by Susan Meier
Bev brazened her way into the room. “Come on, you old coot. Stop your snipping. The doctor said you needed to be careful for the first few weeks. We’re just helping you to be careful.”
Dennis growled something Max couldn’t make out. From the corner of his eye, he saw Trisha sitting on the steps. His daughter smiled shyly at him. Knowing he wasn’t wanted—or maybe even needed—by Dennis or Kate in the makeshift bedroom, he sat on the step below Trisha. “How’s it going?”
She shrugged.
“I brought you a present.”
Her face lit up. “You did?”
“Yeah, I left it on the swing. Let me go get it.”
He walked out to the front porch and grabbed the bag containing the fashion-model doll. But when he entered the foyer, there was so much commotion going on with Dennis wanting the TV on, then wanting it off again, that Max nudged his head in the direction of the family room. “Why don’t we go in the family room?”
Trisha nodded and scrambled down the steps, leading the way.
She ran toward her little table, but he suggested they sit on the sofa. “Just until we get the present out of the bag.”
She nodded eagerly and raced to the sofa. He eased himself down beside her. Painfully honest, he said, “I asked my secretary for suggestions. And she told me you would like this.”
He handed her the bag and she all but dove inside. “Rachel!” she cried, giving the popular doll’s name.
He smiled. “You like it?”
“Yes!” Then she rose up on her knees and propelled herself at him.
Max’s heart stopped. She was soft and warm and innocently sincere. How easily she seemed to be getting adjusted to him. Now if he could only adjust as easily to her.
She slid off the sofa and ran to her little table and chairs. “She has to come to a tea party.”
Max stayed on the sofa but quickly realized he would be totally out of everything if he stayed there. So he rose and made his way to the little table.
Without looking at him, she said, “Since Mom’s busy, we’ll just have pretend tea.”
She ripped the packaging away from her new doll, and he lowered himself to a chair. “Sounds good to me.”
“She said Grandpa would be sick for a while.” She peeked up at him, her little face drawn in sad lines. “I don’t want him to be sick.”
“He’s not really sick anymore. More like recovering.”
Her face brightened. “Not sick?”
Ugh. Maybe he shouldn’t have said anything? But now that he was in, he was in and he had to keep going. “He was sick. Very sick. And because he was very sick, certain parts of him don’t work as well as they used to.”
Her eyes widened in horror.
His chest tightened with fear. Had he made things worse? Good Lord, he was terrible at this. Which meant he wasn’t done. Not until she understood. “It’s like his legs sort of forgot how to walk. So he uses the walker until he remembers.”
“So he’ll remember?”
“Hopefully his body will remember everything it forgot.”
* * *
When her father was finally settled, Kate glanced around the makeshift bedroom and her breath caught. Trisha had been right behind her and so had Max. Now they were nowhere in sight. She raced to the kitchen, thinking maybe they were just lagging behind, but the room was empty.
Her heart spun out of control.
Oh, God! Max was a taker. A fun-loving, let-me-show-you-a-good-time guy who believed it was easier to apologize than ask permission. He could have taken Trisha to the yard to play or he could have taken her to his house. He had a pool, and it was hot—
He’d taken her!
She rushed to the living room to tell her parents she was leaving for a minute, not sure how she’d tell them Max had apparently taken Trisha somewhere, when she thought of the family room. Trisha’s tea set. Max’s desire to get to know their daughter.
Her pounding heart slowed, but her thoughts rolled on. She’d jumped to a bad conclusion because she didn’t trust him. This—jumping to conclusions, fearing the worst—was a painful reminder of what life with Max was like. And he was in their life again.
She walked up to the family-room door, saw them sitting at the small plastic table and stopped suddenly as she heard Trisha say, “Mom said Grandpa would be sick for a while.” She peeked up at Max, her little face scrunched in a combination of fear and sadness. “I don’t want him to be sick.”
Looking like a giant, Max shifted on the tiny chair. “He’s not really sick anymore. More like recovering.”
