She planted a row of kisses along the scratchy growth of his lower jaw. She'd forgotten to tell him about the disposable razors in the drawer. “Enough talk. Unless there’s some other reason why we shouldn't have sex, I have condoms in the drawer, and I had a full range of blood tests done a few months ago when I was in the hospital. Is there anything health-wise I need to know about?"
"No. That wasn't what I meant. But given our histories—and your family—are you sure this is a good thing?"
She pushed herself up to rest her chest against his. Although the room was dark, there was light enough to see his features. “You’re worried. I don’t blame you. I remember when Dad threatened to toss you to my cousins and let them beat you within an inch of you life.”
“Pure bluster. Kingston wouldn’t have done that, but he had every right to be mad. I’d just told him our wedding was off because I cheated on his daughter.”
She pushed the memory out of her mind and outlined his lips with her fingertip. "If memory serves me correctly," she said, going for seductive, "this was a very, very good thing when we were together."
His chuckle stopped when he put his hand behind her head and drew her down for a kiss. A powerful, full-of-heat kiss that blocked almost every thought from her head. Fleetingly she remembered that she wasn't taking birth control pills, but that wasn't really an issue. The pains she'd experienced off and on all day were the type she remembered as premenstrual. Besides, this wasn't the right time of the month to get pregnant.
"I'll mostly be working from memory," he said, trailing kisses down the open neckline of her pajamas. "I haven't been with a woman in six months or more, but I have the results of a recent AIDS test in my locker at work, if you'd like to see it."
"Why'd you get tested?"
“Requirement of the new life-insurance policy I took out after Tracey died. For Braden. In case anything happened to me.”
That gesture as much as anything made her dizzy with love. "You 're a good man, Mark Gaylord. Now, shut up and make love to me."
And he did. No questions asked.
Well, one.
"Do these pajama bottoms have a drawstring?”
"Oh, sorry," she said, lifting her hips so she could pluck at the cotton ribbon she'd hastily tied hours earlier.
Once the knot was undone, she tugged down the voluminous flannel pants and kicked free of them. She was about to remove her top, which Mark had already unbuttoned, when she felt his hands on her waist. His fingers flayed in a fanlike gesture that covered her belly. Her poor scarred belly.
"Alexa," he said sharply. “What's this?"
“Oh, um, I had an operation."
He rolled over and reached for the bedside lamp.
"No, Mark, don't. It's ugly. Can't you just pretend it's not there?"
He paused but turned on the light a second later. "Why would I do that? It's part of you."
She yanked the covers up to her chin. One minute she'd felt sexy and wanton, the next ugly and deformed. "Not a part I'm proud of."
Frowning, he pried loose her grip on the sheets. Instead of flinging them back, he said, "What happened? Were you in an accident?"
Just tell the man and be done with it. "I had a laparoscopy procedure, which involves making two small incisions and looking inside my abdomen with a telescope thing. My doctor was removing a cyst on one of my fallopian tubes. Afterward I wound up with an infection and was back in the hospital on IV antibiotics a week later. Some of the tissue around the incision died, and I had to have another operation to fix that."
He lowered the sheet and carefully, lovingly parted the two halves of her pajama top. "When?" he asked, gently running his index finger over the scars.
"About a year after we split up."
"Poor baby. I didn't know. I'm so sorry."
"It wasn't your fault. I've always had 'female problems,' as my aunt used to say. I was in a lot of pain each month, so my doctor suggested surgery. When he got inside and looked around, he couldn't believe such a small cyst was responsible for so much pain, so he poked around a bit more than necessary. This made my recovery more difficult."
"Is everything okay now?"
How much to share... ? "Pretty much. As long as I take high-dose birth-control pills so that my body doesn't ovulate. That lowers the chance of new cysts forming."
He didn't say anything for a minute then he sighed. "After we got engaged, you went off the pill. You thought we should get pregnant right away—while we were young enough to be cool parents."
