A Family For Ronnie (Harlequin Treasury 1990's)

by Julie Caille

The woman confused him, that was for sure. Her coldness this morning had thrown him off kilter, a rejection he somehow hadn’t expected despite the conclusions she must have drawn about his inability to read. But when he’d returned, braced for distance and tension, she’d been agreeable, even friendly.

  Wacky, that’s what she was. Wacky and gorgeous and desirable as all get-out. Just as she had always been.

  He glanced over at her, observing her clean-cut profile with a distinct sense of wonder. No, in subtle ways, she had changed. Life had left its mark on her, matured her in some ways, hurt her in others, just as it had carved exciting new facets into her personality. Facets he had only begun to appreciate.

  For instance, she had honed the ability to draw people out of their shells, a talent that impressed him because he didn’t share it. She didn’t do it with Sharon’s gregarious vivacity, but it happened all the same, quietly, before the person even realized what was happening. All the guys at work adored her, and all had told her their life stories, even Dave, the world-class introvert. Much to her credit, she was sincere. She genuinely seemed to like hearing them talk about themselves—though he’d noticed she didn’t reciprocate.

  And Luke wished she would—to him—because he wanted to know everything about her, every little detail about what made her tick, everything that had happened to her during the last decade. It wouldn’t do him any good. It wouldn’t make his nights any less restless. But he wanted to know. He ached to know as much as he ached to hold her in his arms.

  He took the Southwest Freeway exit while she turned the conversation to Ronnie. At first, he thought she was leading into the who’s-going-to-raise-Ronnie issue, but that wasn’t the case. No, she was talking about writing contests and child authors, things he didn’t know anything about.

  “I got the idea from that book,” she explained, her voice solemn and her blue eyes earnest. “The one about the child with leukemia. Don’t you think it might help Ronnie come to terms with his loss? Or maybe it’s too soon,” she added uncertainly. “What do you think?”

  What did he think?

  She was asking a guy who couldn’t read whether he thought his six-year-old nephew should write a book.

  He could feel his mouth curling as he glanced at her, wondering why she didn’t see the irony. “I think you’re pretty optimistic,” he said with a shrug. “But I guess it’s worth a try if Ronnie wants to do it. What did he say?”

  “He said his story didn’t have a happy ending. But that’s not the point.” She sat up straighter, leaning toward him just a little. “Tell me,” she said in a soft voice. “What was it like for you?”

  “What?” He stiffened.

  “When you lost your mother, I mean. Do you think putting your feelings on paper could have helped you?”

  As the seconds ticked by, coherent thought eluded him. That part of his life was such a jumble of unhappy memories that he seldom allowed himself to reflect upon it.

  “I don’t know.” He kept his gaze fixed on the blue Mazda ahead of them. “It wasn’t an option. I didn’t have anyone who cared enough to suggest it.”

  “Sometimes,” she said slowly, “I wonder why we didn’t talk about these things when we were...together. We didn’t communicate very well, did we?”

  “Maybe not,” he acknowledged, his mouth thinning. “I didn’t talk about it because it was in the past. And at the time, I didn’t want to think about that part of my life. I was more interested in the future.” He paused. “We’re almost there, by the way.”

  It was her turn to be silent. He let a minute slip by, then he glanced over at her, aware that she was looking out the window and wouldn’t notice. His eyes narrowed. She seemed paler than before, and again he felt that he’d been wrong to bring her here, to Caroline’s house.

  It wasn’t long before they pulled into the driveway. Luke shut off the engine, conscious of the waiting emptiness in the large house in front of them. Silently he damned Alicia’s stubbornness. He should have left her home and come alone.

  In an abrupt movement, Alicia flung open the car door and climbed out. She still had not uttered a word.

  He hurried around the car and caught hold of her arm. “Listen to me,” he said in a steadfast voice. “If you start to feel dizzy, I want you to promise you’ll tell me. Okay?”

  She nodded, her blue eyes luminous. “I promise. And thank you, Luke. You’re a very sweet man.”

