“I know that. But your grandfather was wondering if you might take it up now that we’re married, and I thought I’d better find out. Seems like something we would’ve talked about. Doesn’t it?”
He had a way of bursting her bubbles before she got too carried away. She should be grateful for that.
“You’re right, Joe. We should have talked about it. And the answer is, no. I don’t want to take up skiing.”
“Too bad.” He looked disappointed. “I think you could’ve learned to like it.”
She had the horrible feeling he was right. She thought she could learn to like anything he wanted to teach her.
“I’d better baste the turkey,” she whispered, hurrying away before those sharp eyes of his saw more than she wanted them to.
Joe frowned as he set his laptop on a table. What had gotten into him? Had he forgotten this was an elaborate masquerade? He’d actually hoped Alicia would agree to go skiing with him sometime in the future. He’d been sorry when she refused him.
Too much time on my hands, he thought as he turned on the computer and watched it power up. “Time I got back to work.”
“What’s that?”
Joe looked over his shoulder at Alicia’s grandfather. “Nothing. Just talking to myself.”
“That’s a sign of old age,” Grandpa Roger said with a twinkle in his eyes.
“No doubt.” He motioned to a chair. “Ready to begin?”
“I’m ready.” The older man sat down.
“Great.”
After about half an hour of preliminary instructions, Joe could see that this “old dog,” as Grandpa Roger had called himself, was plenty quick to learn new tricks.
“Fascinating,” Grandpa Roger said. “I’ve heard about sites like this on the news, but never visited them. Do you mind if I continue to surf for a while?”
“Not at all.” Joe glanced toward the kitchen.
“Go ahead. See if she needs any help.”
Joe hadn’t meant to give the impression he was thinking about Alicia—even though he had been. With a nod, he rose from his chair and walked away. At the kitchen doorway, he paused. She stood near the sink, her hands folded atop her swollen belly, her expression wistful as she gazed out the window at the sunny day. She looked so…beautiful. So kissable. So feminine and warm and tender.
It felt right, being here in this house, watching Alicia move about the kitchen. It felt familiar, as if he’d been doing it for months. Crazy, but there it was. That’s how he felt.
She turned her head and saw him standing there. She gave him a hesitant smile. “How’s the lesson coming?”
“Fine. Your grandfather knows more than he let on, and he’s quick to learn what he doesn’t.”
“Uh-huh.”
The need to take her in his arms, to kiss her—really kiss her—swept over him.
She checked her wristwatch, then crossed the kitchen to the stove. Guessing her intent and wanting to be near, he followed her there.
“Let me do that for you. You shouldn’t be lifting.”
He drew on the oven mitts, removed the roasting pan from the oven, then tipped it slightly to one side so she could baste the bird.
“Thank you,” she said without looking at him.
It was a good thing she didn’t look up. She might have seen what he was thinking, and that would be a big mistake.
Chapter Six
Alicia arrived at the store an hour before it opened Friday morning. Like other retail businesses, Bundles of Joy relied on the day after Thanksgiving to make a hefty contribution to the profit margin for the year. She knew the day would be a long one and had warned both Joe and her grandfather not to expect her until ten o’clock that night.
“You shouldn’t put in those kind of hours in your condition,” Grandpa Roger had told her.
But what could she do? This was her livelihood. She was the boss. She had to be there.
Besides, this was the night of their special Father’s Sale. From six to nine, the only females allowed in the store would be Alicia and her staff. This was an evening designed for husbands and fathers to come in and find those special gifts for their wives and children. Alicia had come up with the idea three years ago, and it had been a huge hit. Now it was an expected annual tradition.
In the back room she hung up her coat, then put her turkey sandwich in the small refrigerator before filling the coffeepot with water. By the time the coffee was done percolating, Susie had arrived.
“How was your Thanksgiving?” Susie shed her parka and draped it over a hanger.
“Very nice. How about yours?”
“Filling. I almost had to roll myself here from the parking lot. I eat way too much at these big family dinners.”
Alicia grinned as she nodded in agreement.
“Your husband and grandfather getting along?” There was a mischievous gleam in Susie’s eyes as she asked her question.
“Yes.” Alicia envisioned the two men as they’d sat, side by side, last evening, continuing her grandfather’s lessons on the Internet. Two boys with their toys, she thought now. If things continued this way, they would be the best of friends in no time.
“So if they’re getting along,” Susie inquired, “why the frown?”
“Was I frowning?”
“You know it.”
Alicia gave her head a tiny shake. “It isn’t anything. I was just lost in thought.”
“Hmm.” Susie poured herself a cup of coffee. “Are you worried about what will happen today while you’re gone? I mean, the two of them left to their own devices. Scary.”
“No, I’m not worried.” At least, she hadn’t been until Susie suggested it.
What were Grandpa and Joe going to do while she was at work? Why hadn’t she considered how often the two men would be together without her? She and Joe had covered a lot of territory, made up a lot of “facts,” but there was no way she’d told him everything he should know. Their real history was only days long, not eight months.
Alicia groaned.
Susie was right. She should be worried.
The computer showroom was a madhouse.
