by Karina Bliss
Shocked silence met his announcement. “Don’t you like her, Dad?”
“Yes, but only as a friend,” he said firmly. “You have friends who are boys, don’t you?”
The girls exchanged blank looks and he realized he was talking to the wrong demographic. Britney’s freckles merged as she wrinkled her nose. “Only if there are no other girls to play with.”
Joe racked his brains for a comparison. “What about Scooter? You all like him.” Scooter was a large, friendly boy, a little short on personal hygiene, but long on a dim cheerfulness that gave him a free pass among his peers.
Kaitlin looked at him doubtfully. “Are you saying you think of Miss Browne like we think of Scooter?”
Joe bit back a “God, no!” and ran with what he’d been given. “I’m saying Miss Browne’s not my type,” he lied. “Like Scooter isn’t yours.”
Opposite him, three pairs of eyes widened. Good, he’d got the message across…. Uh-oh. Joe turned his head. Pip stood behind him, her smile faltering as his words sank in.
Oh. Shit.
Immediately, she recovered her composure and gave everyone a big, big smile that only made Joe feel much, much worse. “I just came to remind you that it’s time for the ecology field trip, girls…. Joe, a quick word?”
Out of earshot, she didn’t quite meet his eyes. “Listen, I know you’re struggling to find something for Melissa, and thought I should mention the obvious.”
Wondering how to clarify his position without embarrassing them both, Joe took a second to really hear her. “Wait a minute. This is the last challenge. If you tell me, we’ll beat you.”
“And if I don’t tell you,” she said tartly, “Melissa’s going to believe she’s hopeless, possibly for the rest of her life.”
Pip was mad at him. About to explain, Joe hesitated. Maybe it was better this way. She was too damn good for him, and her altruism only proved it.
“Okay, tell me what it is.”
“She can cry at will,” said Pip.
Way too good for him. “Thanks.”
“Hey, no problem.” But all the warmth had gone out of her smile.
He let her walk away. But later, when Melissa was bawling sincerely because she’d won her challenge and the competition for Fraser’s Fillies, Joe gave a prearranged signal to Anita.
“And for bonus points,” she yelled over the applause, “who’s showered since they’ve been at camp?” The girls shot up their hands. “And who hasn’t?” Without much hope, the disconsolate Phantoms stuck their hands in the air.
“Five bonus points to the boys for water conservation,” trumpeted Anita. “The competition’s a draw!”
CHAPTER EIGHT
“EVERYONE WAS VERY thirsty,” intoned the narrator. The floodlights bounced off Anita’s spectacles as she glanced up from the podium to check the action.
Six parent helpers sat in a row of chairs on stage with a trestle table of props in front of them and their arms hidden under their sweaters. Concealed behind each of them sat a teacher or camp staffer.
Reaching past Joe’s body, Pip fumbled for the glass of water on the props table. She’d performed the “phony arms” skit many times, but never when fighting a sexual attraction to the fall guy.
Who this morning had made it excruciatingly clear that he wasn’t interested.
She couldn’t quite reach the prop. Reluctantly, Pip laid her cheek against Joe’s shoulder blade trying to gain an extra few inches.
It was too intimate; why hadn’t she noticed it before with previous male partners? Maybe they’d been smaller…. With Joe she had to press close to get around all that muscle. Her breasts came into contact with his broad back and he straightened in his chair, obviously disliking the contact.
Pip’s embarrassment became anger. Well, tough. Her fingertips nudged the glass. Grabbing it before it toppled, she raised it to where she thought Joe’s lips would be. The juvenile audience’s shouts of laughter suggested she was nowhere near target.
“You’re making me drink water through my d’ose,” he murmured thickly.
“Sorry.” Pip reminded herself she had no right to be mad that he didn’t want her. Attraction was random and uncontrollable. Good heavens, wasn’t her desire for him a patent example of that? As she adjusted the glass she decided that if Joe’s pheromones lacked good taste, well, that wasn’t his fault.
