The thought propelled him from his chair. He crossed the office and headed for his bedroom. The master suite was close to the stairs. As he entered the large room, he glanced at the sleigh bed, and antique nightstand and dresser he’d found in the attic. Old and new blended well. He had Kiki to thank for that. When he’d redone his bedroom, she’d helped him pick out fabric and decide which pieces to use. He’d made the change in an effort to forget. It hadn’t helped much.
He crossed to the closet and quickly shrugged out of his dress shirt and trousers. After pulling on jeans, he buttoned the fly then returned to the dresser in the bedroom for a sweatshirt.
He slipped his arms into the soft fleece, then paused to look at the picture on top of the dresser. It showed Robin working at her computer. She hadn’t known she was being photographed. Oversize glasses slipped down her nose as she leaned back and stared at the screen. Her jeans were torn, her boots scuffed, her sweater slipping off one shoulder. The photo captured her at a moment of inspiration. Her wide mouth turned up in a smile while her arms were extended, palms up, in a gesture of victory.
He’d seen her that way dozens of times. For a while he hadn’t been able to look at the pictures without feeling pain. Now it gave him a bittersweet connection to the past.
He looked around the room and wondered if he’d been hasty in moving. The original master suite had been down the hall. He’d gutted two bedrooms and a bathroom, then converted them into the new master. The old suite had been divided into the second-floor library and storage. He’d sold the furniture he and Robin had used. It had been his way of trying to get on with his life. It hadn’t helped much.
He pulled the sweatshirt over his head then grabbed a pair of socks and his athletic shoes. He knew he would always love Robin and he would always miss her, yet the past week had taught him an important lesson. Having Christie in his life had shown him that five years after the fact he might finally be ready to let go of Robin. Maybe it was time to stop living in black-and-white.
When he got downstairs, Kiki was alone in the kitchen. She’d changed from her jogging suit into wool slacks and a sweater.
“I see you have a date tonight,” he said. “Which one is it?”
She raised her eyebrows and smiled. “Skip.”
“Ah, so I won’t expect you before dawn.”
“Maybe not even then. The chili is done. It can simmer until you’re ready to eat. I mixed up corn bread. Pop it into the oven for thirty minutes.” She leaned against the counter and stared at him. “You know it wouldn’t hurt you to try it once and a while. If you still remember how.”
He pulled a bottle of beer out of the refrigerator and opened the top. “The corn bread? I’ll have some tonight.”
“Not food, Parker. A woman.”
Dammit, why did people insist on saying things like that when he was drinking? He swallowed, then choked. After coughing for a couple of minutes, he could finally breathe again.
“Kiki,” he said warningly.
She ignored him. “I’m serious.”
“So am I.”
She walked to the island and braced her hands on the counter. Blue eyes met and held his gaze. “It’s been five years, Parker. That’s a long time to miss someone.”
He turned away and stared out the window. “It doesn’t matter how long it’s been, I still love Robin. I’ll always love her.”
“And I’ll always love my son, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to forget I’m alive. That’s what you’ve been doing all these years. You’re a walking corpse.”
“Thanks for the compliment.”
“I’m only saying this because I care about you. You have needs.”
He groaned silently. “My needs and I are just fine, thank you.”
“Are you? Really? What about the difference Christie has made in your life?”
He couldn’t deny that. “I like having her here.”
“Being alive isn’t so bad, is it?”
He glanced at his housekeeper. “Leave it alone, Kiki. It’s none of your business.”
“Bull.” She moved in front of him and tilted her head back as she stared at him. The fact that he was nearly a foot taller didn’t seem to intimidate her in the least. “I’ve seen how you look at her.”
What was she talking about? “Christie?”
“Erin.”
For one horribly uncomfortable moment he was afraid she’d been able to read his mind. He was willing to admit he might have felt the odd moment of desire, but so what? “She’s Christie’s mother.”
“So? That only makes it more convenient.”
