by Joan Kilby
“I would have liked very much for you to have grown up with me,” Max said, putting a hand on Randall’s shoulder.
Randall glanced up, eyes bright, and Max’s heart twisted as he forced himself to utter the bittersweet truth. “But it was better for you that you were adopted by the Tiptons and were raised in a stable home.”
Randall’s teeth bit down on his bottom lip and his gaze reached across the river. “I guess you’re right.”
Max could tell his son didn’t believe it any more than he did.
CHAPTER EIGHT
FULL OF MISGIVINGS, Kelly let herself in the front door on Thursday evening. What on earth had she been thinking to agree to the dance lesson? Especially when Max hadn’t even called, just sent her an e-mail asking her to pick him up!
It wasn’t his signature, your loving husband, that had changed her mind, although she’d certainly felt a pang when she’d read it. Empty words in light of what he hadn’t said, like apologize, or agree to counseling.
No, the reason she’d come was simple: she just plain missed him.
“Mommy!” Tammy called, spotting her as she entered the family room. “That’s a pretty dress.”
Tammy and Tina were sitting opposite Randall at the dining table, finger-painting. Bowls of water, trays of paints and colorful soggy paper littered the area around them. Whereas the little girls had paint all over their hands and faces, Randall had dipped the tip of one finger and was making careful impressionistic daubs on his paper.
“Do a handprint, Randall,” Tina urged him. “Come on. It’s fun.” Randall shook his head.
“Tammy, honey,” Kelly said, interrupting. “Where’s your father?”
“I’m here.” Max came into the room through the door from the garage, wiping his hands on grease-stained overalls. “Why are you all dressed up?”
Suddenly self-conscious of her low neckline and swirling skirt, Kelly retorted, “Why are you not?”
His gaze went from surprised to bewildered.
“Hello?” she said. “Latin dancing? Tonight is the first lesson.”
He shook his head. “I didn’t think you’d want to go.”
“What? Then why did you e-mail—”
“I’ll look after the kids if you want to go out,” Randall broke in loudly.
Kelly frowned at the boy. “Excuse me. We’re having a conversation here.”
“I take care of the neighbor children when their mother goes shopping,” Randall continued, undeterred. “They’re about the same age as Tina and Tammy.”
“Yay! Randy’s going to baby-sit us,” Tina yelled.
“Handprint, Randy. Do a handprint,” Tammy chanted.
“Hang on,” Max said, looking confused. “Randall, I thought you said you canceled the dance lessons.”
“That’s rather a lot to take upon yourself, isn’t it?” Kelly demanded of the boy before he could answer. Until she’d received Max’s e-mail, Kelly had more or less decided to do that herself, but Randall’s intervention had her outraged.
“Ease up, Kel,” Max said. “He only did it because he thought that was what I wanted.”
This brought her up short. “Well…is it?”
His gaze traveled up her legs to her nipped-in waist, and higher, to her hint of cleavage. He seemed to make up his mind on the spot. “No. It’s probably not too late to reinstate ourselves. Give me five minutes to clean up.”
Kelly moved into the kitchen. “Go get ready. I’ll fix the kids some dinner.”
“We’ve all eaten,” Randall informed her. Then, with a look of grim determination, he rolled up his sleeve and placed his whole hand in a plate of blue paint, to the great delight of Tammy and Tina.
Kelly glanced over the immaculate kitchen. The granite countertop was shining and even the sink was scrubbed out. “It doesn’t look like it.”
“Randall caught a four-pound sockeye.” Max threw the boy a proud smile and exited the room.
“It was yummy.” Tina rubbed her stomach with her paint-covered hand, making Kelly wince.
“We helped clean up after,” Tammy added.
So. He was taking over her jobs around the house, too. “You girls helped? My, my. Randall, you must be some kind of miracle worker.”
