by Gina Wilkins
Lynette gave her husband a look that had him clearing his throat and quickly falling back into silence.
Fortunately, the conversation was interrupted when Hilda appeared in the doorway to announce that lunch was ready to be served in the dining room. She sent Andy to wash up and told the others she would be bringing Barbara in momentarily.
Cody held Dana back when Lynette and Alan left the room behind Andy. “You okay?” he asked quietly.
“Of course,” she murmured. “Why?”
“No reason,” he assured her, dropping a hand casually on her shoulder. “Just thought I’d ask.”
“Thank you, but I’m fine.”
Cody didn’t seem convinced, but he let it go. He kept his arm around her shoulders as he escorted her into the dining room, and even though Dana suspected he was only playing his role, the contact felt pleasantly supportive.
She could almost believe he really was on her side.
Somehow Cody found himself alone in the den with Alan Manningly that afternoon. Andy was upstairs, Lynette and Dana in Barbara’s room, Hilda puttering around in the kitchen. Cody sat at one end of the couch, trying to think of something to say and wishing he were somewhere else.
Alan didn’t seem any more comfortable in Cody’s presence. They’d already exhausted talk of Cody’s restaurant, Alan’s career plans and the weather. It was getting down to politics or religion, both of which Cody usually avoided in conversation with strangers.
He cleared his throat and tried to think of something innocuous to say. “Are you originally from New York?” he asked, aware of how bland the question sounded.
Alan seized on the gambit. “No, I grew up here in Memphis,” he said. “Finished college here, married Lynette the weekend after I graduated and we moved to New York immediately afterward.”
“You ever miss living here?”
Alan snorted. “You kidding? New York is alive, man. Fast. Moving. I couldn’t slow back down to a Tennessee crawl now if I wanted to—which I don’t.”
Cody wondered how hard the guy had worked to lose his Southern accent. He’d noticed that both Alan and Lynette liberally sprinkled their speech with “Manhattanisms,” carefully enunciating their artificially rapid speech.
For some reason, Cody had found himself exaggerating his own lazy drawl during the afternoon. Maybe because it irritated him that Alan and Lynette seemed to equate Southern with stupid now that they considered themselves Easterners.
He couldn’t say he particularly liked either of them.
Not that he’d completely gone over to Dana’s side on the custody issue, he reminded himself. He still thought she deserved a chance to finish her education, find a life for her self before she sacrificed her future for her half brother. Cody didn’t have to like the Manninglys to accept that they could provide a decent home for the boy…though he was still reserving judgment.
Now it was Alan’s turn to initiate a topic. He didn’t seem to find it any easier than Cody had. “Er, Barbara looks pretty bad, doesn’t she?”
“I only met her for the first time yesterday, but I can see that she’s very ill,” Cody replied somberly. “It’s breaking Dana’s heart.”
Alan nodded, his expression glum. “Lynette’s, too, of course. I know Dana’s fond of Barbara, but Lynette is losing her mother.”
“Dana thinks of Barbara as her mother,” Cody felt compelled to point out. “She and Barbara are very close.”
Alan frowned. “Well, yes, but. I guess you’re aware that Dana’s father was a Memphis cop. Nice guy, from what I remember, but not much money. The estate is Barbara’s—and, of course, she will provide especially well for her own children. Lynette and Andy, you know. I’m sure she’ll leave a nice little something for Dana, but—”
“It really isn’t any of my business how Barbara chooses to distribute her estate,” Cody cut in coldly, anger flickering inside him. It was all he could do not to add that it was no more Alan’s business. “Knowing Dana as well as I do, I’m sure she couldn’t care less about Barbara’s money. She would willingly give everything she owns now just to keep her stepmother with her awhile longer.”
Something in Cody’s expression must have warned Alan that he’d irritated him. “I wasn’t trying to imply, of course, that Dana has done anything for Barbara out of hope of monetary gain,” he said quickly. “I know she loves her stepmother dearly.”
“Yes, she does.”
