~~~
Zane's crossed ankles rested on the spanking new drafting table he'd installed in his above-the-garage unit. With his arms over his chest, he sat and broodingly regarded the tips of his boots. Norman Debbert's voice still rang in his ears, making him ignore the drawing on the table.
The drawing was important. Zane needed to specify for the manufacturer where to put the cuts and folds that would turn a flat piece of paper into a P-51 Mustang fighter airplane. Instead, he sat there scowling.
He'd thought he was all done with the Pattie chapter of his life. Any connection to her should have been finished. But the phone call he'd just received threw that happy assumption into the trash.
Damn. Damn, damn, damn.
As if matters weren't bad enough, he now heard footsteps on the stairs. Cassie. If she hadn't seen him emerge for a while, she came by to make sure he was still alive.
With a grimace, Zane realized he probably hadn't come out his front door for at least two days. His latest batch of designs had required a feverish burst of energy. He had to work fast if he wanted to get his paper airplane toys on store shelves by Christmas.
A single sharp rap confirmed Zane's guess this was his sister. She always knocked that way, as if it were beneath her dignity to hit the door more than once.
Uncrossing his ankles, Zane lurched to his feet. He sighed as he walked over to the door and opened it wide. "I'm breathing."
"Breathing." Cassie sniffed. "But unwashed."
"I took a shower this morning!"
"Emotionally unwashed," Cassie elaborated, and let herself in.
Zane didn't like the sound of that. "Much as I'd loved to entertain you, Cass, I'm kinda busy at the moment." Or he ought to have been busy, anyway.
"You've been busy for the past four weeks," Cassie retorted. "Too busy to eat dinner with us, too busy to say hello, too busy even to wave."
Unable to protest he hadn't been that bad, Zane instead argued, "You should be happy I'm so occupied. Haven't you been bugging me for a year to do something more productive than nannying?"
Cassie glided over to Zane's drafting table. Glancing at the drawing there, she sniffed again. "Under ordinary circumstances, I'd be thrilled with your decision to start a toy airplane company. The design work, the marketing, the wheeling and dealing— It's a great challenge for you." Cassie slid a finger along the edge of Zane's drawing. "But these aren't ordinary circumstances."
"Oh?" Zane could feel the muscles in his neck tighten.
Cassie took a pensive look at his drawing. "You're using your new company to hide."
Now his jaw muscles started tensing, too. "I must have been on the phone today with a dozen people from around the country. I've pitched my product to all of them. You call that hiding?"
Cassie delivered a long, drawn-out sigh. "You know what I'm talking about." She turned to face him. "You're hiding from your problems."
"Ah." Despite his tense jaw, Zane managed to smile. "And you're here to drag me out to face them, eh?"
Cassie tilted her head. "Would you?"
Zane pulled his mouth to one side. "If I had any problems, I'd face them for you, Cass. But I don't have any." Moving toward the kitchen, he asked, "Want something to drink?"
As far as he was concerned, his statement was true. He had no problems. On the contrary, he'd recently chucked his most abiding problem: a habit of entangling himself with unsuitable females. By separating from Pattie, he'd begun a healthier lifestyle.
He'd be doing just peachy if he hadn't received that disturbing phone call from Norman Debbert a few minutes ago.
"No, I don't want anything to drink." Cassie glared at Zane as he drifted toward the fridge. "Can't you at least tell me what went wrong between you and Pattie?"
"What would be the point in talking about it? You've already decided whatever happened must be my fault."
"True." Cassie leaned her hips against the table. "But I'd be willing to hear your side."
Snorting, Zane drew a root beer out of the refrigerator. "Right. So you could tell me exactly where I went wrong."
"Maybe." Cassie smiled slightly. "If I didn't think you already knew, yourself."
Zane looked down at the can. Did he know? He had to admit that sometimes, late at night, he did wonder. Had he jumped the gun? Had he expected too much from Pattie too soon? He stopped such questions as soon as they began, however, knowing it wasn't a good idea to second-guess himself.
