”

  The man’s mouth twitched. “Couldn’t say. Maybe Chloe’s just seeing things.”

  “Am not, am not! Come look!” she demanded, tugging at her father’s hand. Michael caught Kate’s hand in his free one, and she was pulled in with them. The stable was spotlessly clean, and the smell of leather and straw mingled in the air. Stalls lined the corridor. From the first one a brown-and-white pony watched them curiously.

  “He’s beautiful! And he’s mine, isn’t he, Daddy? You got him for my sa-prise, didn’t you, Daddy? For my birthday.”

  “Slow down, honey.” Michael laughed, reaching down to ruffle her hair. He still hadn’t relinquished Kate’s hand, and if he noticed her subtle attempts to free herself, he was pretending not to. “It’s a she, not a he. And yes, she’s your birthday present.”

  “All right! Just what I wanted! I’ll bet she goes really, really fast, doesn’t she, Daddy? As fast as Diablo, right?”

  “She goes plenty fast, kiddo. Just
fast enough for a big seven-year-old girl like you.”

  “Have you seen her, Trask?” When the big man nodded, Chloe turned her attention to her teacher. “Come pet her, Miss Rose. She won’t hurt you.”

  Kate’s hand was released, and she moved toward the stall with Chloe. The animal pushed its soft muzzle into her hand and looked at them with soft, good-natured eyes.

  “Well, I’ll be darned, Trask. I think I see a couple of sa-prises in here that the Clo-worm hasn’t even discovered yet.”

  “Where?” Attention momentarily diverted, Chloe darted back to her father. “Oh, I see it. Oh, Daddy, it’s awesome!” She ran over to the child-size saddle and ran her hand over it reverently.

  “Thought you might be needing this, as well.” Trask held up a shiny leather bridle that matched the saddle.

  “Thank you, Trask, thank you.” Chloe threw her arms around his legs and hugged him.

  Kate found herself being drawn away and looked at Michael quizzically. He gave her a crooked grin. “Now I get to show you my horse,” he said. They went to the end of the stable. This stall was bigger than any of the others, and there were bars on the stanchions too narrow for the horse to get his head between.

  “Good Lord,” she said faintly. “He’s huge.”

  The stallion was jet-black with white markings on his face. He was powerfully muscled and so high-strung she imagined she could see him quiver at their scent.

  “He’s a beauty, there’s no doubt about it. Just got him this year, and we still don’t have him completely broken. Hank works with him every day, and I exercise him every chance I get. He loves to run, don’t you, boy?”

  The horse fidgeted suddenly, and Kate backed away, coming up abruptly against Michael’s chest. His hands grasped her shoulders, and he held her in place. “Do you like horses?”

  They were close enough for him to speak the words in her ear, a low, husky rumble. She shivered, a totally involuntary response to his nearness. She could feel the solid width of his chest pressed against her, and his fingers kneaded her shoulders lightly. It didn’t take much imagination to envision being wrapped in those arms, pressed tightly against his solid strength, his heat enveloping her. Deliberately, she stepped away and turned to face him. “I haven’t been around horses much. I’m fascinated by their power, though. I’ve often thought it must be a wonderfully liberating feeling to race along on top of a horse.”

  “It is. We’ll have to get you on one someday so you can see for yourself. But first,” he said, looking at his watch, “I have a daughter who’s going to miss her bedtime if we can’t drag her away from her sa-prises.”

  It was the temptation of ice cream and cake that finally proved strong enough to entice Chloe back to the house. She kept up a steady stream of chatter throughout dessert. “Someday my horse will be as big as Diablo, right, Daddy?”

  “’Fraid not, shortstuff. She’s a Shetland pony. She won’t get any bigger than she is right now.”

  “I’ll feed her really good,” Chloe said earnestly over her ice cream. “She’ll grow, you’ll see. She’ll get lots bigger.”

  Michael caught Kate’s eye and shrugged. “What are you going to name her, honey? Have you thought of that yet?”

  Chloe nodded vigorously. “I’m going to name her Rosy. ’Cuz she’s the beautifullest horse in the world, and Miss Rose is the beautifullest teacher.”

  Kate choked on the piece of cake she was swallowing. Michael roared with laughter. Even Trask’s normally gloomy expression lightened a fraction.

  Michael said, “Miss Rose might not want to be the namesake to a horse, sweetheart. Maybe you should think of another name.”

  Chloe’s brow wrinkled. “What’s a namesake?”

  “It means when you name something after someone else. And Miss Rose doesn’t mind a bit,” said Kate. She smiled and added, “I think you should name your pony anything you want.”

  The matter settled, Kate rose and went to the counter, reaching for the package she had set there. Offering it to Chloe, she said, “Maybe you can use this to decorate your bedroom.”

  Chloe ripped the paper with little fanfare and let out a scream of delight. “It’s one of mine, Daddy, look.”

  Michael looked at the drawing that Kate had had professionally matted and framed. “It’s wonderful. Now you have something to hang in your bedroom. It’s lots better than a clown head, isn’t it?”

