More in love with her enthusiasm than the idea, Kyle gave it some thought. ' 'They actually have an authentic dress somewhere like the ones she would've worn?"
"Absolutely." Jamie perched on the edge of the couch beside him. "If not authentic, it'll be a perfect replica." She smiled. "They'll even go so far as to model the dressing process, showing the various stages of undergarments and how they're put on."
Kyle liked that idea a lot. As long as Jamie was the model and he was the only other person in the room. But with the dean there?
"I don't know…"
"They're completely decent, Kyle." Jamie laughed, patting his arm reassuringly. "These are
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educational shows that are entertaining, not entertainment shows with little or no education. Really." Her eyes met his, connected.
He didn't know whether it was Jamie's reassurances or her proximity, but suddenly the idea didn't sound half-bad. At any rate, it was better than a bunch of boring speeches, which was all he'd have been able to come up with.
"Can we have Rhett, too?"
"Of course." Jamie laughed and jumped up from the couch, reaching into a side table for paper and pencil. "We can write some kind of script, setting the scenes that anyone who's read the novels will immediately recognize. You know—Cathy and Heathcliff on the moors, Scarlett and Rhett at Tara, and so on."
He liked the sound of that. Live literature. Yeah. He liked it a lot.
"Tell me the characters you want and I'll see what we can do." She was sitting beside him again. For the first time in his life, Kyle had to force himself to think about the work he loved.
' 'As soon as I find out which of these costumes are available, I'll let you know," Jamie said twenty minutes later. Somehow they'd come up with an entire list. "I'll need you to write a script."
"That I can do." Finally, something about this get-together he could feel confident about.
"Mommy?" The voice was faint, sleepy-sounding, coming from somewhere down the hall.
Jerking upright, Jamie called out, "I'll be there in
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a second!" The change in her was immediate, and a little confusing in its intensity.
"I, uh…" She looked from the hallway to Kyle.
"Go ahead. I'll be here when you get back." Not sure what was causing her so much distress, Kyle tried to be comforting.
"Well, I…"
"Mommy!" The voice was stronger, tearful now.
With one last worried glance at Kyle, Jamie ran.
"I'm here, baby…" Kyle heard the soft words, a door close, then nothing more.
But he thought plenty. And by the time she returned, more than fifteen minutes later, he figured he'd drawn some pretty logical conclusions.
"She okay?" he asked, standing as Jamie came slowly back into the room.
"Fine. She just needed a drink." She moved to the fireplace, not a relaxed muscle in her body.
' 'It makes you uncomfortable, my knowing about your daughter, doesn't it?"
"No!" She was lying, and she knew he knew it. "Why should it?"
"Because what we shared that night was pretty incredible… Wait," he said, holding her off as she would have argued with him. "And now, having met each other again, we've discovered that some of what we shared is still there."
"How can you be so sure?" she whispered, her beautiful face marked with something akin to fear.
Kyle spread his arms. "Can you deny it?"
She couldn't. He knew she couldn't. Even if she wouldn't say so.
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"What does any of this have to do with Ashley?" she asked defensively.
"Only that it's a little awkward, perhaps, to find these feelings again with another man's child between us."
The explanation must have been more on target than he'd guessed, based on the rapid way her brow softened, her eyes cleared.
Kyle moved slowly, until he was standing in front of her. He reached out a hand, drawing it softly down the side of her cheek. "It doesn't matter, Jamie." His finger stopped at her lips, tracing them. "She's a part of you and that makes her special. The rest just doesn't matter."
And then he bent his head, tasting those lips for the first time in more than five years.
"Mmm," Jamie whimpered against him, her lips warm, soft—and welcoming.
Desire raged through him, but Kyle promised himself he wasn't going to blow this chance. He'd hurt Jamie once. He wasn't going to hurt her again.
