It was all one and the same to him. “Surprise me. I’m easy.”
“I wouldn’t say that.”
At this rate, he was never going to make it into the closet But she intrigued him far more than any photographs he’d taken, sizable retainer notwithstanding. “Oh? And what would you say?”
Here, too, she could only be honest. “That you’re a very kind, very decent, very complex man.”
“Complex?” Angus echoed. He’d never thought of himself as particularly complicated.
She gave up pretending that she was paying attention to what she was doing.
“I see things in your eyes, Angus. Hear things in your voice.” She took a breath. “There’s some kind of struggle going on inside you.”
Not bad, he thought. “I once saw a cartoon. I snuck out to Jimmy Noonan’s house to watch—the Colonel didn’t approve of cartoons,” he explained when she raised an eyebrow at his digression. “There was this character and he had a devil on one shoulder and an angel on the other. They fought constantly.” His eyes held hers. “That’s kind of how I feel.”
Rebecca wasn’t aware of the breath she was holding. “About?”
He wasn’t free to talk about that, to let her peer any further into that part of his world. It was a very fragile place, and he hated to feel that there was anything about him that was fragile.
Angus fished the film out of his pocket. “I’d better get this developed.”
He’d almost reached the closet when she asked, “That cartoon you mentioned.”
He looked over his shoulder at her. “What about it?”
“Which side won?”
He shook his head, as if mourning the fact. “The angel. Every time.”
A quirky smile played over her mouth just before she went back to sifting through papers. “Too bad.”
“Yeah,” he said, under his breath, “I know.”
Chapter 10
Something warm and formless spread through Angus. When he’d come out of the bedroom, preoccupied with the phone call he’d just taken, the sight of his daughter and Rebecca had caught him by surprise. Like an extra gift at Christmas, hidden behind the branches and discovered much later, the scene appeared before him, unexpected and pleasing.
He stopped just short of the kitchen and silently stood watching them. The two, sitting at the table that had just recently been cleared of the dinner dishes, had their heads together over Vikki’s schoolbooks.
And Vikki was actually paying attention, Angus marveled.
Getting Vikki to do her homework each evening was a test of patience and ingenuity. She hated anything associated with school. He remembered how she’d resisted mightily when he had enrolled her in the elementary school that was located less than a mile away. Vikki was not about to give up the fight any time soon.
In a way, he understood. School represented another new thing she had to endure, another new hurdle she didn’t want to jump. Vikki had never attended school before. Jane had been lax when it came to Vikki’s formal education, though, to her credit, Angus thought, she had made sure that their daughter knew her numbers and how to read.
According to Vikki, the lessons, such as they were, had been taught in the back rooms of the casinos where she had roamed around free, being virtually everyone’s pet. She’d been doted on, made to feel special. Here she felt like just another student behind a desk. That, plus being confined in a place for a regulated number of hours each day, just didn’t sit well with Vikki.
In the latter, Angus couldn’t help thinking, she’d taken after him. He’d certainly had his fill of structure and regulations. His childhood and teen years had been full of both. As had the time he’d spent in the navy. The very thought of reverting back to that, of being just another cog in the system, left him cold.
But though he fully empathized with Vikki, there was no way she was going to get out of attending school, at least not for the next ten years. He might be a nonconformist in some respects, but he damn well knew the value of an education—and Vikki was going to get one.
Vikki’s angry, tearful retort to his efforts had been that Jane had treated her better. When he first enrolled her, she’d retreated into herself for a week. Ever so slowly, he had managed to coax her into giving up the silent treatment, but the sailing so far had been far from smooth.
Acutely aware of her unhappiness and of his new responsibility, Angus had made it a point to do Vikki’s homework with her whenever he was home. It wasn’t exactly something either one of them looked forward to, but it had to be done.
Tonight, the phone had rung just as the books had come out. Rebecca had answered and returned to tell him that Angela Madison was on the line, wanting to speak to him. Since he had given the woman the photographs and received his check from her secretary, he assumed that their association was terminated. Her call was unexpected.
It was also long.
Angus was certain that by the time he came out of his bedroom—a room that now retained the haunting scent and feel of Rebecca everywhere he turned—Vikki would be firmly engrossed in a video game, or over at Jenny’s apartment glued to the big-screen TV while one of Jenny’s action videos flickered.
The very last thing he’d expected to find was Vikki where he had left her, frowning over her math book, her head propped up on her hand.
As he drew closer, he realized she wasn’t frowning over the opened math book. She was frowning at the cards on the table next to the math book.
What was she doing, playing cards when she had homework to do?
Rebecca could feel his eyes on her. She savored the sensation for a second before relinquishing it. Even though her attention was on the cards in front of her, she’d been aware of his presence the moment he’d approached the kitchen.
He didn’t look happy. Had it been bad news? she wondered.
She set the deck down. “I didn’t know how long you’d be,” Rebecca explained, “and Vikki was having trouble with her math.”
