Bailey stepped onto the patio, then slid the glass door closed behind him. He passed an admiring, professional glance over the tidy fenced backyard, keeping an eye out for his son. The redbrick patio measured about ten feet by fifteen feet, large enough for a green wrought-iron table and four chairs, plus a gas grill. The masonry yielded to tall plant boxes, and finally, a strip of lush fescue. Ginny had compensated for her legendary lack of a green thumb by planting perennials and evergreens, and connecting the beds with impressive walkways. A three-foot fountain gurgled in a far corner, flanked by crape myrtles, the dwarf trees blooming brilliant fuchsia in the heat.
The toe of a white tennis shoe protruded past the edge of the fountain base. Bailey noisily uncovered and lit the grill, then sauntered over to his son's hiding place. Chad stared straight ahead, clutching the broken game, his lashes wet. Bailey sighed. "Want to talk about it?"
Chad remained completely still. "No."
Bailey squatted and lowered himself to the ground, his back against the fountain. "She's hurting too, you know."
His son scoffed. "Yeah, right."
"She's been crying on my shoulder."
Chad rolled his eyes. "Bet you liked that."
Bailey blinked in surprise. "That obvious, huh?"
"That you're still hung up on her? Yeah, it's pretty obvious."
Exasperated, Bailey asked, "So how did you get so wise?"
Chad glanced over with a lopsided grin. "I keep my eyes open."
Grunting in response, Bailey said, "So tell me what happened today."
His son shrugged. "She was the one who told me to get out the pictures of my mom, then she freaked out and went running to her bedroom. At first I felt kind of bad, but when I heard what she was saying about Mom"—his voice choked—"I got really mad."
"Hm. Then what?"
"I went to my room and locked the door. When I wouldn't let her in, she threw my game down the stairs."
"Did you see her do that?"
Chad bit his lip. "No, but I know she did it. She wants me to forget about my other mom, but I can't, and I don't want to."
Bailey took a deep breath and folded his hands together. "Well, Ginny thought she could handle seeing the pictures of you and Lois, but she couldn't. And she wouldn't have said what she said if she'd known you were listening. Besides"—he reached over and carefully withdrew the broken game to inspect it—"can't you understand the way Ginny might feel toward Lois, even a little bit?"
"No," Chad insisted.
"After you were kidnapped, your mother was inconsolable. She used to sit in your nursery for hours, rocking in her rocking chair. She wouldn't eat or sleep. She was worried sick about you. We both were."
"But Lois took good care of me."
Bailey frowned. This was a touchy subject. "And we're grateful that Lois took good care of you, but that still doesn't make up for the fact that you were our baby, our son, and she took you away from us."
"Do you hate Lois too?" Chad asked.
Angling his head, Bailey answered as honestly as he could. "I used to hate some nameless, faceless person who stole you from us, but since the minute I heard you'd been found, I haven't really thought about it. I'm just happy to have you back. And so is Ginny."
Chad looked at the game, then raised his eyebrows hopefully. "Can it be fixed?"
Clicking his jaw in doubt, Bailey said, "It doesn't look good. Sorry, buddy. But we'll get you a new one."
"Maybe not—she wouldn't let me have the bike," Chad pointed out.
"She had a good reason for that," Bailey said in a stern voice. "This is different."
"I want to come live with you."
Bailey's heart contracted. Few things would make me happier. He set down the radio and looked back to his son. "We already talked about that."
"But I hate it here, and I can't get along with her."
"Her name is Ginny."
"Whatever. Why don't you move out to the farm and let me come live there?"
I'll pour footers tomorrow and have it finished in ninety days, the builder had promised him, standing in the meadow less than an hour earlier. A home for himself, Chad, and hopefully, Ginny. He chose his words carefully. "Son, I'd like nothing better than for us to live together at Shenoway, and if things go the way I plan, maybe we can be there by mid-fall."
Chad's face lit up. "That would be great!"
"Now, wait a minute," Bailey warned, holding up a finger. He leaned close and lowered his voice. "This has to stay between me and you—Ginny doesn't know yet, and I want to wait to tell her, okay?"
