By five, Vivi had finished the returns, dropped off the clothing at Cathy’s Consignment Corner, and made a deal with the largest luggage dealer in town to sell her perfectly good, nearly new luggage. The feeling was exhilarating. When she counted the money at the end, she didn’t have near enough to pay off all the bills, but it was a start. And most important, she could pay Velda from the salon for the styles and makeovers she had done for the women Vivi had sent in.
To celebrate, Vivi rummaged up enough change to take herself to the Charcoaler for a burger. She fired up the Olds, bringing the neighbor back to the window like a lightning bolt, then sailed off, barely managing the thin drive-thru at the burger joint in the lumbering car.
With burger in hand, not even splurging on cheese, she docked under an awning, scaring everyone within a half mile when the car kaboomed to a stop.
But Vivi was fast becoming immune to this different kind of stare from strangers. Not the “Is that the Vivi Stansfield who everyone talks about?” stare. Rather the new “What in the world has happened to Vivi Stansfield?” gawk.
Oddly, it was freeing. No more concern about giving the wrong impression. She had already given it, and it was hard to go from bad to worse when she had already hit worse six days ago.
The first thing the next morning, Vivi leaped out of bed.
“Picnic day!”
Realizing that she had yet to tell Max about the plan, she dashed to his bedroom, only to find it empty.
She wasn’t going to think about the fact that she had become obsessed with a man who didn’t even like her. She pulled on her brand-new flannel robe and terry cloth slippers she had bought at Wal-Mart to replace her favorite marabou and satin wrap that now hung at Cathy’s Corner.
Heading downstairs to the kitchen, trying not to be disappointed that Max had yet again not come home, she stopped dead in her tracks when she found him standing bare-chested in front of the refrigerator, drinking orange juice straight out of the carton.
Awareness whispered through her at the sight of muscles rippling in his arms, his abdomen washboard hard, dark hair wisping away beneath the waistband of his button-fly jeans, then disappearing to places Vivi knew she’d better not think about.
“Would you like me to get you a glass?” she asked, after having to clear her throat.
Max lowered the juice, his lips tipping guiltily. But the guilt gave way to something sensual when he took her in, one dark brow rising. “Look at you all in flannel. What happened to the feathers?”
Foolishly pleased at the look on his face, not to mention that he was there and not at Nell’s, she waved her hand shyly. “I thought I’d take a break from the feathers. Wal-Mart flannel is a definite must-have this season.”
Max chuckled as he returned the juice to the refrigerator, then leaned back against the closed door. “Flannel, feathers . . . you’d probably look sexy as hell in a burlap bag.”
She pulled the robe tightly around her. “I bet you say that to all the girls . . . late at night . . .” She eyed him. “When you don’t come home.”
“Keeping tabs on me?”
“I am not.”
“Then how do you know if I came in last night or not?”
“Did you?”
“As a matter of fact, I did.”
“How about the night before last?”
“Slept right here.”
“What about Little Miss . . . I mean, Nell?”
“She works for me.”
“But you went out with her.”
“To see a commercial listing. The owner flew into town and was leaving early the next morning.”
“Nell said it was a date.”
“Nell likes to cause trouble.”
Vivi was unaccountably pleased, and she started to smile before she realized what she was doing. “Not that it mattered,” she said with great seriousness.
He came closer, his smile widening. “Did you wait up?”
“Me? Never.”
“Sure you didn’t.” Then he stopped, and sniffed the air. “What is that?”
“What is what?” Panicked, Vivi cupped her hand over her mouth and breathed.
Max smiled. “Are you wearing perfume?” His smile turned wicked. “Vivi, you didn’t have to spiff up just for me.”
“Spiff up?” she asked, her arms extended.
“I’m partial to flannel, and you smell awfully sweet. I think you waited up for me last night.”
She thought of her long bath in scented silky oil and how she had indeed listened for him to come in until she finally couldn’t keep her eyes open. “Absolutely not.”