Joe glanced sideways at Alicia’s grandfather as the glass-and-chrome doors swung closed behind them. “Are you sure you want to do this today?”
“I’m sure.”
“I’d be happy to pick one out and bring it home to you.”
“Young man, I’m not about to spend my remaining years living in dread of another heart attack. I want to experience this for myself.”
Alicia would kill Joe if anything happened to the old man, but he knew it was futile to try to change Grandpa Roger’s mind. He’d already discovered where Alicia got her stubborn streak.
A salesman appeared before them. “Can I help you?”
“Yes,” Joe answered. “We’re looking for a laptop for my friend here.”
“Right this way.”
Joe motioned for Grandpa Roger to follow the salesman, then fell into step behind the older man. Above the din of conversations, he heard the salesman begin his pitch.
He wondered how Alicia’s day was going. Was Bundles of Joy as jam-packed with customers as this showroom? He didn’t know whether to hope so or not. She’d looked tired this morning. He suspected she wasn’t sleeping well.
I wonder if it has anything to do with me.
He silently laughed at himself. What an absurd, egotistical notion! Why should he cause her to lose sleep? They were nothing to each other but friends.
And I’m the friend who finds her attractive.
“Joe?”
At the sound of Grandpa Roger’s voice, he dragged his thoughts to the present. “Yeah?”
“You’re the expert. What do you think?”
“Sorry. About what?”
The salesman did everything but roll his eyes in exasperation, then began his spiel a second time, enumerating all the advantages of the laptops on display.
An hour later, the two men left the store,
their purchase made. Roger Harris was the brand-new owner of a lightweight, high-speed, state-of-the-art laptop computer. His eyes twinkled like a kid’s on Christmas morning, and there was a definite spring in his step as they walked toward Joe’s SUV.
“Let me buy you lunch,” the older man offered. “We can have leftovers for supper.”
“Sounds good to me. Where to?”
“How about Gracie’s?”
Joe closed his door and stuck the key in the ignition. “Where’s that?”
Grandpa Roger lifted an eyebrow. “You’ve been married eight months, and Alicia’s never taken you to Gracie’s?”
“We don’t eat out much,” Joe bluffed.
“I guess not.”
He started the engine. “You point the way. I’ll get us there. Maybe we can beat the lunch crowd.”
Gracie’s was one of those home-style restaurants found in every small town in America. It was in a converted brick house, nestled a block away from Meridian’s main drag. A handicapped ramp had been added to the front entrance, and the backyard had been turned into a black-topped parking lot. Two ancient maple trees, their branches stripped bare by winter, stood as sentries on either side of the driveway.
They were too late to beat the lunch crowd, Joe realized as he pulled his vehicle into the only available spot. Or maybe they were too early to avoid the breakfast crowd. He couldn’t be sure.
“Alicia, her grandmother and I used to come here the first Saturday of every month for breakfast,” Grandpa Roger said. “It was a favorite tradition. Gracie serves the best French toast with homemade maple syrup you’ve ever eaten.”
The two of them walked toward the entrance. After today, Joe planned to avoid this kind of thing like the plague. Ever since he’d sat in that Boise coffee shop two weeks ago and agreed to this crazy plan of Alicia’s, he’d been doing things that were totally out of character. He’d better start acting like the work-obsessed attorney he was and forget this cozy-family make-believe world he’d been sucked into.
By the time he and Grandpa Roger were seated at a table near one of the gingham-curtained windows, Joe had managed to steer the conversation back to computers. He succeeded in keeping it there until midway through the meal.
“I’m curious about something,” Alicia’s grandfather began.
Joe tried not to let his apprehension show.
“Doesn’t it bother you that Alicia didn’t change her last name to Palermo?”
“Well…” he said slowly, trying for just the right tone. “Maybe a little. But these days it’s common.”
“It seems so unlike her. My granddaughter’s always been a traditionalist. And a romantic.” Grandpa Roger looked at Joe. “Only a romantic could fall in love and marry so quickly, right?”
“I guess so.”
“Which means you must be a bit of a romantic yourself.”
Joe Palermo? A romantic? When pigs fly.
He cleared his throat, then said, “We discussed it, of course. The name thing. It just made more sense, because of her business, to leave things as they were.”
“I suppose.” Grandpa Roger looked unconvinced. “Call me old-fashioned. I think a man and wife should share the same last name with their children. The baby will be a Palermo, after all.”
“Humphrey Palermo?” Joe said beneath his breath—and then grinned at the ridiculous sound of it.
“Pardon?”
His grin broadened. “Nothing, sir. Just a private joke between Alicia and me.”
The older man smiled, too. “Every marriage should have a few of those. Keeps you close.”
Joe felt a stab of guilt. He and Alicia had fabricated a life, and Roger Harris had bought into it, hook, line and sinker. When her grandfather looked at the two of them, he saw a couple of romantics in love. He couldn’t know—and hopefully would never know—how wrong he was.
“This is our first,” the man said as he perused the racks of maternity wear. “We’ve been trying for over ten years to have a baby and just about gave up hope.” His gaze shifted to Alicia’s abdomen. “Your baby must be due about the same time as ours.” He looked up. “January, right?”
