"It is. It's charming. And very sweet."
"I'm flattered. I guess—and I mean it. Can we forget Tabby?"
She nodded. "You're right. We're having a nice evening out together and Tabby Ellison has no business here. She's forgotten—but I would like to know…"
"Anything." He was feeling expansive, with his plan in place and Corrie sitting across from him, out on their first real date in almost six years.
She asked, "What made you decide to stop and smell the roses?"
"You got engaged to Pastor Bob."
She blinked. "You're kidding."
He wasn't. Not in the least. But the way she was looking at him—both surprised and disbelieving—made him uncomfortable. So he backpedaled a little. "Well, I mean, until you got together with Bob, I was kind of used to the way things were going. But then, when you decided to marry him, I started seeing that everything would change, that nothing in this life is a given, there are no guarantees. And…I don't know. What is it they say? That when a man's on his deathbed, chances are the last thing he'll regret is that he didn't spend more time at work."
She sat back in her chair and folded her hands in her lap. "Well. Good for you, Matt."
He felt a little foolish. Had he sounded like a wimp or something? "Yeah, well. I'm not the deepest guy around, but I'm working on it."
Now she sat forward. Her eyes shone with what might have been approval. "You're the greatest."
Pleasure filled him. "Uh. I am?"
"You are. I have to admit…" Whatever she'd been about to say, she was reconsidering it. She glanced away and then back again.
"What? Tell me."
"When I found out I was pregnant with Kira?"
He leaned in close, too. "Yeah?"
"I was so scared. I knew I would keep the baby. I was raised Catholic, even if I've completely lapsed. But I didn't know how you would take it. I never expected for things to turn out the way they have."
"And how's that?"
"You're a wonderful dad, Matt. You really are. And the best friend a single mom could have."
"You mean that?"
"Mmm-hmm."
Damn, it felt good. To hear her say it. Again, he considered executing the plan, right then and there. But no. Later. At his place. When they were alone.
He thanked her. The waiter came with their appetizers. They talked and laughed about everyday things. Kira's artistic abilities—they both agreed their daughter could draw a mean stick figure. And the upcoming Thanksgiving play at Kira's school. She would be a pilgrim and she'd already made her pilgrim hat from black construction paper.
"Your dad wants to go," she told him.
"To the school play?"
She nodded. "He and your mom talked about it during their weekend in Vegas. She asked me if maybe we could all go together."
"Could you stand being in the same car with him?"
She smiled. "Your mom asked the same question."
"Well?"
"They're seeing each other. He's going to be around a lot. And anyway, he's always civil to me. At least in the past few years."
Matt laughed. "You should see your face. Like you just sucked a lemon. He's still not your favorite person."
"No, and I doubt he'll ever be—but yes, I can bear a car ride with him as long as he behaves himself."
Matt took her meaning. Davis had said some really low things about Corrie in the past. Once, a few months after Kira was born, Matt had gotten so mad over it, he'd actually punched his dad square in the jaw. Davis hadn't hit him back—and he'd watched his mouth about Corrie from then on. Matt had never told Corrie about busting his dad's chops. She would only have asked what Davis had said to make Matt do such a thing. No way she needed to know that.
The waiter took the appetizer plates away and served the filets. For a few minutes, they ate in silence.
Then he brought up his mom. "She's…different, you know? When she answered the door tonight, she seemed more confident than she used to be. But then, it's not like I've ever thought of her as shy. She's always been strong and capable, and self-assured, too. My God, the woman was not only born with a platinum card in her mouth, she had nine kids, one right after the other, and never let it get her down."
"You think maybe she wonders if your dad married her for her connections and her fortune?"
"How could she? He's wild for her. He always has been. Sometimes, we joke about it, me and my brothers and sisters. That they act like a couple of horny teenagers. More than once I've wanted to tell them to cut it out and get a room."
"I'm just saying, it's not so surprising now, to me, that she left him."
"Uh. It's not?"
"Think about it. She gave him everything. Her heart, her body—nine kids for his damn dynasty, for cryin' out loud—her money and her good name. I'm sure a lot of doors opened for him after he married a Randall."
"Corrie, you're preaching to the choir here. No argument, my dad's a man who wanted it all and made sure he got it. But he did love my mom—he did and he does and he always will."
"Still, he screwed around on her with Javier Cabrera's wife."
"He needs a lot of…attention, my dad. And my mom was busy with all of us. When the thing happened with Luz, she hardly had time for him."
Corrie wasn't the least impressed with his dad's need for attention. "Busy?" she scoffed. "Your mom was busy? She had to be flat-out exhausted, doing her best to do right by her children. She needed her husband to be there for her then. She was the one who deserved a little love and attention. But what does she get? Her husband goes out and puts it to someone else's wife."