  The last three words echoed in his head as he unlocked the front door and led the way into the handsome, marble-tiled foyer. It was an imposing house, complete with a curving staircase grand enough for Scarlett O’Hara to sweep down. A huge chandelier hung directly above their heads, its crystals dangling in precise geometric formations.

  He watched her move forward, her face tight and still with suppressed emotion. She didn’t speak. Instead, she wrapped her arms around herself and walked into the formal living room with its white leather furniture and brass-and-glass tables and exotic ferns growing out of Oriental pottery.

  Turning toward him, she said, “It looks like something out of House Beautiful.”

  “Not the best place for a kid,” Luke murmured.

  He followed her from room to room, his gaze on her face as she took in the fancy kitchen, the ornate dining room, the library stocked to the ceiling with impressive-looking tomes.

  She went over and read a few of the titles. “What in the world are we going to do with all these books?”

  He shoved his hands into his back pockets. “Rice University is willing to take most of them. You can look to see if there’s anything you want.”

  She shook her head. “No. Let’s go upstairs.”

  The entire second floor had been Ronnie’s domain. Luke had already emptied out the child’s bedroom, but Alicia still hesitated there, surveying the designer wallpaper and the thick blue rug with an unreadable expression in her eyes. Nothing remained, not even a scrap of paper or a piece of Lego.

  “Well,” she said at last, her tone bleak, “I guess the only thing you need me to do is to go through Caroline’s personal items.”

  They returned to the master bedroom suite, which they had all but bypassed on their tour of the first floor. Before, Alicia had only glanced in, but this time her steps did not falter.

  Luke lingered in the doorway. “I left some empty boxes in the garage. I’ll go get them.”

  As if she hadn’t heard, Alicia stood very still. “I can smell Caroline’s perfume,” she whispered. Jerkily, she brought her hand to her mouth. “Oh, God, Luke, I don’t know if I can do this.”

  He reached her in three steps, his arms going around her just as she started to shake. “Sure you can, sweetheart. It’s not easy, but you’re one heck of a strong woman. If you don’t know that, I do.”

  He pressed her against him, watching their reflection in Caroline’s gilt mirror as her feminine warmth soaked through his shirt to his skin. She felt so small, so fragile, like a dainty spring flower fighting for its place in the sun.

  “Strong,” she repeated brokenly. “I don’t feel that way.”

  “Do you want to leave? We can go right now if you want.”

  “No. I want to do what I came to do. It’s just that I’ve spent my whole life being jealous of Caroline, and look at this!” She made a small, convulsive movement. “This is all I have left and... I can never make it up to her now.”

  Frowning, he lifted her chin. “Why would you be jealous of Caroline?”

  “You really don’t know?” Her eyes locked with his. “No, I suppose you don’t. You knew Caroline, but I grew up with her.” She drew a deep, ragged breath. “When I got A’s, she got A pluses. I never had a date the whole time I was in high school—Caroline had boyfriends from the time she was thirteen. Caroline’s room was always neat—mine was a mess. Caroline’s teeth were straight—I wore braces. Everything Caroline did was right. Everything I did backfired. I lived in her shadow and I hated it.”

  “So that’s how you got
the idea she was perfect.” He stroked a hand down her back. “Did she try to make you feel bad, honey?”

  “No. That’s why I feel so guilty. It was my parents who made me so aware of...my deficiencies.” Her voice shook. “Caroline was like them, I guess, and I wasn’t. She was intellectual and ambitious and single-minded. They were thrilled when she said she wanted to go to Harvard Law School. They used every penny they had to send her there.”

  “And left you with nothing.”

  “Not nothing,” she corrected. “Just no choices.”

  Luke knew what she meant. She’d had to attend the college where her parents taught because she’d been able to get her tuition free and live at home. It had been one of the reasons she’d used to justify her decision not to come with him to Houston.

  “Did you ever tell them it bothered you?” he asked.

  He felt her shrug. “They wouldn’t have understood. Especially my mother. She and I don’t talk. Not about anything important, I mean.” She pulled away with a shaky smile, then startled him by rising up on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. “Thank you for listening. Why don’t you get those boxes, and I’ll see what needs to be done.”

