Blame It On Paris

by Jennifer Greene

  "Nothing. Just the lab results." She tossed the paper into a patchwork basket of other toss-out mail by the door.

  "What lab results?"

  "The DNA test. I had it done when I got back from Paris. I told you about it. I told the lab to send the results to my father's address, not to me. I didn't want or need to see it. I couldn't care less," she said swiftly.

  "Whoa." She'd dismissed the report as if it were nothing, which it most certainly wasn't, emotionally or legally, for her. But she moved on as if determined to stick to her conversational agenda.

  "Anyway, what if I pick you up. say around quarter to ten on Sunday…because if you're at your mom's that night, then you wouldn't have to drive me'home later. Besides, I don't know if you want me to stay through the whole day."

  "It's white tie." Will lifted his voice to be certain she heard this devastating news.

  She only lifted a brow. "I've never worn ties. I'm guessing they'll let me in in a dress."

  Then he remembered that she wouldn't likely be allergic to dressing up the way he was. "I'll pick you up," he said.

  "But it'd be inconvenient for you," she argued.

  He was suddenly aware they were arguing about who was doing the driving, and somehow the fact that he wasn't about to attend a mass had gotten lost in the scuffle. So had everything else. And someone had just turned on a noisy power drill upstairs. "Wait a minute. This lab report you just got-that means your dad now knows for sure that you're his daughter?"

  "Will, I told you I've been e-mailing my dad ever since I got back from Paris. He hasn't returned a single note. Not a word. He either doesn't want a daughter or he doesn't want me. If he actually needed DNA as proof, then as far as I'm concerned, he can jump in the pond…and I mean that big pond between the continents. Now about the electricity-"

  "Kel. No one was talking about electricity."

  "But we should have been." She motioned vaguely toward the kitchen. "The guys blew a fuse when they first started working. I just put in another one, but it kept blowing, and the house is of an age, you know, so I called an electrician, asked him to check out the electrical system. Now, I can't imagine you wanting to spend any money you don't have to. but if this were my house. I do believe you should-"

  Her cell phone rang at the same time someone knocked on the front door. She threw up her hands at the same time he threw up his. "You get the phone," he said. "I'll get the door."

  He glanced at his watch before pivoting around. Almost one. He had to be back for a meeting at one-thirty. They hadn't finished up all her house questions; he'd had no chance to tell her what had happened with John Henry at work. He had a whole lot more to say about her dad situation, and she probably wanted to know more about the party arrangements on Sunday. And all that was just life stuff. They hadn't had two seconds to talk about them.

  She'd said she'd go to Paris with him. She really, really had. Obstacles or no obstacles, surely they'd get a chance to talk about the one subject that mattered?

  Impatiently he answered her front door, only to find the lunkhead, alias Jason, who was close to the last person in the universe Will had the patience for right now. And he could hear Kel on her cell, her voice tone indicating she was dealing with a business call.

  It looked like dealing with Jason was on him.

  Oh well, Will mused, and stepped outside, meticulously closing the door behind him. As kindly as an old friend, he greeted Jason with, "Hey, I'll bet you had the mother of all headaches last Saturday."

  Poor guy winced. '"I did. That's what I was here about. To talk to Kelly."

  "She's tied up. We're both about to head back to work." Jason didn't look like such a hothead by bright sun in the middle of the day. He looked more like, well, just a decent guy. Buttoned down, for sure, but nothing really wrong with him except that Will noted the fresh haircut, the crisp look of a new shirt. That wasn't for a Wednesday workday. The dude was spiffed up for Kelly.

  Not gonna happen.

  Jason seemed to finally realize something along that line too. because he said gruffly, "I guess I owe an apology to you, too."

  "No problem at all," Will said genially. "I'm glad we met. I know we'll run into each other again. Your family's important to Kelly. You both share a lot of friends."

  "We do."

  Jason stood there, as if wanting to push for another chance to see Kelly, but eventually he started shifting his feet. When Will failed to offer more conversation, he scratched the back of his neck, checked a button on his shirt. Finally, he worked up the guts for a blunter approach and said straight out. "Are you and Kelly…" but then couldn't seem to finish the question.

