by Gina Wilkins
“Yeah, well, I’m starting to take it personally. Valerie and I were handling things fairly civilly until the lawyers got involved—especially Trevor.”
“It’s always sad when a marriage breaks up.”
He sighed and Jamie saw a flash of what might have been guilt cross his face before he muttered, “Especially when there are kids involved. I really hate this for my boys.”
Without knowing—or even wanting to know—the details of the breakup, Jamie offered a simple, “I’m sorry, Clark.” She knew from personal observation how ugly divorces could become, and how easily innocent bystanders could be caught in the middle. She intended to be very careful not to become involved in this one, in any way. Not even by asking questions.
He nodded his gratitude, then changed the subject. “Want any dessert? Cora still makes those great pies with the mile-high meringue.”
“As much as I love her pies, I’m afraid I’ll have to pass. I’m too full. But feel free to have some yourself.”
Reluctantly, Clark looked at his own thoroughly cleaned plate. “I guess I’d better pass, too. I’ve already gone way over my limit for today.”
Ten minutes later, Jamie made her way out of the bustling diner, the paperwork tucked beneath her arm. She didn’t look back at Trevor’s table, but she had the oddest sensation that she was being watched as she and Clark left the restaurant.
5
JAMIE WAS PAINTING when her telephone rang that evening. Still holding her brush in one hand, her eyes focused assessingly on the lake-and-forest scene taking shape in front of her, she reached with her left hand for the cordless phone she’d placed nearby. “Hello?”
“It’s Trevor.”
That took her attention away from the canvas. “Well, hey, Trev,” she drawled, masking her surprise. “What’s up?”
“I, er, just thought I’d call and say hi. I suppose you thought I was rather short at the diner earlier.”
She leaned back on her stool. “You do take your job seriously, don’t you, Counselor? One might have thought you were facing poor Clark from the opposite side of a courtroom, rather than in Cora’s Café.”
“Poor Clark?” He obviously didn’t care for the term. “I hardly think that description fits.”
“I really don’t know the particulars of his divorce, and I’d just as soon not hear them. Clark’s my accountant, and the details of his personal life don’t concern me.” Once again, she remembered what a mess she’d found herself in the last time she’d offered comfort and friendship to a man in the middle of a divorce.
“Just watch yourself around him, okay? That squeaky-clean choirboy image he puts on doesn’t quite give the full picture.”
“Are you telling me I shouldn’t trust him as my accountant?” she asked bluntly.
After only a momentary hesitation, Trevor conceded, “No. I have no reason to believe there’s anything questionable about his work.”
“Then that’s all that matters, isn’t it? Nothing else is really relevant to me.”
“So your lunch with him was strictly business?”
“You could say that,” she agreed coolly. “My business.”
She could almost hear him wince. “Look, Jamie, I didn’t mean to sound intrusive,” he said awkwardly. “It’s just—well, you haven’t been back in town very long and you probably aren’t aware of some of the things that go on around here.”
“Honoria hasn’t changed that much while I was away. And I know how to plug in to the gossip lines—if I had any interest in doing so.”
“I didn’t call to gossip.” He sounded annoyed by the implication.
“Then why did you call?” she challenged him.
“I want you to have dinner with me tomorrow night.”
Jamie nearly dropped her paintbrush. She had to call on her acting skills to respond with cool amusement to his tactless invitation. “Was that a request—or an order?”
“A request,” he replied, his tone a bit rueful. “I’m sorry if I sounded abrupt. I’m afraid I’m out of practice when it comes to this sort of thing. It’s been a few years since I asked a woman to dinner.”
A few years? Had he really not been on a date since his wife died? Not quite sure how she felt about that, Jamie considered the invitation.
Whatever his reason for asking, it was only dinner, she reminded herself. Her longtime fascination with Trevor made her want to accept—but also made her wary of doing so. She was just starting to feel comfortable in town again. She was hesitant to risk firing up the gossips with an experiment that would probably end up going nowhere.
