“I was luckier than most girls would have been in my circumstances,” she continued, all too aware of how differently her life could have turned out had it not been for her mother. “Mom was both willing and able to help me financially. After I told her what had happened with your mother, she told me she’d pay for college or a trade school and help me support the baby until I graduated. But she also made me promise that Molly would always be my first priority. Molly would be my first priority even if I hadn’t made that promise. She is and always has been. You don’t need to worry about her.”
It was apparent to Rio that Eve hadn’t understood why he’d asked what he had. It had never occurred to him to question her commitment to Molly. Time and again, as he’d watched her with the child, he’d been drawn by the strength of the bond between them. Even tonight, especially tonight, he’d been conscious of the interaction between mother and daughter. Though he and Molly had spent most of the time talking, it had been Eve who Molly had turned to when she’d wanted a hand to hold, and when she’d grown tired. Just before they’d left the park, Molly had crawled onto the bench where her mother had sat watching them and laid her head in Eve’s lap. He’d been aware of how Eve had automatically begun to stroke the child’s hair, and how Molly’s eyes had immediately closed. He’d been aware, too, that the gesture had seemed to give as much comfort to Eve as to the child.
He didn’t think it at all unusual that he should notice such things. Not when he was so aware of her in every other way. What had surprised him was the comfort he’d felt, too, just being with them. Being with her. But as he absorbed what she’d said just now, it wasn’t those few fragile moments of peace he considered. Or how long it had been since he’d felt such calm. It was how indebted Eve felt to her mother—and what she may have denied herself to keep his child.
“I’ve never doubted how good a mother you are. That’s not what I was questioning at all. You said a minute ago that you never had a boyfriend,” he added, explaining the direction his thoughts had taken. “I was just wondering if you meant that the way it sounded. That’s why I’d asked if you’d always taken care of her by yourself.”
Caution replaced defense. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Never is an absolute.” His tone became amazingly innocent. “Didn’t I count?”
“Of course you did. I meant there’d been no one…”
Rio thought she flushed when she cut herself off. He couldn’t be sure because she ducked her head, suddenly developing a fascination with the piece of lint she’d rolled into a little ball. All he could see were the pale shades of gold gleaming in her hair.
He should let it go. But what he should do didn’t matter all that much to him at the moment. A need buried deep inside demanded an answer.
He lifted his hand, hesitating long enough to be certain that he couldn’t change his mind before slipping his fingers beneath her chin. Ignoring the way she went still at the contact, he tipped her head up with his thumb.
“There’d been no one…what?”
He wasn’t being fair. Eve might have told him that, too, had the feel of his fingers stroking her throat not paralyzed her vocal chords. She wasn’t even sure he knew he was doing it, not as intently as he was watching her.
“There’s been no one since me?” he cautiously suggested.
“Relationships take time.”
“And you’ve never had any time to spare.”
Considering what she’d just told him, that would have been the most obvious conclusion. Not sure he was going to believe that was her only reason, praying he would, she started to shake her head, but the motion threatened to move his thumb to the corner of her mouth. Instead, she simply whispered, “No.”
She knew what she was admitting; that he was the only man she’d ever been with. Why that mattered to him, she had no idea. Or even if it did. She only knew that the knowledge did something disturbing to his dark, fathomless eyes.
That disturbing gaze held hers, probing, questioning, making the air seem too thin to breathe. Then his glance slowly slipped to her mouth. An unsteady heartbeat later, she felt his fingers drift down her throat.
She swallowed, the motion causing the delicate chords in her neck to convulse. Rio’s eyes met hers again. Only this time, she didn’t see questions. What she saw was something primal and fierce and far too edgy for the smooth tones of his deep voice.
“Relationships do take time.” He skimmed the hollow at the base of her throat. Beneath his finger, her pulse leapt. “Sex is the easy part.”
She couldn’t argue his conclusion. It took time to get to know someone; to build trust. Or rebuild it. The latter was much harder, really. But the thought had scarcely occurred to Eve when she felt Rio’s hand move along her collarbone.
“We had a relationship once.” His eyes glittered over her face, frustration charged with heat. “The trouble is, I don’t know where to go with it now. Do I take up where we left off, start over or forget I ever laid eyes on you again? If it weren’t for Molly…”
He cut himself off, looking like a man torn as he followed the motion of his fingers.
“If it weren’t for Molly,” Eve concluded, her pulse skittering, “you wouldn’t be here right now.”
A muscle in his jaw jerked. “We don’t know that for certain, do we?”
They couldn’t know what would have happened had the past been any different. All they had to work with was the present, and the present was getting more complicated by the second.
Rio’s fingers sank into her hair. Drawing her forward, he tipped her head up. “Unfortunately, forgetting you doesn’t seem to be an option.”
His last words were spoken as his head descended, the rasp of his voice seeming to vibrate through her when his mouth touched hers. The contact was little more than the brush of skin and breath against her lips before he pulled back far enough to see the questions in her eyes. He did it again, seeming to test either her resolve or his own willpower before she whispered his name.
She didn’t know who leaned forward first. One moment his name was on her lips. The next his mouth crushed hers, and she forgot to breathe.
