She had to admit it was looking pretty good. If she got it, she’d be the first woman to break into the upper management ranks at First Southern Bank. All the women were pulling for her, telling her how proud they were and how she would be setting a precedent for future women executives.
Future women. Julie put a hand over her belly, feeling its poochiness from her period, which had started today. On Friday the thirteenth. Appropriate. She made a face. This whole biological process of being a woman wasn’t all that much fun. But necessary, she supposed. Almost unwittingly, she moved her fingers around in small circles, wondering what it would feel like to have a life growing inside her. Suddenly she grew wistful. Who said she couldn’t have a career and a family? Women did it all the time nowadays. She just had to find the right man.
The Hunk’s face popped into her mind. No, no more Hunk. He had a name—Mike. Okay, go away, Mike. But he wouldn’t, so she forced her mind onto other things. Like how tired she was. The whole week had been hectic. And what if she’d come home tonight to kids and a husband and cooking and Little League and—no way. Lying here half naked and giving in to her fatigue may be selfish, but it was also much more satisfying.
There, she was thinking about something else. Until some evil little hussy inside her head remarked, Yeah, and especially tiring had been trying to catch a glimpse of the Hunk around the complex. Julie argued with her conscience. Like there weren’t ten separate three-story buildings with about a zillion units in each one. And all she knew was his first name. She couldn’t even check out the mailboxes. Suddenly, Julie opened her eyes. What was she thinking? God, she was turning into a stalker. Like mother, like daughter.
Scary thought. Smirking at herself, she continued lying there, looking at the ceiling, absentmindedly picturing Mike’s face, until a heavy-handed banging on her front door startled her. What in the world? Some man was calling out her name.
“Coming!” Quickly she grabbed her terry-cloth robe from the foot of the bed and put it on, tying the belt securely. Padding down the hallway to the door, she mentally ran through the short list of men she knew who could possibly be banging on her door on a Friday afternoon. Curious. Not for the first time, she wished she had a peephole in her door. “Hello? Who is it?”
“Julie, thank God. It’s me—Mike DeAngelo. Open up.”
Mike DeAngelo? She didn’t know any Mike—Mike DeAngelo! So that was his last name. She looked down at herself. No! “Uh, wait a minute, Mike. I’m not dressed. Let me—”
“Julie, open up. There’s no time. Aaron left the apartment, and I can’t find him. I think he went outside when I was in the shower—”
Julie unlocked the door and jerked it open, feeling the cool rush of evening air on her face. “What happened?”
Mike looked wild, frantic. His hair was wet, and he was wearing a pair of blue jeans—and that was all. His hands were tucked under his armpits. “I guess he’s not here?”
“No. Of course not. Come in. You must be freezing.”
“I’m okay, but I can’t come in. I have to find him. I cannot believe he did this.”
“Come in and let me change clothes. I’ll help you look. Tell me what happened.”
He looked at her as if he’d just suddenly realized where he was. “All right. But hurry.”
“Ten seconds—tops.” He stepped inside, and Julie closed the door behind him. “Talk to me while I change.” She didn’t wait for an answer, but ran down the hallway to her bedroom, untying her robe as she went.
“I got in from work and was changing clothes,” he called down the hallway. “I laid out some clean clothes for him and a snack, and told him to sit at the table with it. Man, this is a mess. We’re supposed to be at the airport in less than two hours.”
“I’m listening,” Julie called out when he paused. She thrust her legs into her fat pants—an old pair of sweats-and yanked them up.
“Anyway, he came into my room and said he wanted to see that grandma-lady’s girl again—”
“Who? Ohmigod—my mother. This is all my fault!” She tied the waist strings into a loose bow and hustled to her dresser, jerking open a drawer and grabbing the first T-shirt she found.
“It’s not your fault. He’s wanted to come see you all week, but I wouldn’t bring him.”
Julie stopped in the middle of pulling on her shirt. So, why wouldn’t you bring him to see me, Mike? She pulled the shirt over her head and tugged it down. “Go on. I’m almost ready.”
