She shoved the rope into Jon’s hands. “Here—you tie up. I’m just dying to explore this thing. Lil and Daisy should be along any minute.” In a flash of turquoise fanny, she disappeared through the gate the captain opened along the side.
“Two bedrooms, two heads, a fully-equipped galley…” Obviously smitten by her… enthusiasm…Captain Sam followed her.
Jon looped the line over a cleat and pulled it taut, hoping the weight of the craft didn’t yank the rotting wood right off the barrels. What a mess. The dock was a mouthful of planks that looked like so many loose teeth. Gentle currents tugged at the boat, but to his relief, nothing splintered.
Last night, Mari had related the hullabaloo he’d sparked in her family and told him her sister and niece were intended today as some kind of emissaries. Still too filled with anger to think things through yesterday, he hadn’t spared her family a thought, but now he shifted uncomfortably. His proposal probably hadn’t surprised the bookstore lady. Lil. He liked the way her name rolled on his tongue.
Spikes of gold-tipped flowers waved amid lavender spires and lacy, white plants all the way from the water’s edge up and along a path canopied by sycamores and oaks. Halfway up, a skinny boy, maybe seven or so, rocked in a glider. Even from here, Jon could tell the boy was watching him. And the boy wasn’t alone. Through the leaves, he glimpsed a bulky house and angled deck. Flashes of color told him people were leaning over the railing.
Just then, a girl in a yellow-and-white striped shirt, a towel unfurling behind her, whirled onto the dock. She stopped and stared at him, sides heaving. He smiled and she gave him an infectious grin back.
About Melanie’s age, the youngster was a miniature clone of the bookstore lady—the same curly blonde mop, the same long legs, and the same hypnotic blue eyes, which he’d decided must be a strong current in the O’Malley gene pool. Right now, hers were round as the lifesavers strung along the houseboat. They glittered with excitement and a load of lime eyeliner and eyeshadow. She looked like a tropical fish.
“Daisy, right?”
“Jonathan Van Castle, right?” Taking the sass out of her reply, her grin grew broader, full of teeth she’d yet to grow into. “Wow! Just wait until I tell the kids at school.” She pumped the hand he gave her with enthusiasm, then pointed at the boat. “Can I—?”
He flexed his hand to make sure it still worked and nodded. “Your Aunt Mari is already on board.”
“Wow!” Disdaining the gateway, she hopped the boat’s railing and scurried to the helm where he could glimpse Mari trying out the captain’s chair. Captain Sam hovered nearby.
Still conscious of eyes on him, he turned—and sucked in a breath.
Standing above him in the drift of watercolor flowers, the bookstore lady—sweet Jesus, a real angel—stared down. The sun struck her like a spotlight, turning her hair into spun silk and her skin into satin. His gaze traveled up legs Tina Turner would kill for, lingered on soft, feminine curves covered by a modest, white swimsuit more alluring than Mari’s bikini, and settled on that heart-shaped face, its plump lower lip nipped between her teeth. She knocked the wind right out of his lungs.
Realizing he was gaping like a hooked fish, he snapped his mouth shut. He thought of Sidney and his constant harangue about his ears—although he didn’t think they were that big—and loosened the band on his ponytail, letting his hair fall in waves past his shoulders. He sucked in his stomach. Considering the candy he devoured, it was still pretty flat.
He looked back at Lil and told himself to breathe. She was flawless, made perfect by the slant of the light, by the floral bounty that curtsied before her… He gave his head a shake. Good God. Too little sleep and too much coffee. Disgusted, he yanked the band out of his pocket and wrenched his hair back into its tail.
Her canvas shoes skirting the worst of the rotten planks, she approached him. The uncertainty he’d seen in her face had disappeared. Her eyes bored in on his like a pair of lasers, and the angelic illusion shattered. The bookstore lady was back, her face pruned into a frown and that luscious lower lip pulled thin. When he took her hand to help her onto the boat, she nodded up at Captain Sam and called, “Good morning.” To him, she said nothing. No need. Her eyes said it all. If looks could kill, he’d be a goner.
Jon followed her straight back—any straighter and she’d pop a vertebrae—to the open deck aft. Three-Ring, Peter and his secretary held drinks bristling with celery sticks.
Lil’s frown didn’t lift, not even for Zeke, who took her hand and bowed slightly. “Ma’am.” The coffee mug he held did get a look of approval.