  * * *

  Alicia had a box half-filled with memorabilia when she came across the snapshot. It had been taken at Caroline’s wedding, but it wasn’t one of the formal wedding pictures. No, it must have been taken by one of the guests at the reception, copied and sent on to Caroline and Richard as a gift.

  She cupped it in her hand, her heart pumping in double time as she stared at it. The bride and groom were dancing and smiling. Just to their left and a little behind, Alicia and Luke were also dancing, gazing into each other’s eyes with rapt, starlit expressions. Luke was holding her very close, even closer than Richard held Caroline.

  “What’s that?” Luke had just come into the room.

  “A photo. From the wedding.”

  “Let’s see.” He walked over and took the picture from her hand. His face remained inscrutable as he studied it. “It seems like a long time ago.”

  No, she thought sadly. It seems like yesterday.

  “I keep remembering how happy my mother was that day,” she said. “She adored Richard, you know. He was everything she wanted for Caroline. They were so perfect for each other.”

  Luke handed back the photograph and sat down on the edge of the king-size bed. “Caroline was a good woman with a lot of positive qualities, but she wasn’t perfect, Alicia. Between marriage and her career and being a mother, I think she bit off more than she could chew.”

  “How do you mean?” Alicia lifted her head.

  “She and Richard were having problems,” he answered, his eyes fixed on her face.

  “What kind of problems?”

  “This vacation they were on, it was sort of a last-ditch effort to save their marriage. They were both unhappy. Caroline wanted a divorce. Richard wanted to hang on for Ronnie’s sake. It was pretty messy.”

  Alicia shook her head in disbelief. “That can’t be. Caroline had a wonderful marriage.”

  “No,” he said with quiet adamancy. “She didn’t.”

  Alicia absorbed this for several seconds, trying to reconcile it with the image she carried of her sister. “She never told me,” she said. “I can’t believe my mother knows, either.” Feeling weary and confused, she took one more look at the picture, then dropped it into the box.

  “Come here.” Luke reached for her hands and drew her up from the floor. “Don’t look like that. I wouldn’t have told you except for this thing you have about Caroline. You need to see her realistically.”

  Somehow it seemed quite natural to allow him to settle her onto his lap. It also seemed natural to rest her arm along his broad shoulders and to gaze straight into his dark, smoky eyes. As for the kiss, she couldn’t have said which of them initiated it. It simply happened, a spontaneous coming together that was as magical as music and as basic as breathing.

  Closing her eyes, Alicia lost herself in his taste, in the eager, sensuous slide of his tongue against hers. She let sensation take over, welcomed the urgent stroking of his hands on her body as though it were happening in a dream.

  “You’re so beautiful,” she heard him murmur, his voice raw and brimming with tenderness. “So incredibly beautiful and sexy.”

  Sighing his name, she slipped her fingers under the front of his T-shirt, trailing them through the bramble of hair on his chest as she caressed the hard male muscles beneath. At the same time, her other hand drifted up the smooth, warm flesh of his back, explored the ridged muscles there with a sense of rapturous wonder.

  He was doing the same to her, aggressively pushing aside the thin layer of her cotton top, finding and unhooking the front clasp of her lacy bra. And then his hands were on her breasts, and a few seconds later his mouth. Pleasure unlike anything she had ever known bloomed within her. A low moan rose in her throat as she arched back against his arm.

  “Oh, sweetheart,” he panted. “Alicia, stop me now or...or I swear I won’t be able to stop at all.”

  Dazed, she opened her eyes and blinked. With a jolt of dismay, she remembered where they were. “Not here,” she gasped. Her hands flew to her clothing, her bra, as she tried to cover herself. “Luke, we can’t—not here.”

  He caught hold of her wrist. “Hey,” he said hoarsely, “it’s all right. Don’t be embarrassed, honey. I’d lay bets they wouldn’t have minded. But you’re right, this isn’t the place. When we make love, it’s got to be somewhere you feel comfortable.”

  “When we make love,” she faltered, rather stunned at his assumption that it was such a sure thing.

