Tempt Me at Midnight

by Maureen Smith

  Several long seconds passed.

  “I—I don’t understand,” Lexi finally managed in a choked whisper.

  Carlene lunged to her feet, her face contorted with anguished rage. “You want to know why you’re so afraid of heights? Blame me!”

  Suddenly Lexi didn’t want to hear any more. But she had to know. Had to know the truth once and for all. “What happened?”

  Now it was her mother’s turn to stalk up and down the floor. “He came home drunk one night, reeking of sex and another woman’s perfume. It wasn’t the first time, not even close. But I’d finally had enough. You were only two years old. I had my hands full with you, and your father was no help whatsoever. So I’d made up my mind to ask him for a divorce.

  “When he stumbled through the door that night, I confronted him about where he’d been and what he’d been doing. He got mad and defensive. We started arguing. Our yelling woke you up. At first I tried to ignore your crying, but you only got louder. Your father started cursing and shouting at me to shut you up. I kept screaming at him to get out, but he refused. Dug in his heels and said he wasn’t going anywhere. Something came over me, and I just snapped. I marched into your room and snatched you out of bed. The next thing I knew I was on the patio, dangling you over the railing. We lived on the tenth floor, so…we were up pretty high.”

  Lexi stared at her in abject horror, nausea and dread churning in her stomach.

  “I threatened your father, told him to leave or I’d drop you. He called me a crazy bitch, but he wouldn’t get out, wouldn’t back down. He was daring me to let you go. So I kept dangling you over that railing, and you were kicking your little legs and wailing in terror.” Carlene’s voice was raw, ravaged with pain and guilt. “Sometimes I close my eyes at night and I can still hear your screams in my head.”

  Lexi sank weakly onto the sofa, her legs unable to support her.

  Carlene continued pacing furiously. “One minute your father was laughing and taunting me. The next minute he was storming across the patio, telling me to stop my foolishness. He grabbed my arm. I tried to shake him off, but he wouldn’t let go. And then…and then…I dropped you!”

  “No!” Lexi screamed, a sound of anguished denial wrenched from the depths of her soul. “No. No. No!”

  Carlene crumpled to the floor, her body convulsed with the deep, racking howls of a wounded animal.

  Reeling, choking with sobs, Lexi descended upon her, thinking she might actually kill her. She grabbed Carlene’s frail shoulders and shook her violently as she shouted into her face, “How could you? How could you?”

  “It was an accident!” Carlene wailed, tears pouring down her cheeks. “I never meant for you to fall!”

  “You could have killed me!”

  “I know. I know! It’s nothing but the grace of God that kept you alive that night!”

  “What happened?” Lexi demanded hoarsely. “Tell me what happened!”

  Trembling uncontrollably, Carlene squeezed her eyes shut. “One of our neighbors had heard all the commotion. He lived on the ground floor of our building. When he heard you screaming, he stepped out onto his patio and looked up. That’s when he saw you dangling in the air. He jumped over his railing and started shouting up at me. When I dropped you—oh, Jesus!—he was there to catch you. By the grace of God, you only came away with a few cuts and bruises!”

  “And a paralyzing fear of heights!” Lexi cried shrilly.

  “You can survive that! You couldn’t have survived a fall from ten stories!”

  Lexi stared at her mother for an agonized moment, then released her so abruptly that Carlene sagged against the wall.

  She shoved to her feet and backed away on rubbery legs, staggered by the enormity of Carlene’s horrifying revelations. Were it not for the intervention of a complete stranger, Lexi would be dead. Dead at the hands of her own mother. It was inconceivable.

  “I could have gone to jail,” Carlene said in a low, haunted voice. “But the neighbor took pity on me and decided not to call the police. Your father promised to change his ways, so I let him stay. But a leopard can’t change its spots. He hung around long enough to knock me up two more times before he gave up on the marriage and walked out on us. He moved in with one of his mistresses before she got fed up with him and put his sorry ass out. His drinking eventually got worse, and he fell on hard times. One day he came crawling back to me, begging for money. When I refused to give him any, he threatened to tell you about that night. He said if you ever found out what I’d done, you’d hate me for the rest of your life. So I gave him what he wanted.”