“Liar.”
“Go stuff yourself.”
“Mmmm, I like it when you talk dirty.”
He took a step closer. She took a step back.
“Now, Max, this really isn’t a good idea. We already got carried away once. No sense in pressing our luck again.”
“Or what will happen?” he asked in that deep, rumbling voice that turned her insides to jelly.
“You know what will happen,” she snipped, backing around the center island.
“We’ll end up on the sofa and you’ll be grabbing me by the hair and saying, ‘More, Max, more, more, more!’ ”
Vivi’s eyes went wide and she gasped, planting her hands on the granite top. “I never said any such thing!”
“Think back. In your father’s apartment. You and me. Remember now?”
Actually, she hardly remembered anything except that her body had turned traitorous, and she very easily could have said that and more—more, more. Ugh.
“I really don’t like you,” she stated crisply.
“I don’t believe you,” he teased with a molasses-slow grin. “If I were a gambling man, I’d say what you’d really like is to leap into my arms.”
A noise worked its way free from her chest as that recently all-too-available emotion surged up and she launched herself across the slab of granite. She probably would have gotten her nails into his skin, but he had the agility of a panther and sidestepped out of the way.
“Whoa,” he said, surprised and amused, grabbing her wrists to keep her from actually doing some damage. “If you’re not careful, you’re going to hurt someone.”
“I’m trying to hurt you.”
“Tsk, tsk,” he admonished with a devilish smile. “Who knew you were the violent type?”
He pushed away and headed for the door. At the last minute he turned around, pulled a set of keys from his pocket, and tossed them to her.
Too startled to do anything but catch them, Vivi stared at the ring. “What are you doing with my keys?”
Max shrugged. “I fixed your car.”
Vivi’s mouth fell open.
“Don’t look so shocked. There isn’t a guy born and raised on the south side of town who can’t tune an eight cylinder in his sleep.”
But it wasn’t the car that held her attention. “You’re from the south side?”
“Born and raised. This is America,” he quipped. “There are plenty of poor kids who make good.”
“No doubt. But I’m not as sure that there are so many who did it while raising seven brothers and sisters. That really is incredible.”
Her compliment made this controlled man shift his weight awkwardly. “Anyone in my position would have done the same thing.”
“I wouldn’t be too sure about that.” She considered him for a moment. “Do you miss it?”
“Miss what?”
“The south side?”
The question surprised him, and she realized that he was on the verge of saying absolutely not. But then he seemed to drift back, seeing the shadow of memories, she was sure.
“Sometimes I do.”
“What do you miss the most?”
“The smell of chili and tamales when you walk down the street. And the music, guitars and mariachis, coming from the shops.”
“You must have been happy growing up.”
Every trace of softne
ss evaporated. “Mainly I wanted out. But all of a sudden I feel like everywhere I turn, I find something from my past that makes me remember.”
“Is that so bad?”
He drew a deep breath, then he focused on her in a way that made her skin tingle. “It depends on the memory.”
She braced her hands on her hips and smiled at him.
“What?” he asked.
“Nothing.”
“That smile is not nothing.”
“I’m thinking that deep down beneath your gruff exterior is a very nice man.”
He snorted.
“A nice man who might like me just a little more than he’s willing to admit.”
He scowled, but when his hand shot out to grab her wrist, she danced away.
“Face it, Landry. You’re a regular sweetheart. A real gem of a guy.”
One dark brow rose and he took a step toward her. But they were saved from another verbal clash or falling into a wild embrace on the kitchen table when the phone rang.
Muttering something about impossible women, he grabbed up the receiver. “Hello?” Then, “Good morning to you too, Pat.” He leaned back against the counter, his bare feet crossed at the ankles. “Yep, she’s still here.” He looked Vivi up and down before he seemed to freeze and his expression went hard. “What are you talking about? I haven’t heard a word about a picnic.”