On the other hand, she was a good-looking woman who’d had guys beating down her door all year. And to compare her to Scooter…
“Oww,” Joe muttered as the glass chinked against his teeth. Then he spluttered as she tilted it much faster than he could swallow. The kids roared. “Can you be more care—”
His request became a watery gurgle as she tipped the glass at a sharper angle. Pip smiled as cold water ran down her arm and presumably, Joe’s face. “Oops,” she said sweetly. “Sorry.”
“Liar.” His voice rumbled in his chest and vibrated through hers, still pressed against his back. His breath was warm on the back of her hand. “How come the other parents aren’t getting this wet?”
Okay, maybe she was taking the spurned woman thing a bit far. “I’ll dry you off,” she whispered grudgingly, and groped for the towel on his lap. Her fingers made contact with his hard warm thigh.
There was a moment’s shocked stillness, then Joe said hoarsely, “Remember, this is a kid’s show.”
Pip jerked her hand away. Thank God he couldn’t see her blush. Then she realized her burning cheek was still plastered against his left shoulder blade—he’d feel the heat—and hauled herself upright.
Anita picked up the narration. “It was scorching outside so they put on their sunscreen and sunglasses.”
It’s scorching inside.
Gritting her teeth, Pip pressed forward again, reaching past Joe for the suntan lotion. Silly to get nervous just because she had her arms around him.
Squirting the lotion into her hand, she was intensely conscious of every rise and fall of his ribs as she threaded her arms under his armpits to smear sunscreen over his face.
Just because he smells dizzyingly, knee-tremblingly good.
She shivered as the light stubble on his jaw abraded her palm and sent a burning tingle down her forearm. Her fingers brushed his lips and Pip recoiled as if she’d touched an electric eel.
Just because I’ve never had this reaction to any other man.
Joe’s back tensed, became a living wall of resistance, and Pip started to sweat microscopic beads of shame and indignity. Just because he isn’t interested.
Gripping the sunglasses tightly in one hand, she slid her hands over his face to get her bearings, brushing the slightly crooked nose and warm cheekbones. Long lashes tickled her questing fingers.
She wondered, amid the audience’s laughter, if he could feel her heart thumping against his back. Prayed he didn’t.
Then Joe shifted forward slightly in his chair, setting the seal on her humiliation. He wasn’t remotely interested, but now he knew for sure that she’d been.
Fumbling awkwardly with the sunglasses, Pip finally managed to put them on him. “They’re crooked!” yelled her delighted spectators.
The rest of the performance passed as slowly as a nightmare. With every intimate task she performed for him—feeding him bread, cleaning his teeth—Joe got tenser and tighter until revulsion rolled off him in waves. The audience cried with laughter; Pip prayed for the floor to open up and swallow her.
At last the show was over, and the performers stood to take a bow. Then it was the turn of the fall guys to get payback. Around them, parent helpers wiped the glop, a mix of sunscreen and food, off their faces and smeared it on their cringing tormentors.
Joe’s fingers were perfunctory on Pip’s face; he avoided eye contact. She winced and grinned like she was supposed to, while the kids cheered and stomped. Actually, she wanted to be covered in glop; it would hide her mortification.
At last everyone filed offstage, exclaiming and laughing. Head dow
n, her smile plastered on her face along with the glop, Pip murmured, “Cleanup,” and escaped into the dark.
She was halfway to the shower block when Joe called her name. And even though it would blow her cover once and for all as a disinterested party, Pip ran.
Dispatching one of the girls for a towel and change of clothes, she ignored the chill drafts and stood under the dribble of lukewarm water for ten minutes, trying to scrub off her humiliation.
Then she dressed, spent another five minutes silently practicing her “Hey, that was fun, wasn’t it?” line, and finally ventured outside.
Joe stood on the porch of the boys’ cabin with the light behind him, a towering silhouette. Waiting for her.
Losing her courage, she pivoted in the opposite direction. She heard a thud behind her as he jumped off the deck. Pip walked faster.
“Pip, wait up.”