Shocked at the instant response racing through her body, Jamie opened her lips to Kyle almost before she knew what she was doing. The power of his kiss controlled her, taking her back to that one night of ecstasy, back to the only fairy tale she'd ever lived. Her tongue met his eagerly, understanding exactly how to respond. She'd known him this way only once, for a very few hours, and yet his taste was as familiar as if she'd spent the past five years loving him. As familiar. And as welcome.
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Her arms stole around his neck, her body sliding into his as he pulled her close. Feeling his strong arms around her, Jamie gave in to the unfamiliar security. The feeling of home.
She'd known when Kyle had taken her in his arms the first time that she'd belonged there. She felt as sure now, giving him kiss for kiss. As eager as he for the loving to continue.
"You taste so good," he murmured against her lips. "So right."
He ran his lips along her cheek, down to her neck, and Jamie accommodated him, lifting her chin, allowing him to rediscover places he'd visited before. And when one of his hands moved up to splay across her breast, she allowed that, too. Reveling in the rediscovery, in the confirmation that she hadn't dreamed the magic they'd shared so long ago, Jamie couldn't think at all. Could only feel.
"You are so beautiful, so perfect." Kyle's hushed words were a balm to her injured spirit, a solace she soaked up greedily.
As she drew her hands along his spine, down to gently grasp his hips, the words were torn from her. "I remembered this," she cried. All those nights when she'd lain alone, hating herself. "I remembered."
"It makes no sense, this connection we share…" His thumb teased her nipple through the thickness of her sweater.
"I thought I'd imagined it, made it all up."
Kyle's lips captured hers again. Lingering. "Never," he assured her and kissed her once more.
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"Nothing else matters, Jamie," he said, gazing into her eyes as his arms slid around her again, pulling her close enough to feel the hardness in his groin. "Nothing."
Reality, worse than the most vicious physical blow, hit Jamie, rendering her incapable of feeling anything but pain.
"You have to go," she whispered, stricken, backing out of his arms.
"Jamie?"
"Shh," she said, tears brimming in her eyes as she silenced him with one finger against his lips. "You have to go. Please."
And that was when Jamie knew how special this man was, how incredibly attuned to her. Because he let her go.
"Call if you need me," he said.
And with one last kiss on her brow, a tender, non-sexual kiss, he left.
Taking her heart with him.
CHAPTER TEN
"Sounds like your party was a rousing success." Karen glanced over at her friend, then returned her eyes to the road. Jamie looked great, her auburn hair such a perfect color, her makeup just right. She was wearing the cashmere overcoat Karen just loved. And a pair of overalls. On Jamie they were chic. On Karen they'd look frumpy.
"It wasn't my party," Jamie pointed out, "but yeah, Kyle said everyone had a great time."
Glancing in her rearview mirror, Karen merged onto the freeway. They were on their way to the shared flute lessons Dennis had bought them for Christmas. During a barbecue last summer, they'd been talking about things they'd always wanted to do as kids but never had the chance. As it turned out, Karen and Jamie had both wanted to take flute. D
ennis had remembered and arranged for the lessons—another sign, as Jamie told her frequently, of what a wonderful guy Dennis was, what a good husband and good friend.
"The food at the party was okay?" Karen asked.
"Great! Everyone ate a ton." Jamie laughed. "Kyle said he got so many compliments he lost count of them."
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"Kyle said." "Kyle said." Karen wondered if Jamie realized how many times she uttered those words. Or how hard she was falling for the new English professor. Karen hoped not. She wanted Jamie to be too much in love to fight the inevitable, as she knew her friend would fight once her mind caught up with her heart.
"He said the fashion show was a real success," Jamie continued. ' 'I guess Dean Patterson was more than impressed."
"That must have scored you a few points with Kyle."
Jamie shook her head. "Kyle's not like that." She paused. "And besides, I'm not looking to score points." She was staring out the front window of the minivan, her face expressionless. Karen had never known anyone who could hide emotion as well as Jamie could.