"Sure." Chad nodded happily.
"Meanwhile," Bailey said gravely, "if Ginny says that breaking your game was an accident, then it was. And as far as what you overheard, well, promise me you'll try to see her side when she's ready to talk about it, okay?"
"Okay," he grumbled.
"That's my boy." Bailey smacked Chad on the knee.
Chad smiled back, then leaned over and picked up a leaf. He twirled it idly by the stem, and a tentative expression crossed his face. "Bailey." His voice had a strange timbre, and he didn't look up.
Worry flooded him. "What, son?"
"I, uh..." Chad kept his gaze riveted on the leaf. "I was thinking maybe Chad Kallihan wouldn't be too bad of a name to be stuck with." He flicked the leaf away, then looked up.
Bailey's chest expanded to bursting. "I think it has a nice ring to it."
* * *
The little jaunt might not have been so beneficial, Ginny decided as she pulled back into her driveway. Her anxiety about talking to her son was now compounded by frustration when she realized how thankful she felt that Bailey had arrived to act as buffer between them.
Sighing, she allowed the painful realization to sink in. Although she was grateful he'd come just when Chad needed him, she'd been just as glad he'd arrived when she needed someone... needed him. After her earlier breakdown, she'd have to try even harder to convince him and to convince herself she could handle Chad without him.
Virginia carried the bag of groceries into the house, surprised to see the debris from the game had been cleared. She heard Chad's animated voice from his room, and caught occasional words about his model collection.
She threw, "I'm home," up the stairs on the way to the kitchen, then froze. Such a simple phrase, yet years had passed since she'd had anyone to inform she was home.
"Be right down," Bailey yelled. A strange sense of déjà vu washed over her.
Virginia slowly unpacked the groceries, eyeing the plate of seasoned raw steaks. She lined up salad ingredients by the cutting board. Her heart pounded in anticipation as they descended the stairs. How would Chad react to her? What was she going to say?
"Salad?" Bailey asked as they swept into the kitchen. "My body won't know how to react." His smile was casual and encouraging as he nodded to her.
Her eyes quickly darted to Chad, who stood with his eyes down, holding a Monopoly game.
"Well," Bailey said cheerfully, "why don't I get the steaks on the grill and let you two get things going in here." He grabbed the plate and disappeared.
Virginia watched her son fidget, then said, "Would you help me cut up tomatoes for the salad?"
He frowned. "I don't like tomatoes."
She laughed softly. "I'm not surprised—Bailey doesn't either. How about carrots?"
"Nope."
"Mushrooms?"
"Uh-uh."
"Well," she tried to keep her voice light, "at least wash your hands and help me tear up the lettuce."
He sighed and set his board game on the table, then walked to the sink. After washing his hands, he climbed up on a barstool, facing her, but not making eye contact.
She handed him half a lettuce head, then began tearing her half into bite-sized chunks.
He followed suit with little enthusiasm.
"Chad, I'm sorry."
He worked his mouth but didn't reply.
"I'm sorry you overheard me say something bad
about Lois." She expected him to bolt any second, but continued. "It was wrong and I have no excuse other than to tell you that my reaction sprang from my love for you." She choked on the last couple of words, but recovered. "I would never hurt you intentionally." She ached to hug him tightly, but she knew her foothold was precarious at best.
He remained silent, but glanced up quickly and tightened his mouth. He began to tear the pieces with more vigor, obviously angry.
She rushed on. "I'm sorry, too, about your game—I know it meant a lot to you."
His scowl deepened and he chewed on the inside of his cheek.
"You don't have to say anything," Virginia added. "I don't expect you to forgive me, but I hope you'll give me another chance. I had fun with you today, and I'd like us to be that way again." With a start she realized how similar her words were to Bailey's a few nights before.
After a few seconds of silence, Chad shrugged. "Whatever."
Her nerves eased somewhat. At least he hadn't lashed out. And while he wasn't exactly accepting her olive branch with open arms, she had hope they could start rebuilding their relationship. As far as she and Bailey were concerned, however, she'd have to give it more thought.