Steeling herself to apologize, she turned around, standing her ground as he loomed in the dark. Joe spoke first. “I embarrassed you in there with my reaction. I’m sorry.”
She’d been the one to make a fool of herself and he was apologizing? Oh, pity made this so much better. “Forget it.”
His deep voice was rueful. “At least that clears up any misunderstanding about what you overheard this morning.”
Yep, Joe recoiling every time she’d touched him, plus the “she’s not my type” comment, added up to a very clear picture. Was he deliberately being cruel? Pip strained to make out his features in the dark, but couldn’t. “Please,” she repeated more desperately, “let’s forget it.”
There was a brief silence. “If that’s what you want.”
Was he serious?
“No, you’re right,” he added, “it’s for the best.”
Pip felt like a worm squirming to get off a hook while the fisherman kept finding another wiggly bit to pierce. She started to hate Joe Fraser.
“Listen, I just had a phone call,” he said. “Something urgent has come up and I have to leave now.”
Her pent-up feelings found a legitimate focus. “You made a commitment, Joe.” As though having him disappear wasn’t her greatest wish.
He hesitated. “If I could get out of it, I would.”
Pip hauled him into a puddle of light from the hall window. He’d showered and changed into jeans and a shirt. His wet hair gleamed and he smelled of pine soap. “Answer me one question, is it personal or business?”
Another hesitation, then he met her eyes. “My business.”
“You bastard.”
Joe blinked. “Excuse me?”
Pip embraced the rage. “All the progress you’ve made with Kaitlin and you’re going to blow it for some stupid deal.”
His jaw tightened. “It’s not just any deal, Pip, and I don’t have to explain myself to you.”
She planted her hands on her hips. “Have you explained yourself to your daughter?”
“I’ve told her I wouldn’t go unless it was really important.”
Pip’s anger was so great she shook with it. “Have you told her why?”
“She doesn’t need to know every detail.”
Pip stared at his impassive face, cold as granite under the reflected light. How could she ever have thought this man attractive? Her laugh was scornful, intense with the heat of her aversion. “You’re just going to default back to the same old Joe Fraser, loser dad, aren’t you?”
His gaze locked with hers. “I don’t know what authority you think you have because you’ve helped me, but you’re grossly exceeding it.” His voice was icy calm. “Or is this really because you’re still pissed about what happened earlier? I’ve already apologized for that.”
Pip didn’t like being told she was overreacting any more than any other angry person and the grain of truth in his question only aggravated her.
“Go away,” she ordered. “I can’t bear the sight of you a minute longer.”
Without another word he turned on his heel. She heard the slam of a car door, then the gunning of an engine. Headlights swept the woods as the car accelerated out of the clearing, then there was nothing but the occasional rustle of leaves and the distant murmur from the buildings.
Pip used her towel, still damp from the shower, to wipe her eyes. She was crying because she was mad and no other damn reason. Stalking to the girls’ cabin, she dumped her gear and sat on her bunk until she regained her composure. When her anger finally passed, a strange desolation took its place. For Kaitlin, she told herself.
The thought galvanized her into returning to the hall. She finally tracked Kaitlin to the canteen where she was drinking hot chocolate with the rest of Pip’s class, under Anita’s supervision.
“At last,” her friend called.
She looked like a cross between a scarecrow and a scurvy victim, and Pip gazed at her blankly, then gasped. “Oh, God, I’m sorry, I forgot you still needed a shower. Off you go.”
“In a minute.” Anita drew her aside. “Did Joe find you?”
She frowned. “Yes.”
“And?”
“And what?” Kaitlin saw Pip and waved. The poor kid was obviously putting on a brave face.
“Did he ask you for a date before he left, stupid!”
That caught her attention. “Why would he do that?”
“C’mon, Pip,” Anita said impatiently. “The two of you all but spontaneously combusted on stage. And with him having to leave suddenly…I felt sure I was going to win my bet.”
Pip let that pass, too busy replaying Joe’s apology. Had she misconstrued his comments? Her distracted gaze followed the other teacher as Anita left to get cleaned up.