  “And that’s how it started,” Lexi said flatly.

  Carlene’s head snapped up, her features twisted with sudden fury. “I shouldn’t have let him blackmail me all those years! I should have let him tell you the truth. What difference would it have made? You grew up to hate me anyway!”

  “I don’t hate you!” Lexi cried, tears scalding her eyes.

  “Well, I hate you!”

  Stunned, Lexi recoiled as if she’d been leveled with a two-by-four.

  “Every time I look at you,” Carlene spat viciously, “I’m reminded of what happened that night. I’m reminded of the way I allowed your father to push me over the edge, to make me do such an unspeakable thing to my own child. Every time I look at you, I’m reminded of how much I failed you. I can’t take any pride or joy in your accomplishments, because I know you achieved them without any help from me!”

  Lexi gaped at her, torn between compassion and incredulity. “How can you say you didn’t help me? You raised me—”

  “That’s right! And I did the best I could! But sometimes, God help me, I wish you hadn’t survived that fall. Because if you weren’t here, I wouldn’t have to be constantly reminded of everything I have ever done wrong as a mother. Your father never looked at me the same after that night. He was disgusted with me for dropping you from the balcony. He called me deranged, said I was an unfit mother. He told me the whores he slept with could raise you better than I ever could!” She glared accusingly at Lexi. “If only you’d stayed asleep that night. If only you hadn’t rattled my nerves so much with all your goddamn wailing! Maybe, just maybe, your daddy and I could have worked out our problems. But because of what happened that night—because of you—he left us! So yeah, I hate you! Hate you!”

  Every cruel word lashed at Lexi, battering at her fractured psyche until she finally snapped with an outraged roar, “You know what, Ma? If that’s the way you really feel, you don’t have to worry about me anymore!”

  Carlene went utterly still, staring at her. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It means I’ve had enough of you and your toxic bullshit! I’m doing what I should have done a long time ago. I’m leaving Atlanta, and I’m getting as far away from you as possible!”

  Panic flared in Carlene’s eyes. “You can’t do that—”

  “Watch me!”

  And as Lexi spun blindly and fled from the house, she knew just where she would go.

  Chapter 19

  Quentin slowed his car to a red light and impatiently drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. He was eager to get to Lexi’s house. He hadn’t seen her in over a week, and he missed her like crazy.

  But that wasn’t the only reason for his eagerness that afternoon.

  Smiling, he reached inside his breast pocket and removed a small black box. Thumbing the lid open, he examined the four-carat princess-cut diamond ring nestled in velvet. He hoped it wasn’t too much. Lexi had never been flashy or materialistic. What moved her more than anything was the sentimentality in simple gestures, like the flowers he’d given her that day in Dijon. Or the romantic dinner he’d arranged to re-create their experience in Burgundy.

  Yeah, he knew she wasn’t the kind of woman who’d appreciate expensive trinkets he threw her way just because he could afford to do so.

  But, damn, he couldn’t wait to slide this beautiful ring onto her finger.

  A
ssuming she says yes, an inner voice reminded him.

  As the traffic light clicked to green, Quentin snapped the box closed and kissed it for good luck.

  A few minutes later, he pulled up to the familiar two-story redbrick house and did a double take. There was a For Sale sign in the yard.

  He frowned. When had Lexi decided to put her house on the market?

  Maybe she’s ready to take the next step and move in with you.

  Perfect, he thought.

  But as he climbed out of the car and walked to the front door, he couldn’t shake a sense of foreboding. Because he knew Lexi wouldn’t have put her house up for sale without telling him first. Unless she had a specific reason for not telling him.

  A reason he wouldn’t like.

  When she answered the door, he took one look at her drawn face and knew something was wrong.

  “Quentin.” She gave him a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Welcome home.”

