Mad About You

by Bond, Stephanie

"Me either. How about some soup?"

  She shook her head, a movement that highlighted her sharp collarbones. He felt a twinge of concern. "Ginny, you look exhausted. Eat."

  Her shoulders rounded slightly, and she nodded. "Okay." The young man bustled off to get them the house special. She swung her long legs around to slide from the booth seat. "I'm going to find the ladies' room."

  Bailey tried to not watch the way her body moved as she walked away from him, but he couldn't help it. He wouldn't have believed it possible to still miss her so much after so many years.

  * * *

  Virginia shut the ladies' room door behind her and exhaled all of the air out of her lungs. After a few shaky steps toward the tiny vanity, she gratefully sank into a lone chair, then leaned forward to bury her head in her arms.

  This morning she would have sworn she could handle anything life handed her, but she had been completely unprepared for the day's news. At thirty, she was about to become an instant mother to an eight-year-old she didn't even know. Topped with the knowledge she would have to forge a new relationship with Bailey Kallihan, she felt as if she had been plunged into a dark lake and left flailing for the surface.

  Virginia raised her head and peered at herself in the mirror. In the wee hours of sleepless nights, she'd harbored fantasies of being in a stunning gown and on the arm of a gorgeous man when and if she ever laid eyes on Bailey again—not looking like a resurrected corpse in a business suit. With shaking hands she withdrew a silver lipstick case and determinedly drew color back onto her mouth.

  It had taken her years to get over him. And when his rambling letter of apology had arrived at her parents' house two years before, old wounds had ruptured. Obviously written during a roaring drunk, he'd expressed regret over blaming her for their son's disappearance, and for calling her a careless mother. But instead of feeling absolved, Virginia had been overwhelmed with sadness that they were both still wrestling with lingering guilt and anger from their son's abduction and their aborted marriage.

  He hadn't changed a bit. Still shaggy-haired and outlandishly handsome, still hanging out in the same bars, still driving the same old hot rod. She'd seen his black Camaro in the parking lot of the saloon. Virginia laughed a bitter laugh. And from the looks of the young woman he'd given cab fare to, commitment still ranked low on his list.

  For the space of a few weeks after the birth, hope had bloomed in her chest that Bailey would be content to settle down and raise a family. Indeed, he had blazed a new trail of devoted husband and father. But when some madwoman had stolen their baby from his carrier, she'd also stolen Bailey's innocence, his optimism, and his future. Virginia had found herself married to a shell of the man she'd fallen in love with.

  She'd gone looking for him tonight, desperately hoping for... what? A strong, accomplished man on whom she could rely to help raise this child. Someone who would be a good role model, someone who shared her values. But Bailey Kallihan was not father-of-the-year material. He was a willful boy in a man's body.

  A body that still had the infuriating power to affect hers.

  She dragged herself up and splashed cold water on her face. Slowly she dried her hands and fussed with her bangs, delaying her return as long as possible. Finally, she left to retrace her steps to the booth.

  The soup had arrived in her absence and Bailey sat deep in thought, apparently waiting for her before taking a bite. Her pulse leapt absurdly at the sight of his dark profile. He'd pulled the largest portion of his black hair into a thick ponytail. He hadn’t shaved in a couple of days, and the dark stubble crept all the way down to his Adam's apple. A black long-sleeved shirt tucked into faded jeans gave him the look of a displaced cowboy, seemingly capable of playing good guy or bad.

  Virginia would give a week's salary to know what he'd been thinking. Years ago, her unplanned pregnancy had interrupted Bailey's plans to launch his own landscape architectural firm. What plans had her unexpected news interrupted this time?

  Her appearance startled him out of his reverie. "Where do you live?" he asked as she sat down.

  "In German Village." She saw a flicker of surprise in his eyes at the mention of the pricey locale. "How about you? What do you do for a living?" she inquired, lowering her gaze as she lifted her cup for a sip. The deep blue centers of his eyes were so intense against the startling whites, she couldn't look into them for more than a few seconds. Bailey, Jr.'s eyes had been deep blue, but all babies had blue eyes at that age....