Peter wiped his hand on blue, creased shorts, and offered it to Lil with a “Nice to meet you.” Jon frowned. There was no sign of the cell phone, Peter’s hair was mussed, and there was a pink smudge on his mouth. Lydia murmured a greeting, and Jon saw Lil’s gaze drop to Lydia’s mouth. His secretary looked no-nonsense with her dark bob, navy swimsuit and matching straw hat, but her lipstick was smeared.
Sweeping off a water-stained Stetson that tamped down muddy blond hair, Three-Ring loped up to Lil and pumped her hand. The shorts riding low on hips as narrow as his bare chest threatened to slip.“Hey, what’s happenin’?” The three earrings on his ear glinted. Lil looked bemused.
During the introductions, Three-Ring’s two dates hadn’t stirred from their lounge chairs. Displaying more curves than the road between here and Cordelia, they greeted Lil with a toss of blonde tresses. One slanted her eyes at Jon, although he’d never laid eyes on her before this morning. Lil’s face pinched. He flushed, bugged he cared what she thought.
“Lil! You have to see this.” Mari hurtled up the four steps from the main cabin, grabbed Lil and hurtled back, nearly bowling down Daisy who’d followed her up.
Daisy looked at him questioningly. Winking, he took her hand, and they followed Mari and Lil below. Wrapped with windows, the main cabin held a galley and a living room lined with padded benches, some easy chairs and a table. Mari bubbled with excitement, arms flying as she pointed every which way. “This must’ve cost an arm and a leg!” She swept by Mel. His daughter was curled like a cat on one of the benches. She sucked a strand of her hair, her ever-present book in hand.
“Hi again, sweetums,” Mari said. “Whatcha reading?” Mel gave Mari a shy smile and opened her mouth. But before she said anything, Mari was off again, running her hand over the keyboards Zeke had set up. “Isn’t this unbelievable, Lil?”
Hair curtaining her face, Mel dipped back to her book but not before he saw her disappointment. He frowned. If he’d needed more proof Mari was a poor choice, he’d just received it.
Abandoning the instrument, Mari traipsed down some steps to the lowest deck. “And down here—” Her voice got lost in the thrum of the engines as they revved to pull away.
“—are some bedrooms and bathrooms. Heads, I mean.” Jon finished for her.
“Very impressive,” Lil murmured in a tone that said she wasn’t impressed at all. Her gaze softened as she looked at his daughter. She settled next to Mel. “May I see?”
Mel glanced at her. Apparently reassured the lady with the gentle voice didn’t plan to disappear, she turned the book so Lil could see the cover. A thumb hooked into the bottom of her swimsuit, Daisy stayed by his side.
“Little Women,” Lil read. “One of my very special favorites—I especially like Beth.”
“Me, too. But it’s so, so sad when she dies. I cried,” Mel confided. “Did you?”
“Of course. Do you remember when I read it to you, Daisy, and we cried buckets and buckets?” She held out a hand, and Daisy sidled over to them. “This is my niece, Daisy O’Malley. Daisy, this is —”
“Melanie. Everybody calls me Mel mostly.”
Daisy wrinkled her freckled nose. “Mel Mostly?”
Mel’s walnut eyes lit with laughter. “No, silly. I meant, most people call me Mel.”
“Oh. Do you really read big books like that?”
Mel nodded.
&n
bsp; “Cool! I can’t. I mean, I’ve never tried. I play baseball, though. And soccer. Do you? Maybe when I’m ten, I’ll read more. My birthday’s August sixteen. How old are you?”
“Ten.”
“No way! I’m yards taller than you. My dad just died.”
“Oh. That’s awful.” Mel paused for a beat. “My parents are divorced.”
“That’s awful, too.” Daisy perched on the other side of Mel and glanced back at Jon. “But it must be awesome having a famous dad.”
Mel shrugged. “Do you always wear that stuff on your eyes?”
“Sure.”
“Daisy…” Lil interrupted.
“Okay, okay.” Daisy gave a long-suffering sigh. “Mom only lets me wear it on weekends. You should try it. With your brown eyes, I think Morning Sky would be the best color for…”
Under their combined attention, Mel’s shyness faded like the last chords of a dirge. He gave Lil a grateful look, but she missed it because her eyes never left the kids’ faces.