  "Yes." Will said, which covered the complete answer as far as he was concerned.

  "She'll always be my first girl," Jason said, with the same note of beer-courage stubbornness he'd tried out on Saturday.

  "I know she will. And it's a good memory for her, hope it is for you. But she'll be my last girl, and I like my place in that line." Will didn't make it sound like a challenge or a warning. He just stated it like the eternal, irrevocable, irrefutable, undeniable fact that it was.

  "Yeah, I get that feeling." Jason's voice was barely audible. "Well, tell Kelly-"

  "I will. She'll be relieved you were okay after Saturday."

  "I don't want her thinking that I wanted to make a scene," Jason said.

  The hell he didn't. But Will, because he was practicing restraint brilliantly at that moment, didn't push. "Hey, it's okay," he said magnanimously.

  A moment later, the front door opened with Kelly looking bewildered, as if she'd been searching all over for him and couldn't imagine where he was. Jason was pulling out of the driveway and Will was waving goodbye to him.

  Kelly took one look and started giving him that foot-tapping, hand-on-hip type of posture.

  "What?" he said. "I was totally, one hundred percent nice! You can ask him!"

  She said nothing.

  "I mean it, Kel, it's obvious he's a decent guy. He was embarrassed about Saturday. I tried to make him feel better."

  Kelly murmured. "In a pig's eye." But she kissed him. He'd been good as gold, maybe better, and yet he somehow got a kiss when he lied to her? And it was a good kiss.

  When she leaned back and opened her eyes, she was smiling, their pelvises still glued together. "Why would I bet a week's salary that he won't be back?"

  "I have no idea. Since I was so nice to him. But I do think it's conceivable that this is the last time he's going to try seeing you alone the way he did today." He added. "That's just a guess, of course. I have no basis whatsoever to think that, really. I just-"

  "We're on a front porch in the middle of a busy neighborhood, so quit being so damned cute. I can't seduce you here. And we both have to be back at work besides."

  "I was being cute, huh?"

  "When you're not being a male chauvinist egomaniac, you can be a little cute." she qualified.

  "And you were thinking about seducing me, huh? Right out here in the open?"

  "Would you quit sounding so delighted?" But just then, one of the workers yanked open the door with a question, effectively interrupting them as nothing else could have.

  KELLY THOUGHT later that she should have known she was inviting trouble. It was the same-old, same-old with Will. They had fifty million things conspiring to keep them apart. His dad. Her dad. Both of their nosy, interfering families. In her case, an insane work schedule, complicated by trying to live in a house with a half dozen construction projects going on. And in Will's case, being swallowed by the magnitude of handling his father's business.

  But somehow, when they managed even a few minutes together, they seemed to have fun anyway. They seemed to feel fierce, wild, wonderful desire anyway. They seemed to laugh anyway.

  So it was extra frightening, when she heard stones hitting her window at four o'clock on Friday morning, that she wasn't even thrown. All right. She was a little thrown. Bleary-eyed, she crawled out of bed, gra
bbed her cell phone, punched in 9-1-1 and then peeked out the corner of the window to see what was going on.

  And there was Will, standing in the dew-soaked grass. He was wearing a suit, as far as she could see in the dark-a serious going-to-work suit. And grinning up at her like a hyena.

  She threw open the sash-no easy thing to do on the old windows in the upstairs bedroom-and leaned out. "You're mad. Stark raving mad. And I'm having you committed." First, though, she clicked off her phone.

  "Can you come down and play?"

  "Of course not. It's Friday morning. I get two more hours of sleep before I have to get up and work all day. Do you have anything against rest? Sleep?"

  'This is important. And it includes breakfast."

  She sighed. '"Give me five." She closed the window and got in gear-splashing water on her face, brushing her teeth, throwing on gray slacks and a pale blue top, hardly a great work or play outfit, but who could think at four in the morning? She was lucky she remembered shoes, and was still brushing her hair when she jogged outside.