  "Still landscaping," he said. "I work for a commercial developer."

  "Designing?"

  "No," he said, picking up his spoon. "Just running a few crews."

  Virginia's heart sank. He'd given up his dream. "That's nice," she said, breaking open a packet of crackers. "Do you still live at Shenoway?" The mere mention of his family's small farm sent stabs of longing through her chest.

  He busied himself stirring the soup. "No. Sis and her husband renovated Mom and Pop's farmhouse, and we sold some of the surrounding land. I live above the saloon."

  She took a bite of the dry cracker and swallowed her disappointment. They'd brought Bailey, Jr., home to the decrepit farmhouse, and Bailey had promised her they'd someday build a new home in the north meadow overlooking the pond. With a big yard for Bailey, Jr., to run and play in as he grows up. Now it seemed probable some other family lived in their meadow. "How is Rita?" she managed to ask.

  At last he cracked a smile. "Sis is great, as always. She's married to a terrific guy, and they have a six-year-old, Jean Ann."

  Virginia smiled her genuine pleasure. "I'd love to see them."

  His hands stilled and she watched his eyes move over her hair and face. "She really misses you."

  "I should have stayed in touch. With Rita, I mean."

  "Well, I guess you'll be seeing more of her now," he said. "I guess you'll be seeing more of me too."

  Virginia kept her face passive to hide the current of emotion coursing through her at the simple truth of his words.

  "You're still wearing the locket I gave you," he said with surprise in his voice, pointing to the necklace she unconsciously fingered.

  She glanced down at the shiny gold pendant, hoping he didn't read anything into the fact that she still wore his wedding gift. Looking up again, she shrugged slightly and smiled. "It always made me feel closer to him somehow."

  He nodded. "Can I see his picture?"

  Leaning forward, she stretched the long chain and extended the case toward him. He gently opened the locket and ran a finger over their son's birth picture—a shock of black hair over a little red face. When he closed the case, he turned over the locket, angling it in the light. "And baby makes three," he read aloud.

  A shiver ran up her spine. Bailey was treading on memories that were too dear. She pulled back and dropped the pendant into hiding beneath her jacket. The locket still radiated with warmth from his fingers as it settled between her breasts.

  He pushed his bowl aside and brought his hand up to scratch the stubble of his beard. Then a grin split his face, and he leaned forward to cover her hand with his. "They found our son, Ginny. Our son. It's pretty incredible, isn't it?"

  As always, his smile was infectious. She smiled too, and nodded. "Unbelievable."

  His eyes shone like two dark sapphires. "What do you think he's like? Which one of us do you think he takes after?"

  She shook her head, her laughter bubbling up at his enthusiasm. "I can't imagine."

  "Do you think he plays baseball or rides horses?"

  She could see his mind clicking with all the father-son activities he had planned—plans he'd laid within seconds of their son drawing his first breath. Virginia fought the panic rolling in her stomach. How was she going to forge a bond with her eight-year-old son? She'd never been very good with children; since the kidnapping the mere sound of a child crying made her hyperventilate.

  What if she wasn't a good mother? What if her own child didn't want her?

  "Are y
ou okay?" he asked, concern crinkling his eyes and mouth.

  She felt the tears coming on and closed her eyes. "It's just the shock—it's been a very long day, and I doubt if I'll get much sleep tonight."

  "I'll follow you home," he offered, waving for the check.

  "It's all the way across town," she protested.

  "But it's on the way to Rita's, so I'll drive over to her place and spend the night there, and meet you at the airport in the morning."

  "But—"

  "It'll give us more time to talk."

  She wanted to inject that talking had never been a strong aspect of their marriage, but she stopped short, afraid the conversation would lead to what had been. Relenting with a nod, she followed him out onto the sidewalk, noting his familiar old-fashioned manners as he stepped to place himself between her and the curb as they walked.

