Her Secret, His Child

by Paula Detmer Riggs

  "Now that I understand perfectly. You've had a lot of practice."

  Carly laughed. "I have, haven't I?"

  "Practice makes perfect."

  "Perfect I'm not, but I am determined to get through this with a minimum of fuss." Carly cradled the phone against her shoulder and selected black pumps from the overhead shelf.

  "How about if I just happen to show up while you're having dinner? You could invite me to join you."

  Carly felt a surge of relief. It was a perfect lifeline, which was why she couldn't accept. "Thanks for the offer, but this is something I need to face alone."

  "I understand, but the offer's still open. I'll be in my office for another ten minutes or so, and then I'll be heading home. You can always reach me there."

  Sidestepping Tabby, who was now stretched out in the middle of the closet, Carly carried the shoes into her bedroom and dropped them on the bed.

  "I'll keep that in mind, and—" She paused to listen and heard Tracy calling her name. "In here, sweetheart," she called out before adding into the receiver, "Marca, I've got to go—"

  "Wait, don't hang up! There's one more thing I need to tell you."

  She didn't like the sound of that. "Tell me."

  "I got a call a few minutes ago from Chad Duncan at the Times-News. Seems Scanlon stopped for gas at a service station just off the interstate, and someone recognized him. That someone told someone else who told Chad."

  "News moves fast in a small town."

  "That's not all. Apparently Scanlon asked directions to the college from the pump jockey, and Chad smells a story." Marca breathed a heavy sigh. "Anyway, bottom line, our ferret-faced friend wanted to know if Scanlon is slated to become the new coach of the Wolves. I put him off, but good old Chad wants to ask the man himself. I figure he'll be showing up on your doorstep pretty soon, trying to score a scoop."

  "Exactly what we don't need."

  "You're telling me! We need surprise on our side to maximize the publicity value. Nobody's going to show up at a press conference to announce our new coach if every paper and TV station in the country has already leaked Scanlon's name."

  "He doesn't have the job yet, Marca."

  "Exactly. And in case he turns us down, we don't want a bunch of false rumors raising the hopes of the very alumni we're trying to woo."

  "This is getting out of hand."

  "Not yet, but it could. That's the problem with manipulating the media. One little unexpected hitch, and the whole house of cards comes tumbling down." Marca paused, then added more lightly, "Metaphorically speaking."

  Carly closed her eyes and tried to find the quiet center inside her head where she went to draw strength. But all she could see was a pair of haunted brown eyes and a once cocky smile that was now touched with vulnerability.

  "Remember that small girls' college in northern California that offered me the presidency a few years back?"

  "The one in the redwoods?"

  "That's the one. I'm thinking very seriously of calling them and seeing if the job is still open!"

  "Good idea. Ask if they need someone to teach advertising and PR while you're at it."

  "Right," Carly drawled before saying goodbye. She was returning the phone to the cradle when Tracy appeared in the doorway, looking almost formal in nearly new jeans and a sweater.

  "Hey, you look great!" she exclaimed, looking her mother up and down with obvious approval. "Don't tell me you're actually going out on a date?"

  "Nope. Just another dull business dinner."

  "Who with?"

  "Mr. Scanlon."

  "Oh yeah?" Tracy glanced her way, her expression as guileless as a baby's. "He's got a killer smile, don't you think?"

  "I hadn't really formed an opinion one way or another." Carly took a last critical look in the gilt mirror over her dresser, fluffed her hair one more time and slipped into her shoes. The three-inch heels didn't quite bring her eye-to-eye with her already gorgeous daughter.

  "How was cheerleading practice?" she asked nonchalantly.

  "So-so. Karen keeps saying we have to come up with something unusual to wow the judges."

  Carly wondered if she should take a wrap, decided on her purple velvet jacket, then changed her mind. Velvet was for festive occasions, not business meetings.

  "What movie did you two decide to see tonight?"

  "We couldn't agree, so we decided to go bowling instead." Tracy offered her mother a wheedling smile. "I was hoping I could borrow Nigel."