“He was watching cartoons while I took a shower. I thought I heard the door when the water was running, but figured it was probably his bedroom door. Anyway, when I was drying off, I went to check on him. And he was gone. God, I can’t believe this! Why didn’t I use the damned safety chain?”
“We’ll find him, Mike.” At her closet now, Julie kicked aside her tennis shoes and dug around for her slip-on sandals. No time for shoelaces. Finding them, she plunged her feet into them, and then bounded back to the living room.
Rounding the corner, she ran into Mike. She reached out to catch herself, landing her hand on his bare chest He took hold of her arms to steady her. She froze for just an instant, aware of the contact and of the warm, hard feel of him. “Don’t worry, Mike. We’ll find him. And he’ll be fine. I promise you.”
Staring up at him, she pronounced herself glad that the glint of rage reflected in his black eyes wasn’t meant for her. “I hope to God you’re right, Julie.”
“I am, Mike. I just know it.” Still, the look on his face and his tight grip on her arms made her glad she was on his side. She managed to nod her head at him. “Let’s go.”
He looked down at her chest, blinked and looked again. “I’m a virgin, but this is a very old shirt.”
“What?” Then she looked down at herself. Oh, geez. He was reading her shirt’s message. “Um, it’s old, and I wasn’t paying attention to what…I…” She looked up at him, lost in her embarrassment.
“It’s okay.” Then he looked at his grip on her arms and let go of her quickly. “I’ve hurt you.”
“No, you didn’t. You’re just upset. Let’s go.” She went to the door and opened it, turning to see if he was following her. He was hot on her heels. In fact, he was past her and out of the apartment in three long strides.
Julie closed the door behind her and sprinted to catch up with him. She stopped next to him as he stood looking at Providence Road, off to their right. As usual, it was alive with cars zipping by. And traffic on Brandon Boulevard, less than a quarter mile north, made the Indianapolis 500 look like a tortoise race. He didn’t have to tell her what he was thinking. No child would stand a chance out there.
To gain his attention, she put her hand on his bare arm. His muscles jumped at the contact, and he turned to look down at her. “He’s fine, Mike. Just keep thinking that. He’s probably home right now watching cartoons again. Let’s go check there first.”
He nodded and took off at a lope, heading south through the myriad of moss-draped oaks that ringed the grounds. Being barefoot was not a problem for him, apparently, because he fairly zipped by and around the cars parked in front of the blue-painted stucco buildings. Almost immediately, he left her behind, disappearing around the corner of an adjacent building.
The man must be part gazelle, Julie groaned. With her hands cupped under her braless and swollen breasts to support them, she jogged after him, trying to keep up and keep her leather sandals on all at the same time. Her respect for FBI conditioning rose four or five notches as she caught sight of Mike ahead. He was methodically zigzagging his way through the maze of buildings that comprised the complex, looking everywhere for any sign of his son.
At the last building, just as Julie staggered up, breathing heavily and clutching the wall for support, Mike entered the first breezeway and jerked open a door, calling out, “Aaron! You in here, buddy?”
With one hand to her pounding heart, she focused on his tormented expression and listened with him. After several long secon
ds, during which Julie realized Mike was barely winded, they exchanged a glance. Nothing.
“Where have you looked, Mike?”
“Everywhere. The pool, the sauna. The gym. Tennis courts. The office. The trash Dumpsters. Your place. Everywhere.”
Julie grimaced in frustration. That was everywhere. “Does he have any little friends who live nearby?”
Mike shook his head. “No. The poor kid’s never home. It’s late when I pick him up. He stays in Tampa with the wife of an agent and their kids during the day. So, no, there’s just him and me. And you.”
An unexpected thrill leapt through her at being included in his circle. Then she had a dashing thought. “What about his mother, Mike? Where’s she? Would he try to go to her?”
He pulled a face. “No, she’s hang-gliding in Holland, as usual. It’s just been me and Aaron for most of his life. He knows he can’t find her around here.”
So he’s divorced. But hang-gliding in Holland? As usual? Would he tease her at a time like this? “I hate to say it, but it’s going to be dark soon. What should we do?”
