Chapter Three
Short moments later, Hope found Joey curled up on his bed, his baseball mitt and trading cards beside him, the ice pack pressed against his bruised eye. He was watching a college baseball game on ESPN, and although he seemed focused on the pitcher, she knew his mind was still on the scene downstairs. Feeling worse than ever about what had happened and the overly emotional way she had handled it, she sat down beside him and gently touched his shoulder.
“Honey, I’m sorry,” she said softly. She knew she had overreacted but he was so small and so physically vulnerable. The idea of the Bateman twins picking on him deliberately made her blood boil. That she had dealt with Chase, Rosemary, and Russell Morris that day had contributed to her losing her composure. And that wasn’t fair to Joey. “You really shouldn’t have to quit the team because those twins picked a fight with you.”
Joey reached for his inhaler. “I really like playing Little League, Mom.”
“I know.” And he liked having Chase around, too. Seeing how well the two of them got on was a surprise to her. Joey worshiped Chase; Chase liked the unchecked adoration. And she hadn’t expected that she would like having Chase there, too, at least for a brief while. Even though they had disagreed on how to handle Joey, he had exerted a calming, male influence that had been missing in their lives. Hope was acutely aware of how much Joey missed Edmond, especially at times like this. Having Chase there had closed that void with remarkable ease. She knew, for that reason alone, she would be as sorry as her son to see him go. But there were other aspects of Chase’s presence that she didn’t like nearly as much: the probing way he looked at her, his almost overwhelming maleness, and the sexuality and health he exuded. The bottom line was she was never more acutely aware of her womanliness than when she was around him. And those were feelings she didn’t want. Not now. Not when she was a widow, and Chase was Edmond’s son.
Joey’s brow furrowed. “If you yell at the coach, then he might want me to quit. I know the other kids would. And then the twins will get mad, too, and they’ll just be meaner than ever—” His shoulders slumped in despair.
“They shouldn’t be mean at all.” Hope massaged his shoulder gently.
“I know but they are.” Joey exhaled loudly, as if exasperated with her lack of understanding about something he considered obvious. “Ain’t nothing going to change that, Mom.”
“There isn’t anything that will change that.” Hope corrected his grammar absently.
Joey shrugged, and drew on his inhaler again. She watched with relief as he began to breathe a little easier. He lowered the ice pack. His eye didn’t look any better, but it didn’t look any worse, either. His scratches and scrapes were all tended and neatly bandaged. And with the help of the inhaler, his breathing was still satisfactory. All was okay for the moment, she reassured herself firmly. “Can I get you some dinner?” she urged gently. “No? How about a glass of Gatorade?”
He perked up a bit at her suggestion. “Do we have the orange kind?”
“I’m sure we do. Want me to bring some up?”
Joey nodded, probably grateful he didn’t have to go down and get it himself, as was usually the case. Hope didn’t allow Carmelita to wait on Joey hand and foot; she didn’t want him thinking he was “above all that,” just because his family had money. She didn’t want him turning into a little jerk; rather to have the same sensible, matter-of-fact upbringing Chase had had. “Is it okay if I eat later?” Joey asked.
Hope touched his uninjured brow soothingly. “Sure, you can even have a tray in your room if you like.” He had been a trooper, she realized. Edmond would have been as proud of him as Chase had been. She closed her eyes briefly, feeling unaccustomed tears well up. On days like this, Joey wasn’t the only one who missed Edmond. It was hard to raise a child alone. There were times, like now, when she needed a strong shoulder to lean on, too.
Oblivious to the rush of loneliness she felt, Joey put the ice pack back on his eye, wincing slightly as it touched his tender skin. Looking more exhausted than ever, he yawned and closed his eyes. “Okay. Just don’t call the coach,” he warned once again.
“I won’t,” Hope promised. She qualified her statement honestly, “This time. But if it happens again—”
“I know,” Joey said. He opened his eyes and finished her sentence for her in a resigned tone that let her know how unacceptable having only a mother could be. “You’ll have no choice.”