  "Only if you promise to obey all speed laws." Carly punctuated her words with a maternal frown, which only made Tracy grin.

  "Don't worry, I never break the rules, just bend 'em a little."

  "Tracy Marie!"

  "Just kidding!"

  Mentally crossing her fingers, Carly returned to the closet for a black purse. Tracy wandered over to the dresser and, just as she'd done for years, opened the lid of Carly's antique jewelry box and began poking through the contents.

  "Can I wear these sometime?" she asked, holding up small emerald studs.

  "For a special occasion, yes."

  "Tonight?"

  "Togo bowling?"

  "Guess that's not really all that special, is it?" Tracy agreed as she returned the studs to the box and closed the lid.

  "Not really, no." Carly glanced at her watch, saw that she still had five minutes before she was to meet Scanlon in the parlor and wondered if she'd left a pack of cigarettes in any of her old purses. If Tracy hadn't been there, she would have been tempted to sneak a few puffs, just to calm herself.

  "Is this perfume new?" Tracy asked, removing the stopper from a small vial for a sniff.

  Carly nodded. "I bought it in Chicago in a little shop near the Art Institute."

  "Smells expensive," Tracy said with a grin. "And sexy."

  "I was hoping for sophisticated." Carly said with a self-conscious shrug. "With just a hint of brilliant."

  "Nope. Sexy." Before Carly could stop her, Tracy managed to get them both smelling like a bordello.

  "That's enough." Carly ordered, laughing as she swatted Tracy's hand away.

  "Hope so," Tracy muttered, grinning to herself as she stoppered the small crystal bottle and returned it to the dresser. "Are you going to hire Mr. Scanlon to be the new coach?" she asked as she scooped the sleepy cat into her arms.

  "That's up to Coach Gianfracco."

  Tracy nuzzled the cat's furry face. "You hired Coach, didn't you?"

  "No, Grandfather hired him just about the time you and I moved back here from Providence." Carly selected a bag and carried it into the bedroom. "Get the light, please, Sweetie," she threw over her shoulder.

  Tracy flipped the switch before following her mother into the bedroom. Tabby curled around Tracy's neck, her green cat's eyes half closed in pleasure.

  Perching on the bed, Carly dug her car keys from her purse and tossed them Tracy's way before transferring the remaining contents to the black bag.

  "Oh, I almost forgot. Nigel needs gas." She selected a credit card from her wallet and tossed it next to the keys. "I meant to fill up on the way home, but I was running late."

  "I'll take care of it." Tracy transferred Tabby to the crook of her arm before slipping the keys and the card into the pocket of her jeans.

  Carly held a fast debate with her conscience—and lost. "By the way, I ran into Ian Cummings today. He asked me how you were doing with your biology paper. He also said to tell you hi."

  Tracy flushed, then glanced away, but not before Carly noticed the sudden glow in her eyes. "I saw him in the library when I was checking out those books on genetics. We got to talking, you know? About the difference between high school papers and college papers, stuff like that."

  "I'm sure Ian was most informative."

  "Oh, he was. And he was really interested in my paper, too. He's really easy to talk to, you know? Not at all like some of those other jerks on the team."

  Carly drew a breath. Careful, she told hers
elf silently before saying aloud, "Tracy, he's still too old for you."

  Tracy angled her chin. "My father was older than you."

  "We aren't talking about me."

  Frowning, Tracy deposited Tabby on the bed, much to the cat's displeasure. Tabby leapt to the floor, then padded across the carpet with dainty steps, twitching the tip of her tail as she went.

  "Mom, can I ask you something important?"

  "Of course you can."

  "Did you really love my father?" Tracy kept her gaze fixed on the cat as she spoke. "Or did you just say that so I wouldn't think you were a one-night stand?"

  Carly hesitated. If she was ever going to tell Tracy the truth about her conception, now was the perfect time. And then what? Admit that she'd lied to her daughter for sixteen years? Raise doubts in Tracy's mind about her mother's integrity? Shatter her little girl's sense of security? Carly felt a chill invade the space around her heart, and she forced a smile.

  "I thought I loved him, yes," she said, softly but firmly. "Otherwise, I never would have gone to bed with him."