Much as she envied Jamie her nearly ideal life, Karen felt a deep sadness for her friend. If Jamie could only allow herself to love a good man, she'd have it all.
"Have you told Dennis about the baby yet?"
Karen shook her head. No matter how hard she tried not to, she felt a sadness for herself, too. She'd already started to feel heavy and unattractive because of this pregnancy. She was still uncertain about her husband's reaction—not to the baby but to her. Worst of all, she felt trapped. And guilty for resenting this baby. Yet at the same time, she looked forward to the child's birth. She sighed, frustrated by her contradictory emotions.
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Glancing from Karen's stomach to her face, Jamie asked, "Don't you think it's about time?"
Of course it was. Past time. "I've tried to tell him on a couple of occasions, but…the words just won't come."
"You're three months now!" Jamie said. Though she didn't take her eyes from the road, Karen could feel her friend's gaze. "Surely you aren't worried about a miscarriage anymore."
Karen shrugged. She was so confused, worried about so many difficult things. "It could still happen."
And there were lots of gorgeous, young, businesswomen on the road, too—possibly setting a snare for Dennis that very moment.
"Kar, are you unhappy about this baby?"
"No!" Karen surprised herself with the vehemence of her reply. Except that she knew it wasn't really the baby that upset her. She loved babies. She'd just wanted to be more than a wife and mother—and she was desperately afraid that, compared to the career women with whom Dennis spent his days, he'd find her boring.
' 'Do you think Dennis will be unhappy about the baby?" Jamie asked hesitantly.
"Of course not. He'll love him just because he's ours." Which was true. It was just Karen he might not love anymore.
"And you're feeling okay?"
"Fine." Karen grinned at her friend. "With you mothering me so much this past couple of weeks, I'm feeling downright slothful."
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"No more morning sickness?"
A car cut in front of them and Karen put on the brakes, then changed lanes to let the faster traffic go by. "An occasional bout. Nothing like I had with Kayla."
"Have you made an appointment yet to see your doctor?''
Karen nodded. And she'd cried for an hour afterward, too. "I go in next week."
"So, you gonna tell Dennis this weekend?"
Karen looked at Jamie, wishing she had her friend's strength, her confidence. Her life. "I guess I kind of have to, huh?"
"Unless you want him guessing first."
No, she didn't want that. She wanted to be the one to break it to him, to see his expression the exact second he heard. She could read Dennis like a book, and that instant expression would tell her what she needed to know. She was just scared to death to see it. Signaling their exit, she steered the van down the ramp.
"I'm going to tell Ashley's father about her."
Swerving, Karen pulled into the gas station at the corner of the exit ramp. "What?" She stared at Jamie. "When? Where is he?"
Jamie tried to grin, but her lips were quivering.
"Who is he?" Karen asked.
"It doesn't matter who he is," Jamie whispered, gazing out the windshield again. "I don't expect anything from him." She took a deep breath. "But he has a right to know."
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Frowning, wishing she could read Jamie's mind, Karen asked, "Why now? Ashley's four years old."
Jamie glanced over, and then away again, shrugging. "Because she needs to know who he is."
"Do you think that's wise?" Karen certainly didn't. "I mean, if he doesn't want her, wouldn't she be better off not knowing?"
"He'll want her."
"I thought he didn't." Karen wasn't getting this at all. And hoped Jamie wasn't letting misplaced guilt open up a Pandora's box she'd never be able to close.
"I thought so, too."
Karen's heart thudded. "You've heard something different?"
Jamie nodded, sucked in her lips and took another deep breath, her face still expressionless. "I've done some… checking.''
"And?"
"He's a good man." Karen saw just the hint of tears in Jamie's eyes, tears she was sure would never be shed when anyone else could witness them. She wanted to haul Jamie into her arms and never let go-
"That doesn't mean he'd want a daughter sprung on him." Then something else occurred to Karen. "Did you find out if he's married? If he has other children?"
