by Julie Caille
Alicia pointed to one of the captions. “They’re good for you and tasty too. An important food source for humankind.” She shook her head, her voice carrying a stunned note. “I have never been so revolted in my entire life.”
“Come on, I bet they’re great with a little salt. Betcha can’t eat just one.”
Alicia gave a visible shudder. “I’d rather die than eat one of those things.”
Resisting an urge to fit his hands over the curves of her hips, Luke leaned closer, his lips close to her ear. “I bet they wiggle when you bite into them,” he murmured. “Then there’s that first, satisfying crunch—”
“Luke!” Swinging around with a laugh, she gave him a light slap on the arm. “Ugh! You know, after seeing this I may have second thoughts about this school district.”
“Makes you kinda wonder what’s on the school menu,” he agreed. He grinned, wishing it could always be this easy. A few jokes, a little teasing and, bingo, no more pain, no more sleepless nights, no more gut-gnawing tension between them.
Still smiling, she said, “We’d better get in line to talk to Mrs. Glover. Where’s Ronnie?”
Luke angled his head toward the back of the room. “He’s busy trying to impress some cute little brunette.”
“Oh, it’s Tara. I thought they didn’t like each other.”
They watched the two youngsters interacting. Ronnie had stuck the eraser end of two pencils into his nostrils and was rolling up his eyes to look like a monster from a grade-B horror flick. His audience seemed mesmerized, her face full of reluctant fascination.
Amused, Luke folded his arms over his chest. “Now there’s a technique I never tried. What do you think, Alicia? Would that work for you?”
“It would certainly be impressive, but why waste it on me?”
Her tone held humor, but as he glanced down into her gorgeous eyes, he nearly gave her an honest answer. Because in ten years I’ve never stopped thinking of you. Because no matter how hard I try, I can’t get you out of my head.... “Beats me,” he said instead, deliberately injecting a note of dryness into his voice. “I guess it would be pretty pointless, wouldn’t it?”
“Yes, it would.” Her agreement came quickly, he noticed.
When they went to stand in line, Luke paid no attention to the tall, slim woman in front of them until she turned and gave him a dazzling smile. He gave her a brief, discouraging nod. Tara’s mother. He remembered her from the first day of school.
“Hello,” the woman oozed with a flutter of eyelashes. “You’re Ronnie’s uncle, aren’t you? Tara has told us so much about poor Ronnie. Such a dreadful tragedy. Do let me offer my condolences.”
“Thanks,” he said politely.
“By the way, I’m Marielle Howard.” Flashing a perfect set of bleached teeth, Marielle extended a hand flaunting several diamond rings.
Luke shook hands with her, responded with his own name and introduced her to Alicia, all the while keeping his face arranged in a disinterested expression.
“So nice to meet you,” Marielle cooed to Alicia. At once, her heavily made-up eyes returned to Luke, as though to give another woman even a second of her time was far too great an imposition.
Despite Alicia’s presence at his side, Tara’s mother flirted outrageously with him until it was her turn to talk to Mrs. Glover. When at last the woman was occupied with the teacher, Luke gave Alicia a sideways look. To his secret relief, her eyes were twinkling.
“And you didn’t even need pencils,” she whispered. “Now I am impressed.”
“Very funny,” he muttered, his lips twitching.
She moved closer. “Well, it is, Luke. Have you ever considered a career in modeling? I bet you could be on the covers of romance novels like what’s-his-name with the long hair.”
He pretended to glare at her. “Are you suggesting I have a pretty face?”
“Pretty isn’t quite the word I’d use,” she assured him. “I was thinking more along the lines of an eye patch and cutlass.”
Beguiled by her teasing smile, his brain cells started doing back flips. This was the old Alicia, the one he’d fallen in love with, the one whose sense of humor had woven its delicate magic upon his senses. He had always loved it when she directed her mischievousness at him, given him the laughter and sunlight he needed so desperately. Unfortunately, he found he loved it just as much now, a decade later, when a mere tantalizing taste of it was all he was likely to get.