“Oops, I forgot to mention that,” Vivi interjected.
Max listened for a few more minutes before grunting into the phone and then hanging up.
“What is this about a picnic?” he demanded.
“It’s going to be great.”
“What are you trying to do?”
“I’m not sure what you mean.”
His eyes narrowed in accusation. “Why would you plan a picnic for my family?”
Vivi made an indignant noise. “I was just trying to find a way for you to spend time with your brothers and sisters. I don’t mind telling you that I’ve noticed a distinct division between you and them. And what better way to bridge the gap than a day of great food and games?”
“What is it with you and fixing things? There is nothing wrong with my relationship with my family,” he stated.
“Really? So when was the last time you did something with them?”
“I’m busy.”
“Ah, yes, which explains your system of memos with your eleven-year-old sister.”
“There is no system. She memos me.”
“And that sounds normal in what country?”
His jaw cemented. “My family is my business,” he stated coldly, then headed for the door.
“But you’ll go to the picnic, right?” she called after him.
He pushed out of the room with a curse. “Yeah, I’ll be there.”
“Great! And thanks for taking care of my car!”
He only grumbled, and as soon as the door swung closed, she did a little victory dance. “You’re bad, you’re bad.” Then she raced upstairs to get ready.
Two hours later, rain threatened the picnic, but that didn’t dampen Vivi’s excitement. She hadn’t accepted Max’s grumbled invitation to ride with him to Cloudview Park. She drove herself, pulling into the single available spot in the crowded lot.
She saw Max the second she arrived. He was taller than most, but it was his cool command that separated him from the crowd. He stood with an easy smile on his full, sensual lips.
That was what most people noticed. But Vivi saw the always tightly held control just below—and she saw as well that Max gave a proud nod when she turned off the car. No chugging, no explosion, just the smooth purr of an engine disengaging.
Max watched, and he even shot her an “are you impressed?” raising of an eyebrow. But his pride turned to amazement when he got a look at her clothes.
“What?” she demanded when he came up to the car.
“We’re here for barbeque and baseball, not a fashion show.”
“Oooh, do I look that good?”
There went that murderous scowl again. Though why he was bothered, she couldn’t say. She had on a Girl Scout’s Honor T-shirt, tennis shoes, and pants. Of course, Girl Scout’s Honor was spelled out in sequins, but what was she supposed to wear? After her trip to the consignment shop, she didn’t have a lot left and she couldn’t afford to turn around and buy a whole new lesssequiny wardrobe.
Max didn’t have time to comment or murder her when she leaned into the car for a container of potato salad. Seconds later, the rest of his family joined them.
There was Raymond Landry and his wife of five years, Randi, and their three kids, Roger, Regina, and Rebecca.
“Oh, wow, all Rs,” Vivi said.
Next came brother Gabriel, his wife, Fatima, who took the potato salad from Max, and the cutest little daughter named Missy. They were a well-dressed family, all spitshined clean with mother and daughter in matching picnic clothes.
“Great outfits,” Vivi offered, hardly able to fathom so much family.
Next came younger brother Jim, wife Petra, and little Jimmy, followed by Pat’s on-again, off-again boyfriend, Joel. Seeing this group of people, Vivi felt a pierce of poignancy that made her throat tighten. Clearly there were tensions and back stories to all these relationships, but there was an unmistakable bond as well.
Vivi had the distinct feeling that they could get on each other’s nerves, say whatever they wanted within the family, but no way would they let someone from the outside try to mess with any one of them. As revealed in Pat’s story about Max protecting her when she was young, this family clearly cared about each other.
The group cheered when another Landry showed up. It was as if a lightness blew in with the dark clouds that were gathering. He was Christopher Landry. He wore a military haircut and some kind of a military uniform, and the minute the brothers and sisters saw him, they circled around.
“Chris!”
The soldier hugged and shook hands, swept up the kids, and even pulled Nicki into a brotherly embrace when she hung back.