Trisha’s face brightened. “Not sick?”
He winced and took the empty teacup she handed him. He pretended to sip then set the cup down again and said, “He was sick. Very sick. And because he was very sick, certain parts of him don’t work as well as they used to.”
Trisha’s eyes widened in horror. Kate just barely stifled a gasp.
She started to run in and save her child, but Max said, “It’s like his legs sort of forgot how to walk. So he uses the walker until he remembers.”
“So he’ll remember?”
Max’s face softened. “Hopefully his body will remember everything it forgot.”
When Trisha nodded her understanding, Kate’s formerly frantic heart expanded with gratitude. It was so easy to scare a child, easier still to confuse them. Yet Max handled Trisha’s fears perfectly. He kept the language on a level a seven-year-old could understand. Drew images she could relate to. And he sat with her, entertaining her, while he spoke. She couldn’t have done better herself. Yet she’d doubted him, jumped to a bad conclusion, thought the worst.
Maybe because she was looking for a way to stop her own guilt over the news she had to deliver as soon as she and Max were alone?
There was no sense putting off the inevitable. She stepped into the family room. “Hey, I see you got a new doll.”
Max glanced up sharply. “I hope you don’t mind.”
She ambled over. “We don’t mind at all. A present every now and again is a good thing for a little girl. But—” She gave Max a pointed look. “Remember her birthday isn’t too far away, so we don’t want to go overboard now.”
He inclined his head in acceptance. “Makes perfect sense to me.”
She eased herself onto one of the chairs and tapped Trisha’s soft little hand to get her attention. “Grandma is going to be busy with Grandpa for a while, so I thought it would be a good idea for us to make lunch.”
Trisha brightened. “Can I make soup?”
“You can go in the kitchen and get out a can of the kind of soup you want to eat, but I cook.”
Trisha growled an “Ah, Mom.”
But Kate held her ground and Trisha scampered away.
She faced Max. “I’m sorry about this.”
He caught her gaze. “About what?”
Remembering how easy it was to get lost in his perfect blue eyes, she glanced down and toyed with one of the plastic cups. “My dad coming home. I must have been only half paying attention when my mom told me last night there was a possibility he’d come home today.” She shrugged. “He’s doing so well that he can actually be driven to physical therapy.”
“That’s great.”
“He has very little residual effects from his stroke.”
“He was lucky.”
“Yes. He was.”
And now came the hard part. She swallowed and fortified herself to meet his gaze again. “That means my mom’s not going to need us as much as I’d thought.”
His eyebrows rose. “Oh?”
She sucked in a breath. “I know I told you that I’d planned to stay three months, which would have given you lots of time to get to know Trisha, but now we’ll be going home.”
His eyes flickered. But he didn’t yell. He barely reacted. He simply said, “Where’s home?”
Since she knew he could probably find her with a good investigator, she didn’t hesitate. “Tennessee.”
> “Oh.”
His “Oh,” was soft, filled with questions and misery, but no anger.
The temptation was strong to put her hand over his, to comfort him, but she kept her hands on her lap. “I’m so sorry.”
He shifted on the chair again. “Why do you have to leave? I mean, it sounds like you’ve already made arrangements to stay three months. Why go back home?”
She shrugged. “Because some of us have to work.”
He caught her gaze. “As my child’s mother you would never have to work another day in your life. You know that.”
Her caution morphed into hope and happiness, confusing her. He was being easy to deal with right now, accommodating, but she knew the other side of this guy. She rose and walked far enough away from him to give herself some distance.
“I happen to like my job.”
He eased back on the little chair. “When we were dating you always said you wanted to be a stay-at-home mom.”
“I did. But when circumstances shifted and I had to go to work, I discovered I like working.”
“So do I.”
“Really?” For all the years she’d known him, he’d absolutely hated working, being saddled with an empire, answering to an overbearing, unethical father.