He looked at her, at the evening sky, and then swore softly, leaning his bent arm against the doorjamb, using it as a rest for his forehead. Julie bit at her bottom lip. Never before had she felt so sorry for anyone in her whole life.
With her heart full, she moved to him, touching his arm in a tentative gesture of sympathy. Mike startled her by grabbing her and holding her crushed against him. Molded to him, unnerved by the sheer rightness of being in his arms, as well as by the sheer strength in his body, Julie pressed her cheek against the muscled wall of his bare chest Black, crisp and curling hairs tickled her nose, as did the scent of his exertion and his fear. God, please let us find his son, she prayed.
“Look what I found, Daddy.”
Julie froze—had she really heard that precious little voice?—and then pulled back to see Mike’s face. He stared down at her, the same question in his eyes. Then, whipping around in reaction, they faced the speaker. Right behind them stood Aaron, holding up the biggest, ugliest frog Julie had ever seen. Mike released her and went down on his knees to hug his son’s stocky little body to him. Hoarse, muffled utterances came from Mike as he pressed his face into Aaron’s chubby little neck.
Julie had all she could do to keep from sobbing aloud. She didn’t even remember putting her hands to her mouth, but there they were. She took several gulping breaths and shook uncontrollably. Thank you, God.
Mike pulled back from Aaron, held him by his arms and looked him over, turning him around, running his hand over the boy’s dark hair and grimy little face. “Where did you go, son? You scared the life out of me. Haven’t I told you not to leave the apartment without telling me?”
Julie wrenched in a huge breath at the rasping sound of Mike’s voice. She watched as Aaron started to say something, but then he spied her. His face lit up. “Look, Daddy, it’s that grandma-lady’s girl. Can I show her my frog?”
Still holding on to his son, Mike pivoted, bringing one knee up so his weight was on the ball of that foot. He smiled at her and shook his head, relief making him look vulnerable, somehow. Then he turned back to his son. “Yeah, big guy, you can. And then we’re going to have a long talk. Do you understand that you scared me and Julie? We were very afraid for you.”
Aaron’s mouth puckered and his chin trembled. “I’m sorry, Daddy. I wanted to see the grandma-lady’s girl, but I couldn’t find her. An’ then I couldn’t find our ‘partment. An’ then I saw this froggy by the trees back there. An’ I was playin’ wif him. An’ then—” That was as far as he got before he began wailing aloud.
Mike hugged his son to his bare chest again and scooped him up. As he stood, he soothed his child’s belated fears. “It’s okay. Daddy’s right here. I love you, son. It’s all right now. Here, show Julie your frog.”
Now, Julie had never been a particular fan of frogs, but she loved this one. Smiling at Mike, she stepped up and stroked its head with a fingertip. Yep. Cold and wet. Gross. “Why, he’s beautiful, Aaron. He really is. And we’re so glad you’re okay.”
“Me, too.” He turned to his father. “Can I keep him?” Mike laughed. “Sure. You can keep him.” Aaron’s face lit up. “Can we eat at Donnal-Macs?”
Mike translated for Julie. “McDonald’s.” Then, turning to Aaron, he said, “Sure. We can eat there.”
On a roll now, Aaron went on. “Can Julie come wif us?”
Well, neither one of them had been expecting that. When Mike looked at her, Julie could see this was clearly a dilemma for him. Time for her to jump in. “Thanks, Aaron, but I better not, honey. Another time, okay? I think you and your daddy have to go to the airport. Don’t you want to see all the big airplanes?”
Mike was watching her—she could see him out of the corner of her eye. But not for anything could she look at him.
“Uh-huh. I like airplanes. They go fast—like this.” He zoomed the pop-eyed frog around in circling motions in the air. “Me and Daddy’s goin’ to get Caroline. I have to be nice to her ‘cause her’s going to be my new ‘nother mommy.”
3
JULIE SHOULD HAVE BEEN ecstatic. After all, she was thankfully related to all these people here at Nana’s birthday party on Valentine’s Day. “Thankfully,” because that meant her mother couldn’t fix her up with any of the single men present. Yes, she had every reason to be happy, but she wasn’t.