  "Is that how you know when you're in love? Deciding to sleep with someone, I mean?"

  Too restless to sit still, Carly got to her feet and walked to the window and looked down on the front lawn. The newly emerging daffodils in the front bed were a bright spot of color in the gathering darkness. The security lights had just come on, shining down on the familiar scene—and on the unfamiliar silver Jaguar parked to one side of the circular drive. A week ago the earth had still been touched with frost. A week ago Mitch Scanlon had been a distant memory.

  "I think it's different for each person," she said slowly, thinking as she went along. "Nature gave us a strong sex drive for purely practical reasons, so finding yourself attracted to a man isn't unusual. But God gave us free will, so acting on that impulse is something else again."

  "So what was it that made you decide to do it with my father?"

  Three glasses of beer, Carly thought immediately, and then realized that the truth was far more complicated than that.

  "He listened," she said on a rush of unwanted sadness. "I felt as though I could tell him anything and he would understand. And when he asked me questions, I had the feeling he really cared about the answers." She shook her head, her eyes suddenly stinging. "That sounds silly now, I know," she added, turning to face her daughter.

  "No it doesn't," Tracy said with an earnest frown. "I think it sounds wonderful."

  "It was wonderful," Carly said softly, honestly. "And when he smiled at me, he looked into my eyes, and I felt special. Cherished." She found that she was hugging herself and quickly dropped her arms to her sides. "No other man has ever made me feel that way since."

  "You still love him, don't you?" Tracy asked in a voice thickened by emotion.

  Carly bit her lip, the ready denial stuck behind the sudden lump in her throat. "No, Tracy, it doesn't work that way in the real world," she murmured, her eyes flooding with tears. "Oh rats, now I've gone and ruined my makeup."

  Biting her lip, Carly went into the bathroom to repair the damage. Tracy hovered in the doorway, watching anxiously. "Did you ever think about maybe contacting him again sometime?"

  "Yes, when you were born." Carly opened the drawer containing her small store of cosmetics. "You were so wonderful, and my hormones were going crazy. I was suddenly feeling guilty for not telling him about you. And in a way, I guess I still believe in fairy-tale endings." She shrugged. "By the time I finally tracked down his telephone number, I realized that talking to him would be a mistake."

  "Why?"

  Frowning, Carly swirled more mascara on her lashes before returning the wand to the drawer and closing it again. "Because I was afraid he would want to be a part of your life, and I knew that would only cause problems down the road." She'd also been terribly afraid that the notoriety Mitch had already garnered might end up hurting Tracy someday.

  Tracy drew her eyebrows together and stared at the floor. At that moment she was so much like her father it hurt. "And now?" Tracy asked, glancing up, her eyes probing intently. "What if you ran into him someplace by accident? How would you feel?"

  "Curious, I suppose, and maybe a little nostalgic," she hedged before turning on the tap to wash her hands.

  "Would you want to go to bed with him?"

  Carly felt a jab of fear, which was almost immediately replaced by an insidious, unwanted heat deep inside. "Absolutely not," she said, giving the faucet a hard turn before reaching for a towel. "And that's enough about good old Mom's past for tonight. Too much soul-searching gives me hives."

  Tracy giggled, but her expression remained thoughtful, perhaps even a little sad, Carly noted with a pang. "I'm sorry you never found anyone else to love as much as you loved my father," she said softly. "Maybe then you wouldn't look so sad sometimes when you look at me."

  Carly's throat tightened, and for an instant she couldn't breathe. "Sweetheart, I'm not sad, not at all. I have a terrifically charming, intelligent, beautiful daughter whom I adore, a satisfying career and neat friends like Aunt Marca. I'm making a difference here at Bradenton, and that makes me happy every single day."

  Admittedly there were times when she longed to feel the same hot rush of emotion she'd felt that steamy night in the desert, but passion that strong, that incendiary, could destroy as easily as it could enthrall. Perhaps it was cowardly to choose safety instead of risk, and perhaps she sometimes felt an aching loneliness inside, but for the most part, she was content with the life she'd created for herself and her child.