“She seems very fond of the boy, too.”
“Dana adores Andy.”
“Yeah. He’s a good kid. I guess he’ll be moving in with us after—er, afterward. I know Lynette’s offered to take him.”
Cody met Alan’s eyes squarely. “How do you feel about that?”
Alan shrugged. “Never thought much about kids,” he admitted. “But the boy doesn’t seem like much trouble. Lynette says he’s smart as a whip, so he shouldn’t have too much trouble catching up to the New York kids in school.”
“Catching up?” Cody murmured with a lifted eyebrow.
“Well, yeah. I mean, schools in Tennessee probably aren’t as advanced as the ones in Manhattan. But we’ll hire tutors, I guess, if necessary. There’s a good prep school where most of my associates send their kids. If the boy works hard on his studies, maybe he’ll be lucky enough to get in by the time he’s twelve or thirteen.”
“A boarding school?”
“They say they’re best for adolescents,” Alan said confidently. “Kids that age need discipline and supervision, you know. Boarding school programs keep them too busy to get into trouble.”
“So do good parents.”
“Well, yeah, sure.” Alan quickly searched Cody’s face as though trying to see if he were being criticized. “Parents who don’t have demanding, full-time careers. That’s why Lynette and I decided to wait to have a family of our own, if ever. Lynette’s sharp as a tack, you know. Real talented. She has too much to offer to the work force to throw it away to stay home and change diapers.”
“Well, at least Andy’s beyond that stage.”
Alan looked relieved that Cody seemed to understand. “Yeah. The boy’s old enough to look after himself for the most part. We have a housekeeper, of course, though she’s only part-time now. Guess we’ll make her full-time when the boy moves in. His trust fund can cover the extra expense.”
Okay, Cody had given Alan a fair chance. He still hated to see Dana miss out on her dreams. But the thought of Andy going to live with this guy who didn’t even seem to know the child’s name made Cody’s blood run cold.
“Andy’s going to need a lot more than a good education and paid supervision when he loses his mother,” he said evenly, still holding Alan’s gaze with his own: “He’s going to need a lot of love. Someone to talk to. Someone who’ll hold him when he cries. Family.”
Alan squirmed in his chair. “Well, sure. We’ll get him a good counselor, of course. Lynette’s therapist doesn’t treat children, but I’m sure she’ll recommend someone who…”
He faltered beneath Cody’s scornful expression.
“This really is family business, Carson,” he said abruptly.
“I’m sure Barbara and Lynette know what’s best for the boy.”
“Dana might have a few suggestions to make, as well,” Cody added silkily. “He’s as much her brother as he is Lynette’s.”
Alan was scowling now. “Just what’s your interest in this, anyway? If you’re thinking of the money, you should know that the kid’s inheritance is going to be tied up plenty tight, with close supervision to make sure it’s spent to benefit him.”
Cody rose, his boots adding an inch to his already tall frame. He loomed over the seated man, who instinctively tensed.
“I have no more interest in Barbara’s money than Dana does,” he said quietly. “Whatever happens, you can bet I’ll never touch a cent of it. But I do care about Andy. I’ve known him only a couple of days and I’m already very fond of him. You’ve known him most of his life. Can y
ou say the same?”
“I—uh, you—er, damn it, Carson, this is none of your business!”
A taut moment of silence gripped them. It was broken by a quiet voice from the doorway. Dana’s.
“There’s a call for you, Alan,” she said, though she was looking at Cody. “You can take it in the office.”
Looking greatly relieved, Alan jumped to his feet. “While I’m gone, you might talk to this fiancé of yours,” he muttered as he passed Dana. “He’s a bit too inquisitive about our family business, if you ask me.”
“But I didn’t ask you, did I, Alan?” Dana inquired sweetly.
Alan snorted and stalked away.
Dana turned back to Cody. He shifted his feet on the carpet, wondering how much, if anything, she’d heard.
“Thank you,” she said, proving that she’d heard more than he would have liked.
