Quite seriously the man leaned slightly forward to give a few friendly pats. “You never told me you were a pet owner, Liv.”
From her knees on the floor, she looked up at him and laughed. “Oh, Jeff, you have it all wrong. I don’t own Bruno. We’re companions. Co-owners of each other, if you like. Here, let me show you to the powder room, so you can wash up.”
While he was otherwise engaged, she opened the deck door so that Bruno could give his watchdog’s okay to the premises. Meaning, no squirrels close by to steal his food. No chipmunks making whoopee in the bird bath. Then she set about dinner preparations.
“Something smells awfully good,” Jeff said, sniffing appreciatively at the air when he rejoined her a little later.
“Just the supper I promised you,” she smiled over her shoulder. “Go on, sit. This will be heated up in a minute.”
“Sure. But, first—” Rather awkwardly he made his way toward her, where she stood at the stove, to pull her backward in the hard clasp of his good arm. Held tight and firm against his muscular chest, Olivia momentarily closed her eyes in pure pleasure. “Thanks, Liv.” Bending his head, he whispered into her ear, “Thank you for everything you’ve done, and for everything that you are.”
“Everything that I am?”
“Uh-huh. A lifesaver, that’s all. Nothing more than a lifesaver.”
Bruno had decided to clomp back inside, once his energies were worn off, and his human was seated at the table with some other human who had passed his own doggy muster with a couple more pats to the head. Settling down on his favorite rug, he began gnawing at a rawhide bone just to keep them company while they ate.
“This is nice,” said Jeff, looking around the cozy room after the worst of his hunger pangs had been satisfied. “I like the décor. I like the—I dunno, guess it’s just the general feeling of warmth and welcome here.”
He could have said little else more pleasing. The brightness of her smile rivaled that of the overhead light. “Thank you. I don’t get a chance to cook very often, but I’ve always felt that, when you do it, the surroundings should be comfortable.”
“Uh-huh.” Stretching his hand across the few intervening inches, he covered her fingers with his own. One of his most-used nonverbal gestures that spoke so well. “For things other than cooking, in my opinion. How about it, Liv. Ever consider that?”
Another blush. As her brain flashed to the picture of her bedroom upstairs, built and beautified with possibly just that purpose in mind, the blush deepened. “Um. I see you’ve finished. Want some coffee?”
“Actually, I’d like some tea, if you have some. That meal was so good I ate like a pig. Between the pain meds and my full belly, I feel like I could sleep twenty-four hours, around the clock.”
“I have a lovely guest room and bath that should suit you nicely, Jeff. Let me go heat some water, and we’ll move operations to the sitting area.”
Which was a large extension of the kitchen, complete with fireplace, large bay window that looked out onto the darkened back yard, and plenty of soft cushy chairs, pillows, ottomans, afghans, reading lamps, and a long sofa designed for lounging. Once he was settled, with the tea tray beside him, she lit a few candles against a slight chill of the evening air.
“Almost September,” she murmured. “Summer will be over and done with soon.”
“Time’s a-passin’,” he agreed drowsily, so relaxed and content he was almost nodding off. “But, personally, Liv, I think better days are ahead. For me, anyway. And, I’m hoping, for you, too—once—uh—once things are resolved.” Sighing, he reached out a lazy grasp for the teacup. “Nice, Liv. This is so nice.”
She glanced around, seeing her surroundings with his fresh eyes, and liking again what she saw. “It suits me, Jeff. But it certainly can’t compare with the grandeur of your place, back on Queens.”
He laughed. “Ha. There, I caught that. The roll of your eyes. If I recall correctly, that always meant something like, ‘Oh, brother.’ Am I right?”
A little shamefaced, she joined in his amusement. “Maybe. For me, that house of yours is just too—ostentatious.”
“Wanna know a secret?” He winked at her. “For me, too. Never really liked it, never felt like I could put my feet up and sprawl around, like I am here, right now. No, that mansion was all Annajane’s doing. Her baby. I guess, to her way of thinking, it took the place of a real one.”
“Real one what? Baby?”