"My mother said all that?"
"More or less. In her own words. But even if she hadn't, it's self-evident. Think about it. Who wanted all those kids?"
"Corrie, they both did."
"He wanted a dynasty. You've told me that yourself. He wanted to have seven sons like his father did—only he wasn't going to chase them all away."
He put up both hands. "I surrender."
"He cheated, pure and simple!" She practically shouted the word. And then she winced and shot a glance around the restaurant. One or two people had looked their way but then quickly turned back to their own dinner companions. Her cheeks flushing with embarrassment, she spoke in a near-whisper, leaning in toward him. "Oops. I think I kind of got carried away."
He chuckled. "Are you sure you're going to manage riding to Kira's Thanksgiving play in the same car as my dad?"
She picked up her fork and knife. "Like I said, as long as he behaves himself, I've got no problem with him."
"Well, except that you hate him."
"I never said that. And I don't hate him. I just…" She let the sentence trail away with a shake of her golden head.
Matt spoke gently. "He's treated you like crap, I know it. But that was in the past, right? He hasn't given you any trouble lately, has he?" He'd better not have or Matt would be giving him trouble. And plenty of it.
She set down her knife and waved a hand. "No. And I'm sorry. I get a little over the top when I start talking about him, I guess." She sipped from her water glass and then sat back with a sigh. "I'm stuffed."
"You know this place is famous for their lava cake?"
She groaned. "It's really mean of you to tempt me like that."
He wanted to tempt her, all right. And with a lot more than the lava cake. "We could order one and ask for two spoons…."
The waiter brought them the dark-chocolate cake with vanilla-bean ice cream on top and hot fudge sauce oozing out from below. Matt watched her take a spoonful, enjoying the look of bliss on her face as the rich flavors filled her mouth.
She saw him watching. "Get to work. It's bad enough I couldn't resist letting you order this. No way I'm eating it all by myself."
Matt ate the cake—more than half of it, actually. It was really good. But even better was sitting there across from Corrie, watching the way the candlelight shone on her hair, listening to her sigh as she took each si
nful bite.
When the shared plate was empty, she set down her spoon with a little groan of satisfaction. "That was fabulous. All of it—and I realize I got so wrapped up in ragging on your father, I never got to agree with what you said about your mom seeming more confident."
"You noticed, too?"
"Yeah. And I think she is more confident. In your father's love. Deep inside, she's always wondered if he loved her anywhere near as much as she loved him. Slowly, I think he's convincing her that he does, that she means the world to him."
"That's good."
"Yeah. I think it is, too. Your mom loves him. And even though I don't care for him much myself, I want her to be happy."
"So then, is she moving back to Olmos Park?"
"She told me no, not yet."
"What the hell. You just said—"
"Matt. She's having a great time. And she's not ready to go back to him yet, to settle into being a couple of old married folks again. Let it…unfold, you know?"
"Unfold?"
"Whatever. You know what I mean."
"But you think she will go back to him eventually?"
"My opinion? Absolutely. But I guess we'll never know for sure until it happens."
* * *
After the meal they stopped on the chilly, darkened street outside.
"Will you look at that?" Matt pointed at the streetlight nearby. It had a wreath attached beneath the lamp, a wreath with three red electric candles in the center. "They've got the Christmas decorations up already. And it's not even Thanksgiving."
She took his arm. "I like them. They're pretty and bright. Please don't start in about how it's so crass and commercial."
He stared into her upturned face. "Well, all right. If you think they're pretty, they're just fine with me."
"Merry Christmas and a big ho-ho-ho." She kissed his cheek, a smacking kiss, the kind their daughter always gave him.
"Hey," he teased, pulling her fully into his embrace. "You can do better than that."
Her eyes were blue diamonds. "Think so, huh?"
"I know so." He lowered his head. Wonder of wonders, she lifted her lips to meet his. They shared a long, deep kiss, right there on the sidewalk. When they came up for air, he whispered, "Come to my place with me."
He was absolutely certain she would tell him no. But she didn't.
She held his gaze and softly answered, "Yes."
Chapter Six
Corrie had already admitted to herself that she and Matt were heading toward a second love affair.
Still, maybe she should have held him off a little longer. Maybe if she'd put him off for a while, they would both decide it was just too risky and come to their senses. Go back to life as they had known it, which was pretty damn good and could easily be messed up beyond repair by this complete foolishness they both seemed determined to surrender to.
Tonight.
Oh, God.
Tonight.