He looked so troubled and guilty; she touched his cheek and smiled. "I could have started taking the pill again after we broke up, but I was so busy setting up this place, moving out of your apartment...I just didn't pay much attention to my health. The pain was more an annoyance than anything else, and I honestly never thought twice about the pros and cons of having the cyst removed. I just wanted it done so I could get back to my life."
"And it ended up nearly costing you your life. Oh, Alexa, I wish I'd known. I hate the thought of you going through that without me."
He kissed her belly, tenderly tracing the raised white ridges with his lips. "But you know we all have scars. Some are just more visible than others."
Alexa's heart discovered a healing truth in his words—and touch. She sat up and shrugged off her top. "You're right," she said. "I've shown you mine. Your turn, tough guy."
Mark had to say something. But what? He had scars galore, but none that compared to the divot that been taken from her belly.
He flopped on his back and held up his right hand. He made a fist and cocked his wrist so she could see his skin. "Remember this line? You asked me about it once when we first started dating. I told you I was teasing my dog and he scratched me. You believed me, didn't you?"
She touched her finger to the thin white line. “Of course. Why wouldn't I?”
They both knew why she might not trust him now, but back then her love had been pure and uncorrupted—unlike anything else in his life. "Well, what I told you was a lie. I never had a pet of any kind in my life. My dad wouldn't allow it. This scar and probably half a dozen others came from him."
"Oh," she said, shaking her head. "That's so sad. Why didn't you tell me?"
"Because I thought you'd think less of me. Your family was picture perfect. If your dad had known about the kind of man my father was, he'd have found a way to ship me off to Timbuktu."
"I wouldn't have let him."
He snickered softly. "I know. But I wasn't used to having someone else fighting on my side. Everything happened so fast between us—we met, fell in love, moved in together, got engaged and bought a house. I think at some level I knew I'd eventually blow it...and I did."
"We both blew it, Mark. I knew you were nervous about how fast things were progressing between us, but when I have an agenda...look out. Just ask my sisters.”
Her soft snicker held a hint of regret. "When we danced as the Sisters of the Silver Dollar, I was a real diva. We wore the costumes I picked out, did the numbers I wanted. I’m pretty sure that's one of the reasons we stopped performing together. The other girls were sick of me. That, and Dad's death."
She sighed deeply and sat up, folding her hands primly in her lap. "Life has a way of teaching us lessons we need to learn. I still like to run things...obviously, but now I try to listen to other opinions, too. So, if you're more comfortable with a pillow between us tonight, I say, 'No problem."'
She leaned sideways to pick up a full-length body pillow.
Mark snatched it from her hands. “Oh, hell no." He sent it flying like a floppy missile. Then he pulled her to him and kissed her with passion so familiar, so well-remembered, it was as if their years apart had never happened.
Later, satiated and complete, Alexa snuggled against him, eyes closed. Exhausted beyond words, sleep called to her but random thoughts bounced around in her mind.
What will the girls say? Will they be happy for me or freaked out?
Will
Mom be able to tell that Mark and I were together the minute she sees me?
Mark and I. Together. Like the old days only...better somehow. Because we learned the hard way not to take anything for granted?
So good. So...we forgot to use a condom.
She tensed for a moment then let out a sigh.
Oh, well. Her PMS should eliminate any chance of getting pregnant. Plus, her doctor had told her it might take months before her body was back to normal and she could try in vitro. Conceiving a child tonight would border on the miraculous.
She pressed her palm against the flat space between her pelvis. Miracles happen. Especially at this time of year.
Mark’s arm tightened in his sleep, pulling her even closer, and, as she drifted off to sleep, she smiled.
Chapter 16
Alexa woke up before her alarm went off. She slid out of bed, being careful not to disturb Mark, who was asleep. On his belly. One hand curled under the pillow.
When they'd first been together—in his early years in the police force, she'd teased him about keeping a gun in that hand. He'd never denied it, but she'd known it wasn't true. Even then, she'd had a sense that he wasn't a cop at heart.