His mouth felt hot and hard. So did his body when he pulled her up against him, molding her hips to his, her breasts to his chest. Beyond that, beyond him, her senses failed. She was aware of nothing but the feel of his lips softening against hers, the groan deep in his chest when her tongue touched his, and the heady feel of his hands sliding down her back. She could taste frustration, but she could taste hunger, too, and passion. And a kind of pent-up longing that seemed to fuel it all.
Her heart recognized that longing. Her body recognized him. Aching for what was once familiar, she curved her arms around his neck, seeking his lean, hard contours. But he was bigger than she remembered, more overwhelming, and the familiarity she’d sought wasn’t there at all. Instead, she discovered the rocklike strength she craved.
In the space of a heartbeat, long-buried yearnings careened to the surface. It had been six years since she’d been held like this. Six years since his arms had been around her. At the thought, something like a sob caught in her throat.
Hearing it, Rio went still.
He lifted his head, recrimination warring with desire as he searched her eyes. He looked like a man in pain when he brushed his thumb over her bottom lip.
“I wasn’t going to do that,” he said, his breathing as erratic as her own.
Pulling her hands from his shoulders, he held them between his. But whatever else he’d been about to say was cut off by the ring of the telephone. Eve couldn’t remember the last time she’d been so grateful for an interruption. Exposed as she felt at that moment, she didn’t think she’d be able to stand it if he apologized.
Rio’s hands slipped from hers as he stepped back. Shoving his fingers through his hair, he picked up the receiver from the phone beneath the cabinet and held it out to her.
“I’m leaving,” he said, his voice low. “Think abo
ut us taking Molly to the park again after work Wednesday, and I’ll call you later.”
“Wait!”
Looking from him to the phone, she took the call long enough to discover Millicent on the other end of the line and to ask her to hang on a minute before covering the mouthpiece with her palm.
“Wednesday won’t be good,” she told him, determined to sound as unaffected as he did about what had just happened. “A man is coming by about seven-thirty to look at Mom’s car. He might buy it.”
“Somebody you know?”
“Not personally,” she returned, unsure why he wanted to know. “He’s a friend of the gardener’s neighbor’s cousin.”
“Now, there’s a recommendation.” His brow knitted, his thoughts in conflict once again. “Can you handle that? I mean, you won’t let him lowball you on the price?”
She hadn’t thought about it. That was apparent from her hesitation.
Rio’s mental struggle lasted another half-dozen seconds before resignation slipped over the hard angles of his face. “If I don’t talk to you before, I’ll be here Wednesday. Before seven-thirty.” He pointed to the phone to remind her she had a caller waiting. Looking sorely tempted to do what he’d done just moments ago, seeming just as determined not to do it again, he stuffed his hands in his pockets and headed for the front door.
Chapter Seven
The potential buyer of Olivia’s two-year-old sedan arrived right on time. Rio did not. Eve told herself she wasn’t worried, though. She could handle this. She just wished the wiry, middle-aged man who’d introduced himself as a mechanic wouldn’t wink at her every time he caught her eye.
Standing in the driveway, she watched him hitch up his jeans as he walked around the car. After poking his head under the hood, he got in and started it up. A moment later, he got out, opened the hood again, winked once more and started frowning and humming to himself.
Her confidence faltered. He was going to want to take the car for a drive. She didn’t know why she hadn’t considered that before, but she did know she didn’t want to give a virtual stranger the keys and let him go off alone. There was no way, however, that she would put herself and Molly in the car with that man, either.
That bit of certainty was met with undeniable relief when she saw Rio’s black Durango round the corner and pull to a stop at the curb.
The mechanic must have thought he had competition for the car. Rio had no sooner come up beside Eve than the man at the hood motioned her over and told her what he’d give her for it. The offer wasn’t for very much, but he said he couldn’t do any better than that because the car needed extensive work on its turbo.
The make of car in question didn’t have a turbo, something Eve wouldn’t have known had Rio not quietly pointed it out when the self-proclaimed mechanic got back inside the car to rev the engine again. She wouldn’t have cared about the lack, either, had the guy not been trying to do exactly what Rio had suspected he might.
The man had already known that the vehicle was being sold by a young woman, but he’d taken one look at Eve and assumed she’d be a pushover. Eve realized that the moment he called out, “So what’ll it be, little lady?” About the time he added that he’d be happy to take this burden off of her hands, she also realized that there was more to selling a car than getting the value of the vehicle from a book at the bank and expecting people to be fair with their offers.
She understood negotiating. She did it all the time with furniture and fabric buyers. She was even getting pretty good at it. But when it came to her mother’s possessions, she just couldn’t stomach the haggling.
The fact that Rio suspected as much was obvious when he bent his head to hers.
“Do you want me to handle this?” he asked, his voice little more than a whisper of air near her ear.
She pulled back, aware of the smaller man watching them, though he couldn’t hear anything Rio had said.
“It’s Mom’s car,” she returned, just as quietly. “I should do it.”
Should, she’d said, which Rio knew explained a lot about why she’d refused, however graciously, to accept anyone else’s help with all she had to do. This was an obligation, a responsibility. And she was repaying a debt.
