by Cathryn Fox
Tears fell to her cheek before her fight took over. She turned her head suddenly, seeing the look of disbelief on his face. She fiercely wiped at the stinging drops.
Too late. He took her head and turned it and held her face in both hands, forcing her to look him in the eye. But this time she was ready for him. The resolve of fighting mischief and self-mocking humor would be there in her eyes to greet him.
But he hadn’t been ready. She looked in his eyes to see his game face had deserted him and with shocking clarity she saw his fear, his pride, his loneliness, all at once. The force of it almost knocked away her resolve to fight. But before she would have let go again, he registered her countenance and she could almost feel his sense of regret, as his game face slipped back into place.
“Of course you have feelings. Just like me. Somewhere in there, but strictly off-limits.” His sardonic smile came into place and he kissed her. Softly. Her resolve melted again, a little. She let the hot intimate feel of his mouth on hers take her over—really take her. She wound her fingers up through his hair, for herself, not for effect.
She knew it would all feel the same to him in the end.
“I swear if I’m late for this game I’ll have to put you off-limits.” Barry pushed himself back from her and looked at her eyes closely. It hadn’t been his imagination. Tears still stained her cheek. He reached his hand up and gently rubbed the wetness away with his thumb.
The self-possessed smile was immediately wiped from her face and she turned from him.
“Don’t pay attention to me. It’s the holidays. They always get to me and…” She stopped, seemingly unsure, looking out the window.
He couldn’t afford for her to keep talking. He’d been a fool to goad her about the game. He needed it just as much as she did. There was no sense trying for a real relationship. Was it becoming dangerous to continue seeing Roxanne Monet?
“And what?” What the hell did he ask for? He didn’t care. He turned the ignition back on. He had to get the hell out of there.
“And this investigation into Don’s death.” She turned back to him, composed but frowning.
“I thought Al had control of that situation? He told me himself your session with the police went well.” This was a safe topic at least.
“It did. But my mother-in-law and her private detective have some information that might be swaying the police otherwise.”
He raised his brow. Maybe not so safe. “Let me guess. You’re back at number one in the standings for murder suspects?”
She laughed and shook her head. “Pretty absurd. I wish Al wasn’t always so worried about it. The stories in the papers are bad enough. He gets me scared sometimes the way he talks.”
“I thought you had an alibi.”
“Ironclad.”
“So what’s the deal?”
“Can’t find him.”
“Minor detail, eh?”
“He’ll come out…”
“Who is he? A married man?” He asked half-mockingly and held his breath waiting for her answer.
“No and never mind. Forget I ever brought it up.”
“Great. If we keep it up, everything will be off-limits for discussion.”
“Suits me fine.”
“You’re right. No sense in complicating the game. From now on when we meet, it’s strictly sex and the game.” He thought of Lindy and he wasn’t sure why. Roxanne was good for her. He didn’t want to ruin that. He had to think everything with Lindy would work out okay. Or not think of it at all.
“Which game do you mean? The game of who seduces who, or the game of who can make the other forget to pretend we’re just playing games?”
“Don’t start that again.” He was startled by her frankness but didn’t allow his voice to betray him. Then he pushed himself ruthlessly into game mode and recognized her expert play.
She laughed. “Why? Are you worried?” She felt an edge that hadn’t been there before. Perching herself on that edge of the emotional precipice was turning out to be an irresistible urge when it came to Barry Dennis. He said nothing for a moment.
She thought he wasn’t going to answer.
“I suppose I should be worried. But I’m not. You have as much to lose as I do,” Barry said.
“What makes you think I haven’t already lost it?” She tried to keep calm, but her heart hammered. Her nerves tightened to a pitch that made them jump of their own volition. She watched him lick his lips as he pretended to concentrate on the road. His grip on the wheel seemed unsteady. She felt too giddy—too reckless—to keep her poise.
He flashed her a dangerous, dagger-like stare. She maintained her reckless abandon. His jaw clenched tight.