“Uh-huh. Began to look like that was never in the cards for us, having a family.” With a shrug, he took a sip of the Earl Grey. “Probably for the best, seeing what’s happened.”
“I’m sorry, Jeff,” she said quietly.
“Yeah, well—me, too.” Another sip, then a munch of the chocolate chip cookie she had provided for dessert. “So you did this all on your own, huh? Business, house, terrific dog, the works.”
“Yes, and no. My parents, and my family, were always there to provide backup.”
“Huh. Good parenting has a lot to do with where you go in life.” Replete, half-asleep, he gave another once-around to the area, appreciating colors, comfort, and homey touches. On the table at his elbow sat a number of photographs, arranged in frames of metal or wood or interesting resin. “Cute kid,” he mentioned now, pointing to one among many of the same boy.
“Thank you. That’s Nicholas.”
“Nicholas…Nicholas…I remember that name. When I called you, around the Fourth, you were visiting at your folks’. A family picnic, and you were yelling at Nicholas because he was after you with a water gun.”
“A good memory,” she said easily, though her inner workings belied the tone. “Yes, that day the whole crew of the younger generation had decided it would be great fun to hose down every member of the older generation. Including me.”
Jeff chuckled. His stockinged feet, propped on an ottoman, twitched a little with amusement. “I hope they left your parents alone. That would be the senior generation, right?”
She busied herself with adding cream and sugar to her cup of tea, then employing a spoon to stir the contents. “Oh, my dad was right in the middle of everything. I think he’s the one who was egging them on, the old codger.”
“Must’ve been a fun day for all of you.” Was that a note of wistfulness in his voice? “This Nicholas, he’s—what, around eight?”
“Almost nine. Next month, actually. His birthday is on the fifteenth, and he’s already given me a short list of electronics gifts that would suit him.”
“Well, that’s fitting. Looks like you, around the eyes,” he commented, holding the photo in his right hand for a closer look. “Green. With the little gold flecks I see in yours.” A disarming grin in her direction, then another glance. This time, with a small puzzled frown. “Familiar, though, in some other way—can’t quite pinpoint it. I’ve seen the shape of that chin, before, and those ears, and—”
He had stopped dead, his own eyes rounding as some tiny trickle of forewarning trickled into his gut.
“Seen the shape—” he continued, in a low, thickened voice, “—in my mirror—every morning…”
It had come. She had known it would; this was what she had planned for, and organized for, and dreamed for. She was prepared. And, yet, not.
“Yes, Jeff,” she agreed softly. “Yes, you have. Meet Nicholas Bower. Your son.”
From the kitchen came a slight noise of water being lapped from the dog bowl. Then, with a jingle of tags and a click of claws across the tiled floor, Bruno padded in to join them, collapsing in front of the nonexistent fire with a very human sigh. A rush of wings from the tree outside the window broke into the silence; the resultant low-pitched hoot announced an owl’s successful hunting for some poor nocturnal creature.
The sound of Jeff’s swallow was audible. Slowly he straightened enough to plant his feet flat on the floor, still studying the boyish face that seemed almost a miniature of his own. Given the dazed, incredulous expression exhibited by her former paramour, O
livia could almost feel sorry for him.
“I got you—you had—we didn’t—” Another harsh, hard swallow. “But we only did it—once—!”
Those green eyes with the little gold flecks, so like her son’s, tilted up with humor. “Yes. I’ve heard that’s all it takes.”
“Livvie—I’m sorry, I didn’t know…God, I had no idea!”
“Of course you didn’t, Jeff.” As much as she wanted to go to him, across the little distance of separation, and throw herself into a one-armed embrace for love and tenderness, she did not dare do so. Not until this terribly vital matter had been explored and discussed and explained to its limit. “Nor did I, until late February.”
The teacup rattled in its saucer as he attempted a sustaining gulp, only to fail. “Liv, you have to understand, I wouldn’t have left you like that, if you’d told me.”
“Wouldn’t you?”