“I’m not interested in convenient.”
“You’re not interested in anything.”
He took another sip of beer. “Maybe I should be like you and have several lovers.”
She smiled. She made a fist and gave him a mock punch in the upper arm. “You’re not the type, Hamilton. You couldn’t handle the pressure to perform.”
“I’m flattered,” he said dryly as she crossed to the small table in front of the window and collected her purse.
“Don’t take it so personally.” She headed for the door. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
He stared after her. “Kiki?”
“Yes?” She paused.
“I’ve been thinking of asking Erin to extend the visit. Would you mind?”
Her smile was blinding. “Finally. Of course I don’t mind. It would be terrific to have Christie here. Plus you’d have more time to work on her mother.”
“Erin is off limits.”
“Where did that rule come from?”
“I just made it up. I don’t want to complicate my relationship with Christie by getting involved with Erin.”
“Sure.” Kiki nodded. “Falling in love with Erin, marrying her and living with the two of them forever would be a real complication. I can see why you’re determined to avoid it.”
He let her sarcasm wash over him. It didn’t matter what she said, he couldn’t change his mind. After Robin, he’d sworn never to risk love again. The price was too high for everyone involved.
“I hear them coming this way,” Kiki said, then opened the door. “Ask her. I’ll be expecting good news in the morning.”
Ask Erin now? “I was thinking of mentioning it later in the week.”
“Figures. Just like I said, Parker, you can’t perform under pressure. Bye.”
The door slammed behind her just as Erin walked into the room. “Was that Kiki?” she asked.
“Yeah. She’s got one of her dates.”
“Oh, which one?”
“Skip.”
Erin grinned. “She won’t be back until morning.”
Her humor was contagious. “I wouldn’t count on it. You want a beer?”
“Sure, I’ll get it.” Erin opened the refrigerator. “She mixed up some corn bread and left it in here. If you tell me what time you want to eat, I’ll heat it up.”
“Say a half hour?”
“That will make Christie happy. She’s in your study watching a cartoon program that ends in-” she glanced at her watch “-twenty-seven minutes.”
After slipping the corn bread into the oven, she sat on one of the stools by the center island. Parker took the one next to her. Erin uncapped her beer and took a sip, then glanced at him.
“I have to admit I admire Kiki. She knows what she wants, and she does it.”
“Is this specifically about her having three lovers or are you talking in generalities?”
Erin ducked her head but not before he saw a faint blush stain her cheeks. “Oh, I just meant her philosophy about life. Not having regrets.”
“What regrets do you have?”
She thought for a moment. “None where Christie is concerned. I don’t regret what I had to give up to keep her or be a good mother. But sometimes I wonder if I needed to give up everything I did. Maybe I could have made a few compromises.” She shrugged. “It’s hard to say now.”
She turned back and forth on her stool. Her blue sweater twisted with her, alternately tightening, then releasing around her torso. When it tightened, he could see the shape of her breasts and the slender line of her rib cage. He tried to convince himself his interest was simply male appreciation of the female form, but he knew it was more. The heat slowly licking up his body felt suspiciously like desire.
“You could make some changes,” he said.
“I’ve been thinking that, too.” She tilted her head and her hair brushed across her shoulders. “I’ve really enjoyed spending time here. I’ve been able to relax and think. You’ve been a very gracious host, Parker.”
He picked up the beer and downed a large gulp. Ask her, a voice in his head insisted. It was the perfect opening. But what if she didn’t want to stay? What if he’d been a lousy father and she couldn’t wait to get Christie away from him? What if…
Oh, hell. “Erin, I’d like you and Christie to stay with me for the rest of the summer.”
“What?” She spun the stool toward him and stared. “Stay here?”
He nodded. “You don’t go back to work until September. That’s nearly eight weeks away. There’s plenty of room. I think Christie likes it here, and I enjoy having her. You, too, of course.”