“It doesn’t matter if you’ve lost it. Not really. As long as the pretense continues. That’s what the game is all about isn’t it? You pretend you don’t care.”
She felt the shot slice through her. She choked, “You’re asking me? Maybe I’ve been playing the game so long, pretending is real to me now.” Her voice sounded strangled to her own ears. Her poise was gone.
“Yeah. I’m not so sure of you and your game. Maybe I ought to stick to basketball.”
“You’re conceding?” He couldn’t. He had to keep playing with her. She couldn’t let the game end. She had no other way to relate with him.
Unless she counted Lindy. But he was even more difficult and closed where his daughter was concerned.
“Is that the only way to end this game?” He looked at her and it was impossible to tell what he was thinking behind his mask of indifference.
“Afraid so.” She held her breath.
“I can’t do that. I only play to win.’
“You’ve said that before. But you’re falling behind.”
“Oh? I don’t think so.” He gave her a confident look and all of a sudden she felt as if he saw everything. He saw past the pretense. She looked away, feeling naked. She forced herself into composure, counting on her sense of cool to take control. How was it possible to keep herself wrapped so tightly and still appear to be a lively, vibrant person? How could her emotions control her, her impulses impossible to ignore on every front of her life—except this one? She couldn’t relate emotionally with men.
No more of this—not today. She remained silent, reaching forward to turn on the radio. He didn’t stop her. He could have pounced and won the game right then and there. She was convinced that he knew she was vulnerable. But he left her alone. She pondered the possibility that maybe he wasn’t so far ahead of her in the score.
Chapter Sixteen
ROXANNE SMILED at the little girl through the plastic and felt a zing run through her at the bright smile she received in response.
“I watched the Celtics game yesterday on TV.” Lindy vibrated with excitement. “That is until Da—Paul came to bring me some presents.” She frowned.
Roxanne sat in the chair beside the BCNU tent. She reached her hand into the rubber glove that extended inside to stroke the girl’s head and was treated with another smile. No way was she going to pay attention to Al’s recommendation that she stay away. Especially not since her police interview had gone so well and they hadn’t arrested her like everyone feared.
This girl was such an innocent, wearing all her deepest emotions out in the open, exposed for all to see. How could she possibly be Barry’s daughter? But then Roxanne had to scold herself for not allowing Barry the benefit of the doubt. He’d had ample chances to lose his innocence somewhere along the way since childhood. After all, she’d lost her own when her mother died.
She welled with fresh admiration for Lindy. She lost her mother and she cried about it, often at night, according to the nurses. But most of the time she’d remained a charming, upbeat little girl.
“You can still call Paul Daddy for now, Lindy. The jury is still out on that one.”
“I want to call them both Daddy.”
“That’s a good idea. You’re a very lucky little girl to have two daddies aren’t you?�
� Roxanne confronted the issue rather than dance around it. The psychiatrist had advised it was the best way to handle Lindy’s family situation so there’d be no surprises. As long as she was getting enough love and attention, she wouldn’t be harmed by it—theoretically.
At least Roxanne would do her part to provide attention and as much love as she had in her for the girl. She had to admit she was impressed with Paul’s commitment to the child. She knew Barry still wondered if Lindy would be better off with Paul than himself in spite of his promise to step up.
“My mother said the same thing. She said Barry gave me my genes and Paul gave me everything else. I think genes count most don’t you? My mother said I was lucky to get such good genes and a good example too. But I’m not sure what she meant.” The little girl grimaced as she shifted uncomfortably. “It hurts a lot today, Roxanne. They did an examination on me.” She paused before continuing tentatively. “I cried a lot. It was too hard not to.”
Roxanne took Lindy’s hand and tried not to cry herself. Her heart squeezed at Lindy’s words. Struggling for a bright note, she searched her mind for a change of subject. “What did you think of your dad’s basketball game?”
