Harlequin Superromance November 2013 - Bundle 1 of 2

by Mary Brady

  He had five weeks to make Lyddie fall in love with him. Five short weeks to convince her that he was as necessary to her life as she was to his.

  But he had a feeling that making her fall in love would be easy compared to convincing her to leave Comeback Cove.

  * * *

  THREE NIGHTS LATER, Lyddie sat down with her children and Ruth, served up spaghetti and wondered what kind of mother spent her last meal with her family wondering how she could slip away to call for the results of her potential lover’s HIV test.

  The answer, obviously, was a very lustful one.

  Ruth spooned dressing over her salad and said, “Tish, I ran into Miss Lockhart from school today. She said she’ll have first grade again next year, so it looks like she’ll be your teacher.”

  Tish’s fork clattered dully against the polished oak table. “May I be excused? I lost my attepipe.”

  Ben snorted. “It’s ‘appetite,’ drama queen.”

  “Ben, leave your sister alone.” Lyddie shared a worried glance with Ruth—the first time the woman had looked her in the eye since the night of J.T.—then reached for Tish’s hand. “What is it, sweets? Miss Lockhart is supposed to be very good.”

  “She makes me feel funny.”

  Lyddie remembered Tish saying something about that before, then blowing it off. “How?”

  Tish stuck out her bottom lip, crossed her arms over her chest and stared at her spaghetti. Lyddie sighed. So much for sneaking away.

  “Patricia Grace,” Ruth said in the tone that always made Lyddie want to shake her, “you know there’s only one section of each grade in school. It’s not like you can switch to another teacher. Whatever is bothering you, you have to get over it.”

  Lyddie counted to three in her head—the highest she could manage before the need to speak spilled over. “Tish, come on. If there’s a real problem we’ll find a way to work around it—” she stared pointedly at Ruth for a moment “—but we can’t help you if you don’t talk to us. So fess up. What’s the problem?”

  Two fat tears plopped into Tish’s spaghetti.

  “Ah, geez.” Ben tossed his fork onto his plate. “Tell the truth, DQ. It’s because of Dad, right?”

  “What?” Lyddie was sure she hadn’t heard correctly. Ruth opened her mouth to say something, then bit her lip and watched the children.

  Tish’s braids bobbed up and down as she slowly nodded agreement.

  Lyddie turned to Ben. “What’s the trouble?”

  “Well, whenever I see Miss Lockhart, she always talks about Dad, about what a great guy he was. That kind of thing.” His casual shrug was offset by the pinkness beneath his freckles. “I think she liked him, you know?”

  Lyddie sagged against the carved wooden chair and tried to make sense of what she’d just heard. “Ben, buddy, I know this is uncomfortable, but could you be more specific?”

  Ruth stood up. “Lydia, could you help me with dessert, please?”

  Oh, geez. This was going to be interesting.

  Ben rolled his eyes. Lyddie gave Tish a quick hug before following Ruth.

  She found Ruth frowning viciously at the pan of Rice Krispie squares she was slicing. Lyddie gave an involuntary shudder. She was mighty glad she wasn’t on the receiving end of that glare.

  On the other hand, she was getting pretty tired of being treated like a pariah in her own home. It might be worth a few minutes of discomfort if it meant she and Ruth could get past this.

  “So, Anna Lockhart.” She decided to deal with Tish’s dilemma first and proceed accordingly. “What’s the story?”

  “I didn’t want the children to think poorly of their teacher. But Anna was always sweet on Glenn, back in school. He was a couple of years ahead of her and she used to worship the ground he walked on. I know she always hoped he would come back to her someday.”

  “Well, that’s all fine and good, but it was twenty-some years ago. Don’t you think she should be over it by now?”

  Ruth stabbed the squares. Lyddie gave her a second, then drew a deep breath and went on.

  “Ruth. If a grown woman is still mooning over her high school love—enough that it causes discomfort to his children—don’t you think that’s a problem?”