Cassie bent an elbow on the tabletop and raised her eyebrows at Zane. "Why do I get the feeling you're sabotaging yourself?"
"I don't know." But her choice of words made Zane frown. Was it self-destruction for his protective instincts to leap at the sound of Debbert's voice? Savannah's obsessive fan had given Zane the willies when he'd met the guy with Pattie at his low-down apartment. But was it unhealthy to care about that now, when Zane's connection to Pattie was over? On the other hand, who wouldn't feel concerned after hearing Norman's angry rant?
Zane could still feel the imprint of the phone on his palm where he'd tightened his hand. Norman had threatened all kinds of violence against Pattie if she didn't come up with Savannah's locket necklace. He was convinced she was hiding it from him.
"I know you're holding the strings," Norman had told Zane, breathing heavily. "Pattie does what you tell her, so you better tell her to deliver, asswipe."
Zane was still buzzing from the adrenaline rush. He wasn't sure how to come down from it without taking some action here. But what action could he take? Pattie had made it clear—and he'd agreed—he was through protecting or taking care of her.
On the other hand, he couldn't help feeling...concerned.
He did not appreciate the sensation.
"It's a waste of time trying to talk to you, isn't it?" Cassie sighed.
Zane nodded. It probably was a waste of time for Cassie. For Norman Debbert, on the other hand...?
"Are you coming to dinner tonight?" Cassie asked.
"I—" Zane caught a certain expression in Cassie's eyes. "Sure," he said with a resigned smile. "I'll be there."
"Fine." Cassie smiled back, as if she'd accomplished something important. "I'll see you at six."
Zane nodded, still thinking about Norman Debbert's threats.
Should he warn Pattie?
The mere thought of dialing her phone number made his blood rush. Dialing it for the purpose of saving her from a presumptive madman was even worse. He'd try to be her hero again. That would be a bad mistake. It would reawaken his yearning for the things she was most determined to withhold from him: faith and trust.
Maybe he didn't have to call. Pattie had told Zane she could handle Debbert. She thought she could handle any damn thing.
But as Zane watched his sister stride for the door, he wasn't sure he could leave it at that.
Damn. Damn, damn, damn.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
The phone started ringing inside her apartment just as Pattie finished throwing the bolt outside her front door. "Oh, hell," she said.
"Hell!" Tristan agreed chirpily.
"I meant to say 'heck,'" Pattie claimed, then spent a full two seconds contemplating the idea of opening the door to get the phone. But it had been a real challenge getting out in the first place, what with gathering Tristan's night things and then obtaining that elusive element of toddler cooperation. She wasn't sure she could manage it a second time.
Mostly, she didn't think she could muster the courage to embark on this journey a second time.
"Whoever it is can leave a message," Pattie told Tristan, and swung away from the door. Holding her nephew firmly in one arm and clutching his bags with the other, she started down the front stairs. The sun hung low, shooting between the heads of the palm trees lining the street. Meanwhile, the ringing of the phone followed them all the way down the stairs and through the gate into the backyard.
The sound seemed to mock Pattie's decision to drive out to Encino. Going to see Zane was stupid. He'd
told her he was through with her. Whatever gift of love he may once have offered had been withdrawn.
Only...could a person do that? Could one withdraw love?
Pattie's heart pounded as she approached the garage from the backyard. Of course a person could. People withdrew their love from each other all the time.
Except...Zane hadn't said he was done loving her. What he'd said was that the relationship wasn't working. He'd even said it wasn't working because Pattie could not accept his gift of love.
That might mean the ball was in her court now. It might mean it was up to her to show Zane she actually did accept and believe in his love.
Assuming she could.
Now she set Tristan down in order to shove open the stubborn pedestrian door at the back of the garage. She couldn't hear the phone upstairs any more; either it had stopped ringing or she was too far away.
Maybe she was too far away, too. Too far from being able to believe in love. But—she wanted to be able to believe. She wanted to try.
Would that be enough for Zane?
She didn't know.