“Of course,” she murmured, her delicate eyebrows drawing together. “Stay here for the rest of the summer? I had no idea.”
He put the beer bottle on the counter and resisted the urge to wipe his suddenly sweaty palms on his jeans. “I like being with my daughter. I want to have more time with her before she has to go back to school.”
She stared at him and he stared back. Her hazel eyes were wide like Christie’s, and fringed with dark lashes. Her skin was smooth and soft looking. They were close enough for him to smell the sweet scent of her perfume.
He wanted to hope she would say yes. He wanted to beg. He wanted to promise he would never hurt her or Christie. Instead he waited.
“Christie would like it,” she said at last. “She loves this house and being with you. I wasn’t sure what kind of father you would be, but I’m very impressed.”
“Thank you,” he said quietly, the anticipation building. “I don’t have a clue what I’m doing, so I’m winging it.”
“You have good instincts.” She tilted her head again, then smiled. “I don’t really have anything to go home to. Summer in Palmdale is hot and windy. Staying here is like being at a vacation resort. You must promise to let me know if either Christie or I get in the way.”
“Is that a yes?”
“Yes.”
“Yeah?” He stood up and grinned. “Great. Thanks.”
Without thinking, he pulled her to her feet. She came willingly, and then she was standing very close to him. She was smiling, too, and her hands rested on his chest.
He could feel the heat from each of her fingers. His heart rate increased. The need and the relief got tangled up together, feeding each other until they both exploded into a raging fire. His humor faded and he wanted to kiss her.
He placed his hands on her shoulders. Her sweater was as touchably soft as he had imagined it would be. He could feel her shoulders and the thin strap of her bra.
“Erin,” he breathed as he lowered his head to hers.
The kitchen door popped open.
“I have seen this cartoon before,” Christie announced as she raced into the room. Her shoes skidded as she came to a sudden stop.
Parker released Erin and took a step back. Christie was staring at him. “Are you going to kiss Mommy?”
He didn’t know what to say.
Erin solved the problem by going to her daughter and taking her hand. “Don’t be silly. We were just talking.” As she led the girl out of the room, she gave him a quick glance over her shoulder.
He wasn’t sure what she saw on his face. After all, he wasn’t sure what he was feeling at this moment. He was glad they were staying and he had wanted to kiss her. Even though he knew it was wrong.
But as Erin looked at him, he knew exactly what emotion she was experiencing. Regret.
What he didn’t know was why. Was she sorry they hadn’t kissed or sorry that he’d tried at all?
Chapter Eight
Lightning cut through the night, followed by the rumble of thunder. Erin crossed her bedroom and went into the hall. The small night-lights glowed. She bent her wrist toward the illumination and checked the time. Eight-twenty.
When a second clap of thunder shook the house, she pushed open the door to Christie’s room and stepped inside.
“Are you doing okay, sweetie?” she asked quietly.
“Mommy?” Her daughter sounded sleepy. “I can see the lightning with my eyes closed.”
“I know.” Erin sat on the edge of the bed and stared at the little girl. Her hair was dark against the white pillowcase. She looked small and fragile in bed, with only her teddy to protect her from harm. “Are you frightened by the storm?”
“It’s just the clouds,” Christie said. “They’re talkin’ to each other. They can’t help it if their voices are really loud.”
Erin had never figured out where Christie had found this theory on thunderstorms, but as long as it kept her from being scared, it really didn’t matter.
“And the lightning?” she asked.
Christie yawned. “They’re passin’ notes.”
“Hmm, that’s what I thought.” She bent over and kissed her cheek. “I’m going to read in my room or watch TV downstairs. If you get frightened, you come get me. Promise?”
“Promise,” Christie murmured as her eyes drifted shut. She sighed softly, then fell back to sleep.
The storm raged around them but the innocent child was oblivious to its fury. Erin left the room and returned to her own. Once there she paced the length, then tried to find a book that sounded interesting.