CHASE FOUND JOEY’S glasses in the grass. Although covered with dirty smudges, the lenses and frame were unbroken, but the safety strap that held his sports glasses on had been ripped and would need to be replaced. Obviously, he thought, it had been quite a scuffle, and unless he missed his guess, Joey had done his fair share of swinging and shoving. He probably felt he had something to prove—because of his size, because of his asthma.
Hope didn’t understand that, Chase realized. Not that this in itself was surprising. Hope was so soft and feminine, so maternal and kindhearted, she’d be loathe to fight with anyone.
Part of him respected and admired that. He didn’t like to fight unnecessarily, either, but this time Joey’d had no choice. He’d had to stand up for himself. Ever the pragmatist, Edmond would’ve been the first to understand that, and explain it to his gentle-souled wife. But his dad wasn’t here to handle this, Chase was. And he knew instinctively what Edmond would’ve wanted him to do right now—intervene on Joey’s behalf and make Hope stop smothering Joey.
Hope wouldn’t appreciate that. Hell, she probably wouldn’t even listen to anything he had to say. She’d only resent him all the more for butting in at home as well as at the store. If he were smart, he would just grab whatever funding he could for his project and take the nearest plane back to Costa Rica. But that would be self-serving. And Chase had tried very hard to never be the sort of self-centered person his mother was. That left only one option. He’d butt in and give advice where it wasn’t wanted. His father would have approved.
He owed his dad that. Why then was it proving so hard to do? he wondered uncomfortably. Was it because Hope was such a smart, independent, vitally interesting woman who he was privately willing to bet had never tapped in to her own latent sexuality? Or was it because he found himself beginning to fantasize about what it would be like to lead her into that unchartered but luscious territory?
HER TEMPLES THROBBING with the beginnings of a fierce tension headache, Hope headed downstairs. It was Carmelita’s evening off. The kitchen was blissfully quiet and dark and cool. Hope rummaged in a cabinet for a bottle of aspirin, shook out two and downed them with a glass of water, to little immediate relief.
After some moments, her neck was still stiff with tension, as were her shoulders and spine. Her dinner was in the refrigerator, ready to be microwaved. So was Joey’s, but, like him, after the upset of the day, she had little appetite. She fixed herself an icy glass of cola, hoping the mixture of caffeine and aspirin would speed relief to her aching head a little faster than plain water. She headed into the living room, and met Chase, coming in the front door, Joey’s glasses in his hand. Seeing his tall, lean body framed in the doorway gave her heart a little pause. Which was, all things considered, she told herself firmly, quite natural. Any woman in her place would have felt a little on edge, physically and emotionally, at the idea of being alone with him. With her, those feelings were intensified. Still, all she had to do was act normally, get through this, and he would go away.
She smiled gratefully, pretending an inner ease she couldn’t begin to feel as she accepted Joey’s glasses. She felt the brief warm brush of his calloused hand against her softer one. “You found them. Thanks.” He had finished buttoning his jeans and tucked in his shirt. His jeans fit snugly at the waist, defining the male contours of his body very well. Too well, she decided, shifting her peripheral vision away from the apex of his thighs.
“Glad to help.” His hazel eyes held hers, serious now. And again, she felt her heart skip a beat. “Hope, we need to talk.”
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No, we don’t, she thought. A ripple of unease swept through her. She had been afraid he’d say that. “Chase—”
“It can’t wait, Hope.”
She knew that tone. Edmond had used it, too, and it wasn’t one to be denied. Obviously Chase had made up his mind. Deciding they might as well get it over with, she nodded briefly toward the living room. Though she had shed her shoes and red blazer earlier and taken down her hair so it fell across her shoulders in tousled, naturally waving strands, she was still dressed rather formally in a white merino wool polo sweater and white wool skirt. Her jewelry consisted of a single strand of pearls and pearl earrings. She was glad for the formality of her clothes. She would have felt far too intimate facing Chase in a warm-up suit or jeans. Just having him here in the house felt, at this precise moment, disloyal somehow. Wrong. Maybe because they were too close in age and far apart in outlook for her to be a proper stepmother to Chase. And maybe because he hadn’t ever looked at her as if she were his stepmother. He looked at her as an equal, a contemporary, one he didn’t particularly like or want to get to know better, but who he was tied to, in a familial sense, just the same. And even though she tried to ignore that, his deliberately remote, vaguely distrustful attitude had hurt her a lot over the years.