“Mr. Garrick.” Mrs. Glover’s imperious voice roused him, and he realized Marielle had moved on. “And Miss—”
“Brant,” Alicia reminded the teacher. “It’s nice to see you again, Mrs. Glover.”
They murmured a few pleasantries, then Mrs. Glover got down to business. “Quite frankly,” she said, “I’m glad you both came tonight. If you hadn’t, I would have suggested a meeting.”
“Is something wrong?” Alicia asked.
Mrs. Glover sighed. “First, I ought to say that Ronnie is extremely bright. In fact—” she lowered her voice “—he’s probably my brightest student.”
Luke hadn’t been aware of his tension until she said these words. Even though he knew Ronnie wasn’t dyslexic, a part of him had unconsciously been braced for the worst. He’d been terrified she was going to say that Ronnie was slow, that he couldn’t sequence letters or numbers, that he had difficulty rhyming words. The fear was reflexive, a knee-jerk reaction left over from his childhood encounters with teachers.
“However,” Mrs. Glover went on, “his behavior is another story. Sometimes he’s quiet and withdrawn, but at other times he’s unruly. He’s been especially uncooperative and disruptive this week. I don’t suppose he told you what happened today?”
Luke and Alicia shook their heads in unison.
“He broke a little girl’s pencil box. I saw him do it, and I know he did it on purpose.”
Alicia spoke first. “Mrs. Glover, this is a very difficult time for Ronnie.”
“I know that, and that’s why I’ve tried to make allowances.”
“We’ll replace the pencil box. But I think I know why he’s been so naughty.” With a quick glance at Luke, Alicia explained how getting ready for the open house had reminded Ronnie of his loss.
The teacher nodded. “Well, I do understand. And maybe things will improve after tonight. I hope so. Have you two come to a decision about where the child will live?”
Luke could feel Alicia’s eyes on his face, and knew she was leaving this one for him to answer. “No,” he said. “That’s still up in the air.”
“Then may I suggest you do so? Ronnie needs stability right now. This uncertainty can only be contributing to his distress. The sooner Ronnie feels settled, the sooner he’ll start to adjust.”
“I’m sure you’re right,” Alicia agreed. “And believe me, Mrs. Glover, we both want whatever is best for Ronnie.” Her eyes met Luke’s for a brief, meaningful instant.
She avoided his gaze as they thanked the teacher for her time, shook hands and went to collect Ronnie from the back of the room. Tara had left, but three other little girls had taken her place.
Luke gave Ronnie a light cuff on the arm. “Come on, Casanova. Let’s go.”
They made their way through the crowded halls past the library, where Sharon Redford was conducting the annual school book fair. Luke scanned the cattle drive thronging the area, intending to walk on by, but Alicia stopped him with a tug on his arm. “I’d like to buy Ronnie some books. Sharon told me a good percentage of the money goes to benefit the school.”
As she guided Ronnie toward the melee, Luke leaned against the wall and watched the sway of her rounded hips. Try as he might, he couldn’t stop himself; something about the woman seemed to be linked directly to his pulse. Worse, every time he looked at her, his imagination went wild. He kept remembering their kiss, the smothering, erotic pleasure of her bikini-clad body pressed against his.
Damn.
He shut down that line of thought. A simple case of
lust would have been easier to deal with than this unrelenting, bone-deep awareness that had taken up residence in every pore and fiber of his being. Not a minute passed but that he wanted her—in his bed, in his life, at his side. Under him. But want and need weren’t the same thing, he told himself sternly. He didn’t need her. And he wasn’t in love with her.
Or was he?
The idea was so terrifying that again he deliberately shifted his thoughts, this time to Mrs. Glover’s advice. He wondered if it might have swayed Alicia to yield her claim to Ronnie. He doubted it. Alicia could be damned stubborn when she decided to be. He knew she still wanted to take Ronnie back to Boston, just as he wanted to keep the child here. They were as much at an impasse as they had been the day she arrived.