The glass door slid open and Bailey stuck his head in. "How're we doing in here?"
She smiled, throwing in the last of the lettuce. "One plain lettuce salad coming up."
The next few hours were the most enjoyable she'd spent in recent memory. The steaks were delicious, and she'd fried a skillet of potatoes to go with their plain but healthy salads. Doused with honey butter, the angel flake rolls she'd bought at the bakery were mouth-watering. For dessert they had bowls of strawberry ice cream.
Chad became more lively as the evening progressed, beating them soundly in Monopoly. Her parents called and asked to take their grandson to a laser show the following evening. To Virginia's delight, he agreed and seemed to be looking forward to going. Later, when he challenged Bailey to arm wrestling, she found herself mesmerized at the two of them interacting—grunting, concentrating, and laughing. What a complex little person, this son of hers.
With a guilty pang she found herself again wondering if it was wrong to keep Chad with her when he so plainly preferred to be with Bailey. Worry crept into the crevices of her brain. Was she resisting the inevitable? Would she withstand emotional contortions over the next several months, only to end up losing him to Bailey anyway?
Bailey... the man already owned everything of hers that mattered—her heart and soul. Why not take her son too?
A fantasy began to take shape, and for a few uninhibited seconds Virginia allowed herself to picture the three of them together as a family. Not an I'll-take-him-for-weekends-and-you-get-him-for-the-summer kind of family, but an honest-to-goodness have-dinner-together and go-to-the-Grand-Canyon kind of family. She sighed. Did such an animal exist anymore?
She looked at Bailey's laughing profile, her temperature rising with the knowledge that if she had made love with him in Fort Lauderdale, they would now most likely be engaging in an affair—enjoying every moment with their son while anticipating the time they would lie down together. Bailey had been a wonderful lover, the first man to introduce her to the finer textures of sex. Even while she was pregnant, they'd spent hours—
"Ginny, I’m getting eaten alive."
"Hmmm?" she murmured at his words, momentarily suspended between her fading fantasies and the present moment.
"Mosquitos," Bailey asserted, smacking the back of his neck. "They're eating me alive under these lights."
"Me too," Chad grumbled, leaning over to scratch his ankle.
Virginia rose and swatted at her own skin and headed for the door, the guys right behind her. Inside the kitchen, she stopped and surveyed the dirty dishes.
"We'll help," Bailey said immediately.
Chad wrinkled his nose and Virginia laughed. "Don't worry, I don't think there's room in here for all three of us."
"Then I'll help," Bailey clarified, reaching for the frilly half-apron she'd left draped over a barstool. Meant to be worn around the waist, he tied it underneath his arms, the ruffled hem barely brushing the waistband of his jeans. She and Chad both burst out laughing.
"I'm getting outta here," Chad said, backing out of the room.
"Find us something to watch on TV," Bailey said, then added with raised eyebrows, "and make sure it's G-rated."
Chad saluted, then bounded away.
Still smiling, Virginia slipped on a second apron and began loading the dishwasher as Bailey handed rinsed dishes to her. In the end there were only a few items that needed to be hand washed, so she ran a sink half full of suds and scrubbed while he waited patiently, holding a dish towel to dry with. He looked so comical, she started giggling again.
"What?" he asked, his eyes wide.
She shook her head. "You."
"I used to help you with the dishes all the time."
"You're right," she admitted, scrubbing harder, trying desperately to erase the chain of good memories that had surfaced.
He snapped his fingers. "Except we always had music." He turned on the radio on the counter and tuned in a classic country music station. Don Williams crooned from the speakers and Bailey nodded in satisfaction. "Perfect. Remember this one?"
Virginia swallowed, the hair on the back of her neck tingling. "No," she lied. "I haven't listened to country music in years." That at least was the truth.
He leaned on the sink, too close for comfort. "The old stuff is still the best," he said huskily. "The fads come and go, but the classics—the originals—those are the ones you remember late at night." His eyes glinted with desire.