“As I grew more competent, my dad eased off a bit.” He shrugged, picked up the Rachel doll and slid it into the packaging again. “I was virtually running the company when he died. I hired really good people as vice presidents and department heads.” He grinned at her. “Mostly I only do the jobs I want to do.”
She laughed. Then caught herself. This was charming Max. The Max who wanted something. She knew this drill too.
She cleared her throat. “I’m sorry about your dad. I heard when he died. I just never—” Never sent an acknowledgment or sympathy card because she didn’t want to be found. She didn’t need to say that.
“He was a bully. We all knew it. But my mother loved him and I grieved for what could have been.” He shrugged. “But that was two years ago. We’ve both moved on.” He rose from the table. “I can see you and your mom have more going on here than you’d expected. Trisha and I had another nice visit and she’s really growing comfortable with me. I don’t want to spoil that or interrupt your lunch.” He smiled. “So I’ll go.”
Not wanting to be rude since she’d promised him an afternoon, she said, “You could stay for lunch.”
“No.” He caught her gaze. “Thanks, though. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He started for the door, but stopped. “Actually, what I meant to say was can I come by again tomorrow?”
His thoughtfulness surprised her, but the fact that he recognized that he’d sort of bulldozed his way into another visit the next day out-and-out shocked her.
She stuttered a bit when she said, “Sure. One o’clock again.” She cautiously took a step toward him. “This time we really will be home.”
He laughed and headed for the door. “See you tomorrow.”
Rooted to her spot, she watched him go. “See you tomorrow.”
She stood there until she heard the front door close, followed by the sound of the electric can opener in the kitchen. Thinking Trisha had gotten bored waiting for her, she dashed into the kitchen to find her mom and Trisha pouring the contents of a soup can into a pot.
Her breath whooshed out. “Wow. I thought Trisha was in here making soup alone.”
“Nope.” Her mother smiled. “I’m here. We’re fine.”
“Shouldn’t you be with Dad?”
Bev rolled her eyes. “No, he wants to watch Price for a Day. I’m letting him.”
Kate laughed, then faced Trisha. She needed some time alone with her mom. “Go put your new Rachel doll away before we eat.”
With a happy nod, Trisha darted off.
Bev didn’t waste a second. “So, how’s Max doing with Trisha?”
Kate reached for the bread to make sandwiches. “Fine.” She shook her head. “Actually, he’s doing really well. I walked in on him explaining Dad’s illness to Trisha. It was adorable.”
Her mom stopped midway to the stove. “Oh, no, Katie! I hope you’re not going to get sucked into this again.”
Kate’s skin prickled defensively. Did her mother think she was stupid? “I’m not.”
“I mean, when he’s sober even I like the guy. And I think he has a right to see Trisha. But he’s bad news as a husband.”
Kate walked to the toaster. “My memory’s not that short, Mom.”
And it wasn’t. Because the one thing she hadn’t seen the day before when she’d visited him in her beautiful former house was the crystal vase her parents had scrimped and saved to buy as a wedding gift for her and Max. She didn’t see it because Max had broken it the night she left. He’d been too drunk to remember that it wasn’t a gift from his parents, but from hers. To this day he probably didn’t even know he’d thrown it against the fireplace and shattered it into a million pieces, along with her heart—and their marriage.
Had he not broken that vase that night, she might have told him she was pregnant. Instead, she’d packed her bags.
Yeah. She remembered exactly how bad a husband Max was.
CHAPTER FIVE
SUNDAY AFTERNOON, when Kate opened the door to Max, she quietly said, “Come in.”
Dressed in shorts and a T-shirt with flip-flops, he stepped over the threshold. Then she saw the bag in his hands. Her eyebrows rose. “More gifts?”
“Just another couple of outfits that Annette said no self-respecting Rachel could be without.”
Kate laughed. She wasn’t going to be charmed, but she couldn’t be a bitter ex-wife either. These visits were about Trisha, not her, not even about their bad marriage. Their child. Her mom might be worried, but she had a very good memory. She would be smart this time around.
“Just don’t forget we’re coming up on her birthday.”
