Always Daddy
Page 8
By the time Alicia finished the story, Emily was asleep. Kissing her daughter on the forehead, Alicia settled Emily under the covers and turned off the light.
Jon had stepped into the hall and was waiting—tall, male and imposing. He made her house seem much smaller. Scooting by him, she opened the linen closet and took out a blue towel and washcloth. “Do you need anything else?”
His green eyes snared hers. “Not right now. How about you?”
A wave of questions entered Alicia’s mind at his words. Did she need him in her life? Did she need another brush of his lips across hers? Did she need more? The pull of him, the urge to lean into him and be closed into his arms was stronger than anything she’d ever felt. But years of caution led her to reply, “I need to get this job finished. If Emily calls for me, let me know.”
He nodded, and denying the sudden need to be held against him and feel his lips on hers, she went back to work.
But Jon was difficult to put out of her mind. At her desk she heard the shower go on. In her mind’s eye, she could see Jon shrug out of his shirt as he had that night at the spigot. All too well, she remembered his bronze skin and bare chest.
She closed her eyes as if that could block out the picture in her mind. She’d never been the type to ogle men, to even think about ogling men. Why start now?
Alicia concentrated on the logo in front of her, the tennis racket, archery bow and canoe she was determined to make work as an emblem.
By ten-thirty she’d faxed her client the logos. By eleven he’d called with his choice. Breathing a sigh of relief, she shut down the computer and shuffled her papers into a pile. Tomorrow morning she’d shoot it and get it to the printer. Taking a last look around to make sure everything was turned off and in place, she locked her office door and went upstairs. The hum of the television drew her towards the living room.
She stepped into the room, expecting to see Jon watching the news. Instead she found him stretched out on the couch, his feet bare, his eyes closed, his breathing even. The coffee table was stacked with folded fliers. He’d finished almost five boxes, then apparently had decided to take a break.
As she approached him, she could see he was sleeping. He’d changed from his polo shirt into a pale blue oxford, but hadn’t bothered to button it. He’d said something about keeping an extra shirt in his car. Was he always prepared for everything?
Jon looked different sleeping. Younger, more approachable. The rise and fall of his chest kept her mesmerized. The black curly hair was so tempting. If she touched it, what would happen?
She needed to thank him for being such a help today. He didn’t have to be involved in her life, just to be involved in Emily’s. She almost wished he had a reason to be here other than to see Emily. That was crazy. The only other reason would be a relationship with her. Could she even consider that? With a man like Jon?
He was determined and willful, but he appeared to be considerate, too. He seemed to try to understand her wants and ideas. Trusting Patrick had been easy. Trusting a man like Jon…She didn’t even really know him but she was beginning to.
Alicia couldn’t help pushing his hair from his temple. She couldn’t keep from leaning forward and dropping a gentle kiss of thanks above his brow. And she couldn’t disregard the leap of her pulse and the tightening in her belly as she moved away, honestly hoping at that moment, he’d awaken.
But he didn’t and she had to smile. She knew firsthand how tiring Emily could be. Alicia took the cream afghan from the back of the sofa and spread it out over Jon. She didn’t have the heart to wake him. There was nothing wrong with him spending the night on her sofa. And in the morning, she’d make him the best breakfast he’d ever tasted.
Jon awakened to a stream of sunlight streaking across his face and the aroma of bacon in the air. His mouth watered and for a moment he wondered where he was. Only for a moment.
An afghan covered his legs, though half of it had fallen onto the carpet. He didn’t remember pulling it from the back of the sofa. He did remember the brush of soft fingers, a wisp of a kiss. Had he been dreaming?
Sitting up, he put his feet flat on the floor and rubbed his hands over his face. The back door slammed and he heard Alicia call, “I’ll see you at noon. Have a good day.” A moment later, she stood in the doorway to the living room. “Breakfast is ready if you’re hungry.”
He was hungry, all right. For beautiful blue eyes, soft, pink lips, a figure with elegant curves. Jeez. In the rose jumpsuit she was wearing she looked good enough to—Watch it, Wescott, or she’ll throw you out before breakfast. “I guess I conked out last night. Why didn’t you wake me?” he asked.
“You looked so peaceful.”
“I don’t when I’m awake?”
She grimaced. “Hardly.”
“And what do I look like when I’m awake?”
She laid her hand on the back of the sofa. “The truth?”
He nodded.
“Predatory.”
Her answer bothered him. “That’s how you see me?”
“You asked.”
Yes, he had. And one thing he’d quickly learned about Alicia was that she was honest. Because he knew that, he asked, “Did you kiss me last night?”
Her face flushed to match her outfit.
He flipped the afghan to the side of his foot and patted the sofa next to him. “Come here.”
She hesitated a moment, then did as he’d asked. But she sat on the edge, and he could tell she was nervous.
“Did I imagine it?”
She didn’t look at him but at the fliers on the coffee table. “No. It was an impulse. I don’t know what came over me…gratitude, I guess.”
She was still denying the chemistry between them. “Are you sure it was gratitude?”
“Of course.”
She’d answered much too quickly. He took her chin in his palm and turned her face to him. “It was a very nice expression of gratitude.”