“Hey-yaa!” Michael flew from the top step on the sun deck and landed in a wide stance in the doorway ready to one-two any enemies that might crawl out from under the cushions. Tina-the-Nanny fluttered behind him.
He ruffled Michael’s bowl-cut, brown hair.“This Kung Fu Kid is my son, Michael. And this is Tina, their nanny.” Michael punched a foot in the air, narrowly missing Tina’s knee. “Watch it, bud, somebody’s going to get hurt.”
“Hurt.” Michael affirmed, then warbled the stuck-on-me Band Aids’ jingle.
“He may watch a little too much TV,” Jon murmured.
Lil nodded at Tina then turned to Michael. “Let me guess. Are you Tum-Tum or Colt or maybe Rocky? Tum-Tum, I’d bet because his real name is Michael.”
Michael’s arms dropped to his sides and he along with Jon goggled at Lil with deep almond eyes. “You saw Three Ninjas?” Michael breathed.
“Only about four dozen times. I have a nephew, you see.”
“Nef-U? Is that like a tee-vee?”
For the first time he saw Lil smile. A slow smile of pure delight, beginning with a tug on one corner of her mouth and spreading across her face until a single dimple appeared. His heart squeezed.
“No.” She gave him a gentle poke in the tummy. “He’s a little boy—like you.”
Michael clambered up beside her. “How old is he?” he demanded. “Do you like Jackie Chan?”
“Hank is real old. He’s seven. And, yes, I like Jackie Chan.”
“Me, too.” Michael nodded, expression serious. “Hank’s a big boy.” He held up four fingers. “I’m five. But I’ll be six soon. On August—August—”
“Seventeen.” Mel supplied.
“Really?” Lil’s eyes went wide in exagerrated amazement. “Why Hank’s sister, Daisy—this is Daisy—has her birthday only one day before yours.”
“Way to go!” Daisy gave him a high-five and Michael grinned.
Mari bounced back into the room. “I’m going up to the whatchacallit—the place where you drive this big sucker. Do you think that guy would let me drive?” She darted up the steps, and Jon reluctantly followed. It was a kick listening to the kids; he wished he could be as easy with them as Lil. When he glanced back at the four of them bent over Mel’s book while Lil read aloud. She paused and met his gaze.
Hers turned to frost. “I’d like to speak to you later,” she said. “Privately.”
Oh, he’d like to get private with her, too.
***
By one o’clock, the party rocked on the aft deck. The babes’ squeals and giggles punctuated the sizzle of guitars on the stereo. The keg was half gone.
Up on the helm, Jon slouched in a canvas chair shaded by a canopy. A hot breeze lifted his hair. Zeke sat in a chair beside him, ankle crossed over his knee, a loafer dangling from his toes. Every so often, they’d trade some chat with Captain Sam. Jon faced rear to keep an eye on the party. He told Sam he’d yell if somebody fell in the drink but privately thought he’d enjoy seeing them all swept off in the boat’s wake.
He’d retreated to Sam’s lair when the party nonsense had started to make his head ache and found Zeke already there. He’d like to go below and join the kids, except that pair of cold, blue eyes spooked him.
He swished the melting ice cubes in his tumbler of tea, plucked a Tootsie Roll Pop from his pocket and shoved it in his mouth, then looked across the sun deck where an acre of skin baked.
As the keg had gone down, the temperature had gone up, but they all seemed oblivious to the heat, even Peter, who’d long ago shed his last hang-up. Pink blotches bloomed on his shoulders. Her hat askew, Lydia (normally prim as Amy Vanderbilt) sat on his lap, keeping up a stream of giggles punctuated by an occasional, very unladylike snort. Maybe he was working them too hard.
The two brown-bodied blondes had lost any semblance of modesty, straddling the lounges with no thought about thong swimsuits. Their hair color wasn’t natural.
Weaving unsteadily, Three-Ring untangled himself from a chair between the blondes and made his way toward the steps down to the cabin. He looked up and gave them a sloppy grin. “Refill, anyone?”
Jon shook his head, then cocked an eyebrow at the blondes. Even for Three-Ring, they were a tad crude.
Three-Ring’s teeth flashed. “One of them reads Kerouac,” he said as though that explained everything. He ducked his head and disappeared through the doorway.
“Kerouac?” Jon asked Zeke.
“Amazing they read at all, isn’t it?”