  Another direct hit to the pan.

  “You know, Glenn never mentioned Anna to me. Was this a reciprocal thing, or all in her mind? Because if he was never even interested in her, but she’s created something, I’m really worried about my child—”

  “They went out a few times.”

  Well, at least it was an answer.

  “It couldn’t have been very serious if nobody ever mentioned it to me before.”

  “There are some who think it’s more admirable to stay quiet about certain things. Not flaunt their affairs in front of others.”

  That did it. Lyddie marched to the counter and grabbed the pan, noting that Ruth had carved the squares into pieces so tiny that they were practically individual crisps. “Look, could we cut the crap and get down to the real issue? You don’t care about Anna and what might or might not have happened with her and Glenn. This is about me and J.T.”

  Twin spots of dull red appeared on Ruth’s cheeks as she stared out the window.

  “I’m sorry you don’t like him,” Lyddie continued. “I’m sorry you don’t approve. But this is my life. I still love Glenn and I’ll miss him until I die, but I’m not going to spend the rest of my life as some kind of martyr.”

  Ruth took a deep breath and clasped her hands in front of her. “Why him?” she said, very quietly.

  There were half a dozen easy answers, but only one that mattered. “Because he makes me feel alive again.”

  Ruth stifled a sob. “He’s no good. He’s dangerous, Lydia, he’ll hurt you like he’s hurt everyone else in this town. He’ll lie to you and leave you and—”

  “Yes, he’ll leave me.” And God, how she already dreaded that final farewell. “But he’s not any of those other things. Maybe he was, back when he was a kid. But people change. They grow. You might not have noticed, but he’s bent over backward to make this sale possible. If not for him offering to hold the mortgage, I would have to move River Joe’s, pack up and leave the building where you first met Buddy. Would you want that?”

  “No. No, of course not. But that doesn’t mean you have to get involved with him, or pay him with your body like a...”

  “Like a common tramp?” The words came out low and hard, but since Ruth was suggesting nothing more than what Lyddie herself had said to Zoë, she couldn’t cast stones. “I was faithful to Glenn the whole time we were together. I never even fantasized about another man, except maybe George Clooney once in a while. But I’ve been alone for four years.”

  “You don’t have to tell me how long it’s been.”

  “I know, Ruth. And I know you lost even more than I did, and I don’t know how you managed to keep going. But we did, both of us.” She touched the faded blue cardigan Ruth wore around the house, no matter what the season. “We kept going, but I feel like somewhere along the line, I stalled out. I’m frozen in some place I don’t want to be. You, the town, everybody has this picture of who and what I should be, and I just... I’m afraid that if I don’t do something now, while I have the chance, that it will be too late.”

  “Would that be so bad? Your life here isn’t that terrible.”

  “No, it’s not. I have the kids, and you, and a business I enjoy in a place that I really do love.” She wrapped her arms around herself and moved away from the window. “But I don’t like what I see happening. To me, to Glenn’s memory. People keep forgetting that he was human. Think. Do you believe it’s normal for an old-maid school teacher to obsess this way?”

  “Anna isn’t obsessed.”

  “Maybe not, but if she’s making my kid unc
omfortable, I don’t think she’s exactly normal.”

  “There’s nothing abnormal about remembering someone. About respecting what they did.”

  “If that was all it was, it would be fine. But damn, Ruth, it’s going too far. Glenn was a good man. So was Buddy. But we’re in danger of forgetting how real they were, of turning them into cartoon heroes. Is that what you want for them?”

  When Ruth merely tightened her lips, Lyddie plowed ahead, uncertain if she was making things better or worse. “I don’t want that. I want my kids to know everything about their father, the good and the bad, all the things that made me love him, from the way he sang them to sleep to the way he could never remember to put the bread back in the fridge after he made a sandwich. I want to give them that, and let them know how much he meant to me, and make sure they never ever forget him.” With a long breath, she added, “But I’m still here. I want a life, too. Nothing will be helped if I act like I died when he did.”

