“Oh,” was all she said.
Together they got out of the car and moved up the sidewalk. From behind her big black sunglasses, Georgeanne watched him stand. He looked casual and at ease in a pair of beige twill pants, white T-shirt, and plaid dress shirt left unbuttoned and untucked. His dark hair had been cut shorter than the last time she’d seen him; the front fell in spikes over his forehead. His gaze was riveted on his daughter.
“Hey there, Lexie.”
She looked down at her clipboard, suddenly engrossed. “Hi.”
“What have you been up to since the last time I saw you?”
“Nothin‘.”
“How’s first grade?”
She wouldn’t look at him. “Okay.”
“Do you like your teacher?”
“Uh-huh.”
“What’s her name?”
“Mrs. Berger.”
The tension was almost tangible. Lexie was friendlier to the mailman than she was to her own father, and they both knew it. John lifted his gaze to Georgeanne, his blue eyes accusing. Georgeanne bristled. She might not like him, but she hadn’t said one word against him-well, not within Lexie’s hearing anyway. Just because she wasn’t willing to lie down and let him walk all over her anymore didn’t mean she would try to influence Lexie in any way. She was surprised by Lexie’s uncharacteristic bout of shyness, but she knew the reason. The cause for her reserve stood in front of her like a big, muscular giant, and she didn’t know how to behave around him now.
“Why don’t you tell John about your gerbil,” she suggested, introducing the subject of Lexie’s most recent fixation.
“We gots a gerbil.”
“Where?”
“School.”
John couldn’t believe this was the same little girl he’d first met in June. He looked down at her and wondered where the chatterbox had gone.
“Would you like to come inside?” Georgeanne asked.
He would have preferred to shake her and demand to know what she’d done to his daughter. “No. We need to get going.”
“Where?”
He looked into those big sunglasses of hers and thought about telling her it was none of her damn business. “I want to show Lexie where I live.” He reached for the clipboard and slid it from Lexie’s grasp. “I’ll have her back at nine,” he said, and handed the clipboard to Georgeanne.
“‘Bye, Mommy. I love you.”
Georgeanne looked down and pasted on one of those fake smiles of hers. “Give me some sugar, precious darlin‘.”
Lexie stood on her tiptoes and kissed her mother good-bye. As John watched, he knew that he wanted what Georgeanne had. He wanted his child’s love and affection. He wanted her to wrap her arms around his neck and kiss him and tell him she loved him. He wanted to hear her call him daddy.
He was sure that once he got Lexie to his house and she relaxed, once she was away from Georgeanne’s influence, she would turn back into the little girl he’d come to know.
But it didn’t happen. The little girl he picked up at seven was the same girl he took back home at nine. Talking to her was like skating across soft ice-slow and as aggravating as hell. She hadn’t had much to say about his houseboat, and she hadn’t immediately wanted to know where all the bathrooms were located, which surprised him because in Cannon Beach, bathroom locations had seemed like serious business to her.
He’d showed her the spare bedroom he’d cleared for her, and he’d told her that he’d take her shopping and she could furnish it any way she liked. He’d thought she’d like the idea, but she’d just nodded and asked to go out on the deck below. She’d showed a spark of interest in his boat, so they’d jumped in the Sundancer and slowly cruised the lake. He’d watched her check out the cabin and open the compact refrigerator in the galley console. He’d put her on his lap so she could steer. Her eyes had widened and the corners of her mouth had finally tilted up into a smile, but she hadn’t said much.
By the time he pulled in front of her house two hours after leaving it, his mood matched the storm clouds quickly gathering overhead. He didn’t know the little girl he’d just spent the evening with, but she wasn’t Lexie. His Lexie laughed and giggled and talked water upstream.
The Range Rover had barely rolled to a stop before Georgeanne was out of her house and walking toward them. She wore a loose-fitting lace dress that swayed about her ankles when she moved, and her hair was piled up on top of her head.
A little girl standing in a yard across the street called Lexie’s name and frantically waved a Barbie with long blond hair.