  Chloe went over and hugged Kate. “Thank you, Miss Rose. Do you want to see where I’m going to hang it?” She led Kate through the house and up the stairs to her room. Michael followed them.

  “What do you think, Miss Rose?” asked Chloe as she surveyed her bedroom from her teacher’s side. The bed and dresser were the only furniture in it. Toys, Rollerblades, a skateboard, various articles of clothing and scraps of paper littered the floor.

  “Well…” Kate tried to come up with a tactful response.

  “You have lots of space.”

  “I need to do something,” Chloe said woefully. “But I hafta have help, and Daddy’s hopeless.”

  “Hey!”

  Ignoring her father’s objection at her description, she turned her face guilelessly up to her teacher’s. “Could you help me, Miss Rose?”

  Kate looked down into Chloe’s hopeful eyes and swallowed hard. “Oh, honey, I don’t think so.”

  “Why not?” Chloe wanted to know. “Don’t you have a bedroom?”

  Kate slid a glance to Michael, who seemed to be enjoying the exchange hugely.

  “Well…yes, of course.”

  “Is it pretty?”

  Damning her fair skin for the blush she knew was staining her cheeks, she tried to focus her concentration on Chloe and ignore her father. She smiled weakly. “Yes, it’s…pretty.”

  “Daddy doesn’t know how to make a bedroom pretty,” Chloe confided in a loud whisper. “His bedroom is worse than mine. It only has a bed in it. Do you want to see it?”

  “No!” Kate said quickly. She tried for a smile. “No, that’s okay.”

  “It’s a really, really big bed,” Chloe told her earnestly.

  “Lots bigger than mine. But you’re not supposed to jump on it, not ever.”

  Having heard more than enough about Michael’s bedroom, Kate bent down and took the little girl’s hands in hers. “You know what, Chloe? If your dad doesn’t mind, maybe I can give you a little help. How would you like it if I took you to pick out some new curtains and a bedspread?”

  “Yay!” Chloe catapulted into Kate’s arms and squeezed tightly. “Thank you, Miss Rose.” She leaned back to peer up at her teacher. “Can we pick out paint for the walls, too?”

  Kate felt her heart contract at the little girl’s excitement. Memories of the cheerless cramped space she’d shared with two siblings sneaked into her mind and lingered. Smoothing Chloe’s hair back with a gentle hand, she said, “That’s up to your dad.”

  “If Miss Rose doesn’t mind, it’s fine with me, Chloe,” Michael said.

  “And carpet? And furniture?” she queried, wiggling away and dancing from one foot to another.

  Feeling as though she were getting in far deeper than she’d planned, Kate stood and sent an uncertain glance toward Michael. “You’ll have to discuss that with your father.”

  Chloe launched herself across the room, and Michael scooped her up. “If Miss Rose and I work together, you’ll have to stay out of our way, Daddy. And we’re going to need lots of money.”

  “You sound like a decorator already,” Michael replied with amusement. He lifted his daughter high. “You and Miss Rose will have to start on your room another day. Right now, it’s bedtime.”

  “But, Daddy…”

  “No buts,” he said firmly. “You have to go to bed on time, and your teacher is going to know for sure why you’re sleepy in the morning if you’re not in bed by eight-thirty.”

  “Good night, Chloe,” Kate said. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

  “G’night, Miss Rose. Than
k you for my picture.”

  “Give me a few minutes, Kate, would you?” Michael asked. “I’ll help Chloe get ready for bed and then give you a ride home.”

  It was actually closer to an hour before Michael came down the stairs again and found Kate sipping coffee in the kitchen.

  “Sorry it took so long,” he said. “Bedtime every night is an adventure, and on her birthday…well, I’m still not sure she’s down for the count.”

  “That’s all right. Trask made me some coffee before he disappeared.” Her lips tilted up. “I think I make him uncomfortable.”

  “All women make Trask uncomfortable,” Michael responded with amusement. “For a man who can look so fierce, he turns absolutely green at the thought of having to make conversation with a female over the age of ten. He’s probably hiding out in his room right now, the big wuss.” He circled the table and came to stand near her. “Did you look around the house while you were waiting?”

  She shook her head.

  “Well, you’ve already heard about my bedroom,” he said wickedly. “Let me show you around the downstairs.”

  They walked through room after room, each one larger and emptier than the next. “I told you I was desperate,” he reminded her.

  “Chloe was right. There’s room for several trampolines.”

  He grimaced. “Don’t even joke about it.” He opened the next door and showed her the family room. It was fully furnished with comfortable-looking couches, chairs, bookcases and a large entertainment center.

  Kate raised her eyebrows. “Furniture. Michael, I must say, I’m impressed.”

  His mouth went dry at her half laugh and the teasing cut of her eyes. His response to her was becoming all too predictable. He was coming to anticipate it, enjoy it. “It wasn’t too difficult. When Deanna and I separated, I moved into a town house for a while. I just moved most of my stuff from my last place into here when I bought the house last summer.”

  “It’s gorgeous,” Kate said sincerely. “And so is the property, what I could see of it.” They moved down the hallway to another doorway, this one closed. He punched a quick succession of numbers into the elaborate switchboard mounted in the wall. The door slid open.