I’ll Be Seeing U

by Dianne Castell

  She pulled in a deep breath. “Here’s the deal.” His thumb stroked her nipple and her insides pulsed with wanting him. “That is so not part of the deal.”

  He kissed her forehead. “I like being with you and when I’m not, all I do is think of you. You’re special to me. Always have been. When I was sixteen, I took one look at you and wanted you right there on Main Street in front of everyone.”

  “At sixteen you had a permanent hard-on and as long as I was female you would have wanted me on Main Street or anywhere else.”

  “I want you now more than ever.”

  “And that’s the part that can’t happen.” She pulled his hand from her blouse and stepped away, missing his touch, his lips, the warmth of his body moving against hers. “The reason I came to the bar tonight was to find you.”

  “Mission accomplished.” He held out his hands inviting her back.

  She clasped her hands behind her back. “I really want to touch you,” she said on a whisper, then let out an audible sigh. “Oh, who am I kidding, I don’t just want to touch you, I want to have wild uninterrupted sixteen-year-old sex with you more than I want to breathe.”

  “Ah, babe, you can breathe and have sex and do anything else you want.”

  “I can’t and that’s the problem. I came into town tonight to tell you how great things are now that we’re not together anymore.”

  “I feel another ‘the curse’ lecture coming on.”

  “Here’s the deal. Things are so good in my life since we parted, and if we don’t stay parted things will fall apart like they always do and my life will revisit the toilet. I’m tired of living in the toilet, Quaid. I know there is no logic behind it. Maybe it’s because I’m distracted when there’s a man in my life, or it’s hormonal…too much testosterone interferes with my estrogen-originated brainwaves. I don’t know. But whatever it is, it’s not good. Think about it. Right now we have Preston at the house, the cook to die for, and Beau Fontaine of the Charleston Fontaines. He’s a perfect gentleman and a paying customer. Mother is still on the wagon, thank God, and Lawrence is happy, and we even have two nuns who have come to stay for a while.”

  “Nuns?”

  “And they’re helping with painting and repairs and getting the place in shape.”

  “Nuns?”

  “They said it was their calling to assist where needed. I don’t get it either, and Ivy Acres is not exactly missionary work, but they insist and are a huge help. But the bottom line is, all’s well because there are no men in my life.” She poked him in the chest because she suddenly wanted to touch him. “And that would include you.”

  She went around the other side of the Buick and took the sport coat from the back. She held it out to him, suspended on a hanger covered in plastic. “Summer wool. Navy.”

  He wasn’t going to take the jacket, she could tell. She held his hand and wrapped his fingers around the hanger. “There you go. This now makes it official. We are now even and uninvolved.”

  “I never felt you owed me anything.”

  “It’s not about you so much as paying off the fates.”

  “At least you didn’t have to throw yourself into a volcano.” He laid the coat carefully across the hood of the car then snagged her waist and lifted her onto the fender beside the jacket. “I want us to be eye-to-eye, Cynthia Landon. I want you to remember what I’m going to tell you. Screw the fates. You and I are not done, not even close.”

  She tipped her nose, hoping for an air of authority and determination. “But what if I want us done?”

  Before she could draw another breath he took her in his arms and kissed her, his mouth devouring hers, her lips opening to him no matter how much they should stay tight together. His tongue tempted hers, and won. Then her traitorous legs—which obviously missed the whole fates speech—wound tight around his hips.

  He whispered against her lips, “No curse is going to keep us apart. I want you to remember that and think about that when you sleep tonight.”

  “I’m supposed to go home and sleep after this?”

  He grinned. “Why do you think I’m walking the streets at one in the morning?” He unwound her arms and legs then lifted her down, gave her one more kiss, snagged his jacket and flipped it over his shoulder. He strolled off toward his house, Max following, the moon low and mellow, her head spinning.

  “Oh, damn,” she murmured. She was hotter than ever for Quaid O’Fallon and she had no idea how to put the fire out.

  Quaid fed Bonnie her morning bottle and stifled a yawn. “That woman’s killing me. I can’t sleep and I can’t even eat. When you grow up try and be a little easier with the guys, okay? Just cut them a little slack once in a while.”

