He stepped back. As they crossed the threshold, he asked in a voice he made as casual as possible, "Where's Corrie?"
His mother's smile was much too sweet. "I thought she might enjoy sleeping in late. She works until all hours most nights, you know."
"Daddy, what's the 'mote for?"
Matt bent down to her. "Do I get a kiss?"
Kira took his face between her two soft little-girl hands and kissed him—a quick, hard press of her small lips to his. "There. What about the 'mote?"
He handed it to her. "It's all ready in the media room. Just push Play."
"What is it?"
"Go see." With a happy giggle, Kira headed off down the hall. A moment later, after a childish shout of delighted surprise, the movie started. Matt stood from his crouch. "Dad mentioned you were staying at Corrie's. He's not real pleased about it."
His mother's serene expression didn't waver. "Corrine has been lovely. I can't tell you how refreshing it is to be able to sleep through the night and not worry that I'll wake up to find your father standing over my bed."
Matt grunted. "Dad is persistent, if nothing else."
"Persistent is not the word I would have used."
"He loves you, Mom."
"Stay out of it, Matthew."
At that exact moment, he had a brilliant idea. "I wonder. Could you do me a favor?"
His mother frowned slightly at the sudden shift in the conversation. But she'd always been the kind of mom who was happy to help out. "Of course. What?"
He tipped his head in the direction Kira had gone. "I hate to drag her away from that, now that I've let her start it. But I just realized I need to run back to the office…"
She looked doubtful. "The office?"
"I'll be an hour or so. Maybe a little longer if I need to do some…research."
"Research? On what?"
"Long story. Mom, I swear I'll be back by noon, in time to give Kira lunch and get her off to her ballet lesson—I mean, if you have an hour or two you can spare me…"
"Well, I—"
"Thanks." He grabbed her in a hug. "You're a lifesaver. I won't be long, I promise." He got his coat from the closet and grabbed his keys from the entry table.
"Matthew…"
"Thanks. I owe you." He closed the door before she could ask him any more questions, thinking how he'd just added lying to his mother to his list of crappy behaviors lately.
Too bad. He'd seen his chance to get Corrie alone and he was damn well taking it.
Since it was Saturday, traffic was light. The drive to her house took fifteen minutes.
He was on her porch with the key to her front door in his hand, ready to let himself in, when he caught himself. It just wasn't right and he knew it. To bust in on her. She'd given him her key in case of emergency, not so he could break in and force her to talk to him. He'd probably scare ten years off her life, sneaking into her house when she wasn't expecting him.
Was she still sleeping? Now, that would be truly creepy of him, appearing in her bedroom, waking her up from a sound asleep. Echoes of dear old dad.
No wonder his mom had fled to Corrie's house, where Davis didn't have a key—and yes, okay. He was willing to go pretty low to get Corrie talking to him again. But not that low.
Matt pocketed the key and rang the bell—twice. The second time, he saw the blinds move at the front window and knew she'd spotted him. He was out of luck. Again.
But then, incredibly, he heard the deadbolt turn and there she was in a fuzzy yellow robe and slippers to match. She had last night's makeup smudged around her eyes and serious bed head. She did not look happy, but she did step aside so he could enter.
She shut the door and raked her hair back off her face. "What did you tell your mom?"
"That I needed to pick something up at the office."
"Liar."
He confessed all. "I said it might take a while, that there could be research."
"Research?"
"That was her response, exactly."
She glared at him. "I haven't returned your calls because I didn't want to talk to you."
"I know."
She wrapped her robe tighter, retied the sash. "I guess I can't go on not talking to you forever."
"I'm so damned relieved to hear you say that."
"So. Want some coffee?"
"I do. I really do."
She led him into her warm, comfortable kitchen and gestured in the general direction of the table. He sat down and she loaded up the coffeemaker. Neither of them spoke till the coffee was made.
Then she poured them each a mug full and sat down opposite him, sliding his across to him along with a plate containing two slices of what he recognized as his mother's amazing orange nut bread.
She let him eat half a slice of the bread and sip a little coffee before she said, "There's not much to tell. I went to see Bob. I told him that I'd slept with you and then I gave him back his ring."
"He didn't argue?"
"No, Matt. He didn't."
"What a fool."
She laughed. The sound had more sadness than humor in it. "It wouldn't have mattered what he said. If he was the right guy for me, I wouldn't have done what I did with you."
He agreed with her. But he knew she wouldn't like it much if he said so. "Are you…okay?"
She had the mug in both hands. She shrugged and sipped simultaneously. "I am okay, to tell the ugly truth. I guess that's just more proof that Bob and I were not a very good idea."