  He stepped inside the house, swept her up into his arms and kissed her the way he’d been dying to all week. When she responded with equal hunger, he felt some of his misgivings dissolve.

  Drawing back, he ran a hand over her soft hair and smiled into her eyes. “I missed you.”

  “I missed you, too,” she whispered, her arms looped tightly around his neck.

  “That was the longest week of my damn life.”

  “Mine too.”

  He gave her another kiss, then set her back down on the floor and closed the door behind him. “We have so much to talk about.”

  “I know.” Her voice was subdued. “We hardly spoke on the phone this week.”

  “I know,” he agreed with a grimace. “Between your book-tour schedule and the fires I was putting out at the D.C. office, there just weren’t enough hours in the day. I want to hear all about your whirlwind tour. When do you leave for the West Coast?”

  “Tomorrow.”

  Quentin groaned. “So soon?”

  “Afraid so.”

  As they moved into the living room, Quentin claimed his usual spot at one end of the pin-striped sofa. Instead of sitting next to him, Lexi sat on the adjacent mahogany settee.

  That set off another warning bell in his head.

  He searched her face, noting the faint dark smudges beneath her eyes that indicated she’d been sleeping poorly. “Are you feeling all right?” he asked with gentle concern.

  “I’m fine. Just…tired.”

  Struck by a sudden suspicion—or hope—he stared intently at her. “Are you…pregnant?”

  She visibly tensed, a shadow crossing her face. “No. I’m not.”

  Disappointment crashed through him. Ever since they’d been named godparents of their friends’ baby, Quentin had been daydreaming about getting Lexi pregnant. He’d imagined her, lush and petite, waddling around with an adorably swollen belly. And he’d gone further, envisioning her in the kitchen with their daughter, a miniature version of herself, a smudge of flour on their noses as Lexi taught their child how to make one of her divine French dishes.

  He would have given anything to walk through her front door and hear the words we’re going to have a baby. Talk about an unforgettable homecoming.

  Reluctantly pushing the thought aside, he focused on the grim, tense woman before him. “What’s going on, Lex? Why didn’t you tell me you were selling the house?”

  Something flickered in her eyes. Something that sent a dagger of fear through his heart. She dropped her gaze to her lap, where her hands were tightly clasped. “I was waiting for you to get back.”

  “Okay.” His voice was remarkably even, considering the awful pressure that had clamped over his chest. “So what’s your game plan? You buying another house or…?” He deliberately let the question hang, waiting tautly.

  An interminable silence followed.

  Finally she lifted guilty eyes to his. “I’m leaving, Quentin.”

  He felt the bottom drop out of him. Stunned, he stared at her. “Leaving what? Leaving this neighborhood? Leaving DeKalb County? Leaving your job? Leaving what?”

  “Leaving Atlanta,” she whispered.

  “The hell you are.” His voice was low, feral.

  Tears shimmered in those beautiful eyes. “Quentin—”

  “What the hell happened?”

  She averted her gaze, delicate nostrils flaring as she choked back emotion. “It’s not important.”

  His eyes widened incredulously. “Not important? You’re talking about leaving Atlanta—leaving me—and it’s not important?”

  “Please don’t make this any harder—”

  Quick as a shot he was off the sofa and kneeling in front of her, trapping her with his hands on either side of the chair. “What happened?” he growled. “Tell me!”

  That broke her. The tears she’d been holding carefully in check spilled over, and she covered her face with trembling hands. Her anguish cut through Quentin like jagged shards of glass. He pried her resistant hands away and pulled her hard against him, wrapping her tightly in his arms. She buried her face in his chest and wept, releasing a torrent of raw emotions.

  He groaned raggedly. “Sweetness, you’re killing me. You know what your crying’s always done to me.”

  “I’m sorry,” she sobbed against him. “I didn’t want to tell you.”

  He lifted her from the chair, then sat down and cradled her protectively against his chest. Brushing his lips across her forehead, he whispered soothingly to her, patiently waiting for the storm to subside, trying not to fear the worst.