  There was a knock at the door and Quaid put down the bottle and tucked Bonnie in his arm like a football. He wouldn’t be able to tuck much longer—she was growing like mad. He opened the back door and Lawrence shuffled in, head lowered, looking more ragged than usual. “Did you sleep in those clothes, buddy?” Hell, at least he slept!

  When Lawrence didn’t answer, Quaid tipped his head back and looked into a swelling-shut right eye and bloodied lip. “Well dang. I’d hate to see what the other guy looks like.”

  “They look just fine.”

  “They?”

  “I don’t exactly fit in around here. I’m not good at sports or stuff like that so…” He shrugged. “It’s no big deal and they leave me alone when I have Max, but when I don’t…Don’t tell my mom, okay? She’ll freak out. She thinks I’m doing okay.” He looked at Quaid and his good eye widened. “Wow, what happened to your jaw and nose?”

  He shrugged back at Lawrence. “I don’t fit in around here, not all the guys like me, but don’t tell my dad, he’ll freak out.”

  Lawrence laughed and followed Quaid to the kitchen table. “Sit down. You feed Bonnie and I’ll get some ice. We can tell each other how much we hurt.”

  “You want me to feed a baby? I’ve never even held a baby before.”

  “Bonnie’s hungry, Rory’s taking a tow to Rockton today and I’m getting ice. That puts you on baby duty for a few minutes.” Giving Lawrence something to do would help get his mind off his own troubles. “Support her head in the crook of your arm, holding her up a little, and then put the bottle in her mouth. She’ll do the rest.”

  Lawrence took Bonnie and the bottle. A slow smile broke over his face as Bonnie gobbled breakfast. Quaid said, “See, you’re a natural.”

  “Did you know that suckling is the only behavior common among mammals?”

  Keeping an eye on the feeding situation, Quaid got a plastic baggie and filled it with ice. “Did you get in any good punches?”

  “The only punch I know is that red Hawaiian stuff that comes in a can and is totally bad for you but tastes great.” He was quiet for a moment, then his smile dropped. “Dad calls me Ms. Sissy or sometimes he calls me ‘worm’ because I’m a bookworm.” Lawrence looked up quickly, his eyes big. “But you can’t tell Mom that either. It would make her mad and she’s mad enough at Dad already.” He looked back to Bonnie. “Boy, this baby is really hungry.”

  Quaid never been more pissed off at another man in his life, and that included Pete and he hated Pete’s guts. He hunkered down in front of Lawrence. “Until Rory adopted me I was raised by my grandfather, who was a lot like your dad. He told me I was useless and would never amount to anything and—” that I was a no-good bastard kid but Lawrence didn’t need to hear all the details. “Pete will always be my grandfather but that doesn’t mean he knows everything, and I certainly don’t have to like him. You just listen to your mom. You are a terrific boy, Lawrence. You’re honorable and caring and loyal and compassionate. That’s what makes a man. And you’re intelligent, so you can do things better than most.”

  “Except fight.” He looked Quaid dead in the eyes. “Will you teach me how, please? You were just in a fight and I bet you didn’t lose. I’ll take care of Max for free for a year if you teach me.”

  Q
uaid stood. “If I teach you to fight your mother will wring my neck for a year.”

  “So we won’t tell her. Just between us, man to man.”

  Quaid took Bonnie from Lawrence and set her on his knee for a burp, as Lawrence went on, “I have to learn how to be a guy around here or I’m going to get beat up till I go off to college.”

  “Which could be next year.”

  Lawrence cracked a smile. “I did some boxing in prep school but there was all this protective gear and a referee. That’s not exactly how it is in the real world.”

  Lawrence needed some confidence. He had the mental part aced but now there was the guy part to deal with. “Tell you what, we’ll go in the living room and move some of the furniture out of the way so we don’t break something and give Rory a fit. I can teach you a few things that will keep you out of trouble. But you’re going to have to tell your mother what’s going on. You got your eye to consider.”

  “I’ll wear sunglasses, and if I hang around here all day and we do the meteor showers tonight like we planned, she won’t see me.”