Feeling tenser than ever, she sat down on a chair and waited for him to take a seat on the Chesterfield sofa opposite her. “It’s about Joey,” he said as she took a long, cooling sip of her drink. “You’re coddling him unnecessarily in my opinion.”
Hope felt herself becoming defensive but was powerless to prevent it. She hated it when other people presumed to know what was best for her son. Putting her drink aside, she hung onto her soaring temper with effort and met his gaze. “Chase, I know you mean well,” she said tightly, warning him to back off, “but I don’t need your advice on this.” Nor do I want it, she thought.
Chase sighed. Knees spread apart, he leaned forward earnestly and clasped both his hands between his thighs. “In this instance, Hope, I think that you do need my advice.” He saw the flare of temper in her eyes and felt his own interest stir at the unchecked display of passion. Before she could even begin to cut him off, he interjected autocratically, “He is my half brother.”
Now, Hope though, that was rich. Restless and angry at this unexpected intervention, she got up to pace the room. Unable to prevent herself from saying what was on her mind, she pointed out quietly, “With the exception of the last two days, no one would ever have known.”
Dammit, she didn’t need Chase stepping into her life, into her home and workplace, making her continually uncomfortable and aware of herself. She didn’t need him awakening feelings and needs in her she’d forgotten she had. She liked her life simple. She liked being just a mother and a businesswoman. She didn’t want to yearn to be someone’s woman, too. “You’ve never acted like his brother.”
Chase whitened at her comment, but knowing it was the truth, said nothing to combat her remark.
But now that the subject had come up, she found she couldn’t let it go. There had just been too many years of silence on the subject and too much repression of feeling on both their parts. As a consequence, Joey had gotten caught in the crossfire of their withheld resentments. Chase’s disinterest in her son hadn’t mattered so much before. It had even seemed excusable because Chase was never around to get to know Joey, but now he did know his half brother. If Chase went back to ignoring Joey again, Joey would be terribly hurt. She couldn’t let that happen.
Aware he was watching her steadily and unable to bear his relentless scrutiny, she moved to the window. She stared out at the shady tree-lined driveway that led to the street. Not bothering to mask her hurt or resentment, she continued with her blunt assessment of his actions. “In all these years, you never sent him so much as a birthday card or a letter, Chase. Except for when Carmelita brought you over to help tonight, one dinner conversation is the most you’ve ever given Joey in his entire life. And you only did that last night because you were trying to figure out how to talk to me about the store. If you hadn’t needed to do that, you never would have joined us for a meal.” He never would have known what a delightful child Joey was, she thought. “You never would have come back to Houston at all.”
Hope noted with satisfaction that he didn’t try to deny anything she had said. “I admit I haven’t been the best sibling,” Chase began, visibly embarrassed. Restless now, too, he got up to pace the room.
“You haven’t been anything to him,” she corrected quietly, with no malice. That was the way they had all figured was best, while Edmond was alive, anyway. “That’s why I resent your advice now,” she continued calmly.
Chase knew she had a point. Nevertheless, cossetting was not what his father would have wanted for his second child. As difficult as it was, Chase had to do what his father would have expected him to do and make Hope see she was in the wrong here. She was as wrong as he had been in previously denying any and all ties to Joey and Hope. Like it or not, they were family, just like his mother was family. Maybe in the past this hadn’t felt like home to him. With his mother gone and Hope living here, he hadn’t had much desire to come home. And if he were honest with himself, he still didn’t. Given his choice, he would be back in the rain forest right now, instead of leaving everything to his partner to finish up. But he was here. He was involved. And they both had to deal with that fact as best they could.