  At last Ruth turned to her, anguish clear on her face. “I can’t lose those children. You and the children are all I have.”

  It would do no good to point out that this was J.T.’s other major attraction: that there was no time to build emotional ties, no worries about falling in love and upsetting everyone’s lives. All she could do was simply say, “I know. And I have no intention of taking them away from you. I’m doing everything I can to keep things the same, to make sure—”

  But Ruth shook her head, her mouth working as she strove to hold back tears. “Don’t you see, Lydia? It’s not up to you. It’s him. That Delaney boy could make the angels themselves turn away from the light. If he makes up his mind that he wants you, then you’ll have no say. You’ll be gone before you even know what he’s done.” Her face crumpled as the tears finally fell. “And I’ll be left with nothing.”

  With that, she fled into the hall, no doubt headed for her bedroom. Lyddie stood alone in the kitchen, surrounded at last by the solitude she’d yearned for earlier.

  Solitude. But no peace.

  * * *

  IF THERE HAD EVER been a slower day in the history of humanity than Tuesday, July 16, J.T. didn’t want to know it.

  It would have been easier if he could have forgotten what lay ahead. But every action, every sentence, seemed to take him back to Lyddie. From the first sip of his morning coffee to the moment he hustled through the dairy aisle at the supermarket, aiming for some half-and-half but coming to a dead standstill in front of the pudding display, she surrounded him.

  And drove him crazy.

  He hadn’t been this nervous in years. He wasn’t blasé about sex, but other than the usual will-we-or-won’t-we deliberations that came with new relationships, he hadn’t really worried about it since he was a teen.

  But he’d never been anyone’s first time after heartbreak. Never been anyone’s way back to life. Never been so scared-out-of-his-brain in love that he could barely breathe when he thought of leaving her.

  And that was what left his hands shaking as he paced the length of the cabin dock in the dimming light.

  Would she show?

  He’d meant what he said. If she’d changed her mind, well, he’d live with it, taking consolation in the fact that he’d been deemed worthy of even the thought. But God, how he hoped...

  His footsteps echoed in the lonely night, a slow counterpoint to the rapid drumming of his heart. He’d spent a good chunk of the day at the cabin, stocking the fridge, sweeping out corners, making up the bed with fresh linens. Everything was in place.

  Everything except his partner.

  He reached one end of the dock. Paused. Checked his watch.

  8:37 p.m.

  Not late. Not yet.

  Maybe he should call. Tell her that if she didn’t want to go through with it, it would be okay. That way she could stay home and watch a movie and they would still be able to look at each other in the morning.

  Or maybe—

  Gravel crunched beneath car tires. His heart dropped, rebounded and bounced ridiculously in his chest cavity—all of which he knew was physically impossible, but damn, it sure felt like it.

  A car door closed. A soft voice called, “J.T.?”

  One giant load of worries slid off his shoulders, making it easier for him to fill his lungs as he headed toward her.

  It was time.

  She stood uncertainly beside her car, clutching her purse tightly to her side.

  “You’re here.”

  Her smile was small but the tilt of her chin was determined. “I’m here.”

  He followed the direction of her gaze. What was she thinking?

  “It’s lovely,” she said at last.

  He glanced at the small cabin, covered with cedar shakes and trimmed in deep hunter green. “It’s a nice little place. If it was a rainy week you’d go stir-crazy, but it works.”

  “I tried to get Ben to describe it to me, but all I got from him was that it felt a lot bigger than it looked.” She took a cautious step forward. “It’s good that you got to it before it fell apart. It’s sad to see something so pretty go untouched.”

  He lifted a gentle hand to her cheek. “Yes. It is.”

  She closed her eyes briefly at the contact. For a moment he worried she would bolt. She leaned deeper into the caress and rubbed against his palm.

  “Let’s go inside.”

  He’d never heard sweeter words in his life.