“So you set it aside and opted to play cards?” he asked. Apparently Rebecca had as much trouble saying no to Vikki as he did. He didn’t fault her. Vikki could be damn persuasive when she wanted to be. Persuasive or not, Vikki couldn’t be allowed to get away with it.
“We’re not playing cards,” Rebecca corrected him. “We’re using cards.”
He didn’t follow. It certainly looked as if they were playing cards. “Using them how?”
“She’s a better teacher than you are, Angus.” There was enthusiasm in Vikki’s voice as she gave Rebecca the seal of approval.
Embarrassed and afraid that she’d usurped him or, worse, that he might be hurt by Vikki’s comment, Rebecca tempered the declaration. “I just put it in terms she’d understand.”
He came around to their side of the table and looked down. The card arrangement was classic. “By playing blackjack?”
“By making her add up the numbers and comparing that to the problems she has to tackle in her math book. I told her to think of it as one great big hand of blackjack, without any upper limits.” She gathered the cards together and returned them to Vikki, who’d brought them out of her room. “She seemed to catch on better after that.” The legs of the chair scraped along the vinyl flooring as Rebecca moved back. “Here, sit down. I’ve kept your place warm for you.”
That wasn’t the only thing she was making warm for him, Angus thought.
But he declined to take her place. “Why don’t you just keep on teaching?” he urged. “From the sound of it, you’re doing a great job. I’ve never heard Vikki do anything but moan whenever I’ve mentioned the word math.” He’d never looked forward to this part of the day, anyway. It was a relief to hand over the reins to someone else, even temporarily. And the bottom line, after all, was Vikki. If she learned better with Rebecca’s help than his, that was fine with him. “I’ve got some things to catch up on.”
Rebecca looked at him hesitantly. Was he just saying that to cover up wounded pride? “You�
��re sure?”
The very last thing she wanted was to repay his kindness by coming between Angus and his daughter. Not as a bone of contention and certainly not as someone who drew Vikki’s budding affection away from Angus.
“I’m sure.”
Angus crossed to the sofa and sat down, dropping a file folder on the coffee table. But as he made himself comfortable, his attention kept veering back toward the kitchen.
This wasn’t good, he thought, though he wasn’t quite able to muster the conviction necessary to reinforce his feelings. The problem was that he was getting used to this, used to seeing Rebecca here day in, day out. Two weeks had passed. Hardly any time passed in the grand scheme of things, and yet, in a way, it seemed as if this was the way it was always meant to be.
What’s more, Vikki was getting used to having Rebecca around, as well. Vikki might even have felt it before he did. She’d been the one that first day to ask if Rebecca could stay. He realized now that it wasn’t just because Rebecca was another female. It went deeper than that. She was kind, helpful and caring with the little girl. Not many women would have allowed themselves to be dragged off to school and used for show-and-tell. But Rebecca had, and she had been a rousing success, according to a pleased Vikki. It was the first time Vikki had actually wanted to go to school.
Having Rebecca here was obviously helping Vikki with the transition she was making from being the daughter of a nomadic card dealer to someone with roots in a place that had none of the glitter to which she’d become accustomed.
Would all the progress that was being made crumble once Rebecca was gone? Would everything revert back to square one? It was something to think about, even though he didn’t want to. And he wasn’t worried only about losing ground with Vikki. The thought of Rebecca leaving brought a feeling with it that he didn’t want to think about or explore.
The sound of Rebecca’s voice and Vikki’s occasional laughter hummed in the background, creating a soothing atmosphere. Nevertheless, Angus found himself staring at the same paragraph he’d been reading and rereading for the last ten minutes. His mind just was not on his work. Slowly, he closed the folder to listen to the two in the other room.
After all, he rationalized, Rebecca wasn’t going to be here that much longer. He might as well enjoy her teaching Vikki while he could.
A pang drifted through him. He tried to shut it out. This was ridiculous. He had to face the fact that this was just a temporary situation, albeit a pleasant one, and at bottom, he knew he wanted it that way. He wanted it to remain temporary, without strings or entanglements.
And yet....
Maybe it wouldn’t change, he thought suddenly. Maybe her memory had gone as far as it could go. There hadn’t been any further breakthroughs on any front in the last week. Biordi still had nothing on her, no missing person report that even vaguely fit her description. Maybe it was time to face the idea that for Rebecca, there was no going back—only forward.
Would it be such a terrible thing for her if her memory never returned? he wondered. She certainly seemed to be adjusting. More and more, he saw her opening up, not just absorbing things around her, but enjoying herself.
And if feeling useful was her thing, she was certainly seeing to that. She’d accompanied him to the office on a regular basis. True to her promise—or veiled threat, depending on how much trouble he had finding something—she’d cleaned it up and then turned her hand to inputting all his files on the computer.
Finished in what seemed to him an incredibly short amount of time, she’d set her sights on teaching him the system. As a result, he could no longer brag about being computer illiterate and the last holdout in a technological world.
She took delight in every detail she recalled, and no longer seemed disturbed by the fact that the details were all impersonal. Beyond her own abilities, no memories returned. No faces from her past, no fragments of things she’d done. In the last couple of days, she’d even stopped asking if Biordi had called.