With the pedestrian door finally open, she led Tristan through. After pulling open the back door of her Rav4, she tossed in Tristan's overnight case, a drawstring bag of toys, and a grocery sack of books. She hadn't told Tristan he might see Zane. Only recently had the child tired of pestering her about him. But the questions would start up again once she dropped him off at Cassie's.
It was yet another chance she was taking.
"Okay, champ," she said. "Climb in."
"I want my Porsh," Tristan said.
"Of course. We can't go anywhere without our Porsche. Get into your car seat and we'll fetch it out of the toy bag." Pattie was amazed at how calm she sounded. Inside she was a taut bowstring.
After Tristan clambered into his car seat, Pattie handed him the toy bag. While she strapped him in, he rooted around for his beloved Porsche. She then eased around her car to the overhead garage door.
Her stomach churned and her fingers shook. She fumbled for several exasperating minutes with the inside lock, then pushed against the door. Slowly, it rose. The heat of Indian summer rose off the asphalt of the alley and billowed into the garage.
The weather was hot, but as Pattie rounded the back of the car to get to the driver's side, a sliver of ice ran up her spine. She whirled.
Was somebody there?
Her heart pounded with the sudden impression and she squinted down the alley, searching for watching eyes.
Bougainvillea spilled over backyard walls and paint peeled off garage doors of various shapes and sizes. A cat streaked across the pavement and under a fence.
A cat. That was all.
But the icy sensation against Pattie's spine didn't completely fade. She turned to squint in the other direction.
Nothing. Not even a cat.
Nerves, Pattie thought, striding back into the garage. For the first time in her life, she was relying on hope rather than a sure thing. She was acknowledging she cared rather than pretending nothing mattered. And she was putting the reins of her fate in the hands of someone else.
None of that sat right.
But on the other hand, all of this had to happen. She couldn't allow fear to prevent her from accepting a wonderful gift. She certainly couldn't allow fear to block her ability to give that gift to others. She had a child now, for heaven's sake.
She could not remain a coward. She had to move from fear to trust.
Yet the chip of ice against her spine didn't go away, no matter how fiercely Pattie scoffed at her own cowardice. The ice stayed firmly planted on her back as she pulled out of the garage, closed the door, and later merged onto the San Diego Freeway.
As much as she wanted to get away from her fear, it wasn't leaving.
~~~
Pattie must have let the battery die on her cell phone. Either that or she recognized Zane's number on caller ID and wasn't picking up. Zane had already tried her landline, to no avail. With one hip against his kitchen counter, he held his cell phone to his ear and listened to the canned ring go on and on.
With a muttered oath, he snapped the call off and tossed the phone onto the tiled counter. His disgust was with himself, though, and not Pattie's cell phone. It must have been the tenth time he'd tried to call her since Norman Debbert's threat. The tenth time!
He felt like an alcoholic, who after the first shot couldn't stop ordering more. Once Zane had decided to call Pattie, he'd become determined to reach her. He was only supposed to be warning her about Debbert, but he knew his true goal was to hear her voice...to connect with her.
Jesus.
He wasn't even convinced Debbert was a threat. Savannah's old fan might mouth off because he wasn't willing to do anything worse than hurl insults. Plus Pattie could probably handle the guy better than Zane could.
A slow breath hissed from between his lips. He was acting stupid. Trying to put himself back in doormat position, right in a place where Pattie could resume walking all over him.
Feeling an itch in his fingers that meant he wanted to reach for the phone, Zane shot a glare at the instrument then deliberately straightened from the kitchen counter and walked away from it. He had to stop trying to call her, he had to halt this whole sick process before it got any further.
But as he sauntered toward his drafting table and the work he'd left there, a funny idea tickled his brain. What if calling Pattie wasn't sick? What if the reason he couldn't get over this relationship was because he'd given up on it too soon?
Zane scowled down at the blueprint spread over his table. The niggling idea tickled further, burrowing in. What if he'd been wrong to leave Pattie? What if she actually wanted everything he did in the relationship—only he'd pushed her too fast, expected too much too soon?