Luke’s jaw tautened with the knowledge that the impasse couldn’t be allowed to continue. As Mrs. Glover had pointed out, they weren’t being fair to Ronnie.
One of them was going to have to lose out.
* * *
An hour later, Alicia set her drink on a coaster and sat down at her favorite end of the sofa. It had become her own special place in the room, just as the corner behind the overstuffed chair was Daffy’s spot. They were both creatures of habit, she reflected, drawn to the security and safety of the familiar.
Luke, on the other hand, was never content to stake out a single place as his own. More often than not, he prowled restlessly, though tonight he had picked a chair across the room in which to plant his long body. Legs extended, he slouched back and looked at her, his face tight and brooding.
Alicia fidgeted under his hooded scrutiny. “Ronnie’s asleep,” she remarked. “Poor little thing. Between the open house and his emotions, he’s exhausted.”
Luke said nothing.
Silence stretched between them like a drawn bow. The very air vibrated with mysterious potency.
Avoiding his eyes, she reached for the pile of books she had bought at the book fair. Satisfied with her purchases, she thumbed through them—thirteen paperbacks and two hardcovers, most of them selected by Ronnie. She’d chosen a couple of them herself, one in particular since it featured a story about a child who had beaten leukemia. She’d thought it might help Ronnie to understand that bad things happened to other children and that tragedies could be survived.
Finally unable to bear it any longer, she chanced a peep in Luke’s direction. As far as she could tell, he hadn’t moved a muscle. She tried to smile even as the tension clawed at her stomach. “Is something the matter? Do I have a smudge on my nose or...”
Her sentence died as he stood up. It had been so easy to joke with him in Ronnie’s classroom, but in the confines of his home she found it almost impossible. A wall of constraint stood between them, high and insurmountable, clogging her throat as she tried to come up with a humorous response.
Silent and quick, he came across the rug toward her. His hands reached out, and she gave a small gasp as he pulled her to her feet.
“Luke! What on earth—”
His mouth cut off the rest of her question, taking fierce possession of hers without hesitation or apology. His kiss was hard, demanding, his face rigid with a desire so primitive it sparked an instant conflagration in her blood.
When she tried to pull away, his arms tightened. “Kiss me,” he muttered. “Kiss me the way you did last time. Come on, Alicia...please.”
This was the danger she’d sensed all along. He was so virile, so sexy, so utterly masculine that a part of her wanted to do as he asked. That part of her wanted to damn the consequences, to thread her fingers through his black hair, to open to him and urge him on. At the same time, another more prudent part of her hung back, appalled and afraid of making an incalculable mistake.
“Why, Luke?” Her breathing ragged, she arched away from him, needing words, needing to understand what was happening between them.
“Because I want you. I want to make love to you so much, it’s driving me out of my mind.”
As if to prove this, his fingers dug into her bottom, forcing their lower bodies together. She could feel his arousal, rock hard and ready. And oh, how she wanted to give in to him. One word of love, one hint of forever...right now that was all it would take for her to yield.
“You wanted me ten years ago, too,” she whispered, giving him an opening, a chance to say something, anything, that would make it all right.
“I want you more now. A thousand times more. I’ve tried so hard to resist you but I can’t.” His voice was thick, slurred as though he were drunk. “I’ve wanted you since the day you arrived. More than you can know. Please, sweetheart, let me show you how much.”
Her hope shriveled. She felt silly and naive. She should have known he wouldn’t say it. Sex was all he wanted from her, and while she wanted it, too—maybe even more than he did—she also knew she could never be content with that and nothing more.
“Well, we can’t always have what we want,” she replied, too unhappy to care that she sounded sanctimonious.
“Tell me about it,” he grated. “My whole life has been one big compromise.”
“Are you expecting me to go to bed with you out of pity?”
“Hell, no. I want you to do it because you want me as much as I want you.” Sliding a hand between them, he cupped her breast, his thumb sliding over its peak in a provocative, back-and-forth motion. “You see?” he whispered. “You want me, too. You want me so bad you’re shaking. So am I. I’m hot and you’re hot. Why not be honest and admit it?”