“I didn’t do anything,” he mumbled. “Just pointed out a couple of things he needed to know.”
“I heard what you said. The last part, at least. You made Alan admit that he doesn’t love Andy.”
“He didn’t say that,” Cody felt compelled to say.
“No. But he couldn’t say that he did, either.”
“No.” Cody slipped his hands into the pockets of his black jeans. “Your brother-in-law was right about one thing, though. This really is none of my business.”
“Cody—”
Lynette wandered into the room then, rubbing at her temples with her well-manicured fingertips. “Has anyone seen Alan?”
“He’s in the office,” Dana answered, turning away from Cody. “On the phone.”
Lynette grimaced. “Of course he’s on the phone. He’s always on the phone.”
“Is Barbara resting?”
Lynette nodded. “She’s asleep. I don’t think she’ll be getting back up today.”
“No. Lunch seemed to wear her out. I think she really enjoyed sharing it with everyone, though.”
“Yes, she did. By the way, Alan and I are taking Andy out for dinner this evening. I’m sure you and Cody will enjoy having some time to yourselves.”
“Whatever you want to do,” Dana said noncommittally.
Cody wondered if Dana, like him, suspected that Lynette had come up with this idea while Andy had raved about their ice-skating outing during lunch.
“Alan and I haven’t been able to spend much time with Andy during the past couple of years,” Lynette said, sounding a bit defensive. “We’d like to take him someplace nice, have a chance to visit quietly with him for a couple of hours.”
“So Alan already knows about the plan?” Dana asked blandly.
“Um, no. That’s why I was looking for him, actually.”
“I see. If you like, I’ll help Andy get ready. When would you like to leave?”
“Oh. an hour or so, I suppose. He does have a jacket and tie, doesn’t he?”
“I’m sure he does,” Dana replied through—Cody thought—gritted teeth.
He doubted that Lynette’s plans for the evening included arcades or shopping malls. Or anything else particularly fun, for that matter.
Poor Andy.
Chapter Eight
Eating from TV trays, Dana and Cody joined Barbara in her bedroom for dinner that evening. Barbara had insisted that they needn’t feel obligated to entertain her, but they’d refused to listen.
“This is fun,” Cody assured her cheerily. “Like a picnic without the ants.”
Barbara smiled, picking without interest at her own bland fare, served on a bed tray across her lap. “I’m really not very hungry,” she murmured.
Dana encouraged her stepmother to eat a little of the meal. Cody kept up a running monologue of silliness that actually had Barbara laughing aloud a time or two, despite her obvious discomfort.
“It’s no wonder Andy likes you so much,” she commented after one of his more outrageous stories. “You’re quite a clown, Cody Carson.”
“I’ve told him that very same thing on numerous occasions,” Dana commented.
Cody grinned, knowing that Dana had never meant the words as a compliment. She sent him a laughing look that told him she knew he’d caught her meaning. For a moment, their gazes held.
And Cody felt something kick him right in the chest.
During the past year, he had forced himself to ignore the attraction he’d initially felt for her. Hadn’t allowed himself to notice the way her green eyes gleamed when she laughed, the way her auburn hair caressed her soft cheeks when she turned her head, the way her intriguing dimple flirted at him from the corner of her invitingly lush mouth. Hadn’t allowed his gaze to dwell on her slender neck or full breasts, her tiny waist or sweetly curved hips.
He’d treated her as an employee, a casual acquaintance, occasionally as a friend—but nothing more.
He’d told himself he’d put that early fascination behind him.
He’d obviously been lying to himself.
He cleared his throat, reminding himself that now was no time to realize that he was still very deeply attracted to his faux fiancee.
He’d deal with that inconvenience later.
Barbara reclaimed his attention by sighing and pushing her tray away. “I’m sorry,” she murmured. “Seems as though all I can do these days is sleep.”
Dana immediately jumped up to clear away the dishes. She waved off Cody’s offer of help, signaling him to talk to Barbara instead.
