Heartfire

by Karen Rose Smith

Her lips twitched. "And I guess you want me to be here when you get back?"

  "If you're not, I'll track you down." It was a threat and a promise, and he couldn't believe the way her defiance kicked up his determination. Macho male meets liberated female. Details at eleven.

  Max returned with a plastic box and flipped it open on the table. "Peroxide first."

  "So you've done this before?"

  He smiled. "More times than I care to count. Just ask Ryan. I'm an old pro."

  "Not so old," she mused.

  Max took out the bottle of peroxide. "Some days I feel sixty instead of thirty-one."

  "It's been hard for you, hasn't it?" she asked softly.

  Max's stomach tightened, and he felt the muscle that Tessa had noticed jump. "It's been harder on Ryan. As much as I try, I can't be a father and a mother."

  He unscrewed the top of the peroxide bottle and soaked a cotton ball. "Put your arm on the table." Before she could protest, he said, "It's at an awkward spot. Come on, get your elbow up here. Or do I have to promise you a candy bar when we're finished?" he teased.

  "Make it a banana split and you're on."

  He laughed. "Your demands are steep. But it can probably be arranged." When his fingers lightly brushed her arm, she started. He was filled with the desire to stroke her, to quiet her, to soothe her, to give her the caring she'd missed along the way. But most of all, he wanted to kiss her again. The wanting was becoming much too powerful for his peace of mind.

  "Did I hurt you?" he asked.

  "No. It tickled." Her voice was husky and did strange things to his insides. As he lifted the cotton ball, he warned, "This might sting."

  She held still as he swabbed the area, trying to do it quickly. But her green eyes watched him cautiously. When he finished, he said, "Let it dry a few minutes. Do you have scrapes anywhere else?"

  "I'm not going to let you strip search me to find out," she retorted.

  The idea made his blood surge, and he turned away so she couldn't see her words had any effect. Taking a tube of cream from the kit, he wiped his finger with peroxide and squeezed the ointment on the top of his forefinger. "I'll try not to hurt you." He dabbed it on carefully then took a gauze strip and adhesive from the box. "You don't want the scrape to rub against your sleeve. You can take the bandage off when we get home."

  She didn't argue, and he was relieved. When he secured the tape, his knee brushed her leg and he shifted away.

  "Max, can I ask you something?"

  Uh-oh. He could imagine what was coming. Maybe she could sense his change around her, the turbulent response he didn't want to have. And maybe they should talk about it and take the mystery out of it so it would go away.

  "Go ahead and ask."

  "Would you mind if we redecorate Ryan's room?"

  "Redecorate Ryan's room?" Max repeated. "Why?"

  As Max had ministered to Tessa, her pulse had galloped. She'd gotten hot all over and she'd been afraid something of what she was feeling would show. To hide it, she'd decided to ask the question about Ryan's room. It had been on her mind all week.

  Pulling her arm away from his hands, she sat up straighter. "Because he's getting older, and I don't think baby animals on his curtains interest him anymore. He's interested in cars and sports. Did you know he knows the difference between a Lamborghini and a Ferrari? And I found out Peyton Manning is his idol. Next to you, of course," she teased, hoping Max could see she had Ryan's interests at heart.

  Max didn't respond right away. "Leslie made his curtains and bedspread. She coordinated the colors and picked out the paint."

  Tessa knew that. She also knew Ryan couldn't let go and move on until Max could. She tried to keep her voice neutral. "It's your decision. But I think a change would be good for Ryan. And I think redoing his room would make him feel special."

  Max gazed toward the playground. "I thought he'd be better off if I kept everything stable—the same."

  "Stable and the same are two different things." Tessa considered her life stable because her work was a constant, but her life was never the same.

  He thought about her statement. "Maybe so. What did you have in mind?"

  She lifted her hands in an I-don't-know gesture. "Nothing specific. Yet. Maybe you and I could look at wallpaper and go to the furniture store. Just to see what's available."

  "His dresser used to be his changing table. And the bed... That had been Leslie's when she was a child."

  "I know. And maybe you'll want to keep them. But it won't hurt to look."

  Max's forehead creased and he got a far-away look in his eyes. "No, it won't hurt to look."