More silence, filled by nothing now more jarring than a rise of night wind to rattle at a maple branch. Jeff sat very still, thinking long and hard. He felt consumed by guilt, blinded by astonishment, and stirred by curiosity. A son. His son. All these years, never aware, and here he was: a father.
“My son,” he whispered. Then, haunted by shame, he finally admitted, “Yes, Livvie. You’re right. I probably would have left you, anyway. I was so damned immature, such a reckless rotten kid. Not fit to be with you then. But—now—?”
She lifted one shoulder, both brows. “That remains to be seen, doesn’t it?”
“My son,” he whispered again, still trying to take it in. Involuntarily, as he stared at the frame, his bewhiskered face began to soften with anticipation, and his lips turned up in a tiny smile. Then he looked across, his gaze suddenly sharpening with blue laser focus. “Liv, you’re so far away. Will you come sit over here, with me, and tell me all about it?”
Her heart had been gradually filling with some indescribable emotion, stretched and tugged by invisible lines. Now the emotion overflowed, flooding her spirit with warmth and joy. With a soft little cry, she moved immediately to squeeze beside him, in the wide russet chair-and-a-half that held so much of what she wanted in the world. His unwounded arm encircled her, pulling her near, and his mouth sought out hers in a hungry, fiery kiss that sucked all the breath from her body.
Much later, after a satisfactory interval of loving and re-learning the parts that had worked so well together, Olivia was able to report on the events that had changed her very existence.
“Once I realized I was pregnant, I went to my mother, of course. And she went to my father.”
“Uh. I’m guessing he wasn’t very happy with me.”
“Happy?” From the shelter of his good right arm, Olivia gave out a flutter of laughter. “He was all set to hunt you down with his crossbow. Not the standard shotgun, you understand. He said the bolt of an arrow would hurt more. Mom managed to calm him down.”
She’d finished her senior year classes and graduated, all the while never once seeing Jeff anywhere on campus.
“I—uh—I did my best to avoid you,” he confessed, deeply ashamed. “Kept away from wherever I thought you might be hanging out, skipped seeing some of my profs if necessary. Toldja, Liv, I was a thoroughly rotten nogoodnik. You probably don’t wanna take up with me.”
Looking up with a serene smile, she brushed one finger along the length of his brow. “Too late.”
With plans for the future put on hold, she’d stayed at her parents’ home and carried on through the summer, giving birth in mid-September to a baby boy with light brown hair she’d named Nicholas. She, and her whole family, had immediately fallen in love with this new member, despite his beginnings, and life had gone on. Over the years she’d enhanced her education, chosen a field, and moved herself and her son to the East, determined to be in the vicinity of the big fashion houses. Along the way, she’d acquired this house and Bruno.
“Good old Bruno,” murmured Jeff.
The dog, hearing his name, raised his head to inquire whether any food or treats might be in the offing. Finding none, he plunked back down and began snoring again.
“It had been in the back of mind for a long time, finding you,” said Olivia, focus fixed on the flickering flame of a candle. “Oh, not for financial support—I’m okay there. My parents helped out a lot, at the beginning, to get me set up, and I know I could call on them for anything I might need. But—well, I have to admit I was curious to see what you were like now, ten years later. Whether you had changed. Whether you would appreciate the idea of having a son, or whether you would scream blackmail and demand a DNA test.”
“God, no!” came the immediate protest. And then, after a moment of thought, “Well, maybe. The old Jeff might have, I’m ashamed to say. The Jeff you see now would never dream of it.”
“I thought not. And, besides—”
“Besides?” he prodded gently.
“I thought you should know. It seemed only right.”
And that was Olivia’s personality in a nutshell. She tried to do what was right. Jeff hoped that he was working his way in that direction, as well.
“Where is he now, this son of—this son of ours?”
“He’s been away at summer camp for almost two weeks, and I’ve missed him terribly. Due to return on Friday. While I’m working, when he isn’t in school, he’s with an excellent sitter, just down the street.”
“And you—you’ll let me—meet him, get to know him?”
She reared back in surprise. “Why, of course, Jeff. After I prepare him with the facts. This is what I wanted, all along. He’s such a delight, such a wonderful, happy little boy. My treasure.”