His explicitness shocked and aroused her in a way she would not have thought possible. Kenny had never said such things; he had been quick and silent and emotionless in bed. Kenny had never held her like this, his body undulating against hers, stimulating her even as he stimulated himself. Kenny had never gazed at her as though he wanted to devour her, body and soul.
She swallowed hard. “Just because I have normal female responses doesn’t mean I’m going to sleep with you. You know we have no future together.”
“So?” His eyes smoldered. “We have the present. We’re living in the same house, damn it. We might as well take advantage of it.”
“And what about Ronnie?” she asked, a thin strand of hysteria breaking into her voice. “What kind of example does this set? We’re supposed to be role models, not irresponsible sex maniacs. Maybe your other women are willing to behave like this, but—”
She fell back on the sofa as he abruptly released her. He stared down at her, dark and formidable in his icy displeasure. “What other women are you referring to?” he demanded.
She glared up at him. “Nancy, for one.”
“Nancy is not my woman.” He paused, breathing heavily, a mixture of contrition and guilt flashing across his face. “I know I let you think she was,” he conceded in a milder tone. “I thought it would be safer. Smarter. But I was wrong.”
“Oh, really? And you’re saying there’s no one else?” Alicia held her breath, her heart thumping a painful staccato against her ribs. Like a conqueror, he stood over her, his stance reminding her that he was master here, that his strength was superior, that he called the shots.
“That’s what I’m saying. Anyway, shouldn’t that be my line? Or have you forgotten good old Nick?”
“I don’t sleep with him!”
She flushed the moment the words left her mouth, but to her surprise, Luke’s eyes seemed to soften. “I shouldn’t have said that, Alicia. I’m sorry.” He paused, looking intent. “You know, I’m beginning to think you haven’t changed at all.”
“I don’t take sex casually, if that’s what you mean.”
For a long moment he gazed at her, his mouth curved in a rueful line. “You might not believe this, but neither do I.” With those words, he turned away.
The urge to call him back was powerful, so powerful it nearly got the better of her. But he had already crossed the room, snapped his fingers at Daffy and turned the corner into the kitchen. Paralyzed with indecision, Alicia watched the collie crawl
out from her corner, stretch and amble off after her master. She listened to the dog’s toenails clicking across the kitchen tile, heard the back door open and close. Then there was silence, a silence so complete it enshrouded her.
With a tiny sob, Alicia lowered her head to her hands. Refusing him had been the right thing to do. She knew it in her heart.
So why, oh why, did it feel so terribly wrong?
Chapter Eight
“Thanks so much for the lift home. That car of mine is about as reliable as my horoscope.” Sharon Redford kicked off her heels and popped open the can of diet soda she’d taken from her refrigerator. “And thank God it’s Friday.”
Alicia sipped her own soda and raised an eyebrow as Ronnie and Brian hurtled through the kitchen and up the stairs to the second-floor game room. “They’re full of energy, aren’t they?”
“If I only had half of it. I’m still worn out from last night’s book fair. Make yourself at home while I get out of this dress. I’m dying to get in the pool. You brought your suit, I hope.”
“Sure did. I’ll meet you out there.”
As Sharon hurried off, Alicia retrieved her swim wear from the car and changed her clothes in the bathroom. She and Ronnie had become frequent visitors at the Redford home after school when Jim and Luke were at work. Usually the two boys chose to swim, but today they’d elected to watch TV instead.
Outside, she settled on the pool edge and applied sunscreen to her exposed areas, her bare legs dangling in the water. For once, she and Sharon would have the whole pool to themselves and enjoy some peace and quiet without splashing and noise. If only some of that peace could find its way into her soul.
“This is the way to live, eh?” Sharon’s voice preceded her as she stepped out onto the patio. She plopped down next to Alicia with a blissful sigh. “So how’s it going with you and the big guy?”
Alicia passed over the sunscreen, a little surprised by the question. “Oh, all right, I guess.”
“Uh-huh. So what’s that blush mean? Things heating up between you?”