  Suddenly Tessa wasn't so sure. Looking could lead to change. Was Max ready for that change?

  ***

  Max lay awake in his bed on the first floor. The master suite was situated downstairs in the Cape Cod. He'd bid Tessa good night at least two hours ago and he was still awake, still trying to figure out why every time he touched her, his body sent a surge of adrenaline racing through him.

  She'd looked so at home at the picnic, wiping mustard from the corner of her mouth, talking to his neighbors as if she'd known them all her life. But she wasn't "at home." She didn't have a home. He'd listened to her tell Flo about covering the next winter Olympics. He'd listened to her explain how she'd spent a few weeks interviewing freedom fighters in a country torn by civil war. This was the type of woman who would never settle down.

  The pipes upstairs creaked as water ran through them. Then Max heard a steady flow. Apparently, Tessa couldn't sleep, either. A loud thump made him sit up, and he wondered what she'd dropped. Maybe her fall had done more damage than she'd let on. She'd been quiet during the barbecue after the game, after their conversation about Ryan's room. He still wasn't sure how he felt about her suggestion.

  The upstairs bathroom was located at the top of the steps between the two bedrooms. As Max climbed the stairs, Tessa came out of her room and headed for the bathroom. He'd never seen her...undressed before. She wasn't wearing a bathrobe. He guessed the oversized shirt had traveled through more countries than he could count. Its faded blue and white stripes had seen many washings. It only came to mid thigh, and he wondered if it had belonged to a man before she'd decided to use it as a nightshirt.

  The thought made his voice gruff. "Are you okay?" he asked, trying to keep his gaze from straying to her breasts outlined under the soft material.

  Tessa backed away from him as he reached the second floor. Her eyes went from his drawstring-tied pajama bottoms up his bare chest, hesitated a moment, then raised to his face. "I didn't mean to wake you." She kept her tone low, although Ryan's door was closed.

  "I wasn't sleeping."

  She gave him an odd look, then said, "I wasn't, either. The more I tossed and turned, the more sore I felt. I thought a hot bath might help."

  "You'll probably be stiff tomorrow."

  She shrugged. "It'll pass." With an impish smile she asked, "You wouldn't have any bubble bath, would you?"

  "I finally tossed Leslie's cosmetics last year. Sorry."

  Her smile faded as quickly as it had appeared, and for the first time ever he was sorry he'd mentioned Leslie's name. A stab of guilt knifed him. He shouldn't ever be sorry about thinking of Leslie. Or mentioning her.

  "I do have some liniment I use when I think I'm as young as the kids I coach and I play too long."

  "No, thanks. I hate the smell. I'd have to rub it all over."

  All over. For a moment he imagined Tessa without the nightshirt, then forcibly blanked out the image. "I've been thinking about Ryan's room. He has a Cub Scout meeting tomorrow night. We could hit some stores and look around."

  Tessa eyed him speculatively. "You're sure?"

  He nodded. "I'm ready to look. And if it will help Ryan, I can't discount the idea. He's been talking to you a lot, hasn't he?"

  She gave a little shrug. "I just try to stop whatever I'm doing and listen to him when he talks."

  Whether Te
ssa knew it or not, that was the perfect thing to do. "I knew he looked up to Peyton Manning. I didn't know he was so knowledgeable about cars."

  "You can't be and know everything, Max. You're only one person."

  He felt his sigh from deep in his soul. "I know." He also knew he shouldn't be standing here appreciating Tessa's curves in a nightshirt. Nodding toward the bathroom, he said, "I hope the bath helps."

  Her green eyes met his. "So do I."

  He left her at the top of the steps, realizing he was more awake than ever. Maybe a shot of scotch would help, but he doubted it.

  ***

  The next evening as Max stood in a corner of the furniture store, he told himself he should have known this wouldn't work. He and Tessa couldn't agree on the color of grass, let alone a new decor for Ryan's room.

  The salesclerk peered over her horned-rimmed spectacles at Max as he stood in front of his choice for Ryan. "You think your son would like the bunk beds."