It was almost as if she were settling in. Angus smiled to himself. A lot of men would have envied the position in which he found himself. A beautiful, vibrant young woman with no preconceived notions, no history to drag her down or get in the way, had dropped out of the sky practically on his doorstep and was living in his bedroom. For all intents and purposes, she was a clean slate for him to write on. To leave his mark on if he so chose.
The way she was apparently leaving her mark on Vikki, he thought, watching them.
And on him.
Closing the book, Rebecca raised her eyes toward Angus. His expression left her wondering what he was thinking about. “We’re finished with the math. Do you want to help her with her reading?”
He shook his head. She was probably better at that, too. He might have his talents, but teaching didn’t number among them. “You’re doing fine without me.”
Yes, they were. Did that bother him? she wondered again. His expression gave her no indication that it did A man didn’t smile like that if something was bothering him.
How would you know? a voice whispered through her mind. How would you know anything?
It was true. There was nothing to base any of her speculations on, and yet she felt she knew things. Except when it came to herself. There were so many questions. Had she been experienced? Had there been many men in her life before now? Or none?
Since she couldn’t remember, she supposed that no matter what had happened before, Angus would be her first. Her pulse quickened even as the thought drifted through her mind, teasing her. Making her wistful.
Vikki was shoving a red covered book into her hands, indicating the page she’d marked with her index finger. “We’re supposed to read from page 76 to 87.” She was frowning distastefully.
Rebecca collected herself, forcing her mind away from Angus. “Is that all? Piece of cake. You’ll have it done in no time.” She laid the book open between them, turning it so that it was directly in front of Vikki. “Okay, read to me.”
In the face of such faith, Vikki lost her desire to denigrate the assignment. Instead, with a proud little shake of her head, she launched into a halting rendition of a toiling little crimson chicken and her lazy circle of friends.
Each time Vikki stumbled, Rebecca gently coaxed her into sounding out the word that needed to be conquered. Minitriumphs punctuated the eleven pages.
Angus listened. Though he tried not to think about it, he knew the scene he was watching represented something he’d wanted all his life: A sense of family.
Too bad they weren’t one, he mused, watching Vikki.
Was it so wrong, he thought, his not wanting Rebecca’s memory to return? Not wanting to give this up?
Yes, it was. He was being selfish and he knew it.
Knew too, that even under the best of circumstances, it would have been difficult for him to open up his heart to accept any woman. He’d been wary of being hurt before he had met Jane, wary of letting anyone into his life. After she left, his wariness had returned in such increased proportions that it had completely hardened his heart.
Oh, he could still easily be friends with a woman, but to trust her emotionally, well, that was something of which he didn’t think he was capable anymore. It wouldn’t be fair to Rebecca, after what she had been through, to have to deal with that. She deserved far more than emotional limbo.
Angus knew all this, knew all the reasons against forming any sort of relationship with Rebecca. So why the hell did he still continue wanting her?
He had no answer. He could only hope that the question would never be asked aloud. If he kept her at arm’s length, it never would be.
“I want to talk to you.”
The words stopped him in his tracks the moment he came out of Vikki’s room.
For once, Vikki had allowed him to read something other than her beloved Whose Shoes are Those?. Instead, he’d read about a family of rabbits. It was a book, he was informed as he tucked Vikki in, that Rebecca had picked out earli
er, saying Vikki might enjoy it.
The woman was a miracle worker, he thought, silently blessing her as he read the new tale.
The miracle worker apparently had something on her mind. A strange, uneasy feeling came over him. Like the gatekeeper admitting the Trojan horse into the city, he had no idea what was coming. He didn’t like not knowing.
She’d already made up the sofa, he noticed. Though he’d told her time and again she didn’t have to, she seemed determined to take on a myriad of little details that went into making life more pleasant. Making a home. A man could get used to this, he thought. He knew he’d already gotten used to her homecooked meals.
As he approached Rebecca, he took her hand in his. It felt icy, he realized as he sat down with her.
“And I’d like to talk to you,” he said. “I don’t think I’ve thanked you enough.”
She blinked, thrown off. “Thanked me?”
He was the one who had taken her in, put no limitations on his generosity, made her feel useful. Rebecca felt that she would forever be indebted to him for that. There was no way she could ever pay him back, but at least she could cease being a burden.
Angus was surprised at her reaction. Was she really that oblivious to the effect she had on those around her? To the contributions she had given so freely? It was hard for him to believe anyone could be that unassuming.
“You cook like an angel, have the patience of a saint with Vikki. You know how to program the computer so that it practically runs the office.” He grinned. “Not to mention being very easy on the eye. I’m beginning to think I made you up.”
The small laugh that escaped her lips almost sounded disparaging. She’d been so wrapped up in thinking about what course she should take, that she’d gone almost a whole day without thinking about about the life that had been lost to her for two weeks now. “Considering that nobody’s filed a report on me, maybe you did.”
“My imagination would never be this good.”
It was happening again, Angus thought. He felt that strong, demanding pull that gave him no peace.
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