Moving to stand beside her, he spoke urgently, “I’m trying to right that now—”
Hope shook her head, a defiant light in her dark blue eyes. “It’s too late. I know how you feel about me and about him, Chase.” Her voice choked and she shook her head in helpless misery. “How you’ve felt all along—” Her jaw set as her eyes filled with tears. “Why don’t you just go ahead and say it, Chase? You think I married your father for his money.”
Chase could take a lot of things, but not her playing the victim—not now. “Are you telling me that you didn’t?” Chase asked in cool disbelief, his temper rising. “That all this—” he gestured at the Louis XV chairs and the Aubusson rug “—played no part in it?”
Hope wanted to say that was so, but she knew in her heart it wasn’t true. Edmond’s power and wealth and this River Oaks fortress he had built had been a big part of the attraction when they had first met. She had needed to be taken in and protected at that point in her life. Because of the situation she had been running from, only someone like Edmond had possessed what it had taken to make her feel secure.
Realizing Chase was still waiting for an answer and that she couldn’t explain any of her actions without revealing the ugliness and pain in her past, she revealed only the part of the truth she felt she could tell him. “I loved your father, Chase. I loved him with all my heart and soul.”
Remembering the way she had broken down at Edmond’s funeral, Chase didn’t doubt that. Neither could he forget how they’d come together in the first place. “He was old enough to be your father, Hope.”
Hope’s slender shoulders stiffened defensively. “He was also gentle and good.”
Frowning, Chase studied her. “Gentle and good” were only a small part of what Hope needed in a man, whether she realized it or not. There was a hell of a lot more to a fulfilling relationship between a man and a woman than mutual kindness. They needed to be able to turn to one another physically as well and know they’d get a lot more than a lukewarm roll in the hay. “You’re telling me there was this great passion between you, that the two of you just couldn’t stay out of each other’s arms?” He didn’t know why, he just didn’t buy it. Not with any rich old man and pretty young chick in general and certainly not with Hope and his father. They just hadn’t given off those vibes.
Hope turned away, looking angry and upset and uncomfortable. “That,” she said flatly, offended by his presumption, “is none of your business, Chase.”
Chase supposed she was right about that, too. Nonetheless, her evasion made him all the more certai
n. Even though Hope clearly had loved his father and had made Edmond very happy, she hadn’t loved him in the beginning. Not the way a new bride was supposed to love her husband. And that he couldn’t condone. Marriage should be more than a business deal or convenient arrangement. Especially for nineteen-year-old girls, even pregnant ones.
Hope ran a hand through her hair, looking even more distressed. She took a drink of her cola. Her back to him, she took a lengthy swallow. “We shouldn’t be talking about this, Chase,” she continued in a voice that was thick with suppressed emotion. “You obviously resent me and—”
“Can you blame me?” Chase countered incredulously. She was acting like it was all his fault, and it wasn’t. “You broke up my parents’ marriage, Hope.” And not because she hadn’t been able to keep her hands off his father, either, but because she had clearly wanted all this and to inherit the store someday.
“You’re wrong about that. I never—and I repeat never—came between them!”
His own temper flaring dangerously, he stalked closer. If he got nothing else out of this, he wanted the truth. “Then tell me how it happened,” he continued gruffly. “How you started working for Barrister’s and six months later my parents’ marriage is in a shambles, my father’s insisting on a quicky divorce and an even quicker settlement so he can go off and marry you in some tacky Las Vegas chapel. Six months after that you present him with a son.”
Hope turned white, then red, then white again, but as Chase had expected, she said nothing to defend herself. Chase continued, “Yes, I’ve resented you all these years. Just as my mother has resented you. But for the sake of everyone, including Joey, I’m trying to do the decent thing now and get past it. Move forward. I know it’s what my father would have wanted.” And although Chase had let Edmond down in the past, many times, he wasn’t going to do so now.
And for his father’s sake he had to fight his deep attraction to Hope. God knew he didn’t want it, hadn’t planned for it, but there it was. He wanted his father’s wife in a distinctly man-woman way. And though he felt guilty as hell about it, his feelings weren’t going to magically go away. His only choice was to try to work through them, to get to know Hope and perhaps demystify her and diffuse his desire in the process.
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