Darn it, she hadn’t set out to be miserable. It’d just turned out that way. Oh, Nana’s party was a huge success, all right. The old dear loved being the center of attention. Julie chuckled, thinking of her grandmother’s face when everyone jumped out to surprise her. It was nice to have one’s advanced age remarked on by huge crowds, as she’d so eloquently put it.
Given the festive circumstances, Julie owned up to the fact that she was the only flop tonight. That was why she’d taken off to be alone when the band took a break. Having danced with everyone present at least once, she now sat in a corner of the brightly lit and streamer-decorated country club ballroom with her shoes off, a plate of food in her lap, and her self-pity on her proverbial sleeve:
Sighing, she swung her feet up onto the next chair. The milling, chattering, laughing crowd of her relatives, most of whom she wouldn’t have recognized if she’d passed them on the street, only managed to irritate her. What did they have to be so happy about?
No. That wasn’t fair. And, okay, she was certainly thrilled to see her brother and sister and their families again. But everyone and everything paled next to her blue funk over learning last evening that some Caroline-chick was going to be Aaron DeAngelo’s new ‘nother mommy.
Worse, she had no rational reason to be upset about it. But Mike was supposed to marry her. Just ask her mother. An unladylike snort escaped her. Well, she’d said no rational reason. Julie looked down at her plate and gave up pretending she was eating any of the food on it. Wrinkling her nose, she twisted just enough to set it down on the floor.
In a full-blown pout now, she straightened up and crossed her arms under her breasts. To hell with being sociable. She felt more like getting stinking drunk and brawling with some big, burly bikers. Like she did that every weekend. For several moments, lost in that vision, she glared a challenge to the far wall. Getting no fight there, she looked down at her lap.
Well, just great. Crumbs and more crumbs. God, she was such a pigpen. She began gingerly flicking them off the short skirt of her black-and-white cocktail dress. Oh, even better. That one wasn’t a crumb. Now she’d managed to make an abstract painting out of a dot of mustard on the white pattern in her skirt. Looking at the yellow smear, she rolled her eyes. Typical. Maybe club soda would take it out.
She looked up. No way. The bar was on the other side of the crowded room. An image of encountering her mother and having her trying to remove the stain with an old tissue from her purse and saliva kept Julie firmly in place. Okay, next best thing. Mental calculations told her that the powder room was right
around the corner from where she was sitting. Aha, with cold water and a paper towel, she ought to be able to create a water stain huge enough to detract from the mustard.
Quirking her mouth up in self-deprecation, she swung her feet down and looked around the room. No one was paying the least bit of attention to her. Good. She’d just leave her shoes there and slink around the corner. Gathering her flared skirt in her hands, Julie ducked her head and skittered the short distance to the rest-room door. Using her hip to push against it, she backed into the room and turned around.
Mike and Aaron DeAngelo stood side by side, facing the tiled wall in front of a low, metal trough-thingy, apparently…taking care of business.
Stunned, Julie sucked air for a full ten seconds before giving herself away. “Mike!”
He looked up. And froze. “Julie! What the—”
Aaron proved to be more eloquent. “Look! It’s that grandma-lady’s girl another time! She’s in the boys’ pee-pee room!”
Julie whispered roughly. “Mike, what are you doing here?”
He looked around pointedly, then giving each word the same attention, said, “You mean in the men’s room?”
“The men’s room?” Julie’s blood ran cold. She gave her surroundings the once-over. Totally alien landscape. The men’s room. Run. Yet her feet remained rebelliously frozen to the floor. She suspected the heated flush on her cheeks was better than a neon sign that blinked “Female Intruder, Female Intruder.”
Two sets of male eyes continued to stare at her. By her own calculations, she had two options. She could run now and live out her remaining years in the back of her closet. Or she could brazen it out and make them think they were in the wrong. She voted for option number two. “Not the men’s room. What are you doing here?”
Mike and Aaron, otherwise engaged but still managing to look somewhat like deer caught in the headlights, both stared at the floor where she was pointing. Men could be so obtuse, even the baby ones.
A Man In Demand Page 3