Although her words were praise, her tone oozed sarcasm. Randall had been grinning foolishly at his handprint. Now his cheeks turned bright red, clashing unbecomingly with his hair. Kelly felt ashamed and bit her tongue before she could say anything else unkind. To ride him wasn’t fair. But she couldn’t help resenting the hell out of the fact he was here in her home and she was not. Or that he was ingratiating himself with her children while she was missing them badly.
“Where are Beth and Robyn?” she asked.
“Beth’s at a friend’s house and Robyn’s in her room,” Randall said. “Beth’s room, I mean.”
Leaving the children to their paints, Kelly went along to see Robyn. She tapped on the door and waited.
“Who is it?” Robyn asked, her voice faintly belligerent.
“It’s me.” Kelly pushed open the door and found Robyn lying on the top bunk, reading. “Who did you think it was?”
“That awful Randall,” Robyn said, making a face. “He’s always asking me if I want to use his computer or something stupid like that.” She put down her book. “You look nice. Are you and Daddy going out?”
“Latin-dance lessons.”
Robyn brightened. “That’s good.”
“We planned this before Randall,” Kelly said with a shrug, and sat in the desk chair. From now on, her life would be divided into Before Randall and After Randall. “You don’t like him much, do you?”
“Why should I?” Robyn said bitterly. “If he wasn’t here, you wouldn’t have left home.”
Kelly didn’t bother trotting out the fiction that she was away because she was taking care of Gran. “Randall’s important to your father,” she said. “He’ll leave eventually.”
“Then will you come home so everything can go back to normal?” Robyn’s eyes pleaded with her to say yes.
Kelly rose and leaned on the bunk bed to stroke her daughter’s arm. “I don’t know, sweetheart,” she whispered. “But, Robyn, no matter what happens with your dad and me, none of it’s your fault. We both love you and always will.”
Robyn bit her bottom lip and nodded, tears forming in her eyes.
Kelly brushed dark bangs out of Robyn’s eyes. “You need a haircut. I’ll make an appointment for you, okay? We could go out for lunch afterward.”
“Sure, Mom.” Robyn forced a wavering smile. “That sounds great. Can I get streaks this time?”
Max appeared in the doorway, dressed in chinos and a light blue polo shirt that mirrored the color of his eyes. “Kelly, are you ready?”
Kelly kissed Robyn on the cheek. “No streaks. See you soon. I love you, honey.”
She walked toward Max, conscious of his gaze, conscious of how good he looked. He didn’t shift to give her room as she moved past him through the doorway. Her shoulder brushed his chest; her hip touched his thigh.
“You look nice.” His voice was a low thrum in her ear.
Anticipation buzzed through her veins. “So do you.”
At the car, he held the door for her, waiting to shut it while she adjusted her skirt. Only when he’d turned out of the driveway onto River Road did she realize he was driving her car. She thought about protesting, then decided that after driving around all day showing properties, she didn’t mind sitting back and relaxing for a change.
“Feel like some music?”
She nodded and he tuned the radio to easy listening.
Just as though they were on a date. Tonight just might be fun.
“Do you remember our first date—the junior prom?”
His grin came quick. “Will you ever let me forget?”
She chuckled softly. “You rang the doorbell and barely said hello before you threw up on my new shoes.”
“I had the flu.”
>
“Gramps thought you’d been drinking. He almost made me stay home.”
“But you insisted I wasn’t that kind of guy.”
“We had a great time that night, didn’t we?”
Smiling, Max nodded. They were replaying dialogue they’d perfected over the years. Somehow it eased the awkwardness of the present situation.
Kelly settled back in her seat as they passed through farmland glowing pink and blue in the twilight. “Max, there’s something I don’t understand. If you knew Randall canceled the lessons, why did you e-mail me about going tonight?”
He took his gaze off the road briefly. “I didn’t e-mail you.”
“Yes, you did.” She turned in her seat to stare at him. “You asked me to drive because your car was broken.”
Max brought the station wagon to a halt at a four-way stop and twisted in his seat. “There’s nothing wrong with my car.”