“Speaking of gratitude, I’d like to cook you dinner tonight. To properly thank you.”
He suppressed a smile and dropped his hand. “Of course, we must do it properly.” He wanted nothing more than to kiss her silly at the moment, but she was so nervous that he decided against it. She needed to be around him more so she could see he wasn’t “predatory.”
She hopped up from the sofa. “Your eggs are getting cold.”
“Can’t have that.” He stood, too, and she took a step back. Giving her the room she needed, he stayed put. “I thought I’d put the shingles on the playhouse roof today.”
“Don’t you have business to take care of?”
He wasn’t sure if her tone meant she didn’t want him around or she was surprised he was staying. “I’ll go back to the hotel after breakfast and make some calls. I was thinking about later this afternoon. I can probably finish before dark.”
“I have a mother’s group meeting this afternoon. We meet while our children go to gymnastics.”
“Is Emily training for the Olympics?”
“No, she’s learning to channel her energy. She loves tumbling.”
Seeing the concerned expression on Jon’s face, Alicia smiled. “The instructors are very careful. Right now, the kids are learning cartwheels.” Picking up the afghan from the floor, she flipped it in half.
Jon took the other end to even it out and helped her fold it once more. His hands met hers. He brushed his fingertips against hers, then moved away. A little at a time, a touch here and there. She’d get used to him.
As Alicia laid the afghan on the back of the sofa, Jon frowned. Once she was used to him, then what did he want?
Jon swiped at his brow with his wrist and went in the back door to the kitchen for a glass of water. Hearing women’s voices, he paused before he turned on the spigot.
One of the women said, “I don’t know what to do with Barry. He’s so defiant. No matter what I ask him to do, he does the opposite.”
Another woman suggested, “He probably w
ants your attention. Aren’t you spending a lot of time with Cindy’s Girl Scouts?”
“That’s true. We have an overnight camping trip coming up and he can’t go along.”
“Maybe he’s feeling left out. I know Tim did when I took Jenny to her dance classes and the parades she performed in. They fight for equal time one way or another.”
“I don’t know how you do it, Alicia. Parenting is tough enough. Being a single parent has got to be the pits. Where do you find the stamina to run your own business and take care of everything else, too? The bills, the laundry, the car, the meals.”
Alicia quietly answered. “I take it as it comes. Just as all of you do.”
“Has Emily had any more stomachaches?”
“No. Not since I talked to her teacher about Jimmy teasing her at snack time about her grapes. Mrs. Edmunds did a lesson with them on nutritional foods and how candy bars don’t have to be the snack of choice. Many of the kids are bringing fruit now, so Emily feels more comfortable.”
“They want to conform. Even at their age.”
Jon had listened intently to the conversation. He supposed he’d never realized exactly what was involved in being a parent, although he’d spent time with Adam and his children. It wasn’t simply a matter of playing with a child, or buying him or her food and clothing. It was so much more. Twenty-four-hour responsibility for another life. And to do it alone had to be damn difficult.
Cecile had looked at the whole picture and found she didn’t have the courage to face it. He would have helped her. He would have raised Emily himself.
But then his daughter never would have had Alicia for a mother.
Jon thought about that as he attached shingles to the playhouse roof, as he ate a wonderful home-cooked dinner of roasted chicken, baked potatoes, green beans and apple cobbler. He thought about it as Emily told him all about her gymnastics class, as he watched Alicia’s lips curve around each forkful of her food, as he listened to her talk with her daughter as if she was a real person, not a miniature adult to be tolerated.
When Emily ran outside to play after dinner, he helped Alicia clear the table.
She dumped silverware into its holder in the dishwasher. “You don’t have to do this if you want to finish the roof.”
He tossed napkins into the trash bin in the cabinet under the sink. “I have another hour of light. And there’s always tomorrow. Did you finish everything you intended to do today?”
Nodding, Alicia lined up the dishes in a neat row. “Yes. Doug called a little while before dinner. The pamphlets and business cards for the sports store are finished. We managed it after all.”
“You had doubts?”
She stopped and took the dessert plates from the sink. “When I was in the middle of it last night, I did. And even with printing, Doug tries to accommodate me, but it’s not always possible.”
Jon was beginning to wonder about this “Doug” she spoke of. Was it just a professional relationship? It sounded as if it was. “Do you always use the same printer?”
She added the dessert plates to the bottom rack. “I’ve known Doug since grade school. When I worked at Mid State Textile designing fabrics before I was married, he printed our advertising material. I’ve never had a reason not to use him.”
Jon kept his tone interested but casual. “His prices are comparable to other printers in the area?”
“Yes, and he doesn’t try to hike them up on me. I trust him.”
Absorbing that, Jon waited until she pushed in the bottom rack, then he loaded the last glass into the dishwasher. “I overheard you and the other mothers talking this afternoon.”
Glancing at him sideways, she took a box of dishwasher detergent from under the sink. “And?”
“I decided Cecile giving up Emily for adoption might not have been such a bad thing.”
Alicia’s face showed her astonishment. “Just what did you hear?”