“Who’s that?” John asked as he helped Lexie unbuckle her seat belt.
“Amy,” she answered, opened the door, and jumped out of the four-wheel-drive vehicle. “Mom, can I go play with Amy? She gots a new Mermaid Barbie, and I can show it to you ‘cause that’s the one I want, too.”
Georgeanne looked up at John as he walked around the front of the Range Rover. Their eyes met briefly before she dropped her gaze to her daughter. “It’s going to rain.”
“Please,” she begged, bouncing up and down as if she had springs in her heels. “Just for a few minutes?”
“For fifteen minutes.” Georgeanne reached for Lexie’s shoulder before she had a chance to run off. “What do you say to John?”
Lexie stilled and stared at his middle. “Thank you, John,” she said at practically a whisper. “I had a nice time.”
No kisses. No I love you, Daddies. He hadn’t expected love and affection so soon, but as he looked down at the part in Lexie’s hair, he knew he would have to wait longer than he’d anticipated. “Maybe next time we’ll go to the Key Arena, and I’ll show you where I work.” When his offer didn’t get an enthusiastic response, he added, “Or we can go to the mall.” John hated the mall, but he wasn’t a patient man.
The corners of Lexie’s mouth tilted upward. “Okay,” she said, then walked to the curb. She looked both ways, then dashed across the street. “Hey, Amy,” she hollered, “guess what I did. I went on a big boat, and we drove by Gas Works Park, and I saw a fish jump out of the water and John ran over it. John has a bed and a fridge in his boat, and I got to drive for a real long, long time too.”
John watched the two little girls walk toward the front door to Amy’s house, then he turned toward Georgeanne. “What have you done to her?”
She looked up at him and her brows drew together over her green eyes. “I haven’t done anything to her.”
“Bullshit. That is not the same Lexie I met in June. What have you said to her?”
She stared at him for several lengthy moments before she suggested, “Let’s go inside.”
He didn’t want to go inside. He didn’t want to have tea and discuss things rationally. He didn’t feel like cooperating with her. He was furious and he wanted to yell. “This is fine.”
“John, I won’t have this conversation with you on my front lawn.”
He returned her stare, then motioned for her to lead the way. Following her around the side of her house, he purposely kept his gaze pinned to the back of her head. He didn’t want to notice the way she moved. In the past, he’d always appreciated the way her hips made the hems of her dresses sway. Now he wasn’t in the mood to appreciate anything about her.
He followed her into a backyard bursting with pastel color, a feminine kaleidoscope so typical of Georgeanne. Flowers bobbed in the prestorm breeze while a sprinkler watered the grass near a blue and white striped swing set. The little plastic shopping cart he recognized from the first time he’d met Lexie sat next to a wheelbarrow; both were stuffed with dead flowers and weeds. As he glanced around the yard, he was struck by the contrast in their houses. Georgeanne’s home had a yard and a swing set, a flower garden, and a lawn that needed to be mowed. She lived on a street where a kid could ride a bike and where there was a smooth sidewalk for Lexie to skate. The moorage alone for John’s houseboat cost almost as much as Georgeanne’s entire mortgage. He had a great view and a great house
, but it wasn’t really a home. Not like this. It didn’t have a garden or a yard or a smooth sidewalk.
A family lives here, he thought as he watched Georgeanne reach for a water spigot behind tall lavender flowers. His family. No. Not his family. His daughter.
“First of all,” Georgeanne began as she straightened, “don’t ever accuse me of doing or saying anything to hurt Lexie. I don’t like you, but I’ve never said one bad word against you in front of my daughter.”
“I don’t believe you.”
Georgeanne shrugged and strove for a calm she didn’t feel. Her stomach felt as if she’d eaten something rotten while John stood in front of her looking good enough to gobble up with a spoon. She’d thought she could manage being so near to him, but now she wasn’t sure. “I don’t care what you believe.”
“Why doesn’t she talk to me like she did before?”
She could tell him her opinion, but why? Why help him take her daughter from her? “Give her time.”