She frowned. “You were working on it when I got to the house.”
“I was changing the oil.”
“Is that all? Then why did you e-mail me?”
“I didn’t.”
“Then who did? Someone signed your name.”
With a puzzled shake of his head, Max started through the intersection. “Robyn must have done it. She’s upset about you being away. But she knows she’s not allowed on my computer. I’ll have to speak to her.”
Kelly leaned back in her seat; Max was probably right. “Leave her alone. She’s upset about Randall.”
“Randall was only trying to help when he canceled the lessons.”
“Oh, he’s helping, all right.” Max started to speak and she waved him to silence. “Don’t bother defending him. We’re going to get there and find our names crossed off the list.”
One hand draped over the wheel, Max shrugged. “You worry too much.”
But Kelly was worried. She was counting on these dance lessons as an excuse to spend time with Max. Seeing him last weekend had brought home to her how much she missed him. Holding his hand reminded her of those small intimacies she’d given up by leaving him: the casual touch, the warm glance, the shared smile that needed no words for understanding. She felt as if she’d lost her best friend.
The dance studio was located above the Simcoe billiard hall. Max and Kelly climbed the long narrow flight of stairs to find nine or ten other couples already grouped around the room.
One of the instructors, a thirty-something man in black pants and a white shirt open to midchest, stood near the door with a clipboard. He listened to Kelly’s slightly garbled tale of their mistaken cancellation, and said, “No problem. The class wasn’t full, anyway. Your names?” he added, pen poised to write them down.
“Kelly and Max Walker.” She peered over his shoulder at his list of participants. “Hey, there we are.” She glanced at Max. “Now I’m really confused.”
“Forget it,” Max said over the sudden sound of Latin rhythms coming from a portable stereo system. “I think we’re about to begin.”
The man in the white shirt left them to join his partner at the front of the room. They introduced themselves as Luís and Esmerelda before stepping onto the dance floor. With their gazes locked and their movements exaggerated for their pupils’ benefit, the sultry pair demonstrated the tango.
“They make it look so easy,” Kelly whispered to Max.
“Ah, it’s a snap. Come here.” He pulled her into his arms.
Heads butted together, they gazed at their feet and concentrated, occasionally glancing at the instructors for illumination. Kelly giggled as they stumbled over each other and bumped into other dancers. “We’ll never get it.”
“Sure we will.” Max dipped her backward without warning. “I’m a natural. Eet’s my Latin blood.”
“Max!” she squealed. “My very American blood is rushing to my head. And my boobs are falling out of my dress. Max!”
“Call me Rickee.” He hauled her back up to lock his hips with hers in a sensual back-and-forth movement.
An erotic thrill ran through her despite her laughter. Max had no more idea how to tango than she did, but he could make her heart beat faster. “Ouch!” she cried as he trod on her foot. “What was I thinking when I bought these lessons?”
“You were theenking about being in my arms,” he said with a leer, impersonating Ricky Martin. Or was it Ricky Ricardo?
Her eyes met his and their laughter faded. Tension thickened the air between them. He’d hit close to the bone and somehow he knew it. How could she deny the truth when her flushed cheeks and ardent gaze gave her away? Deliberately she moved apart from him. No matter what her feelings she mustn’t lose sight of the fact that nothing was resolved between them.
“No, no, no.” Esmerelda swooped down on them, a vision in scarlet and black. “You are much too far apart. The tango is a sensual dance.” She gyrated briefly to illustrate, while Kelly exchanged an amused glance with Max. Then Esmerelda put one hand on Kelly’s back and one hand on Max’s and pushed until they were plastered together the length of their torsos. “That’s better. Now, move with each other. Listen to the music and the feet will take care of themselves.”
“Yeah, right,” Kelly muttered, too focused on the sensation of Max moving against her to even hear the music, much less worry about what her feet were doing. Too conscious of his hand in the small of her back, pressing her ever closer; of his breath whispering like a warm breeze across the top of her head and the spicy scent of his soap mingling with the sweat of exertion.