She was a bundle of nerves as he drove to his place. The tension only ratcheted higher when he unlocked the front door and ushered her in ahead of him. He punched the code into the alarm but left the lights in the high-ceilinged foyer as they were: dim but enough to see by.
He turned to her and took her in his arms. They shared another of those endless kisses that made her knees wobbly and her mind a blur of erotic images. She clung to him, hopelessly aroused, as he eased her coat off her shoulders and dropped it on a chair. She gave him her purse and he put it with the coat.
Then he took her hand. "Come on."
Their footsteps echoed on the slate floor as he led her to the wide staircase and up.
In his room, which had a platform bed the size of Kansas and acres of bamboo flooring, the lights were set at the same low, shadowed level as downstairs. He touched a panel by the door and they glowed a little brighter.
He caught her face between his hands. "You have no idea how long I've waited for tonight."
She teased him, "After all, it's been a whole week…."
He framed her face with his hands. "That's not what I meant."
"Oh, no?"
"Uh-uh." His gray eyes held her captive. "Last week you were engaged."
And now I'm not. Whose fault is that? The words were there, in her mind. But why say them? Why even think them? In the end, she knew the blame belonged to her. He'd only helped her to face the hard truth that she and Bob were not a match.
"Well," she told him softly. "I'm not engaged now."
"Exactly my point…" The words trailed off. She saw in his eyes that he was about to say more. But he didn't. He only cradled her face in his hands and gazed at her as if he needed to commit her features to memory.
"What is it?" she asked at last.
He shook his head. "Nothing. Kiss me."
She lifted her mouth. He took it and she drowned in lovely, arousing sensation once more. When he raised his head that time, he lowered his hands to her shoulders. Slowly, he walked her backward until her legs touched the thick mattress on the bed.
The blankets were already turned neatly down, no doubt by his housekeeper, a middle-aged German woman who worked hard and rarely spoke. Corrine felt the smooth sheet at the back of her knees and she wanted to be naked on that sheet, with him. Sliding her hands down the sides of her hips, she began to gather up the silky fabric of her blue dress.
She stopped at mid-thigh, asked, "More?"
"Please." He stepped back to get a better view.
Inch by slow inch, she eased her skirt higher, revealing her bare legs all the way up to her blue thong. And higher. Once she had the dress to waist height, she caught the hem and whipped it up and over her head, tossing it away. It landed on the floor somewhere past the end of the bed. Then she straightened her shoulders and stood proudly before him in her shoes, her underwear, her heart-shaped diamond navel ring and nothing more.
He whispered, "Now that's what I'm talkin' about…"
She reached behind her, unhooked her blue bra and anchored it against her breasts with her free arm as she eased the straps down one bare shoulder and then the other. With a teasing glance at him from under her lashes, she whipped the bra away and sent it sailing in the same direction as her dress. She took her time stepping out of the thong. He watched every move she made, gray gaze never wavering. She had his complete attention as she kicked her blue satin high heels away and heard them slide and skitter across the floor.
He put out a hand and tugged lightly on the diamond heart suspended from her navel. "You are so damn beautiful." He said the words low in his throat, a rough sound that told her how much he wanted her.
"You always said that." Her own throat felt clogged, suddenly, with feelings she didn't dare give a name.
"And I meant it. You are. The most beautiful woman I've ever known." His gaze moved over her, lingering on the faint white stretch marks at either side of her hips, testimony to the fact that she'd carried their child. "From Kira?"
She nodded, swallowing, trying to banish the hard knot of emotion that threatened to overwhelm her as he touched her again, tracing those pale lines with the pad of a finger. His touch was warm, knowing. Too well-remembered.
His gaze held hers, intimate. Tender. And all at once, she was recalling the day she had Kira. The sweat and the pain and the blood and the screaming—her own screaming. Matt had been with her that day. He'd insisted he would be there, though she'd told him she didn't need him and he didn't have to bother.
But her mom had called him against her orders when she went into active labor. She remembered the moment he appeared, sticking his head in the door of the labor room. She'd shot her mother a scowl. Kathleen Lonnigan had only smiled sweetly and gone to take Matt's hand, to pull him fully into the room. Into the experience of his daughter being born.
He and her mom took turns sitting by her bed as she labored to bring Kira into the world. She remembered the feel of his big, strong hand holding her sweaty one, remembered the panic in his eyes. He didn't know squat
about having babies. And her screaming must have scared him.
But he had stuck with her, spelling her mother at her side. And later, the first time he held their baby, when she saw the look of pure love in his cloud-colored eyes…
It had undone her. She had forgiven him everything at that moment. And just the memory of it was threatening to undo her now.
"Corrie?"
"Hmm?"
Christmas at Bravo Ridge Page 7