"Can we be friends again?"
"I never stopped being your friend."
"Come on, Corrie. You know what I mean."
She tipped her head to the side and looked at him for a long time, wearing a far-away expression he didn't know how to read. "Okay. If you need to hear it, we can be friends again."
"Damn. I'm glad."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah."
She laughed then. A happier laugh than before. "So that's settled." He wanted to reach across the table and take her hand. Or better yet, get up, go to her, pull her out of the chair and wrap his arms around her good and tight. But then, if he did that, he would want to kiss her. And if he kissed her…
Maybe he shouldn't be thinking about that. About kissing her. About what he might do after he kissed her. But he was. Since what had happened between them last Sunday night, he was going to have some trouble not thinking about kissing her.
Sunday night had changed everything. Now she was free. There was no reason he couldn't kiss her if he wanted to—unless she turned him down.
And there was only one way to find out about that. He said, "Thank you. For letting my mom stay with you."
"No need for thanks. She's been a godsend, seriously. She cooks most of the meals. And she's been watching Kira for me at night."
"What about Sandra?"
"Sandra quit. She went back to Dallas and stayed there—which reminds me that one of these days I need to find a replacement."
"If you get stuck, I'll be happy to take Kira."
"I appreciate that." She got up and went to the counter to refill her mug. "More?" She held out the pot.
"Sure."
She came to him and refilled his mug, her robe brushing against him, the scent of her teasing him. She smelled good. She always had. He considered making his move. But on second thought, maybe not while she was holding a pot of scalding coffee. He watched her as she turned, set the pot on the warming ring and then went back to her seat at the table.
He didn't realize she'd guessed what he was thinking until she said, "Forget about it, Matt." Her voice was flat. Her eyes gave him nothing. He wondered whether she meant forget about it for right now—or forever.
He decided not to ask. "Guess I should get back." His chair scraped the floor as he stood.
She sat very still. "You didn't finish your coffee."
"Are you saying you want me to stay?"
She fiddled with her coffee mug, turning it in a circle, sticking her fi
nger through the handle but not raising it to drink. "I want things back like they were before last Sunday."
He almost told her that was fine with him. But then he decided he wasn't willing to lie. "Sorry. No can do."
"I feel like I lost my best friend, you know?"
"You didn't lose me. I'm right here."
She made a soft scoffing noise—and looked away.
He called it as he saw it. "I want you, Corrie. After last Sunday, I'm not going to pretend anymore that I don't."
She met his eyes again. "That's what this has been, the last five years? You, pretending?"
"That's not fair. I've been a good father. A responsible father. And a good friend to you. A best friend, you just said so."
She wanted to be mad. He could see that in the stiffness of her shoulders and the set of her jaw. But then she sighed. "Let's not fight. Didn't we just make up?"
He went to her. She tipped her head back to gaze up at him. He held down his hand and said, "I don't want to fight." Her eyes spoke of doubt and even distrust, but she did take his hand. He pulled her up, wrapped his arms around her and gathered her close.
She tipped her head back to look at him and laid her palm, so lightly, fingers spread, against his chest. He felt that gentle touch all the way down to his toes. Now, her eyes were soft. "It's only…look how good we have it. Everything's working out. We're doing an excellent job with Kira. She's happy. I'm happy. You're happy. Why mess with the program?"
He lowered his mouth to kiss her, but she craned back, not allowing their lips to meet. Damn. Evidently, she needed more persuading. Fair enough. "This takes nothing away from what we've got. It only…adds another dimension."
She gave a husky little laugh. "For a bean-counting corporate guy, you're very convincing."
He bent closer, so their lips were only an inch or two apart. He considered trying again for a kiss, but decided to wait. Next time he made his move, he wanted her ready. And totally willing. "I'll explain again…."
"Oh, I'm sure you will."
"A bean counter is a bookkeeper. Or an accountant. I'm in finance."
"That's right." Her voice was low and lazy. "Finance."
"I don't count the beans. I make decisions about how to spend them. And I find the people who have the beans and help to convince them to invest their beans in BravoCorp projects."
"I'll remember that."
"No, you won't. You never do."
"Well, okay." She fiddled with a button on his shirt. "I admit it. I really do enjoy giving you a hard time about your job. And I think it's good for you."
"Good for me, how?"
"Keeps you from getting all fat-headed with self-importance. You don't want to end up like your dad, do you?"
"God, no."
"You need me to keep you humble."
He could think of a lot of things he needed her for. Keeping him humble wasn't one of them. "Corrie…" He pressed his forehead to hers.