Hoping the hot water would explain away the heat she felt climbing her neck, Virginia's mind whirled for a suitable wet blanket to douse the flame between them. When she found her voice, she forced a light tone. "Who are you calling old?"
Too late, she realized her banter only fueled him.
He grinned wide. "Did I find a weak spot?"
"No," she said too quickly.
"Ginny." His voice was silken. He placed a finger under her chin and turned her face toward him. "If it's possible, you're even more beautiful now than the day I first laid eyes on you."
She felt helpless with her hands in the water. "Bailey, don't," she said softly. Pulling away from his hand, she dunked the clean pan in the rinse water.
"I can't help it, Ginny." He moved behind her to rest his chin on her shoulder. His sigh feathered the hair around her face, adhering it to her moist cheek. "You always drove me crazy—isn't Chad living proof of that? I couldn't keep my hands off you... I still can't." His arms encircled her waist, his hands pressing her back against him.
"Bailey," she whispered urgently, trying to move away from him, "that's enough." Her knees threatened to buckle if he didn't stop touching her. "Chad's in the next room."
"I can hang around until he goes to bed," he murmured into her ear, sending shivers dancing across her shoulders. He closed in to kiss her earlobe. "Please let me stay tonight, Ginny."
When he descended on the taut, sensitive cords of her neck with his tongue, she felt herself waver.
Chapter Ten
BAILEY KNEW SHE WAS WAVERING, could feel her teetering on the brink. He continued to probe and nibble on her neck, remembering well what it did to her, and feeling the full effect on his own straining body.
"Hey, Bailey," came Chad's muffled voice from the living room. "You gotta see this!"
Ginny's neck stiffened beneath his mouth.
He stepped back with a frustrated groan and leaned against the kitchen bar. "Be right there, buddy!"
She turned around, wiping her hands on a towel, the color high in her cheeks. "We have to try to be a good example, you know," she said, her chest rising and falling rapidly.
He dragged his gaze from her breasts and glanced down at his telltale arousal. Reaching around and jerking free the knot between his shoulder blades, he then lowered the apron and retied it
around his waist, the dainty flowered fabric effectively covering him.
As he left the kitchen, he heard Ginny laughing. He smiled wryly to himself. At least she wasn't angry—he was still in the running.
Chad was sitting cross-legged on the floor in semi-darkness, watching a sports documentary on legendary stadiums. "This is cool!" he said, grinning up at Bailey.
Bailey nodded his enthusiastic agreement, then sat on the edge of the couch to watch with his son. Ginny joined them in a few minutes, giving him a warning glance, then sitting a few inches away from him on the deep, comfy sofa.
"When can we go back to Shenoway?" Chad asked a few minutes later.
Bailey's heart lurched, hoping his son would keep his pact about not telling Ginny of his plans. Looking at Ginny, he asked, "Got any plans for Saturday?"
She shook her head.
"Then Saturday it is—I have a few chores to do around the farm, then we'll take a picnic down by the swimming hole."
"Can we go horseback riding?" Chad asked.
Bailey nodded. "In fact, Rita, Jerry, and Jean Ann will be out of town for a wedding, and I promised to stay overnight to keep an eye on things. I sure would like some company."
"Yaaaaay!" Chad cheered.
"I don't know..." Ginny hesitated, and he guessed at what she might be thinking.
He lowered his voice. "There are plenty of bedrooms, Ginny. Come on—don't you want to teach him to ride?"
"Well... all right."
Relieved, Bailey settled into the sofa cushions. Wincing, he massaged a knot of tension between his neck and shoulder. He was a bundle of tense, hormone-laced muscles, a walking wad of pent-up frustration and longing. He glanced over at her profile. A man shackled within view of the finish line.
His gaze traveled down to where her buttoned blouse gapped open. Wetting his lips, he angled for a better look. The lacy top of a pink bra beckoned to him, and he itched to touch it, his fingers curling against his palm. Bailey put his head back and closed his eyes, cursing silently. He wouldn't be getting rid of the apron anytime soon.
His next conscious moment was Chad shaking him awake. "Bailey," he whispered, "I'm going to bed."
Mad About You Page 29