She turned to call up the stairs for Trisha but he caught her arm. “So you’ll be here for her birthday?”
His hesitant words surprised her. Actually, they sort of hit her in the heart. He might have been a crappy husband, and she might worry about leaving him alone with their daughter, but she intended to play fair. She wouldn’t withhold information or permissions, unless warranted. And he should know that.
“Yes. I’m sorry. I should have made myself clear yesterday. We’re not staying the entire three months. But we will be staying a few more weeks to help my mom with Dad as he goes through therapy.”
He breathed a sigh of relief and Kate turned to the stairway. Expecting him to catch her arm again, so he could get in a couple of arguments about why she should stay more than a few weeks, she paused before she called Trisha. But he didn’t say anything else. Didn’t even comment on her plans.
She faced him again. “Not going to try to convince me to stay longer?”
“I asked once yesterday. You weren’t really open to it. So I’m not going to push. I have enough money and enough private planes that I could visit every weekend if I wanted.” He laughed lightly. “I could move beside you if I wanted. So I’ll let you make your decisions and I’ll make mine.”
Confusion rattled through her. She was so accustomed to his persuasions, his sweet-talk, that always ended up with her agreeing to something she didn’t want, that she wasn’t sure how to react to that. She turned to the stairs. “Trisha!”
“Coming!”
As Trisha clattered down the stairway, Kate’s mom walked by with the Scrabble game. “Hey, Max.”
“Hey, Bev.”
She rattled the box. “Care to join us?”
“Actually, I was hoping Kate, Trisha and I could go to my house to swim this afternoon.”
At the foot of the stairs now, Trisha’s eyes rounded. “Swim! I love to swim!”
Kate slipped into mother mode. “Trisha, this is one of those things moms like to plan for. We need towels and sunblock.”
“I have those in abundance.”
“Plus, we’d have to dig
out your bathing suit.”
Trisha headed up the stairs. “I’ll find it.”
“But—”
From the living room Kate’s dad growled, “Ah, go! It’s a damn hot day and a little girl needs some fun in her life. Not to sit around and watch her grandpa watch TV.”
Embarrassed by her dad’s outburst, Kate faced Max. “Sorry.”
Max chuckled and shook his head. “I think he’s funny.”
She glanced into the living room, then at Max again. “Yeah, well, I’d like my even-tempered dad back.”
“What do the doctors say? Will he ever be his old self again?”
“I’m right here! I can hear you whispering about me.”
Kate sighed, leaned in and lowered her voice even more. “Yes, as he regains the strength in his legs and can do all the things he used to do, he’ll slip back to normal.”
Max whispered, “That’s good,” and though Kate told herself to pull back, away from him, she didn’t. She couldn’t. The scent of him drew her closer. She inhaled as inconspicuously as possible and took in the spicy, male, sexy smell that was uniquely Max. She knew that was pathetic, maybe even dangerous. She didn’t have enough fingers to count the ways being attracted to him was wrong. But she wasn’t really attracted to him. She remembered all the bad things about being Mrs. Maxwell Montgomery. She just loved the way he looked, the way he smelled, the physical way he made her feel.
Emotionally, though, he was public enemy number one. She knew that. She wouldn’t let something physical turn into something emotional again. But she just couldn’t stop the urge for that scent.
Max put his hand on her shoulder and casually directed her up the stairs. “Go. Grab your swimsuit and your sunblock. I’ll entertain your dad for a few minutes.”
The touch of his hand on her shoulder all but melted her bones. She’d been on a few dates the past couple of years, but she’d never had another lover. Now she knew why. No man could ever really take Max’s place.
She raced up the stairs, heart in her throat. She’d told herself not to sniff him but she had, and then he’d touched her and she’d gotten all melty. And a new lesson had been learned. It wasn’t safe to get too close. Not even when she thought she was strong. There was something about him that called to her. It was basic, elemental. Purely animal instinct. Not something she could explain or control. But for that very reason she couldn’t toy with it.