What if he’d felt the same way Pip had? Embarrassed at betraying an attraction he didn’t think she returned? But that didn’t explain his comment to Fraser’s Fillies. She’s not my type.
Pip shook her head to clear it. It didn’t matter. He was still a louse for leaving camp early for a business deal when he knew it would devastate his daughter.
Picking up a mug of hot chocolate from the serving counter, she watched Kaitlin surreptitiously between sips. Laughing, chatting as she was, no one would guess the little girl was hiding heartbreak. Pip ached for her. The bell rang, signaling bed, and the kids shoved their chairs back and returned their mugs.
“Kaitlin, can you stay behind a minute?”
When the others had left, she laid a comforting arm around the girl’s shoulders. “You feeling okay about your dad leaving?”
“Mostly.” Kaitlin pulled a face. “Of course I’m sad, but I can’t be selfish.”
Pip wanted to kill Joe Fraser. “That’s a great way to look at it, honey.”
“’Specially since this deal means Grandpa can stay in the special hospital…. Um, Miss Browne, you’re kind of squeezing my shoulder too hard.”
Pip dropped her arm.
“Oops!” Kaitlin put her hand over her mouth. “I forgot, it’s a secret. Dad doesn’t want the rest of the family involved.”
Pip’s fleeting “Why?” was washed away by waves of shame as she recalled the things she’d said to him.
Kaitlin prattled on. “Dad told me so I’d know only something really important would make him leave early.” She looked at Pip anxiously. “You won’t tell him I said anything, will you?”
Too mortified to speak, she shook her head. Pip was pretty sure she’d never see Joe again. Certainly not by his choice.
JOE SPENT THE TWO-HOUR drive back to San Francisco cursing himself for his stupidity in ever letting his guard down with Pip Browne.
He thought of the worst thing he could accuse her of: being overly emotional. Jumping to illogical conclusions, making unjustified accusations, adding two and two and getting five. Being female. He clenched the steering wheel. And he’d been a complete fool.
The skit had been agony. As soon as Pip wrapped her slim arms around him, Joe knew he was in trouble. It was one thing ignoring a sexual attraction at a distance, another to ignore it when the object of your lust was pla
stered against your back, sliding her fingers over your face.
From the first press of her rounded breasts he’d felt like a pervert, sexualizing a completely innocent pursuit. Even staring at laughing children couldn’t stop him fantasizing about getting their teacher naked.
Then her hand groped his lap…Joe opened the car window, breathed in the rush of chill air.
The trouble was, he’d forgotten the touch of a woman, the scent and softness of one. He’d forgotten what it was like to want someone with a fierce, primal hunger, not the perfunctory lust of two people who should never have gotten married.
He’d forgotten the pangs of unrequited love. No—Joe shook his head to clear it—his unreciprocated desire for Pip was baser, more carnal, than what he’d once felt for Sue. Which made him feel even worse.
Pip had helped him win back his daughter. He owed her gratitude, respect…as much respect as you could give a friendly adversary you intended to roll in mud when your team kicked ass.
Just thinking about her ass and mud rolling made Joe groan.
The traffic got worse as he joined the freeway, two lanes becoming four, then six.
So he’d gone to apologize. And okay, maybe to find out if some of her embarrassment could be pinpointed to a similar sexual charge. Her tight-lipped response had made him feel like a testosterone-driven brute.
And when he was feeling lower than the beasts of the field, she’d double-whammied him with a lecture about leaving Kaitlin that made it very clear she didn’t even like him.
In fact, Miss Browne despised him.
The sharp knife twisting in his gut was anger. “Right back at you, sweetheart!”
To think when he’d first got the phone call to leave, he’d toyed with telling her everything. Because despite the chest thumping and mock fist shaking, he’d come to regard her as a friend, a confidante. Someone he could trust.
Yes, he was a complete fool.
He drove over the Golden Gate Bridge, oblivious to the city lights, and took the first right on Lincoln. Ten minutes later he pulled up outside an apartment building and got out of the car.