  "I don't talk this early, and for damn sure. I shouldn't be expected to be nice," she warned him.

  "I understand."

  "You'd better have a good reason for this."

  "I understand."

  "And I haven't even put on makeup, so don't be looking at me."

  "Yes, ma'am. I won't look." He added hastily. "Although you don't need makeup to enhance your extraordinary beauty, anyway."

  "I'm not receptive to malarkey this early in the morning, either."

  He made the childish gesture of zipping his lips, making her want to laugh, but she didn't. She held on to her cranky mood for at least four more minutes. Maybe five.

  "What in God's name are you up to?" she demanded when he pulled up to the Notre Dame football stadium. A light rain had started up. which made the golden dome glisten bright and magical.

  Will looked up at the rain, though, and muttered. "Hell. This may not work out quite as planned."

  "In case no one ever mentioned this to you, the stadium's locked. You can't just walk in there at all hours."

  But somehow or other-Will wouldn't admit how, which made Kelly fret that the means might not be kosher-he produced a key. By the time he was maneuvering the lock, he was also carting a monster-sized box and an umbrella. Naturally she grabbed the umbrella. It was obvious he couldn't juggle everything at once.

  "Okay," he said. "This was the plan. Remember when we were on the boat, and you wanted to seduce me in broad daylight?"

  "It wasn't quite like that," she defended.

  "Close enough. And because I thought it was such an excellent idea. I thought I should enable you. I mean, if you want to get into this sin and fantasy thing, you should have a willing accomplice. It's the guy's job in a relationship to help the woman achieve her dreams. My sisters read that to me from a woman's magazine, so I know it must be true." In the middle of that nonsense, he suddenly sighed and turned serious. "Only damn, Kel. The forecast was for overcast skies, not rain."

  The stadium was…well, all theirs. The only times she'd been inside, the place had been packed for football games. The inner corridor was ghostly cool and dim, and once Will led her out to the stands-to the fifty-yard line, to be precise-the wide empty space seemed to hold all the echoes of exuberant yelling and happy screams and devoted fans. Will, however, looked more and more distraught.

  "I checked the forecast an hour ago, and it was supposed to be cloudy this morning. Just cloudy. No rain. No rain. You know what?"

  "What?"

  "Maguire's has a box. But I didn't bring that key because I didn't think we'd need it. The whole point was to be out in the open air."

  Holy smokes times ten. While she held up the umbrella, he opened the massive box he'd been carting around. First he withdrew a navy-and-gold blanket, then French crepes packed in a heated container. Out came more treasures. A carafe of French coffee with gold-rimmed demitasses. A blue-and-gold flag. Sterling forks and white linen napkins. A vase with blue and gold carnations. The water had spilled out. but the flowers were still fresh, and certainly happy enough to sit in the rain.

  She looked at Will as he withdrew all this stuff, all these details that he'd planned for her. the whole Notre Dame theme, all the French foods, all the elegant little touches…and felt her heart melt like chocolate in heat.

  The rain sluiced down harder, no longer light, but she'd been inside, the place had been packed for football games. The inner corridor was ghostly cool and dim, and once Will led her out to the stands-to the fifty-yard line, to be precise-the wide empty space seemed to hold all the echoes of exuberant yelling and happy screams and devoted fans. Will, however, looked more and more distraught.

  "I checked the forecast an hour ago, and it was supposed to be cloudy this morning. Just cloudy. No rain. No rain. You know what?"

  "What?"

  "Maguire's has a box. But I didn't bring that key because I didn't think we'd need it. The whole point was to be out in the open air."

  Holy smokes times ten. While she held up the umbrella, he opened the massive box he'd been carting around. First he withdrew a navy-and-gold blanket, then French crepes packed in a heated container. Out came more treasures. A carafe of French coffee with gold-rimmed demitasses. A blue-and-gold flag. Sterling forks and white linen napkins. A vase with blue and gold carnations. The water had spilled out. but the flowers were still fresh, and certainly happy enough to sit in the rain.