She had told herself repeatedly that she’d come back to rest, to teach, to put painful old memories to rest, and to decide what to do with the rest of her life now that she had accepted that her acting career had gone about as far as she was willing to take it. She had tried to convince herself that it was only coincidence that she’d decided to take the teaching job only after hearing that Trevor McBride had moved back to Honoria. But she’d always been aware of a nagging urge to see him again, this man who’d haunted her dreams and her memories for so long. The man to whom other men had never quite measured up, no matter how hard she had tried not to compare them to him.
“We could drive into Atlanta for dinner,” Trevor said, correctly guessing a small part of the reason for her hesitation. “That way we wouldn’t have to worry about whatever Martha Godwin or any of the other local jaw-flappers around here might say about seeing us together.”
She was relieved by his suggestion. “That sounds nice,” she said.
There never had been any question, really, that she would turn him down. She had waited too long for this.
“Shall I pick you up at seven?”
“Pick me up?” She slid comfortably back into teasing, using it, as always, as a way to hide her real emotions. “Shouldn’t we meet in a dark alley somewhere?”
“No. But I’ll wear a disguise, if you like.”
His dry rejoinder pleased her. “How will I recognize you?”
“I’ll wear a pink rose on my lapel.”
“A pink rose?” She laughed. “That should serve as an effective disguise in itself, given your ultra-conservative-attorney image.”
“Then it will serve its purpose, won’t it? If anyone sees it, they’ll assume I’m one of your eccentric theater friends.”
“What makes you think my theater friends are eccentric?”
“Call it a wild guess. I’ll see you tomorrow evening.”
“I’ll be working on my own disguise,” she promised.
“I shudder to think what that might be.” But she thought she heard a smile in his voice. “Good night, Jamie.”
She hung up the phone and looked back at the painting. Might as well clean her brushes, she thought. She doubted that she would be able to concentrate any more tonight.
TREVOR WAS COMBATTING guilt when he turned into Jamie’s driveway Saturday evening. As much as the kids enjoyed staying with their grandparents, he still felt badly about leaving them on a weekend after spending so many hours away from them while he worked during the week. It hadn’t been easy for him to ask his mother to baby-sit, especially since he’d had to explain his reason for needing her. To her credit, Bobbie’s only reaction when he’d told her he was taking Jamie to dinner was to tell him to have a good time.
Whether she had said so or not, he knew his mother was pleased. She’d been urging him to get out more for the past five or six months. She’d said it “wasn’t natural” for a young man like him to spend so much time alone. When he’d reminded her that he had two young children to raise, she had replied that she thought he was a very good father, but he still needed a life of his own. Melanie, she had added as gently as possible for her, would not have wanted him to spend the rest of his life in mourning.
He wondered what she would have said if he’d told her he suspected Melanie might have taken great satisfaction from having him do exactly that. Trevor still hadn’t told
anyone, including his parents, the full story surrounding his wife’s death. Bobbie couldn’t know that he had been dealing with a great deal more than grief during the eleven months that had passed since the accident.
He had quickly realized that Washington, D.C., was no place for him to come to grips with what had happened—or for him to raise his children alone. He hadn’t wanted his kids to hear the gossip about Melanie, or to be told just what their mother had been doing when she’d supposedly been involved in all her charitable activities. He had needed his family, a change of scenery and the company of people who had barely known Melanie and hadn’t heard the rumors that had sped like wildfire through the ranks of his D.C. colleagues. He had found all of that here.
But he hadn’t expected to find Jamie Flaherty, or to be drawn to her as strongly as he had been in the past. This time, he’d decided, there weren’t as many reasons for him to try to resist her. As long as he was careful not to let himself get too deeply involved—as long as he made sure his children weren’t affected by his actions—there was no reason he couldn’t take Jamie up on some of the things she seemed to be offering. Things he had decided he wanted very badly.
They were both young, single, and had only recently moved back to town. He doubted that footloose Jamie was interested in a long-term commitment to a single father, which didn’t particularly disturb him since he wasn’t looking for that, either. At this point, he had no plans to marry again—to ever trust another woman with his heart and, most importantly, with his children. As for Jamie, he would actually be surprised if she stayed for the entire school year. As flighty as she seemed to be, she’d probably take off as soon as she had an acting offer. Either that, or she’d get bored again with small-town life and head back for the excitement of the Big Apple.