John shook his head. “The first time I met her she talked a blue streak. Now that she knows I’m her father, she hardly says a word. It doesn’t make any sense.”
It made perfect sense to Georgeanne. The one and only time she’d met her mother, she’d been terrified of rejection and hadn’t known what to say to Billy Jean. Georgeanne had been twenty at the time, and she could only imagine how a child felt. Lexie didn’t know what to say to John now, and she was afraid to be herself.
John rested his weight on one foot and cocked his head to the side. “You must have filled her with lies about me. I knew you were ticked off, but I didn’t think you’d go this far.”
Georgeanne wrapped her arms across her stomach and held the pain inside. His low opinion hurt even though it shouldn’t. “Don’t talk to me about lies. None of this would be happening now if you hadn’t lied about hiring a lawyer. You are a liar and a lecherous jock. But that isn’t enough to make me say bad thing about you to Lexie.”
John rocked back on his heels and looked down at her through narrowed eyes. “Ahh… now we get to it. You’re pissed about getting naked on my couch.”
Georgeanne hoped her cheeks weren’t turning red, but she could feel her face flush like some high school girl. “Are you insinuating that because of what happened between the two of us, I would try to poison my daughter against you?”
“Hell, I’m not insinuating anything. I’m saying it straight out. You’re mad because I didn’t send flowers or some other bullshit. I don’t know, maybe you woke up the next morning and wanted a quickie in the shower, but I wasn’t around to give you what you needed.”
Georgeanne could no longer hold the pain inside, and lashed out. “Or maybe I was disgusted that I’d let you touch me at all.”
He gave her a knowing smile. “You weren’t disgusted. You were hot. You couldn’t get enough.”
“Get over yourself,” Georgeanne scoffed. “You weren’t that memorable.”
“Bullshit. How many times did we go at it?” he asked, then held up one finger and counted. “On the couch.” He paused to hold up another finger. “On the futon in the loft with the stars shining on your bare breasts.” Three fingers. “In the Jacuzzi with all that hot water pounding our butts and sloshing on the floor. I had to pull up the carpet the next day so the floor wouldn’t rot.” He smiled and held up a fourth finger. “Against the wall, on the floor, and in my bed, which I’m counting as one since I only got off once, that time. You may have come more than once, though.”
“I did not!”
“Sorry. I guess I have it confused with the first time on the couch.”
“You’ve been spending too much time in the locker room,” she said between clenched teeth. “A real man doesn’t have to talk about his sex life.”
He took a step closer. “Baby doll, by they way you acted in my bed, I’d say I’m the only real man you know.”
Everything she said just seemed to bounce off his hard chest while at the same time, his words bruised her heart. She wasn’t going to win with him, so she did her best to look bored. “If you say so, John.”
He moved until only a few inches separated them and a cocky smile curved his lips. “If you ask real nice, I just might let you polish my stick.” He lowered his face closer to hers and asked in a silky voice, “Wanna ride the Zamboni?”
Georgeanne stood her ground and stared up at him. This time she wasn’t going to lose her temper and call him foul names, as she had in Oregon. She raised her chin a notch and said in a voice laced with southern censure, “You’re embarrassing yourself.”
His gaze narrowed. “Maybe if you were a little nicer when you had your clothes on, you’d be married by now.”
Just as always, John took up all the space. He took all her air, but she managed to fill her lungs with a breath suffused with the smell of his skin and aftershave. “You’re giving me advice? You married a stripper.”
His head snapped up and he took a step backward. She could tell by the look on his face that her words had finally scored a hit. “True,” he said. “I’ve always behaved like a real dumb ass over a great pair of tits.” He flipped over his wrist and looked at his watch. “I haven’t had this much fun since I busted my ankle in Detroit, but I’ve got to go. I’ll be back Saturday to pick up Lexie. Have her ready at three.” He barely spared her another glance as he turned to leave.
Georgeanne placed a hand at her throat and watched him walk out the back gate. She’d won. She’d finally won with John. She didn’t know how she’d done it, but she’d definitely put a dent in his enormous ego.