  She looked at Will as he withdrew all this stuff, all these details that he'd planned for her. the whole Notre Dame theme, all the French foods, all the elegant little touches…and felt her heart melt like chocolate in heat.

  The rain sluiced down harder, no longer light, but pelting in a harsh, beating assault. The umbrella covered some parts of their bodies. Not all. Will looked more and more miserable, and Kelly kept thinking that she needed to say something to make him feel better, but her throat felt so thick, so full of emotion that she couldn't seem to say anything at all.

  Will seemed to interpret her silence as agreeing with his responsibility for this major screwup. "Okay, okay. I admit the plan was flawed and on the impulsive side. But neither of us can seem to scare up an ounce of free time-at least not for each other. I know we're seeing each other Sunday, but that's about my mom's birthday, it's not us time. And yeah, I admit I thought you'd get a charge out of having breakfast at Notre Dame. And I wanted you to remember Paris. I wanted a chance for both of us to be like Paris again, even if we could only catch an hour before real life-"

  He looked up, as if hoping she'd interrupt him. She didn't.

  He started again. "I guess the chances of your seducing me on the fifty-yard line are pretty slim, huh? On the other hand, it's a thought that'll hold. There'll be other chances. There could be some terrific warm morning sometime next week. You could just forget that this particular morning turned into a complete and total fiasco."

  "Will?"

  His shoulders relaxed. She was willing to speak to him.

  "I love you," she said, softer than a whisper.

  His grin started to show up again. Just a rise of the corners of his mouth, but it was coming back.

  "If you want to make love, right now, in the pouring rain-it's okay by me."

  There now. His eyes brightened right up.

  "But it looks as if a maintenance guy just showed up. At the top of the stairs? So it'd seem to be kind of iffy to pull that off right at this minute."

  Will's head shot toward the uniformed man-then two men-and he swore. "They're not supposed to be here until seven. Could anything more go wrong this morning?"

  "Well," she said as she finished the last crepe and rather hastily started gathering their gear together. "We could get arrested. That'd be pretty awkward. But I have to tell you this."

  "What?" he demanded, shooting to his feet as he saw the two maintenance men had suddenly noticed them and were walking in their direction.

  But she did
n't tell him her thought-they had to move too quickly to get everything together, to peel out of there, hopefully without the maintenance men calling the cops on them, hopefully without both of them getting completely soaked in the downpour.

  They reached his car, gasping for breath, both of them hopelessly laughing. Will didn't want to. but even he had to give in to the humor of the situation. And that was the first time she had a chance to say what she'd wanted to earlier.

  She kissed him in the damp car, on the cheek, both of them shivering like crazy. "You're going to do it, aren't you?"

  "What?"

  "You're going to find a way for us to be together. Because your dad's going to be well soon. And that means you'll need to be making decisions about what you want to do."

  "I know what I want. I want you with me, Kel. That's all that matters. The rest of it-I just don't care."

  "Oh, yes you do," she whispered. "You care terribly, Will Maguire." And she felt her heart thud like a dropped ball bearing. It had taken her all this time to figure out what she needed and wanted in her life-who she was, and who she wasn't.

  She was the one who had started out confused.

  But it was Will, she understood now, who didn't know himself. And she couldn't make an overwhelming life choice for him.

  No one could live a fantasy forever.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  "QUIT LOOKING so grumpy." Kelly scolded him as they marched up the church steps. "You're not going to die if you spend an hour in mass."

  "I could."

  She patted his behind-discreetly-just as they reached the holy water, which she used and he didn't. He got another scolding look when he failed to genuflect. His family was already there-his dad and mom in a pew up front, his sisters and various other family members filling the next couple aisles. Will figured if he got to sit by Ralph, the little squirt would act up, and he'd get to take him out of church. They could play on the lawn or something.

  As if Kelly suspected he had nonreligious intentions, he got another pat-this one close to a pinch- as she herded him into an aisle behind the family.

  "Unka Will!" Ralphie shrieked, making Martha turn around and roll her eyes for attracting the baby's attention.