“Bar—I mean Daddy—played terrible didn’t he? One of the nurses watched it with me and kept saying that everyone has an off day. But the announcers weren’t very nice saying all kinds of bad things about him. I didn’t like that. But it was fun to watch when he scored baskets.”
Roxanne was charmed by the changing expressions on the girl’s face. She laughed and nodded her head in agreement. She’d wished she hadn’t stayed for that game yesterday afternoon.
“Yeah. I know what you mean. It wasn’t a picnic to watch in person either. I didn’t have to listen to announcers, but some of the fans heckled the team.”
“What’s heckled mean?”
“Saying bad stuff about the players. But they have to realize those guys are people just like you and me and they can’t be great all the time, right?” Roxanne wasn’t at all sure what Lindy thought of Barry, but she wanted to be sure she got as real a picture as a kid could get about a high-visibility superstar that everyone else seemed to talk about.
“I guess so.” Then she looked at Roxanne, obviously getting ready to say something big. “Roxanne?”
“Mmm hmm?”
“Where am I going to live when I get out of the hospital? Am I going to live with Daddy or Paul?” The little girl needed reassurance and Roxanne quickly searched her mind for some kind of comforting answer to the impossible question.
“I’m not sure, honey. But what I am sure of is that you will live with someone who loves you very much, whoever it is. Okay?” Roxanne held her breath and watched Lindy’s face. It was the best she could do for an answer to that loaded question right now. Barry hadn’t been sticking to the schedule Al had set up, and Paul Paris knew it. Everyone was speculating on the subject of the custody suit these days, so she shouldn’t have been surprised to hear the question from Lindy.
“Who do you want to live with, honey?” Roxanne couldn’t resist the quiet inquiry.
“I want my mother.” Tears glistened in Lindy’s eyes as she struggled not to cry.
“It’s all right to cry, honey. I know what you mean. I wish I had my mother right now, too.” Roxanne stroked the girl’s cheek, comforting her the best she could from the wrong side of the plastic. She wished she could give the little girl a big hug, but she didn’t dare take the liberty of removing the plastic like Barry had. When she’d lost her mother she was older and she’d had Bonnie, but she could imagine the girl’s suffering. If it weren’t for those damned germs. When Lindy opened her eyes and looked up at her finally with a wan smile, she realized she had let a few tears escape too.
The nurse came in then with lunch and Roxanne prepared to feed her. Thank goodness Lindy turned the conversation to more innocuous subjects while she ate. Roxanne wasn’t sure she could survive another of the little girl’s test questions.
Lunch was nearly finished when Harry came in and walked slowly up to the pair with a furrowed brow. “Roxanne, I have to speak with you about something.”
Roxanne left the nurse to finish the meal with Lindy and immediately stepped into the hall with Harry. Her mind was a blank at what it could be about. There were too many things that had gone wrong lately, so she waited for him to speak as he fidgeted with his tie.
“Dr. Evans wants to see you in his office now. It’s about this police investigation of Don’s murder. They’ve been to the hospital questioning people.”
“Don was not murdered, Harry. Don’t you go around saying that, too. Al and I had a very long talk with the detective and I thought for sure we had him convinced. I can’t see what he possibly hopes to find out by questioning people here.” Roxanne was more than annoyed, although she tried not to take it out on poor Harry.
“Yeah, well he seemed pretty interested in your love life, if you want to know the line of questioning.”
“I guess I’d be foolish to think he’d take my word about that subject. Even though I’m the only one who really knows anything about it. All he’s going to find here is speculation, rumors, and gossip. Harry, do you know he grilled me for hours about it, asking some very personal questions? And he expected answers?” She grew angry at the memory. But anger felt better than panic.
Harry shook his head and his frown grew deeper, if that were possible. When he patted her back, she knew she was in trouble.
“Roxy, if you want me to come with you to Evans’s office, I will. I’ll stay right there with you even if he wants me to leave.”
This was too much. She turned to the big Potato Head of a man and gave him a hug, as much because she loved him as to hide the tears that had the audacity to show up now. Roxanne straightened from his grasp without a sniffle and looked straight into his sad, wise eyes.