  No regrets, she reminded herself firmly as she turned to offer Tracy a reassuring smile. "Sweetie, I'm touched that you're worrying about me, but truly, your concern is misplaced. I made my choices years ago, and I'm satisfied they were the right ones for me—and for you."

  Tracy's answering smile was endearingly off center and just a bit shaky. "It's just that you're still young, and like Ian said, as foxy as any student. And when I leave, you'll be alone."

  "But that's the way it's supposed to be, Trace. You'll have your life and I'll have mine, just as Grandmother has hers." Carly smoothed her daughter's golden hair with a gentle, loving hand. "Darling, please believe me, I am not unhappy, and I am not afraid of being alone. So don't give that another thought, okay?"

  Tracy nodded. "Okay, but that doesn't mean I don't wish a terrific, good-looking, sexy guy like Mitch Scanlon would fall madly in love with you and sweep you off your feet."

  And then she was gone, leaving Carly with nothing to say and a lot to think about.

  * * *

  The parlor was empty when Mitch arrived a few minutes before seven. In deference to the still chilly nights, a fire was blazing in the fireplace, and the heavy drapes had been drawn over the windows facing the pool area.

  He moved to the fireplace and warmed his hands for a long moment before moving to the glass-enclosed bookcase opposite the fireplace. The contract was still in his room, unsigned. Unlike his last contract with the Raiders, this one was actually pretty straightforward. Two years up front, with an option for a third, a decent salary with enough digits to give his tax accountant a few headaches, and a fairly substantial bonus for a winning season. Not a bad deal for a novice coach.

  Coach had been disappointed when he hadn't signed on the spot. A few years back he would already have been out celebrating in some dark, smoky watering hole, buying rounds for the house, instead of squiring a woman he'd just met to a quiet dinner in what he figured would be the classiest place in town. Maybe he was getting mellow in his old age, he decided, turning toward the door.

  He heard her heels clicking on the hardwood floor an instant before she stepped into the room. She was wearing a black dress that didn't so much cling as suggest, and silky black stockings that just begged to be stroked by a man's slow hand.

  Mitch found himself swallowing hard. After a lot of years fending off sex kittens in low-cut spandex, Carly's tasteful attire had his imagination jumping through h
oops.

  "Good evening," she said, her lips curving slightly in that reluctant half smile he was rapidly coming to expect from her. She was wearing perfume tonight. Something feminine and alluring.

  "You look terrific," he said, and then nearly laughed at the corny words. He started to loosen his tie, then realized he wasn't wearing one. Glancing down at the blue dress shirt and slacks, he frowned. "Maybe I should change."

  Her impersonal gaze made a fast trip to the tips of his shoes, then back up. "Don't bother. Things are always more casual in a college town."

  Mitch hitched a little more air into his lungs and jerked his chin toward the door. "All set?"

  Her nod was brief, her expression cool. "I hope you don't mind taking your car. Tracy is using Nigel."

  Mitch took a tighter grip on his crutches and slanted her a look. "If she drives like her mom, I hope she gives us a head start."

  "Don't worry. She already left." Her smile lasted longer this time. Long enough for him to imagine her lips parting under his.

  Outside, the daylight was nearly gone. In spite of the hint of winter still lingering on the air, the scents of spring had grown stronger over the past few days. Carly treated herself to a long, pleasurable sniff, then stiffened when she saw Scanlon's mouth twitch.

  "Nice night," he said when she glared at him.

  "Very."

  She could have sworn he'd had his hair trimmed since they'd parted that morning. And the blue-and-white striped shirt looked surprisingly unwrinkled after a night in that scruffy duffel Coach had toted in last night. The Jaguar seemed to have lost the fine layer of road dust she'd noticed earlier, as well.

  She paused by the passenger's side while he unlocked the door and opened it. "Wait," he said when as she started to slip into the bucket seat. "I have this problem."

  "What kind of problem?" she asked, turning to face him.

  "It's personal. I've tried to shake it, but so far, no luck."

  "Maybe you need castor oil," she muttered.

  "I'd rather try something else."