  “Maybe ‘if’ is a better word. Maybe you won’t want to after...” He halted as she climbed to her feet and turned away from him to refasten her bra. Into the silence that followed, he said, “I need to tell you something about me, Alicia.”

  There was a queer note in his voice, so queer she gave him a sharp look. “What’s the matter?”

  “There’s something you don’t know. At least, you might think you know, but you don’t.” His tone was stiff, defensive, as though he expected to be ridiculed.

  And at once she knew. “Does this have to do with your reading?”

  He got up and went to the window and stood with his back to her for what seemed like a long time before he spoke again. “I’m not illiterate,” he said at last. “I’m dyslexic.”

  She looked at him, at the proud, straight lines of his back. “Dyslexic. You mean—”

  “I mean I’ve got a learning disability. That’s why I can’t read to Ronnie. And why I can’t enter numbers onto a spreadsheet. My brain is different somehow. It gets things mixed up.”

  Despite his matter-of-fact delivery, she sensed his underlying frustration. And more. She felt his pain and mortification as surely as if it were her own.

  “And you think that might matter to me?”

  “Doesn’t it?” He swung around, his eyes drilling into her with fierce intensity. “Let’s face it, you didn’t like the fact that I didn’t go to college. Your parents thought I was a loser. That’s the reason you didn’t marry me, isn’t it? Because you and your family thought my business would fail. And then you’d have been stuck with an unemployed, uneducated bum for a husband.”

  “No!” She stared at him, aghast. “I never thought that! And I still don’t. Luke, how could you think I would be so shallow? I have nothing but admiration for you. Look at what you’ve been able to accomplish, for heaven’s sake! Look at your prosperous business and lovely home.” Without hesitation, she took his hand, lifting it so she could brush her lips across his knuckles. “You’ve got nothing, nothing to be ashamed of! You should be proud of yourself. You’ve succeeded wonderfully with everything you’ve set out to do.”

  “Not everything,” he countered. Still, the expression on his face had lost its grimness. Instead, he appeared rather wondering, as though he couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing.

  “Lots
of people are dyslexic,” she added. “I don’t know much about it, but I do know that. Wasn’t Einstein dyslexic? I bet you’re a genius, too.”

  He smiled crookedly. “Yeah, right. I’m a genius at screwing things up.”

  Again, she understood what lay beneath his words. “It was hard, wasn’t it?” she asked him in a gentle voice. “Growing up with this problem?”

  He met her eyes. “It was pure hell.”

  “Maybe you’ll tell me about it?” She gazed up at him, wanting to hear it all, how he’d suffered, how he’d triumphed. For this, she felt certain, was the key to that secret corner of his soul, the one to which he’d denied her access all those years ago.

  “Yeah, maybe I will,” he agreed, still looking down at her in that odd, thoughtful way. “Maybe I will.”

  Chapter Ten

  “Don’t let him get it, Aunt Alicia! Throw it really high!” Ronnie waved his arms and bounced up and down in the grass, his face aglow with childish glee.

  “Go ahead and try,” Luke warned them in a teasing tone, “but I’m gonna get it this time. No more Mr. Nice Guy.”

  Alicia readied herself, trying to ignore the fact that the monkey in the middle looked distractingly gorgeous. Wearing a pair of low-slung cutoffs and the most wicked grin she had ever seen, he stood between her and Ronnie, hands raised and ready to intercept the ball. Beneath the light matting of chest hair, his bare torso glistened with perspiration. His eyes held a definite glint as she prepared to hurl the ball.

  “Get ready, Ronnie. Here it comes.” She arced the ball high, but not too high for Ronnie to catch.

  Luke leapt up, pretending to miss. With a moan of disappointment, he rolled across the grass and landed at Ronnie’s feet. “Foiled again,” he complained. “You’re just too good for me.”

  “Sorry, Uncle Luke,” Ronnie gloated.

  The little boy shot a conspiratorial grin at Alicia, and she grinned back. In the five days since her accident, her relationship with the child had taken a giant step forward. In some mysterious way, her injury had been the cause, for it had triggered in him an almost obsessive concern for her health and well-being. He was constantly checking the stitches in her arm, constantly asking her how she was feeling.