  When she grew silent, he tipped her chin up to peer into her dark, haunted eyes. “Tell me what’s wrong, sweetheart.”

  She inhaled a deep, shuddering breath and blurted hoarsely, “My father came to see me.”

  Quentin went rigid with shock. “What! When?”

  And out came the harrowing story of the night she’d nearly died.

  Quentin listened with a combination of shock, horror, sympathy and outrage. By the time she’d finished the devastating account, he was so visibly shaken that she laid a gentle hand over his galloping heart, as if to absorb his raging emotions back into her own body. Quentin would never lay a hand on a woman, let alone someone’s mother. But the savage fury he felt toward Carlene Austin made him glad that she was nowhere near him, lest he be tested. And as for that son of a bitch Ray Austin, all bets were off.

  “I’m so sorry, Lex,” Quentin uttered fiercely as he palmed her face, brushing his lips over her damp cheeks and eyelids, kissing away her tears. “I’m so damn sorry you had to go through that. All of it.”

  “Me too,” she murmured. “But at least now I know why I’m so afraid of heights. Even though I was only two, I had repressed memories of the trauma.”

  “God.” Quentin shuddered at the thought of existing in a world without her in it. Unthinkable.

  They sat there for a long time, just holding each other and whispering tender reassurances.

  But hard, cold reality eventually intruded when Lexi’s cell phone rang. Giving Quentin an apologetic look, she dug it out of her pocket and answered. After a brief conversation, she ended the call and drew a deep breath, as if to marshal her courage.

  “That was my Realtor. She wants to show the house in an hour.”

  Dread lodged in Quentin’s gut. His arms instinctively tightened around her. “You don’t have to leave—”

  “Let me go, Quentin.”

  Their eyes met, and he knew she wasn’t just asking to be released from his arms.

  He shook his head slowly. “I can’t do that. I can’t let you go. I told you that before.”

  “And I told you that this was something I needed to do!” she burst out desperately.

  “Lex—”

  “This place has become my own toxic wasteland, and no matter how hard I try to outrun the memories, they keep catching up to me. They’re poisoning me, Quentin. So I need to go away for a while, and you need to let me.”

  His chest squeezed pai
nfully. “How long?”

  Her expression grew veiled. “I don’t know. However long it takes.”

  She couldn’t have hurt him more if she’d driven a stake through his heart. His arms fell away from her, and she quickly climbed off his lap.

  Too agitated to remain seated, he lunged to his feet. Lexi backed away from him, twisting the knife even deeper into his heart.

  “Where are you planning to go?” he demanded. “Are you joining your brother and sister in New York? I’d rather not do a long-distance relationship, but if that’s what it takes—”

  “I’m not going to New York,” Lexi said quietly.

  “Then where…?” As comprehension dawned, the blood drained from his head and he stared at her. “France? You’re going all the way to France?”

  She swallowed tightly, then nodded. “I’ve applied for a faculty position at Le Cordon Bleu school in Paris. Their chef instructors are predominantly French, but given my teaching credentials and the early success of my cookbook, my prospects look…promising.”

  “In other words,” Quentin snarled, “it’s pretty much a done deal.”

  She just looked at him, her eyes silently pleading with him to understand.

  But he couldn’t. Maybe it was selfish of him, but he just couldn’t accept her decision to walk out of his life.

  “You don’t have to do this,” he told her.

  “Yes, I do.”

  “No, you don’t!” he exploded, his voice hoarse with desperation. “Stay here with me, Lexi. Let me help you work through this. You don’t have to have any contact with your screwed-up parents. If your father comes anywhere near you, I’ll kill him. And if you don’t want to deal with your mother, we’ll take out a restraining order against her. Hell, I’ll draft it myself!”

  Her expression softened. “You can’t fix this for me, Quentin. Not this time.”

  Raw emotion clawed at his throat. “What about us? Doesn’t our relationship matter to you?”

  “Of course it does!” Her voice dropped from a shout to a pleading whisper. “You know how much you mean to me, Quentin.”

  “Then don’t leave me!” he half commanded, half begged.