  "But I think he'd love the race-car bed." Tessa stared enviously at the fire-engine red bed shaped like a sports car. "Can't you imagine it, Max? This bed, red and blue racing stripes running around the border of his room...wallpaper with race cars. We could paint his dresser red or blue..."

  "No!" It came out too sharply, but once out, he couldn't retract it.

  "No?"

  "It's too...loud." Baby animals to racing stripes was just too large a leap.

  Seeing a prolonged discussion or worse yet a disagreement in the offing, the sales clerk mumbled something about checking availability and headed for the office.

  Tessa walked over to the race car bed, sat and bounced a few times. "It's not loud. It's energetic. Ryan's energetic. It would stir his imagination."

  "And keep him awake at night," Max insisted dryly.

  Tessa stopped bouncing and pinned him with a glare. "Do you know what your problem is?"

  Breaking eye contact, he lifted a wooden lamp on a nearby dresser, examined it and put it back where it had been. "No, but I'm sure you're going to tell me."

  "New and different irritates you. They throw you off balance."

  Max rubbed the back of his neck. There was an element of truth in what she said. He hadn't changed a thing since Leslie died. But that didn't mean Tessa was right about the bed or the wallpaper. "What's wrong with bunk beds and ducks on the wall?"

  "That's what you'd want if you were four," she accused as if he'd just suggested they hold up a bank. "I'm trying to imagine myself at eight years old. I was beginning to form my own opinions. If I could have had my own room... Well, I know it wouldn't have been ruffles and pink eyelet like some of the other girls wanted."

  Tessa was every inch a woman. Yet no one would ever associate her with fluff and ruffles. "You would have picked..."

  "Oh, I don't know, Max. I just know a child has to feel he has some say in where he chooses to spend time. He should be comfortable there and feel as if he belongs."

  "You're talking about yourself, Tessa. Not Ryan. He crashes at night and couldn't care less about what's on the walls."

  "Typical male attitude," she muttered.

  "Excuse me?"

  "You see it that way."

  "And you don't?"

  "Obviously not."

  Frustrated with her and with the whole idea, Max checked his watch. "We have to pick up Ryan. His Cub Scout meeting is about over."

  "Let him decide," she said abruptly, propelling herself from the bed.

  Max watched Tessa move around the bed and straighten the pillow, wondering if he'd ever seen her sit still for more than five minutes, excluding work. "Do what?"

  "Let's bring him in here and see what he'd pick. It is his room."

  "And you're prepared to accept his decision if he chooses the bunk beds?"

  She stopped at the headboard. "Get real, Winthrop. Who'd pick bunk beds over a race car?"

  "I would."

  She shook her head. "Whatever he decides is fine with me. We'll work around it." She wagged her finger at him. "But just you wait. I think you'll be surprised."

  A half hour later, they were both surprised. Ryan did indeed have his own opinion, but it included neither the bunk beds nor a race car.

  He plopped on the bed of his choice, crawled on his knees and opened and shut the small compartments on the bookcase-like headboard. "Isn't this great, Dad? I can put my baseball cards in here and some of my cars. And all my books can go on the shelf. I can put Mr. Bear up there and my dinosaurs. I really like this one."

  Max gave his choice one last shot. "If you got the bunk beds, a friend could stay over."

  "Nah. I don't care about that."

  "You might later. You're going to have this bed a long time."

  "Maybe they make a trundle model," Tessa suggested.

  Max had to hand it to her. She was handling this like a good sport. Ryan had nixed the race car bed right away because he didn't like the high sides.

  Max left Ryan on the bed, opening and shutting the compartments, and took Tessa aside. "What do you think?"

  She gave him a half-smile. "I think he's like you and knows what he wants."

  But Max didn't know what he wanted, not where Tessa was concerned. This resurgence of desire didn't mean anything, did it? She was an attractive woman, he was a man, they were in close proximity... Did he want more than the come-and-go frequency of Tessa's visits? If so, he was out of luck. Tessa would always be coming and going. He couldn't understand why the thought bothered him so much.

  "We'll get the bed and the dresser to match. It's something he can grow into." Max's voice sounded gruff. He tried to smile. "If you want a race car bed, you'll have to wait until you settle down in one place long enough to sleep in one."