  “Sport, that shiner’s not going to go away in a day, more like two weeks. After you walk Max, go level with your mom. But I will pick you up tonight around nine and we’ll drive up to Stevie’s Ridge and take a look at the Perseids.”

  Lawrence patted Bonnie’s head. “And when she gets older we’ll take her with us.”

  “You should think about being a pediatrician. You have a way with babies.”

  Lawrence carried Bonnie into the living room and strapped her in the swing. “No way. I’m going to learn to fight and join the army and do special ops.”

  Quaid groaned as he pulled the overstuffed chair to the side of the room. “Now your mother is definitely going to kill me.”

  And later that night as Quaid lay on his back in the field of grass, staring up at meteors tearing through the sky, with Lawrence beside him and Max chasing critters, Quaid decided that Cynthia was killing him without even trying. Heck, she didn’t even have to be around him to do that. The problem was he wanted her, she didn’t want him, and she was winning—and he had to figure out what to do about it.

  Quaid checked his watch. “It’s one A.M., champ.” He considered where he was last night at this time…his arms around Cynthia and her legs around him. Great place to be. “We better get back home.”

  Lawrence yawned and sat up. They collected the blankets and water bottles, put Max in the back and got into the Jeep. They bounced over the rutted gravel road that led to the two-lane beyond. Quaid said, “We’ll come back when there’s a new moon and bring a camera. We can take time exposures.”

  Lawrence nodded at an old rundown house behind them. “We can take shots from that roof. Doesn’t look like anyone lives there anymore.”

  “That’s Stevie Valentine’s old place. He was a riverboat captain. The attic has a trapdoor. His wife refused to have alcohol in the house so he smuggled it in that way. When she’d go visit her sister in St. Louis he’d throw one heck of a party. We made a few runs to New Orleans together. He was a good captain, a good friend. We used to go fishing off his dock on the other side of the road.”

  They cleared the last rut, then Quaid turned for Ivy Acres. Lights of a tow moved out in the channel, a sliver of moon perched on the horizon. He glanced over at Lawrence, already asleep, not able to stay awake for the fifteen-minute ride home. When Quaid pulled into the drive he spotted Cynthia on the top step, leaning against a column. A moonbeam fell across her face, and he was sure he’d never seen a more beautiful sight or a more beautiful woman.

  Too bad seeing was as close as he’d get. Damn that curse! Hers might have ended when she kicked him to the curb but his just started, and had every indication of getting worse.

  He went to the passenger side, unclipped Lawrence and gathered him into his arms. Cynthia came up beside him and he inhaled her sweet feminine scent of…“Brandy? Thought you got rid of it because of Ida?”

  “Not the apricot—that would be a sin. I hid it and was sharing some with the nuns.” She nodded at the front of the house. “They painted the shutters today. God is smiling on my no-man decision.”

  “Except it’s translating into a no-woman decision for me. Why are nuns doing all this, again?”

  “They said that’s what he would have wanted them to do.” Cynthia pointed to the sky. “I’m guessing the he is the one up there. God works in mysterious ways.”

  Quaid followed Cynthia inside to the black-and-white marble floor in the entrance, antique lamps on antique tables in the living room, along with a flowery sofa and delicate matching chairs. Not a La-Z-Boy or remote in sight.

  They took the winding staircase to Lawrence’s room. Cynthia pulled off his shoes and Quaid slid him under the covers. “Thanks for taking him stargazing tonight,” Cynthia whispered as they came back into the hall, dimly lit with some stained-glass fixtures. “He was really looking forward to this.”

  “So I guess he’s okay?”

  “Except for the bruises from when Max chased that raccoon and dragged Lawrence into that fence post. Poor Lawrence, he looks like he was in a fight.”

  Blast that kid. Quaid leaned against the wall and fiddled with the collar on Cynthia’s blouse. Maybe that would distract her from what he had to say, because she wasn’t going to like it. “Uh, there wasn’t any raccoon or fence post. I’m sort of teaching Lawrence to…to throw a left hook.”

  Cynthia’s pretty mouth opened in surprise—and he’d so much rather it opened to kiss him. “What? Why? Are you out of your mind?”