  He held tight to her hand as he guided her up the steps. “Careful. That second stair is a bit soft. I still need to replace it.”

  “Okay,” she said, but didn’t tug her hand away, even when they reached the small porch. She glanced around, a small smile softening her lips. “Love the glider.”

  It had been an impulse buy that afternoon, spurred by the memory of the chairs on her porch on the night when he first knew he wanted to kiss her. Putting it together had taken three frustrating hours and left him with a gash on his thumb, but with that smile, he knew it had been worth it.

  He followed her into the one-room interior and tried to look at it through her eyes. To the right, a small kitchenette. Green-dotted curtains danced at the open window above the sink. Past that, a tiny wooden table, on which rested a place mat, two wineglasses and a corkscrew. She smiled when she saw the glasses. Over on the left, a cushy tan love seat and a side table gave the illusion of a living room. And tucked into the far left corner—

  He saw the slight hunch of her shoulders, the momentary cessation of movement, and knew she’d noticed the bed. He’d lay dollars to doughnuts that her reaction hadn’t been prompted by the fluffy new tan-and-hunter comforter he’d picked up on his shopping expedition.

  “Lyddie?”

  “Uh-huh?”

  “You want some wine? I have champagne, or there’s red if you prefer.”

  She glanced at the wineglasses almost longingly, then shook her head. “Not now. Maybe later.”

  Later...

  “If you want to, you know, sit out on the porch and talk, that’s okay. We don’t have to—”

  “Yes. We do.” She looked directly at him for the first time that night. “I won’t kid you, J.T. I’m more nervous than I’ve been in years. Maybe decades. But I’m not going to spend the rest of my life thinking shoulda-woulda-coulda.”

  He remembered what she’d said to him the day she offered her proposition. I want to feel alive again. She looked it now, with her lips slightly parted and a combination of desire and determination sparking in her eyes.

  “Okay.” He tossed his keys toward the love seat. The jingle was swallowed up by the deep cushions.

  A slight smile tugged at the corner of her lips. “That’s more like it.”

  He debated yanking his polo shirt over his head and sending it in the direction of the keys, but deci
ded against it. Instead, he took her by the hand and pulled her farther into the cabin.

  “Come on,” he said softly. She tossed her purse beside the keys. He dropped into the love seat, patting his lap with his free hand.

  “Come here.”

  The look she slanted toward him was equal parts amusement and disbelief. “No way.”

  “Way.”

  “I’m too old for monkeying around like that. I don’t bend that way anymore. I’ll break your legs.”

  “I’ll take that chance.” He tugged her hand. “Shoulda-woulda-coulda.”

  Her laughter was full-bodied and utterly contagious. “No fair.”

  “I know.”

  “All right.” She moved in closer, aiming for his lap. “But remember, you can call a halt at any time. I’ll be okay.”

  He grinned at having his words parroted back to him, but when she hesitated, he decided she was taking entirely too long. She was the one in charge but he had a few needs of his own. And right now, he needed her in his arms.

  So he pulled. Not hard. Just enough to disrupt her careful descent and send her tumbling onto his lap.

  She shrieked. He laughed. His arms went around her, steadying her against him. Just as he’d imagined, her head nestled directly below his in a gratifying fit.

  “That was uncalled for.” The words were indignant but the tone was anything but.

  “Had to show you my knees were up to the challenge.”

  She rubbed her cheek along his jawline and peeked up at him. He saw mischief and wonder and awareness, all in eyes the clear blue of the river on a sunny day. It was enough to make him tighten his grip just a little, slide his hand just a smidgen farther around her waist.

  “How about the rest of you?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, you said your knees are up to the challenge. How about the rest of you?”

  She was warm and soft, she fit him perfectly and she made him laugh. If he hadn’t fallen for her already, that combination alone would have pushed him over the edge.

  “Why don’t we put it to the test?” He tipped her chin up and lowered his mouth to hers.