Alicia nodded, smiling at him.
“Thought so.” He paused, and his expression changed to one of desperation. “I want to buy her something pretty to wear for the holidays. We’ve got several nice parties to go to. You know, glittery business affairs. But she’s feeling really unattractive right now and uncertain if she should even go.”
Boy, could Alicia relate to that.
“She’s not, though.” The man’s eyes shone with love, and his voice revealed the depths of his feelings. “She’s beautiful. Especially now.”
Alicia felt a lump forming in her throat. What would it be like to have someone feel that way about her?
“Janet’s about your size and coloring. Can you recommend something?”
She forced another smile, then said, “Come with me. I think I have the dress you’re looking for.”
Her instincts proved correct. Her customer thought the sequined maternity dress with its long overjacket was perfect, and he left Bundles of Joy a happy man.
But no matter how many others Alicia waited on during the remaining hours of the Father’s Sale, she couldn’t shake the memory of that man—of Janet’s husband—and the way he’d said his pregnant wife was beautiful. There was no denying the longing in her heart to experience a love like that for herself.
By the time she pulled into her driveway at nine forty-five that night, Alicia was in a full blue funk. It didn’t help that the house was mostly dark. Apparently no one had waited up for her. Rags greeted her by the back door. At least she could count on her trusty dog to be glad to see her. That was something.
In the kitchen Alicia set her purse and car keys on the counter, then checked her answering machine for messages. There were none. She found the mail on the kitchen table. Bills. Three applications for new credit cards. A slew of ads. One magazine. Nothing exciting.
Rosie jumped onto the table, demanding attention with a strident, “Meow!”
Alicia lifted her into her arms. “So what did everyone do today while I was working?”
The cat purred.
“You’re a regular font of information.”
Rosie rubbed the side of her head against Alicia’s chest and purred more loudly.
“Whatever it was, it must have worn them out. It isn’t even ten o’clock.” She set the cat on the floor. “Personally, I’m ready for bed, too.”
She flicked off the light switch and made her way toward her bedroom by the soft glow of several nightlights, strategically placed throughout the house.
It didn’t take her long to get ready for bed. She was a no-fuss kind of gal. Brush the teeth. Wash the face. Put on her comfy pajamas. Fall into the big four-poster and pull the thick down comforter up to her chin.
She closed her eyes and sighed deeply. Right at this moment, with her feet hurting and her muscles aching, it was difficult to remember why she’d thought going into retail was a good idea.
The monitor made a slight puffy sound before Joe’s voice came through the speaker. “That you, Alicia?”
The button was stuck again. She would have to exchange this two-way set and get one that worked properly before the baby arrived.
“It’s me,” she answered.
“You’re home earlier than you thought.”
“A little bit.” She rolled onto her side and pulled the monitor closer. “You guys went to bed early, too.”
“Yeah. Your grandpa’s an early-to-bed sort of guy. I figured I might as well do the same.”
She closed her eyes, a tired smile curving the corners of her mouth. It was kind of nice, lying here, talking to someone besides Rosie or Rags before she fell asleep.
“Alicia?”
“Yes?”
“I’m going to leave early in the morning for Bogus to ski. I heard today that they’ve got great powder for opening weekend.”
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She felt a sting of disappointment, a feeling she had no right to feel. “Okay.”
“I’ll fill you in on what your grandfather and I did today before I go.”
“All right.”
“Pleasant dreams.”
“Good night, Joe.”
Chapter Seven
Alicia was standing at the stove, frying bacon in a skillet, when Joe entered the kitchen. She saw him hesitate and check the room. Instinctively she knew that if her grandfather had been present Joe would have given her a kiss for a greeting. But since Grandpa Roger wasn’t in the room, he stayed where he was.
“Morning. Smells good.”
“The bacon’s for you and me.”
“Yeah. I figured.” He walked over to her. “I’m missing one of my black leather driving gloves. You haven’t seen it anywhere, have you?”
“No. Sorry, I haven’t.”
“Hope I haven’t lost it.”
“Where did you last have it?”
“When your grandpa and I got home. I took them off and left them on the table by the front door.” As he spoke, he moved toward the coffeepot. “This morning there’s only one of them.”
His hair looked as though he’d finger-combed it, and she’d already learned that his voice sounded a bit gravelly first thing in the morning. Seeing him, hearing him, made her pulse race.
This wasn’t good. She’d reacted the same way around Joe when she was ten years old and harboring a giant-size crush on him. But she wasn’t ten now. She had to remember that he was doing her a favor and nothing more.
“I think the bacon’s done.”
Alicia gasped and the fork dropped from her hand.
“Did you burn yourself?”
“No. No, I—” She clamped her mouth shut without finishing her sentence. She couldn’t tell him what she’d been thinking.
Joe pulled the skillet off the burner, then scooped the overly crisp bacon onto a paper towel with a spatula.
By the time he was finished, Alicia felt a little more composed. “Thanks. My mind wandered.”
He glanced over his shoulder. After a moment, he smiled.
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