Against a tide of emotion, he closed his eyes. “Tell me about—Nicholas.” The word still tasted unfamiliar, yet oh so promising. “What grade is he in? At which school? His favorite subject? Does he play any sports?”
Thanksgiving had come early this year. She had never dared hope for such a positive reaction, but there it was. Jeff had definitely changed for the better.
They talked long into the night, as she revealed every important and unimportant detail about the boy whose very presence would loom so large in their future. At one point, she lit a fire behind the grate, and replaced a few guttering candles. At another, he pleaded for more solid food, because he was still starving. So she ordered a pizza, which they ate from the coffee table, using paper napkins and slipping snippets of pepperoni to the gleeful dog.
Finally, exhausted, she took him upstairs with his bags and settled him into the guest room, with its fresh forest-green linens and its view of the flower garden and its small but well-appointed bath. He had asked for some time alone, if she didn’t mind. There was so much to take in, and his brain still wasn’t working as well as it should be. He wanted just to lie alone in the dark, and digest.
She understood perfectly. That would have been her own reaction.
It seemed they were two of a kind, Jeff and Olivia, after all.
More so than she realized.
Sometime, in the wee hours just before dawn, she awoke from a restless, dream-filled slumber to feel a large, slightly feverish, definitely hairy, bandaged shape slipping into the bed beside her.
“I hope coming in here is okay, sweetheart,” Jeff whispered, shifting position to try curling up like a shrimp in protective mode. “Ouch. Dammit. Wait a minute, hurt my arm, hurt my chest—let me settle in a little different way…”
“Slow down, Jeff,” she laughed. “Here. This pillow so, that pillow there. Okay, now, better?”
“Much better. Especially with you right where you should be.” Sighing, he relaxed enough to tuck her head into the curve of his unwounded shoulder. “Ah. The only thing I could improve on is my being all healed up, and you being out of that virginal nightgown of yours, and the two of us being set and ready for all sorts of shenanigans in this bed.”
“Sounds lovely,” she told him dreamily. “I’ll hold you to that, Jeff.”
“Bet on it, my little c
upcake. Just you, me, this bed, and one of your spectacular hats.” Chuckling, he sighed again and rubbed his chin across the top of her head. “God, this feels good. I want this for the rest of my life. How about you, Livvie?”
Moonlight slanted in through the open window, painting silvery white across the floor, the furniture, and the dog who had already accepted this interloper as someone familiar and thus not to be bitten. A soft breeze carried the scents of damp moss and late summer blooms to swirl over, under, and around like a gentle benediction.
“For the rest of my life?”
“Uh-huh. I love you, Olivia Bower.” Stretching a bit, he managed to press a kiss to her temple.
“I think I’ve always loved you, but I was too stupid to realize it. Huh. Think you—uh—might be able to reciprocate, just a bit?”
He couldn’t see her smile, with her face hidden against his chest. But he could feel it.
“Yes, I do believe I might be able to.”
“Listen.” Moving the arm in its sling was awkwardness to the max, but he was finally able to free his fingers enough to trail along her cheek. “You know the mess I’m in with Annajane. But I’ll get that cleaned up and behind me, a clean break, just like I wanted. And once I’m free of it—geez, Liv, please help me stop bumbling around and tell me you’ll marry me.”
She raised up on one elbow that, unfortunately and inadvertently, caught him in the soft under-muscle of his upper arm. He let out a squawk.
“Oh. Sorry. So. After all these years, you’ll actually offer to make an honest woman of me?” She pretended outrage that, at four o’clock in the morning, after a nearly sleepless night, was too weak for effect.
“Hey, I’m not a well man. Give a little sympathy here, will you?” Then he had the temerity to hold her fast and growl at her. “Lady, if I were whole, in one piece, I’d show you who’s boss. And then I’d—I’d—”
“Yes?” she sniffed.
“I’d pull you in and make you mine forever,” he breathed. “Are you game for it?”
“Yes,” she breathed back. “Oh, yes, I am. And I will.”
Hat Trick Page 14