  "Is that a jab at my lifestyle?"

  When Tessa frowned, the same small dimple in her left cheek that appeared when she smiled became more evident. He was noticing too much about Tessa these days. "No, it's the truth. Let's go ring up the bed."

  ***

  The following weekend, Max waved his hand at the half covered wall in Ryan's room. "We should have done what the salesclerk suggested," he said with barely restrained impatience. He should have followed his better judgment instead of listening to Tessa. But he hadn't wanted to argue with her. He could never seem to win arguments with Tessa.

  Tessa stared at the middle of the wall where three sheets of wallpaper began to lean crookedly to the left. "Do you always do what you're supposed to do?"

  He gave her a dark look.

  "All right," she conceded. "We should have made a plumb line. Or used a laser level. But the room's so small, I didn't think we needed to."

  "You do a plumb line so you put the wallpaper on straight even though the walls are crooked. It has nothing to do with the size of the room. I don't know where my laser level is. I think a neighbor borrowed it."

  Pushing the curls off her forehead with the heel of her hand, Tessa laid the paper smoother she'd used on the floor. "You're right. I was wrong. Let's do it over."

  Her admission surprised him.

  "What?" she asked at his raised brows.

  "I thought you'd give me more excuses."

  She caught the edge on the last sheet of wallpaper and pulled it from the wall. "No point to that. We'd still have a room to paper."

  Max almost smiled. Either Tessa was mellowing or...maybe he'd been too critical of her in the past. He didn't stop to ask why, but picked up the wallpaper kit with the plumb line included. "It's a good thing we bought a couple of extra rolls of paper."

  "I'm just glad we don't have to be too careful about matching the pattern. That could get tricky."

  Ryan hadn't chosen the race car bed, but he had picked wallpaper with various types and colors of cars sprinkled onto a white background. It was lively, but not overwhelming. Tessa had tackled this project as she tackled everything else—with zest and purpose.

  Ryan's voice came sailing up the stairs. "Hey, Dad. Are you done yet?"

&nbs
p; Max laughed and skirted the furniture in the middle of the room as best he could to get to the doorway. "It will be lunch time at least."

  Ryan yelled back. "I'll come watch you after SpongeBob is over."

  Max shook his head and stood beside Tessa at the wall they'd tried to paper. "I don't let him watch TV that often. He's going to take advantage of this."

  Tessa used her fingernail to start unpeeling the second piece of wallpaper from the wall. "Have you thought any more about getting him a dog?"

  Max took an appraising look at Tessa, as he was doing more and more lately. Her jeans fit her waist, hips and thighs as if they'd been custom fit for her curves. Her yellow T-shirt molded to her breasts all too well. His palms itched and he quickly turned his attention to what she'd asked. "You think it would be a good idea?"

  Tessa tore down the last sheet of paper. "Yes. I don't know if he's ready for the responsibility, either, but he'll certainly learn it. It's whether or not you want the bother of training and everything that goes with it."

  He grimaced. "The messes?"

  She crumpled the paper and threw it on top of the bed. "Barking or whining in the middle of the night."

  Max grinned this time. "How do you know so much about it?"

  "I read a lot."

  Max took the string from the package in his hand and gave Tessa a piece of blue chalk.

  She rubbed the chalk along the string as he stretched it. "If you get a dog, he'll be a house dog, won't he? I mean, you wouldn't pen him outside?"

  Max gazed into her wide green eyes and instinctively knew she'd felt as if she'd been outside looking in most of her life. "Absolutely not. He wouldn't be a pet if we penned him outside."

  She didn't drop her gaze but looked as if she had something else on her mind. He waited.

  "You know, you could think about getting a dog at the shelter. Unless you really believe Ryan needs a pup."

  Max supposed Tessa wanted all orphans to have homes, even canine ones. "That's something to think about."

  He was discovering so many facets to Tessa he never knew existed. Their summer in the Poconos had been filled with activities, talk about the future, work. She'd told him from the first day she'd met him that she intended to see the world. So they'd played tennis, gone horseback riding, and he’d kissed her until she would push away and put her guard up. Maybe their time together now was different because they'd both matured.