“Hey, punk,” he said.
Nicki smiled reluctantly, almost shyly, her tense little body easing. Max looked on, a mix of fierce love and pride etched in his bold features. It wasn’t until the rest of the family was done with Chris that he found his oldest brother. A devilish smile cracked his young face, then he strode over and the two men gave each other bone-crushing hugs.
The strength of their love was palpable, and more unwanted emotion swelled in Vivi’s throat.
“Hey, Max,” Chris said.
Max held him at arm’s length. “You look good, kid. Pilot training is treating you well.”
Chris chuckled. “I wouldn’t go that far.”
Despite the impending bad weather, the picnic was off to a great start, and Vivi felt her own sense of pride. She might not have brothers and sisters, but she loved bringing this family together.
The park was crowded with kids and adults. An official softball game was going on with real referees, while the other fields were taken up with informal games.
Chris turned and saw Vivi for the first time. Clearly not shy, he whistled appreciatively. “Who are you?”
Max stepped forward, but before he could say a word, Lila perked up. “She’s our new nanny.”
Chris took a step closer to Vivi in a way that reminded her of his older brother.
Nicki snorted. “Yeah, like the really old new nanny. Way older than you,” she clarified.
“Old?” Chris looked Vivi up and down. “I doubt it, but I’m happy to do the older woman–younger man thing.”
The siblings hooted, except for Nicki—and Max.
“Chris,” he said, his voice a command. “Keep your thoughts and hands to yourself.”
Everyone there but Chris quieted instantly. The youngest brother only glanced back, lifted a brow, and smiled, his hands raised in surrender. “So, big brother, that’s the way the wind blows.”
Max glowered, Vivi’s mouth rounded in an O, and Nicki
scowled. “As if,” the teen muttered.
“Come on, everyone, I’m starving,” Chris announced, taking the potato salad. “Then can I assume we’re up for some serious softball?”
Vivi rummaged around in her Naughty & Nice tote bag until she produced two softballs she had found in the garage. Next she produced bats and mitts from the trunk.
Max shot her a teasing grin. “You really do know what a picnic is.”
Vivi rolled her eyes and shoved the equipment into his arms, then retrieved the rest of the food.
Chris winked. “I feel a winning streak coming on, big brother. When was the last time you played?” He laughed. “Do you even remember how?”
Max’s features took on a competitive gleam. “I’ll show you how to play the game, little boy. Come on, let’s eat.”
And eat they did, everyone devouring the regular food Vivi had made. Or at least most of it was regular.
“Wow,” Chris chirped, kind of choking. “What’s this?”
Everyone looked.
“A hot dog,” Vivi supplied.
Chris didn’t look convinced.
“It is. It’s just stuffed with caviar and wrapped in Gruyère cheese.”
“Oh,” he managed to say, swallowing hard.
Max leaned close, smiling against her ear. “I see your regular food has gone the way of your baked Alaska.”
Vivi sniffed. “No sense in being completely boring.”
Patricia sat down beside her. “I love your hot dogs,” she said with a fond smile as Max headed off with the other men to congregate around the very regular hamburgers.
Vivi laughed. “Thank you.”
“I’m glad you thought to do this,” Pat said.
“Your brother wasn’t as enthusiastic about the idea.”
“Like I said before, Max needs his world shaken up.”
“Why is everyone so afraid of him?”
“Not afraid. It’s respect and gratitude. If he hadn’t taken over the responsibility for all of us, who knows where we’d be? Certainly not together. He gave up college to take care of us. We owe him a lot.”
“Dropping out doesn’t seem to have held him back.”
“No,” Pat said thoughtfully. “For as long as I can remember there’s always been something in him that kept him going—something that drove him to succeed no matter what. I’ve always wondered what it was. Even before our father left, Dad wasn’t much help. Perhaps Max wanted to show him.”
The Wedding Diaries Page 14