“Thank you, Harry. I’ll never forget that offer. But I’ll face Dr. Evans alone. All he can do is fire me.” She smiled a genuine smile at that and sighed as Harry nodded in admiration. Then she walked down the hall to the elevators to go to the office of the Chairman of the Board of Children’s Mercy Hospital. Without looking back.
The feeling of uneasiness didn’t overtake her until she was almost inside the office. Then the familiar clenching in her gut returned. She’d walked all that way with only determination arming her to face whatever she had to hear. But as soon as her mind started clicking in, anticipating the worst and dreading the consequences, it took a much greater determination to make her legs carry her inside the door to what she was now sure was to be the doom of her volunteer fund-raising career.
She squared her shoulders, looked down at her attire and laughed. She’d been dressed only for visiting with Lindy that day. She wore jeans and a sweater. At least it was the right color. Black.
She pushed the door open and walked in. Standing in front of his secretary’s desk, she folded her arms in front of her and steeled herself for the worse. She ignored the constriction in her throat. Her nerves jumped and her stomach felt like a Maytag. The young woman told her in a very quiet voice to go in. Roxanne looked once at the door with the man’s name and title on it. She took a deep breath to settle herself, then proceeded inside.
She wore no smile and no frown. She felt no dread. She felt absolutely noting. It was almost as if she were orchestrating her movements from outside her body. She’d detached herself from physical feeling.
The heels of her boots sank quietly into the deep carpet of the office as she entered the office. The doctor seemed absorbed with the papers on his desk. She stopped only when she came smack up against that desk and then, to be sure she had his attention, she sat on the edge of it. Poised with one leg crossed over the other and her arms crossed in front of her chest, she glanced down at the balding man as he glanced back up at her.
He was startled and pushed himself back in his chair. Before he could open his mouth to say a word, Roxanne spoke.
“Harry said
you wanted to see me. I happened to be in the office today.” She returned his cold stare and stood to watch him look her over with his distaste obvious behind his glasses.
“Today will be your last day in the office.” He pursed his lips unpleasantly as he removed his glasses.
In spite of all the mental coaching, all the instinctual cool poise in the world didn’t prepare her to actually hear the words. All the physical detachment disappeared. She felt the blood drain from her as if he’d pulled a plug. She knew she must have gone white. She trembled. As she looked at the man in front of her, she ordered herself to stop. There was no way she was going to allow herself to fall apart in front of him. She didn’t know what he had against her, but there was something. She wasn’t about to allow him any satisfaction—at least not any more than he’d already gotten.
“It’ll be more your loss than mine.” She flicked her wrist in his direction, stood and turned toward the door.
“Don’t you even want to know why you’re being dismissed?” He spoke the word as if it had eight syllables instead of two. She felt the knife twist in her gut, but she refused to let him see that.
“Can’t handle the police, I assume. Don’t have the guts to stand behind a long-time volunteer fund-raiser for the hospital. Stop me when I’m getting warm.” She’d turned around to face him again. She didn’t bother hiding her distaste at the weakness she accused him of. He didn’t flinch. But she could see the tension in his jaw. She knew this wasn’t turning out to be nearly as much fun for him as it was supposed to be.
“You’re wrong. I would stand up for someone if I thought they deserved it. If I thought she was innocent,” he said.
She couldn’t remain cool in the face of his implication that she was a murderer. She turned to stare him down. There was not a cool corner left in her mind or in her being. But luckily, she held her tongue for a second, and for once in her life, thought first before she spoke. And then she spoke very quietly.
“I hope you get all the enjoyment you can out of this moment, Dr. Evans, because it will be your last moment of joy for a while. Without me you’ll be sweating out every penny until you get that research wing of yours built. And when this police investigation blows over, I will still be around to haunt you. I promise.” With one last glare at the man, she turned and walked out, heart hammering in her chest.