She gathered the clothes she'd set out to wear today, then showered and dressed in the spare bathroom, which afforded more privacy and was less likely to wake Mark. After checking on Braden, who looked as peaceful and serene as his father, she went into the day care's kitchen and made coffee.
Rita and the two younger aides would be arriving soon. Alexa's lesson-plan book was open on the desk. She'd made sure the day's craft project was set up the night before. Over in the story nook, the felt-covered easel was waiting for her reading-readiness lesson. The casual observer might think her day—her life—was well organized and on track.
But they'd be wrong. Inside, her stomach was a ball of nerves, her mind was bouncing all over the place and she had a dreadful fear she might break down and cry if someone said the wrong thing.
Hormones. And lack of sleep didn’t help.
She poured a mug of coffee then walked back to her private rooms to wake up the person responsible for her missed hours of rest.
What have I done?
Where do we go from here?
The last question, she realized, was her biggest concern.
She and Mark had made love. The old feelings that they'd cautiously avoided these past weeks had come back full force. The sex was just as hot as she remembered. They cared about each other—deeply. But neither had mentioned the word love. Which made sense considering how crazy their lives were at the moment.
We need to step back. Take it slow.
They had to figure out a way to be friends and keep their relationship professional. I'm his child's teacher. He's a client. There’s only one right way to handle this situation.
"Good morning," she said, closing her bedroom door behind her.
"In here," a deep, husky voice called from her bathroom. "I didn't think you'd want me running down the hallway in my skivvies, so I used your shower. Hope that was okay."
The door was partly open. She went closer, not sure she was ready to see him in his skivvies. "Of course. I brought you a cup of coffee."
"Thanks. Come on in. I'm decent."
The steamy, man-scented air made her knees wobble. She wasn't used to sharing her space with another person— especially someone so...masculine. And desirable.
"Here."
"Um... " he said, taking the cup from her. "Smells great."
He took a drink then put it on the counter to finger comb his still-wet hair. "Is Bray up?"
"No. I thought I'd let you do the honors—in case he's disoriented. Plus, it will do him good to see you. He was pretty worried about you last night."
"Did he tell you that?"
"No, but I could tell."
His smile was friendly and teasing. "Your Gypsy mind-reading abilities kicking in?"
"My years of teaching."
"Oh." He reached out and took her arm, drawing her closer. "Is it time?"
She resisted for half a second. "Time for what?"
"The morning-after talk. You're regretting last night."
He knew her well. "Not exactly. It's just that we both have our hands full at the moment, and embarking on a new relationship--”
"Or rekindling an old one," he put in.
"Right. Well, either one probably isn't a smart thing. Maybe after the holidays...when things slow down, we can reevaluate how we feel—"
His sharp laugh took her by surprise. His eyes narrowed and he shook his head. "I know how I feel, Alexa. The same way I felt when I asked you to marry me. That never changed, even though I tried to pretend it had. Tracey knew the truth. Why do you think she hated you so much?"
"I. . .I didn't know she did. At least, until Odessa mentioned it.”
"Oh, yeah. We fought about you all the time. One of the many marriage counselors we saw said that in Tracey's mind you were a living ghost. No matter what I did, she never believed that I loved her more than you. And do you know why?"
Alexa shook her head.
"Because I didn't. God knows I tried, but I couldn't. You were—you are—the one, Alexa."
He made it sound simple. And, deep in her heart, Alexa knew the same was true for her, but she couldn't say the words. Not now. Not when she finally had her life in order.
Mark's sigh brought her attention back to him. "But, I wasn't any great prize nine years ago when we met. Your father was quick to point that out—and he was right. Now, my life is even more out of whack. A psycho ex-mother-in-law who terrorizes people in the middle of the night. A job that I'm in danger of losing. A kid who's probably completely screwed up because of his mother and me." He made a caustic sound. "So, if you're here to ask me to leave, I will.”