  Bright streetlamps broke the intermittent darkness into slices of near daylight. The heels of Bailey's black leather boots scraped against the cement, punctuating the quick light tap of her high heels. Bailey was one of few men who made her feel small in her five-foot-seven-inch body. Although only five inches taller, his dark looks and broad shoulders were so imposing, she'd seen him dwarf larger men when he entered a room.

  "What time is your flight tomorrow?" he asked. "I'll try to book the same one, or an earlier one if I have to."

  "Ten-thirty. I reserved a seat for you in case you wanted to go, just to be sure we all arrived together."

  "Great. I'll write you a check—"

  "That's not necessary—"

  "Yes, it is."

  His voice brooked no argument, and Virginia retreated gracefully. Bailey had never suffered from a shortage of pride. She gave him the airline and flight number.

  "How are your folks?" he asked, his tone cautious.

  Virginia smiled. "Ecstatic."

  He nodded. "I'm sure they are. Do they know I'm going too?"

  She hesitated. There hadn't been a great deal of love lost between her parents and Bailey when she'd divorced him. "They know I planned to ask you, but even I wasn't sure what your reaction would be."

  He pursed his lips and anger flickered in his expression. "They decided to go in case I bailed so you wouldn't be alone."

  She slowed her step, then stopped, tilting her head back to look at him. "They've always been there for me."

  He chewed on the inside of his jaw, then said, "And I haven't, right, Ginny?"

  Typical defensive Bailey behavior, she thought, checking her own anger. "Bailey, I wasn't even sure I would find you in time. Mom and Dad would have gone regardless. Don't you think it's best for our son to meet his grandparents and know how eager we all are to be with him?"

  He sighed, bobbing his head in concession. "You're right, of course. I would want my parents to be there if they were still living."

  "I didn't mean to exclude Rita and her family."

  He resumed walking. "That's all right, it would be hard for her to get away on short notice anyway. But I'm sure she'll want to meet us at the airport when we get back." He turned to her, frowning slightly. "When are we returning?"

  "The following day. Detective Lance is going too. He said we should expect to spend some of tomorrow talking with social workers and other authorities."

  "Has Bailey, Jr., been told?"

  "He was told this evening."

  "Can we call him?"

  "I wanted to, but Detective Lance said it was best to wait and let the news sink in for all of us. He said Bailey, Jr., would be told we're coming tomorrow."

  Bailey grunted. "Poor kid. In a matter of weeks his mother dies, then he finds out he really belongs to someone else."

  Her defenses reared and she stopped again. "I'm his mother. That woman who took him—"

  "Hey," he said quietly, placing a hand on each shoulder. "That's not what I meant, and you know it."

  She felt penned in by his arms, and pinned down by his troubled gaze. Her breathing became shallow and she was thankful the darkness cloaked her warring emotions. "I know. And you're right—even if he can't remember it all, he's been through a lot."

  He murmured agreement and they fell into a companionable silence. Virginia wanted to bottle the moment and keep it, because visions of the bumpy road ahead of them terrified her. He'd turned his back on her years before in the most devastating of circumstances.

  What about this time? When the going got tough, would Bailey get gone?

  Her mind still swirled with uncertainties when she inserted a key into the door of her sporty sedan. Bailey whistled low in appreciation. He was standing so close, she felt his breath on the back of her neck.

  "Nice wheels."

  Bailey used to say he could size up people just by the car they drove. In fact, he'd admitted it had been the faded blue Mustang Virginia had been driving in college that he'd noticed first. She glanced at him as she swung into the gray leather bucket seat. "Thanks."

  He stood with his arm on the open door, looking as if he were about to say something. Most of his face was cast in shadow, and Virginia felt vulnerable beneath the bright interior light. She met his gaze and waited. Had he changed his mind?

  "Virginia, I..."

  If he didn't have the stomach for what lay ahead, she needed to know now. "What is it, Bailey?"

  The muscles in his forearm bunched as he shifted his weight and leaned forward. He opened his mouth to speak, his white teeth glistening. "I... I'll be right behind you." Stepping away from the car, he closed the door with a solid thunk.