What if the problem hadn't been her, but him?
Zane's scowl deepened. Slowly, he picked up a pencil and quietly tapped its end on the tabletop. The idea the relationship still had a chance was tempting. It was so tempting it was probably wrong. He was just making excuses to return to doormathood.
With a brisk shake of his head, Zane moved toward the seat behind his table, intending to resume work on his airplane. A knock on his front door stopped him in his tracks.
Zane halted, frowning. He knew the knocks of every member of Cassie's household: his sister's peremptory announcement, her husband's respectful request, Danny's barrage, and Brittany's teenage taps. This knock didn't match any of them.
Debbert, he thought. But, no. Savannah's fan might have been able to weasel Zane's phone number from somewhere but he couldn't have obtained Zane's address.
Probably one of the kids had left the backyard gate open. Some salesman had sneaked in and up his stairs.
All the same, Zane kept his body loose, his muscles ready, as he pulled open his front door.
It was a good thing, too. He needed all his reflexes for what stood on his threshold.
Not a salesman. Not even Debbert, yet Zane's heart nearly punched a hole through his chest all the same. There at his front door, looking nervous, looking feisty, stood the very last person he'd expected.
"Pattie," Zane whispered.
~~~
Pattie stood on the landing outside Zane's over-the-garage unit and felt an astounding jolt of excitement—simply from seeing Zane again.
Judging by his baleful glare, Zane was not experiencing the same emotion. Instead he looked shocked, alarmed, and quite possibly pissed.
Drawing in a slow breath, Pattie assured herself Zane being pissed was a good thing. Pissed was better than indifference. At least, she hoped it was.
"Pattie," Zane said, very flat.
"Um." Now that she was here, Pattie felt so rattled she couldn't remember what she'd planned to do next. Or had she planned?
Meanwhile, Zane's baleful glare managed to darken.
Flustered, she blurted, "Can we talk?"
Duh. Of course she wanted to talk. Why else would she be here
? Pattie could feel her cheeks redden.
A variety of emotions chased each other across Zane's face. To Pattie, none of them seemed welcoming.
"All right," he decided at last, then glanced briefly into his apartment. "But not here." He stepped out his front door.
"Oh." Pattie's face felt as hot as a baked tomato. "Sorry if I'm interrupting—"
"I don't have a woman inside." Zane interpreted her blush with deadly accuracy. "I just want...more neutral ground."
"Oh." Pattie did her best to disguise a flood of relief. He didn't have a woman in his apartment. At least, not tonight. God, she hadn't even considered the possibility. How stupid could a person get? "Sure. Okay. You wanta...take a walk?"
If I have to. Zane's thoughts were plain on his face.
With her relief turning back to nerves, Pattie swallowed and led the way down the stairs to the backyard. She waited silently while Zane opened the door to the garage, then followed him out into the alley. All the way, he radiated a total lack of enthusiasm.
At least, that's how it seemed to her.
In the alley, dusk had moved in, creating halos around the lights on the garages along the narrow lane. Dark shadows formed under the tree branches that hung over from various backyards.
Pattie turned to Zane. His presence was like a powerful, warm force. She wanted to be enveloped by that force. At the same time, her fear was a gigantic wall between the two of them. If she were to try walking toward him, she couldn't imagine him opening his arms to accept her.
Thus daunted by her wall of fear, Pattie didn't even consider scaling it. Instead, she wondered what reason she could give Zane for having come by this evening—what phony reason, that was. She couldn't possibly admit the real one.
Fortunately, Zane forestalled this cowardly move by asking, "Have you seen Norman Debbert recently?"
Pattie tilted her head, unpleasantly surprised. "No, I haven't." But Norman seemed to be following her around today. First Bree and now Zane. She frowned, thinking of the heebie-jeebie moment earlier in her alley. "Why do you ask?"
"He called me this afternoon." Zane's lips thinned. "Must have got my number from information. He issued some threats." Zane hesitated. "About you."
If I Loved You Page 26