  “Some kids beat him up because he’s—”

  “A brain.” Cynthia let out a long breath. “We ran into this in New York so I put him in another private school. I suppose I’ll have to send him away to boarding school with other kids like himself. He’ll fit in there and he’ll be happy. I have no idea how I’ll afford that but somehow—”

  “Running away from a problem doesn’t solve it, Cynthia.”

  “Oh that’s crap. Of course it does. You go one place, leave the problem behind, works pretty good.”

  “What about letting Lawrence work things out here where he has support? He has to live with all kinds of people, not just the brainy ones.”

  “No, the brainy ones will be just fine.” She folded her arms. “And I sure as heck am not going to let my son get beat to a pulp because he’s smart. Lawrence is a timid creature by nature.”

  “Last time I checked he wanted to join the army.”

  “What have you done?” Her eyes narrowed. “You and your macho ways have ruined him.”

  “Oh for God’s sake, Cynthia, let him be a boy. You can’t protect him all the time.”

  Her spine stiffened and her snooty nose jutted into the air. “I can try. I’m his mother. It’s my duty.” She pulled herself up tall. “You know nothing about children, Quaid O’Fallon.”

  He didn’t want to argue with her, he wanted to take her to bed. Damn. “When I was a kid no one tangled with me, but school was a nightmare. Rory made me get my GED and go on to college for two years. Sort of an academic left hook. It was good for me, defending himself is good for Lawrence.”

  He gave her a quick kiss, then made for the front door. He stood outside for a moment, the quiet of night surrounding him, his brain in high gear. Sending Lawrence off to some snobby school was not a good idea. Academics were just one part of his life, there was more, lots more. Quaid mentally kicked himself in the butt for not telling Cynthia that. He should have.

  Preston’s VW rumbled up the drive. He parked to the side, then got out, baseball cap low on his head, blue Hawaiian shirt flapping in the light night breeze. “Out on a hot date?” Quaid asked.

  Preston frowned. “Ida’s the only date I want and she won’t have anything to do with me. She only has eyes for Beau Fontaine of the Charleston Fontaines, unless it involves food. His cooking is as bad as hers. I asked a friend of mine in Charleston about the Fontaines. He never heard of them.”
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  “Old money likes to keep a low profile.”

  “Well, why can’t this guy take his low profile and smooth manners somewhere else?” Preston sighed. “I was out on the case tonight and handed out pictures of the two presidents of River Environs, but no one’s seen them. ’Course if those guys dyed their hair, put on a mustache and let their hair grow they could blend in anywhere. Mimi’s somewhere close by, I’m sure of it, and if I know that, the bad guys do too. They’ll show up sooner or later, and with time running out my bet’s on soon. I checked out the contractors in town, and new workers, but they all seem legit. No one suspicious except for Sister Ginger and Sister Candy. Now there’s a duo for you.”

  “The visiting nuns. Cynthia sure thinks they’re a godsend.”

  “From the order of Fervent Penance in Rockton. They wear little black bandanas on their heads along with short-shorts, halter tops and blue mascara. They drive a red Mustang convertible, this year’s model. Sure don’t look like the nuns who taught me in grade school. And there’s…spillage.” He made a rounded gesture across his chest that indicated big-breasted women.

  “Guess they have a lot to be fervently penitent about?”

  “Beats the hell out of me, but I have to admit I’d sure like to see the rest of that order. Dang.” Preston said good night and went inside as a light came on upstairs. Cynthia no doubt. He should try harder to make his case for Lawrence staying at the Landing. Besides, what else would he do tonight, take Max on another sniffing tour?

  Quaid zeroed in on a trellis at the side of the house. Familiar territory. He’d climbed one of these things to give Sarabeth Carmichael a sweet-sixteen kiss, least that was his great plan. Too much testosterone; too little common sense—and here he was with too little sense all over again. Age did not necessarily bring on wisdom.

  Quaid took hold of one of the slats supporting a carpet of ivy against the house, put his foot onto a cross section and levered himself up. Seemed sturdy enough. He got past the first floor, and suddenly the front door creaked open and a man he didn’t know stepped out, followed by a woman in a black bandana and a baby doll nighty. She wagged her finger at him and whispered, “Do not come here again.”