"Hmm?"
Words deserted him. But that was okay. She'd tipped her head up and she was looking at him. Her eyes were deep blue velvet and her mouth was softly parted. Welcoming. Ready.
Matt seized the moment. He lowered his head and captured her lips. That time, instead of pushing him away, her hands slid up to wrap around his neck and a willing sigh escaped her.
Chapter Four
It was a great kiss. A perfect kiss, long and wet and sweet and deep. A kiss that tasted of coffee. And desire. A kiss of promise.
When he lifted his head, she gazed up at him through lazy-lidded eyes. "I forgot to ask."
"Anything…"
"What about Tabby? Are you two on now, or off?"
"Off. Permanently."
"Does Tabby know that?"
He touched the side of her face. Silky-soft. "Tabby and I called it quits three weeks ago. I told you about it, remember? She called me an insensitive, self-centered bastard and said she never wanted to see me again?"
"She's said that before."
"This time it's for real." He lowered his head to steal another kiss.
She stopped him by slipping her hand between them. The pads of her fingers brushed his lips. "I'll think about it."
"About what?"
"You know what. You and me, adding that whole new dimension. Again."
He caught her hand, kissed the tips of her fingers one by one. "You'll think about it…"
"That's right." She stepped back.
With reluctance, he let her go. "Well, okay. It's a start."
* * *
Corrine did think about it.
She thought about it way too much, all that day and into the evening. At the Rose, it was extra busy, even for a Saturday. She had to fill in for a bartender who was out sick and messed up more than one drink order because her mind was on Matt instead of on the job where it belonged. Somehow, though, she made it through the night.
At five of three, she was home at last. And there was a late-model black Cadillac parked in her driveway. She could guess who it belonged to.
Davis. Still there at three in the morning. Maybe Aleta wanted him there. Or maybe the pushy SOB had simply showed up, talked his way into the house—and then refused to leave.
Well. Only one way to find out which. A shiver of dread raced along the surface of her skin at the thought of confronting Davis. But hey, if it had to be done, so be it.
There was still room in the driveway for her car to get by the Caddy. She pulled into the garage and went in through the kitchen. The house was quiet. Aleta had left a light on in the front hall, the way she always did. Such a thoughtful woman. Even if she was married to a total ass. Corrine switched off the hall light and climbed the stairs.
The door to the spare room was shut. She hesitated, her hand raised to knock. Aleta had said she would fight her own battles with Davis. But still, the man had zero conception of the meaning of "no."
Corrine knocked. "Aleta?"
After a moment, she heard stirring in there. A man spoke low.
And then Aleta called, in a sleepy, contented voice, "I'll be right out."
Corrine started to feel a little foolish. "Just, um, checking, to see if everything's okay."
"Everything's okay, truly." Aleta sounded like she meant it.
"All right then, good night." Corrine turned away without waiting for a response.
She tiptoed along the hall and slipped into her room, shutting the door as quietly as she could. With a long, weary sigh, she dropped to the end of the bed, took off her shoes and massaged her aching feet.
The hesitant tap on the door came as she was about to hit the shower. "Yes?" The door opened a crack and Aleta peered around the edge of it. Corrine forced a bright smile. "Come in."
Matt's mother shut the door behind her. She was wearing a silver-gray silk nightgown with a lacy peignoir to match. She looked, well, pretty hot, with her usually-sleek hair a little mussed and her cheeks slightly flushed. Apparently, she and Davis had been doing the wild thing. Corrine was not in the least hung up about sex. But still, somehow, she'd never thought of Matt's parents having it. Even if they did have nine kids. Seeing Aleta all flushed and satisfied-looking…well, it was just more information than Corrine needed.
Aleta sat on the end of the bed next to her. "I'm so sorry. I meant to have him out of here before you came home. We…" Aleta smoothed her hair. She was actually blushing. "Ahem. We fell asleep."
Corrine swayed to the side enough to nudge Aleta's shoulder. "No need for apologies. If you want him here, he's welcome."
Aleta took her hand, gave it a squeeze. "I know you dislike him." Corrine settled for a shrug over a lying denial. And Aleta said, "I'll wake him up and send him home."
"No."
"Corrine—"
"Shh. I said no. Let him stay. It's okay."
"You're sure?"
"Positive." She forced a bright smile. "So. Is this it? Are you getting back together?"
Aleta took a moment to answer. "I'm still confu
sed, you know? Not sure."
Corrine thought of Matt. "Believe me, I know how that goes."
"I'm not ready to go back to him yet. I need time."
Christmas at Bravo Ridge Page 5