He dipped his head to murmur, “Did I mention how extremely sexy you look in that dress?”
She tipped her head back to answer but found her mind at a loss and her throat too dry to speak. She knew how he wanted the evening to end. She wanted that, too, but not as much as she wanted to him to acknowledge the validity of her feelings about Randall.
Later, as they drove home in silence, Max reached for her hand where it lay on her thigh. Flustered, she pulled it away to lift her hair off her still-damp neck. “That was fun,” she said with a little smile. “I’m glad we went.”
“Me, too.” He withdrew his hand. “How’s work going?”
“Good. I have some clients who are seriously interested in the Harper house.”
His eyebrows lifted in surprise. “You actually found a sucker who would even look at the place?”
She slapped his hand, perversely seeking contact now that he’d withdrawn it. “It’s a beautiful house. It just needs a little TLC. The interested couple are a carpenter and his wife who want to turn it into a B and B.”
“It’s a wonderful old house,” Max admitted. “I’d buy it myself if I had the money and time to fix it up. Did you fib about the roof the way Ray wanted you to?”
“What do you think?”
One side of his mouth kicked up in an indulgent smile. “I think you’re the most honest real estate agent this side of the Rockies.”
Kelly smiled radiantly at him. “Thank you.”
A few minutes later he pulled into their driveway. Before she could get out to go around to the driver’s seat, Max curled his fingers around the back of her neck and pressed his mouth down on hers, familiar and so achingly sweet she could scarcely breathe.
“Call your grandmother and tell her you’re sleeping at home tonight,” he murmured against her lips.
“But—”
“Ruth will be okay till morning.”
Kelly wasn’t worried about Gran; she was worried about herself. If she gave in, even for one night, she would have lost the entire battle. “I can’t. Until we sort out our problems, until you apologize and agree to counseling, we’re not getting back together. And there will be no sex.”
“That’s blackmail.”
“It’s how I feel. You use sex to patch things up, but I can’t make love unless we’re emotionally on an even keel.”
Max snorted. “You can’t tell me you weren’t thinking about sex when we were on the dance floor.”
“Are
you ever going to apologize?”
“I never meant to hurt you, Kelly—you know that. I have nothing to apologize for.”
Kelly faced front so she didn’t have to look at him. “You are so stubborn.”
“What about you?” Max propped one arm on the steering wheel as he leaned toward her. “You refuse to acknowledge the importance of my son in my life.”
She flashed him a glance full of hurt. “You’ve got a family—me and the girls.”
His gaze dropped to her breasts, visible above the low scooped neckline. “If you weren’t trying to turn me on, why did you wear that dress?”
Ooh, she hated it when he did that. “Okay. Yes, I wanted to be attractive to you. But I wasn’t thinking about sex—at least not right away. I was hoping we could relax in each other’s company enough to talk.”
“Talk?” He drew back in disbelief. “Lady, you’ve got some weird way of starting a conversation.”
She crossed her arms across her chest. “I’m still waiting for an apology.”
“We’re going around in circles. Fine.” He threw up his hands. “I’m sorry you got hurt. Is that better?”
“No,” she said, hurt afresh by his hard tone of voice. “You should be saying, ‘I’m sorry I hurt you.’ It’s all about admitting responsibility for your actions.”
“Don’t put words into my mouth. Why should I bother saying anything when you say it for me?”
“I have to say it for you because you never admit when you’ve done something wrong!” she cried, exasperated. “If you would only say you’re sorry and mean it, I might be able to forget and move on. Or at least talk through it.”
“You’re getting hung up on one little aspect of what happened,” Max complained. “Randall isn’t even the issue. You know what the problem is between us? We’d planned from the beginning to have at least five children and you’ve reneged on the deal.”
“I’m not going to sit here and listen to this.” She grabbed her purse, yanked open the car door and stomped around to the other side. This was so stupid. Max was so stupid. “Get out so I can go home.”