She just didn't see any sense in upsetting the nearly perfect life Jamie had created for herself. And where would the handsome professor fit in all of this?
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"He's not married, doesn't have any other children." Jamie sighed and squeezed Karen's hand. "He's an honorable man, Kar. He deserves to know."
"So why didn't you tell him before?"
Releasing Karen's hand, Jamie looked away. "I just didn't… There were circumstances—" She broke off.
"Hey." Karen reached for Jamie's hand again. "It's okay. You don't need to tell me any more." Jamie gave her a tremulous smile, those tears almost brimming over. "I just want you to know I'm here for you, okay?" Karen said.
Jamie nodded but still couldn't speak.
"Anytime, day or night, if you need me, you just call, got it?"
Jamie nodded again, gratitude shining from her eyes.
Karen gave her hand one last squeeze and put the van in drive. She pulled out into the Denver suburb toward the little music shop she and Jamie had been visiting every Thursday morning for the past six weeks.
"When're you gonna tell him?" She finally broke the silence that had filled the van.
"I don't know." Jamie was staring out at the rows of middle-class houses with their nicely manicured lawns—as nicely manicured as they could be with an inch of snow still covering them. She looked at the toys and sleds littering the shoveled walks. "Soon."
Making a mental note to keep close tabs on Jamie
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in case, when the time came, her friend needed her, Karen drove the last few blocks without speaking.
Denver was such a beautiful city, a combination of big city and natural wonders. The trees were still bare, but they'd be getting their buds and blossoms soon, their leaves and flowers. She wondered where her life and Jamie's would be by then.
"Did you practice this week?" Jamie asked, grabbing her rented flute from the car floor as they parked in front of the shop.
"A little. How about you?'
Jamie grinned. "Not quite that much."
"Think he'll notice?"
"Maybe not."
"Ready to go get yelled at?"
"I guess."
The two women were giggling as, flutes in hand, they strolled to the door of the music shop.
"Hi."
Recognizing the voice on the other end of the line that Friday morning in early March, Kyle felt a grin spread from the inside out. "Hi." He dropped his glasses onto his desk in front of him.
His times with Jamie had been somewhat limited over the past few weeks, but they'd talked almost every day. And each day he was more convinced that their fate had been sealed years before and there was nothing either of them could do about it. She needed time. Had established a hands-off policy as far as any physical relationship went. After the way
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he'd jumped her bones the first time they'd met, he figured he owed her that much.
"How were classes today?"
"Lively," he said, leaning back in his desk. "We've moved on to Edgar Allan Poe."
"The poet who killed himself?"
"That's debatable."
"That he's a poet or that he killed himself?"
"That he killed himself. He was poverty-stricken. His wife died first and illness took him two years later."
"I heard he was an alcoholic. That he died in a gutter."
"That doesn't prove suicide, does it?"
' 'Let me guess. You spent the past hour debating it, right?" She sounded just a little too sure of herself. Of him. Just as she had that day his furniture had arrived and she'd insisted he needed her help deciding where things should go. As if he hadn't been living alone most of his life. And who cared if he kept his dresser in his office? He was usually returning phone calls when he got dressed in the morning.
"Maybe." He was grinning, but only because she couldn't see.
"And you lost."
He tried to keep the smile out of his voice. "Maybe."
"So, which side were you on?"
"I happen to know, Miss Smarty Pants, that the man did not commit suicide."
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"Oh, you were a friend of his? You witnessed the death?"
"How was your flute lesson?"
"After he yelled at me for not practicing, you mean?"
"Okay."
"It went fine. There wasn't much time left." He could tell she was grinning, too.
Kyle swung around, glancing out his second-floor window to the quad below. Students laden with backpacks were heading to and from class, on foot, on bicycles and even on in-line skates. "Why are you taking the lessons if the guy gives you such a hard time?"
Her Secret, His Child: A Little Secret Page 11