  She exhaled in relief, then waited until he drove up behind her before pulling out. On the forty-minute drive to her town home, she glanced often in the rearview mirror, expecting him to bail any second. He stuck with her, though, and the presence of his headlights was ridiculously comforting. Her small driveway provided a snug fit for two cars, but Bailey maneuvered in behind her expertly.

  Soft landscaping lights outlined her short walkway and led them to a cobblestone stoop. As Bailey climbed the steps, she watched him peer at the bushes and flowers on either side with a trained eye and silently dared him to pass judgment on her tiny home.

  Neither of them spoke as she unlocked her front door with a shaky hand and dismantled the security system from a keypad in the entry hall. The flashing "okay" light did little to settle her nerves regarding the near stranger who'd followed her inside. Virginia flipped on lights and turned to find Bailey surveying his surroundings with an impassive face. She knew him well enough to realize he would be more impressed by the hand-rubbed wood floors than by the luxurious rugs that lay upon them, and more taken by the ornate molding along the ceiling than by the chandelier glimmering above their heads.

  "Coffee?" she asked, laying her keys on a slim marble-topped table, then moving through the hall toward the kitchen.

  "Sure," he murmured, following her at a slower pace.

  She felt self-conscious as she flooded her small, frilly kitchen with light. The wallpaper was blatantly feminine in its soft flower-and-fruit pattern, every detail of the room reflecting her bent for country English decor. She pulled a coffeemaker from a cubbyhole and scooped up fresh grounds, then added water. At last she turned to face Bailey, her heart pounding.

  He balanced on a highback wicker barstool like a predator against the backdrop of a flowered meadow. Nevertheless, he looked casual and comfortable, able to charm a room full of furniture into accommodating him.

  "How long have you lived here?" he asked.

  "Going on four years."

  He pointed to the porcelain sink and antique faucet. "This place has character."

  She smiled. "All the old houses do."

  "Can I get a tour?"

  She hesitated, but he was already unfolding himself to explore. She went from room to room, her pride growing as she illuminated a dining room, living room, and small library accented sparingly with lustrous antiques and plush fabrics. She couldn't help but compare her hand-picked treasures to the blue-light speci
als they'd lived on in the aged farmhouse. But they'd been happy... for a while....

  Slowly they circled the first floor, making their way back to the entry hall. He paused before the staircase and asked, "Are the bedrooms upstairs?"

  Virginia nodded, but made no move toward the second floor.

  Bailey shifted his weight to his other foot. "Do you have a room for Bailey, Jr.?"

  "Well, my guest room isn't exactly a boy's dream, but I guess it'll do for now."

  "Oh?" Bailey's eyebrows shot up. "Are you planning to move?"

  "No. I meant the room will do until I can redecorate it for him." She experienced a niggling of awareness, a dawning of the implications of discussing bedrooms with her handsome ex-husband. In the next instant she discarded the thought. He simply wanted to know where his son would be sleeping, that's all.

  "Maybe I can do something to help," he offered. "Build some bookshelves or something?"

  She nodded, the silent seconds stretching into a cavernous minute. Clearing her throat, she asked, "Want to take a look?"

  "Sure."

  She gripped the banister tightly, her feet automatically landing on the spots where the floorboards did not creak or complain as she climbed. At the top of the stairs she turned left and led him to a small bedroom draped with pink and cream curtains, and a comforter, complete with lacy pillows. Bailey winced.

  "I know," she said in an apologetic voice. "But it'll suffice."

  "He could stay with me—"

  "No!" At his startled glance, Virginia amended hurriedly, "I mean, no, there couldn't be room at your place."

  His frown confirmed her statement, then he offered a halfhearted grin. "But I do have a nice, plain brown couch that sleeps pretty good. Do you work at home?" he asked, effectively tabling the issue of his living accommodations. He pointed into the room across the hall. A desk and computer workstation dominated the shadowed room.

  "Sometimes." She walked over and switched on the office light.

  Following, he peered in. "Nice setup." Something caught his eye, and Virginia's heart vaulted when he entered the room and picked up a framed photograph from a credenza. He smoothed a finger across the glass. "I remember taking this picture," he said, his voice scratchy.