"Last night was... well, it felt too good to be true. Just like before. That sort of fairy tale—destiny thing, but, Mark, I don't trust that anymore. If we couldn't make what was between us work when we had it easy, then how can we expect to succeed now?"
"You're absolutely right. And you deserve better, Alexa. That's why I never called you after Tracey and I split up. I failed you once, and I'm not going to put you through that again. Since the meth-lab fire is still under investigation, I can't work. Since I'm not working, there's no reason for Braden to keep coming here. If things ever go back to normal after the first of the year, we'll make other day-care arrangements."
There was more to say, but the sound of her employees entering the building told her she needed to cut this discussion short. But she wasn't about to let her personal life create any additional trauma for Braden.
"No," she said sternly. "I mean, yes—you and me. We should step back. Think about how to handle this. We have enough stress in our lives without... " She realized she was rambling, repeating her doctor's orders. "But we can't let this affect Braden. He needs his routine. He's comfortable here. He's made friends—Maya and Luca adore him. That's a big deal at this age and a giant personal step for your son. Let him continue to come here—at least until we close for the holiday break."
"P-pul-please, D-D-Daddy."
Alexa spun around. Braden was standing a foot away, completely dressed and ready for school. His hair was sticking up in places and his shirt wasn't tucked in, but he had his backpack in one hand and his coat in the other.
Alexa moved aside so Mark could reach his son. "Hey, Bray. I didn't see you there, bud. Miss Alexa and I were having a talk. I wasn’t sure we should come back here after what Grandma Odessa did last night. She shouldn't have come here, Braden. It's against the rules that the judge set up to keep you safe. I didn't think it was fair to put Miss Alexa in the middle of our problems."
Miss Alexa. The name made her want to cry, but she understood why he was using it—to distance himself and Braden from the mistake Alexa and he had made.
"And like I told your dad," Alexa said, "I appreciate the offer, but it's not your fault your grandmother does
n't follow the rules. I really hope you can continue to come here, at least until school lets out for the holiday break."
"Alexandra?" a familiar voice called from the hallway. "Your students are arriving."
"Mom?" Her mother had returned from her whirlwind trip to Detroit so late Alexa hadn't expected to see her this morning.
"I have to go," she said, stepping away from Mark. "I'm sure what your father decides will be for the best, but Braden, if I don't see you later, have a happy Christmas, okay?"
She gave the little boy a hug and ran from the room, praying her ever-observant mother wouldn't see her unshed tears.
Three hours later, after a rousing rendition of "Jingle Bells"—complete with fourteen pairs of sleigh bells, Alexa was outdoors supervising the play yard. She was pushing the M&M's, as she privately called Maya, Morgan, Madelaine and MacKensie, on the swings while the rest of her students wore off a little pent-up energy on other jungle gym equipment.
Every year the craziness of the holiday season seemed to get worse, even though she did her best to keep the more commercial aspects out of the classroom. Her students read books that celebrated the various religious traditions that took place in the final weeks of December. She used the arrival of the solstice to study the planets and seasons. Many of her stories and lessons stressed the joy of giving, but still, the frenetic buildup to the big day slipped into everyone's life.
"I wanna Snowboard Barbie, a My Little Pony barn and a new bike," Morgan announced.
MacKensie's list of must-haves was twice as long, and Maddie was making a valiant effort to top it.
Alexa hoped Santa was listening—because she wasn't. Not really. She couldn't stop thinking about Braden and Mark. What if Odessa tries to steal Braden from his school?
"You could call him."
Alexa startled. She hadn't heard her mother approach. "Mom. You know I hate it when you sneak up on me," she said sharply, giving MacKensie another push.
Maya, who was dragging the toes of her glossy black Mary Janes in the sand beneath her swing, tossed back her head, giggling. “Gramma was standing there a long time, Auntie Alexa. Didn't you see her?"
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