She was restless. Maybe it was being cooped up in this house so much. Erin grimaced. Living in this huge mansion was hardly being “cooped up” anywhere, so it wasn’t that. But how else could she explain dull buzzing in the back of her mind and the urge to keep moving?
She crossed to the window and pulled open the heavy drapes. Rain battered against the windows. A flash of lightning arced through the night. She waited for the accompanying roar, and when it came, the panes rattled.
There shouldn’t be a problem, she told herself. Everything was settled. Last week she had agreed to stay for the summer so Parker could get to know Christie. Her daughter had been thrilled at the prospect. Erin had wondered if Christie might miss her friends, but apparently a few four-year-olds couldn’t compete with the excitement of a new house, a housekeeper who went out of her way to bake delicious things and a new father. Christie loved it here. Erin’s only regret about staying was how hard it was going to be to go home in September.
Leaving the drapes open, she went back to her dresser and studied the stack of books there. She and Kiki had made a trip to the local library. While Parker had an impressive selection of reading material, it didn’t include the latest mysteries and romances that Erin preferred. She ran her finger down the spines of the books, but none of them caught her fancy. Without wanting to-even as she told herself she shouldn’t-she opened the top drawer and pulled out Stacey’s diary.
Erin turned on the bedside lamp, then settled on the mattress. She flipped through the pages all the while wondering why she was torturing herself. Reading the diary made her feel foolish and inadequate. It brought up feelings that she didn’t like. Yet she felt compelled to read it, as if the pages somehow held a treasure she had yet to discover.
A sentence about a summer storm caught her attention. The passage was dated about three weeks after Stacey had moved in to the house.
The old house practically dances in the thunder. Oh, I’m laughing as I write this. Dances in the thunder? Gee, next I’ll take up writing depressing literary novels and go live in France. No, I won’t be going anywhere. If I had my way, I would stay here always. With Parker.<
br />
How he broods. Apparently his wife died a short time ago. He loved her and loves her still. I want to tell him that I can heal him. In my arms he can find…whatever he’s looking for.
Several sentences were scratched out, then the entry continued. I want to put on something sexy and feminine, go downstairs and find him. I want to dance with him and hold him. I want to make love to him. I want to belong to him. I think I love him.
Erin slammed the diary shut. Irritation warred with sadness. Stacey couldn’t help what she was feeling, but if she were here, Erin would shake some sense into her. Couldn’t her sister see that Parker truly mourned his wife? No amount of holding or dancing would make that kind of pain go away. It took time. But Stacey wouldn’t have been interested in reality. She only saw what she wanted to.
Poor Stacey. The relationship-if that’s what it could be called-had been doomed from the start. She’d taken a few truths and created an unreal world. She’d acted on it and had expected Parker to do the same.
Parker. Erin felt for him, too. He must have been in so much pain. His wife’s unexpected death had been recent. He’d needed a friend, not an overgrown adolescent throwing herself at him. If only he’d been able to tell Stacey the truth.
Erin set down the diary. Stacey wouldn’t have heard anything except what she wanted to hear.
She stood up and crossed to the mirror. The lights in the room illuminated her features. She studied them, seeing Stacey instead of herself. In her mind’s eye, her hair was longer, the scar on her forehead gone. She wondered if other people had this ability to step out of themselves and see someone else, or if it only happened to twins. Probably it was unique to twins. Other people rarely looked exactly like someone else. She blinked and the memory was gone. She was just herself again.
“You always leapt into things without thinking,” Erin said aloud, then smiled. She was in more trouble than she thought if she stood here waiting for an answer.
But she knew her sister well, and in her head she heard what Stacey would have said if she’d been there. Stacey would have rolled her eyes, planted her hands on her hips and said, “I might plunge forward, but you’re going to die waiting for the right moment. Quit waiting and do something. Act. Everything isn’t always perfect, so you have to take what you can get.”
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