He shrugged, taking the soap powder from her and pouring it into its receptacle. “It wasn’t what I heard, but what I realized. Parenting is a tough job. It requires dedication and focus. Cecile had both but they concerned her work. A child would have been shortchanged. I could see her hiring a nanny, not getting home from the office until after the child was in bed. I can’t imagine Emily being raised like that.”
Retrieving the box from him, Alicia mechanically stowed it in the cupboard. “But you would have stepped in.”
She seemed as certain of that as he was. “Yes, I would have. But with us not being together, maybe shuffling Emily back and forth, she wouldn’t have had the wonderful basis for adulthood that you’ve given her. I’m grateful for that, Alicia.”
Her hands and body went still, and she didn’t seem to know how to accept his compliment. Ducking her head and closing the dishwasher door, she murmured, “Thank you.”
He put his hands on her shoulders and slowly nudged her around. And in that moment, he couldn’t resist her, he couldn’t back off. Her skin was too creamy, her hair too soft, her lips too sweetly curved. But the expression in her eyes perplexed him.
He braced his arms on either side of her on the counter. “Why are you afraid of me?”
Her chin lifted. “I’m not.”
“Alicia.” Her name was a slow caress.
Her eyelashes fluttered on her cheeks, then she confessed, “All right. Maybe I am. I’m not used to a man like you.”
He couldn’t understand her. He couldn’t understand what made him different from…her husband, for example. “What kind of man do you think I am?”
She looked at his arms on either side of her. “The kind who takes what he wants. Look at us now. You’ve trapped me.”
Trapped? In a flash, he’d lifted his arms away from her. “I didn’t have you trapped. All you had to do was move.”
“And now you’re angry,” she said in a low voice, as if that was even worse.
He quickly ran his hand through his hair. “You’re wrong. I’m not angry. I’m trying to understand how you feel. I’ve never given you any indication I’d do anything to harm you.”
She glanced at him out of lowered lids. “Except threats to take Emily.”
“At the beginning when I didn’t know the kind of mother you were, I intended to file for custody. But that’s changed. We’re working things out.”
“Is that why you kissed me before? Because we’re working things out?”
Damn the woman. Even now without touching her a passionate heaviness filled him, and it had nothing to do with Emily. “I kissed you because I wanted to kiss you, because I want to kiss you a lot harder and a lot deeper and I realize with you I’ll have to get there in stages.”
Her eyes widened and flashed silver sparks. “Stages? What am I? Some sort of project? A challenge?” She paused, then crossed to the table, grabbing the vinyl tablecloth. “You’ve just proved my point. Everything with you is calculated, and I’ll never be sure of your motives.”
His confusion flared into anger. “Everything’s calculated is it? Well, how about this?”
Pulling her into his arms, tablecloth and all, he set his lips on hers. He didn’t know if he’d caught her off guard or if she simply wanted the kiss as much as he did. After a moment of stillness, her lips molded and pressed against his. Her willingness banished his anger as well as the fleeting thought he might have made matters worse.
The vinyl tablecloth crinkled as he pressed her closer. Unable to feel her against him, he stroked his hand up and down her back. Her lips opened and he took advantage of the gift. She was sweetness and fire and so different from any woman he’d ever kissed. She was shy, yet assertive, vulnerable, yet strong willed. It all showed in her kiss as she tentatively met his tongue, then boldly stroked it.
Groaning, he cradled her with his other hand and tilted her head, taking the kiss deeper. He felt her fingers creep up the back of his neck and delve into his hair. His hands shook and he realized a woman’s response had never done that to him before.
“I’m not sure whether to apologize or not,” he said ruefully.
She gazed at him with steady eyes. “Are you sorry about it?”
“No.”
“Then I guess you have nothing to apologize for.”
He wished she wouldn’t keep her feelings hidden so well. “I said I’d wait until you wanted me to kiss you.”
“I wanted you to kiss me,” she said softly.
He wanted more from her than that. “Did you enjoy it?”
“I’m not sure ‘enjoy’ is the right word.”
“What is the right word?” he pressed.
“I don’t know. The world spun. I felt hot and cold and everything in between.” She smiled. “Let me think about it a while, then I’ll tell you if I enjoyed it.”
He laughed and wanted to kiss her again. A longer kiss that would lead them—He cut off the thought and gave her a hug instead. She wrapped her arms around him and returned it, and he couldn’t remember when a hug had been so satisfying.
Alicia was preparing invoices the next morning when her office doorbell rang. Her breath caught. Jon hadn’t said he’d be dropping in today. When he’d left last night, he’d placed a chaste kiss on her forehead. After that explosive kiss in her kitchen, she’d been, well—she might as well admit it—disappointed.
Rising from her desk, she went to answer the door. She didn’t understand her feelings any more than she understood her behavior. She was both fascinated by Jon and wary of him. He’d kissed her in anger, yet he hadn’t stayed angry. He’d been demanding, but gentle, too. Weren’t men either angry, demanding and selfish or flexible, gentle and passive? She’d never known a mix. But then she hadn’t known many men, not before Patrick and not since. She dealt with men consistently in business circumstances, but that was on the surface only; she was good at hiding behind reserve.