“You won’t be neglecting a duty, Eve. Honest.”
He turned from the gratitude she couldn’t hide, introducing himself to the suddenly wary mechanic and suggesting that perhaps he’d confused the make of the car with something else when he’d assessed its condition. It was immediately apparent that Rio knew what he was doing. It was apparent, too, that he wasn’t going to let anyone take advantage of the “little lady.”
Within the minute the man lost interest in bargaining. Since he wasn’t going to walk away with a steal, he also lost interest in the car. That meant Eve still had a car to sell. So Rio suggested she put an ad in the paper for the following weekend, then told her he would handle the people who came by to look at it. A minute later, having waved to Molly, who was watching from the front window, he was on his way to an interview. In the past week, he told Eve, three students had been arrested in drug-related incidents, and he was meeting with the high school principal to find out why the problem was getting worse.
What he didn’t say was that he’d come by only to help her with the car. What Eve didn’t understand was why he’d done that.
Three days later, she was still wondering about it.
True to his word, Rio arrived Saturday morning to handle the half-dozen callers who’d responded to the ad. He and Molly handled them, that was. While Eve cleaned out storage cupboards in the garage, father and daughter talked and kicked tires with the prospective buyers. When it came time for a test drive, Rio sent Molly in to Eve or off for a ride on her bike. Then Molly would head right back to him immediately upon his return. The bond developing between them was obvious. Just as obvious to Eve was how careful Rio was to keep physical distance between her and himself.
She already knew that he regarded what had happened in the kitchen the other night as a mistake, something that would not be repeated. But she didn’t understand why he’d decided to help her. When someone wasn’t looking at the car, he helped her in the garage with the heavy stuff. And the next day, after the car had finally been sold, he stuck around to help her carry everything from the attic to the garage.
They worked amazingly well together, and by avoiding the subjects of their situation and her brother, the time he spent with them gave Eve the most peace she’d felt in two months. It was only when Molly wasn’t right with them that the deliberate distance he kept between them became noticeable.
Rio seemed to ignore the strain. Eve tried, but she really wanted him to take her in his arms again. Just for a little while. None of the difficulties she was dealing with could intrude when he held her.
The thought was as appealing as it was dangerous. It also resurrected all manner of impossible dreams. Watching him with the child who was clearly coming to adore him, those dreams begged to be indulged. She couldn’t allow herself to do that, though. She had no idea how to reach past the emotional armor he wore so well; how to reach the man she wanted so badly to understand. The only person who seemed able to do that was Molly—and he had yet to bring up anything specific about the role he would play in her life.
Had Eve not been so reluctant to upset the fragile truce they were operating under, she would have raised the issue herself. She didn’t want to be bumping shoulders with Rio while they jockeyed for their respective positions in Molly’s life. Whatever he wanted to do would only mean more changes for her, though, and sharing Molly could get very difficult—even though the sharing had started happening all by itself.
* * *
“So how was the fishing, Rio?” Lettie Meyers, the Herald’s soon-to-retire assistant editor, leaned a heavy hip on the edge of Rio’s desk and straightened the bow over the gap in her blouse. “If it’s any good, I might dig out a pole myself.”
“I didn’t go fishing.”
&
nbsp; “You must have worked on your cabin, then.”
“I didn’t do that, either.”
Penciled auburn eyebrows merged. “You’re kidding. You took the weekend off. What else would you have done?”
There was no insult in the question. Not coming from Lettie. She was the only person Rio knew who, like him, divided her life into two modes: work and relax. The fact that it was usually a ninety-ten split was something they both overlooked.
“I was helping a friend.”
“That’s what I like about you, Rio. You don’t waste time bending an ear. How’s the Stuart investigation coming?”
“Not.”
“Did you get stats for that highway development article?”
“Done.”
Rio snapped up the lid on his double espresso. The scent of roasted caffeine was teasing his nostrils when Lettie hoisted herself from his desk and patted his shoulder.
“Good. I always know I can count on you. Don’t forget to check your E-mail. You’ve got a meeting with Kleinfelter at one.”
Kleinfelter was the editor-in-chief. “What about?”
Lettie’s heavily made-up brown eyes shifted first left, then right, to see who else was around at seven-thirty on a Monday morning. Finding no one as dedicated—or as unencumbered—as they were, she took a step forward. They were alone, but she lowered her voice, anyway. Every reporter knew that walls had ears.
“He wants to talk to you about taking over my job. I told him you can’t have it, though. Not until you tell me where that secret fishing hole of yours is.” She gave him another pat on the shoulder, the motherly gesture a true sign of acceptance from a woman who had once hired him only to meet a minority quota.
“By the way, you’d better knock off that stuff,” she added, pointing to the steaming cardboard cup. “You’ve got thirty plus years ahead of you in this business. You’ll have ulcers enough without melting your stomach lining on purpose.”
Patting at her short gray hair, she threaded her way through the maze of desks on her way to the fridge in the lounge. That was where she kept the milk she took her antacids with. The chocolate bars to kill the taste were kept in her bottom desk drawer.
Father and Child Reunion Page 12