Less than fifteen minutes had passed when Cody judged that it was time to leave Barbara alone. Before he and Dana left the room, Barbara asked them to be sure and send Andy to say good-night when he came in. Dana promised not to forget.
Dana and Cody wandered into the den after leaving Barbara’s room. Much too aware of the silence of the house around them, Cody cleared his throat and motioned toward the television cabinet. “Anything good on TV?”
Her expression was distant, pensive. She made a visible effort to respond to him as she sat at one end of the couch. “I don’t know. Watch whatever you like.”
“Is there something you’d rather do? We could go have dessert and coffee somewhere—get out of the house for a while.”
Dana shook her head. “Thanks, but I don’t think so. I don’t really want to leave Barbara here alone tonight, even though I know Hilda checks on her often.”
“I understand.”
Leaving the television off, Cody moved to sit beside Dana. “The excitement of the weekend is probably tiring her,” he suggested, sensing that Dana was rather depressed after their visit with Barbara.
Spearing her fingers through her hair, Dana sighed again.
“It’s not just the company,” she said quietly. “She’s getting worse. Weaker. I think—I think she’s giving up.”
Touched by the break in her voice, Cody laid a hand on her arm. “She doesn’t strike me as a quitter. She just needs some rest.”
“I wish that was all she needed,” Dana whispered, looking away.
There was such misery in her voice that Cody put an arm around her and drew her toward him. She stiffened at first, resisted his efforts to pull her into his embrace. And then she shuddered and buried her face in his welcoming shoulder.
Cody wrapped both arms around her and held her close, his chest tight. Once again he cursed the lousy timing of his newly discovered attraction to her. She was suffering, obviously vulnerable, and he was a lowlife worm to notice how very good she felt in his arms when he should be concentrating on nothing but giving her comfort.
He rested his cheek on her hair, noticing how soft and fragrant it was even as he murmured soothingly to her. He knew she was crying from the dampness against his throat, and from the trembles that coursed through her, but she made no sound. Her tears were all the more heart-wrenching because of her silence.
How long had it been, Cody wondered, since she’d cried? Since anyone had been there to comfort her when she had?
He thought fleetingly of his own big, warm, loving, supportive family,
and he made a mental promise never to take them for granted again.
Dana had been so very much alone this past year.
She wasn’t alone now.
She allowed herself only a few minutes of weakness before she drew a deep, unsteady breath and lifted her head.
Cody resisted when she would have pulled away. “Are you sure you don’t want to stay awhile longer?” he murmured, wiping her tear-streaked face with one thumb.
She looked at him a moment, then lowered her lashes, shading her eyes from him. “I’m sorry,” she murmured. “I didn’t mean to break down like that, or to cry all over you.”
“Have you heard me complain?” he asked with a faint smile, keeping his arms around her.
She cleared her throat, toying self-consciously with a button on his shirt. “You’re being very nice today.”
He chuckled. “Why do you sound so suspicious? I can be a nice guy on occasion.”
“Yes, I know,” she admitted. “It’s just—”
“Just not what you expect from Cody the clown, right?” he asked, unable to keep a touch of bitterness out of his voice.
She lifted an eyebrow, looking back up at him. “Did I strike a nerve?”
He forced a smile. “Never mind.”
As though suddenly aware that she was still sitting in his arms, Dana pushed lightly against his chest. “I think I’ll go check my makeup. I wouldn’t want Barbara or Andy to see that I’ve been crying. Lynette, either, for that matter.”
Cody didn’t release her. “Your makeup is fine,” he said, his voice husky again.
She went very still, as though something in his tone, or perhaps his expression, had sounded an alarm inside her. She tilted her head and frowned at him. “Cody—”
“Indulge me a minute,” he murmured, his mouth hovering close to hers, his eyes holding her gaze. “Shouldn’t your fiance get a kiss every once in a while?”
“You’re not—” she began, but he didn’t give her a chance to finish.
He’d kissed her only a few times before, all but one of those kisses given in front of an audience.
This time it was only the two of them—and Cody wasn’t pretending.