That’s not what he’d meant. He didn’t know Three-Ring read Kerouac. Although he’d known the drummer since his early days in Nashville, every time he thought he had a handle on him, the man threw him a curve.
The three permanent members of Van Castle melded harmonies on stage, but with women, each flew solo. Zeke had been true-blue for six years to a lawyer in Nashville. Three-Ring was between women. Three-Ring was always between women. As for himself…
He’d made a bad husband, but he’d always been faithful. He didn’t know if that was due to morals, or a lack of time. None of the women Peter had lined him up with had tempted him into a fling, and a more serious relationship was out.
Monkhood didn’t suit him. Neither did mindless screwing. However, given the surge in his pants this morning as he’d watched Lil posed above him, maybe it was time he…
A sudden thunk against the side of the boat raised Zeke’s eyebrows and had Jon on his feet, peering over the side. Mari teetered along the gangway. Spotting him, she saluted him with her cup, sloshing half its contents into the lake.
“Kids’re A. O. Kay. Just checked on ‘em,” she called. She stumbled and thudded into the side of the boat, then bounced toward the water.
“Thank God for railings. Still think she’d make a good mommy?”
“Quit rubbing it in. You were right, okay?”
“As usual.”
“The idea isn’t a bad one. It was the choice that was wrong.”
Zeke’s loafer stopped wiggling. “You don’t mean you’re going to —”
“Look—” Jon glanced at Sam, but the captain was intent on his driving. He lowered himself back into the chair, lowered his voice, too. “Any judge in the country is going to take a look at my life and Belinda’s and decide it’s a toss-up where the kids should land. You know they favor the mother. I can holler abuse, which I will—but I don’t know if what she’s done qualifies. Besides, what can I offer? Money, yeah, but a home I’m never in? And Dodo’s worn out, so who would run it when I’m touring?”
“Even with a pretend wife… Take Belinda on and she’ll trot out all those old lies. Especially one.”
“You mean Gabby Groupie or whoever the hell she was? No, she won’t. She knows she’d kill the fatted calf.”
“I believe the stage name is now Glory Galore. Charming. But I think you’re wrong about our Miss Belinda.”
“Look, Belinda’s going to stay clean for the next eight months. You can bet on it w
ith this much dough at stake. Custody will revert to joint, and she’ll haul the kids back to Monaco before I can blink. I find them a mom now while I have sole custody, there’s more of a chance they land in my ball park. I’ll only ask a couple of years from the lady. After that, she can walk away one rich woman.”
“You’re messing with someone’s life, Jon.”
“Won’t be the first time, will it?”
Zeke sighed but didn’t respond. Jon stifled his conscience. He’d make a business arrangement, pure and simple. Nobody’s affections involved, he wouldn’t be able to break any hearts. “Think of the band, then. Belinda will wage a battle in the media. She won’t drag out lies because she saw what almost happened last time, but she will do the whole I’m-Gidget-He’s-Lucifer act. Belinda was the press’s darling the last time, and you can bet she’ll prime her image again. I can play the same game. With June Cleaver at my side, I’ll smell like a rose. We’ll be a shoo-in at the CMA Awards this fall. Even Judge Dougherty likes a winner. Plus, Peter’ll wet his pants.” He looked down at the group. “If he hasn’t already.”
Peter wore a goofy grin as he watched Mari toddle onto the deck. Jon didn’t know how many beers she’d guzzled—he’d stopped counting at six.
He grimaced, and guessing his thoughts, Zeke murmured. “Brings back some memories, hmm?”
“Nothing I care to recall.”
He’d been a teen rebel when he’d cut and run from Monaco without a glance back, not even at Belinda. By that time, she’d latched onto some kid with a cherry ‘67 Mustang, and it was aloha, Jon. In Nashville, he’d co-written ditties with Zeke, played backup for two-bit bands in smoke-filled honkytonks, waited for his break and partied. Hearty.
Then one morning, he woke up in some dump beside someone he didn’t recognize and realized he was following the Brumley tradition. He was drunk, getting mean and, if he didn’t watch out, he’d soon to be on the dole, just like his old man. Not him, he’d decided. Not Jonathan Van Castle. Except for the occasional cold one, he’d renounced booze right there and then and thrown himself into his ambitions. But he’d still had a live-and-let-live attitude about anyone else’s choices, until Belinda had crossed the line.
SING ME HOME (Love Finds A Home - Book One) Page 8