Her chest felt tight and she moved to the back porch and sat on the bottom step.
If she’d won, than why didn’t she feel better?
Chapter Sixteen
“This bites the big one,” Mae muttered as she raised her Kahlua and cream to her lips and took a sip. One shiny black pump hung precariously from her toes as she jiggled her right foot. Over the top of her glass she watched a low-riding Chevy slowly roll past, bumping out bass and spewing toxic fumes. She waved her hand in front of her face and wondered if she hadn’t made a mistake in choosing to sit out front. From her small bistro-style table, she had a clear view of anyone walking toward the funky old jazz bar. The melodious flow of saxophone poured through the open doors and out into the dusky sunset of downtown. Around her, couples talked of what concerned most people in Seattle: rain, coffee, and Microsoft.
She set her drink back on the table and glanced at her watch. “He isn’t coming,” she told herself, and shoved her foot back inside her shoe. It was Friday night. She didn’t have to work for a change, and she’d put on lipstick and mascara for nothing. She’d even put on a dress. A nice little black slip dress with nothing on under it. She was freezing and her latest lover, Ted, was a no-show.
He’d probably gotten detained by his wife, she thought, and reached for her purse. She usually didn’t carry a purse, but she didn’t have anyplace to put her money tonight, not even her underwear. She pulled out a twenty and set it on the table. She wasn’t going to wait any longer for him. She wasn’t that desperate.
“Now, what’s a girl like you doing all by yourself?”
Mae looked up and opened her mouth to tell the guy to buzz off. Instead she frowned and said, “Just when I thought this night couldn’t get any worse.”
Hugh Miner laughed and turned to the men with him. “You guys go ahead,” he said as he pulled out a chair opposite Mae. “I’ll join you in a minute.”
Mae watched the men walk inside and she grabbed her purse. “I was just leaving.”
“You can stay for one drink, can’t you?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
Because I’m freezing, she thought. “Why would I want to?”
“Because I’m buying.”
Free booze had never been an incentive for Mae, but just then, a red-haired waitress walked up to the table and proceeded to make a fool out of herself. She cooed, rubbed up against Hugh�
��s shoulder, and did everything but fall down and give him oral pleasure. She was pretty with big blue eyes and a nice body, which she asked Hugh to autograph, but to his credit, he declined.
“But I’ll tell you what, Mandy,” he said to the waitress. “If you bring me a Beck’s and…” He paused and turned his attention to Mae. “What are you drinking?” he asked her.
She couldn’t leave. Not now. Not when Mandy was sending jealous daggers her way. Other women weren’t usually jealous of Mae Heron. “Kahlua and cream.”
“If you bring me a Beck’s and a Kahlua and cream, I’d be real grateful,” he finished.
“How grateful?” She looked around, then leaned down and whispered into this ear.
Hugh laughed silently. “Mandy,” he said, “I’m not real interested, being that what you’re asking is against the law in some states. But listen, I came here tonight with Dmitri Ulanov. Now, he’s a foreigner and doesn’t know he could get arrested for what you’re suggesting. You might get him to take you up on it.”
As she laughed and walked away, Hugh leaned back and glued his gaze to Mandy’s behind.
“I thought you weren’t interested,” Mae reminded him.
“Nothing wrong with looking,” he said, and turned his attention to Mae. “But she’s not as pretty as you.”
Mae was so positive he said that to every woman he met that she wasn’t the least bit flattered. “What did she want to do?”
Hugh shook his head and his hazel eyes shined. “Now, that would be telling.”
“And you don’t ever tell?”
“Nope.” He shrugged out of his leather bomber jacket and handed it across the table to her. His shoulders appeared wide beneath his cream-colored dress shirt.
“Are my goose bumps noticeable from across the table?” she asked, and gratefully accepted the jacket. It was huge and warm draped over her shoulders. It smelled of musky male.
He smiled at her. “Your bumps are very noticeable, yes.”
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