But in the meantime…
He parked his car and reached for the gift he had brought her on impulse.
Trevor had considered himself quite accomplished in the Washington social scene. He’d mingled with politicians, celebrities, business moguls, heads of state. He’d spent almost as much time in tuxedos as he had in casual wear and there had rarely been a time when he’d felt awkward or tongue-tied. But when Jamie Flaherty opened her door wearing a slim-fitting, shoulder-baring, leg-revealing, yellow sundress, he almost forgot his own name.
If she noticed his poleaxed expression, she gave no sign of it. “Hey, Trev. Nice tie.”
Since he had no idea whether she was serious or mocking his conservative tastes, he settled for a simple, “Thanks. You look…nice.”
“Why, thank you.” She slanted a look up at him that left little doubt that she was laughing at him.
Resigning himself to an evening of Jamie’s style of teasing, he held out the single pink rose he’d brought her. “I was going to wear this, but it clashed with my shirt.”
She accepted the perfect bloom with a smile. “Thank you again. It’s lovely. I’ll put it in a vase to keep it fresh. I would wear it, but it clashes with my hair.”
He glanced at her short, saucy cut. “When did you go red?”
“Last year—after my brunette stage, which came after my blond phase. I get bored easily.”
Which pretty much confirmed what he’d been thinking. “Red must be a popular color these days. My sister keeps her hair that color now, too—though it’s more of a strawberry blond than yours. It took me a while to get used to it, but I like it now.”
“Tara dyed her hair?” Jamie seemed surprised. “I can’t picture her as anything but blond.”
“She looks good either way.”
“I’m sure she does. Tara’s always been beautiful. Would you like a drink or something before we go?” she asked after placing the rose in a crystal bud vase.
Having a drink meant spending more time here with Jamie. In her house. Alone. With her in that body-skimming, flirty little dress. He didn’t think he could take that, yet. “No. If you’re ready, we’ll go.”
She reached for her purse. “Then I suppose I’m ready.”
At least it appeared he would keep her amused this evening. He supposed that was something.
TREVOR DIDN’T have to worry about making conversation during the hour-long drive to the restaurant he’d selected in Atlanta. Jamie talked the entire way, telling him about the acting roles she’d had in New York, and sharing stories about some of the celebrities she’d met. It was almost as if she was trying to fill the awkward silences between them.
He didn’t mind her chattering. Trying to keep up with her conversational gymnastics kept him from dwelling on the way her skirt had ridden up on her thighs. The way her seat belt pulled the top of her dress so tightly against her breasts. Her faint, intriguingly citrusy scent.
He shifted in his seat, annoyed with himself for letting his hormones run away with him. Just because he hadn’t been to bed with a woman during the past year didn’t mean he couldn’t control himself for an evening.
The rather one-sided conversation continued during the excellent dinner they were served at a cozily secluded table in a quiet corner of the elegant restaurant. Jamie seemed as comfortable in their posh surroundings as she did curled on the sofa at her house, making him wonder if she ever felt awkward. If she did, he certainly couldn’t tell.
“I’ve done enough gabbing,” she said when they had almost finished their meal. “Why don’t you tell me about your adventures in Washington? I bet you’ve met some very interesting people.”
“A few.”
“Tell me about some of the things you’ve seen,” she said, studying him across the tiny table. “Entertain me while I savor my dessert.”
Though he wasn’t sure exactly what it would take to entertain her, he managed to come up with a few anecdotes. Jamie seemed to find them amusing, though he was aware he could not quite match her flair for storytelling.
“Now tell me the latest cute things your kids have done,” she demanded when he’d run out of innocuous Washington stories. “You’ve hardly mentioned them this evening.”
He smiled wryly. “I didn’t think talking about one’s kids was proper date etiquette. I could be wrong. Last time I was out on a date, I didn’t even have kids.”
“Didn’t you and your wife go out on dates?”
He felt a muscle tense in the back of his neck. “Yes, of course we went out. I was referring to dates in the traditional sense.”
Her eyes searched his face, making him wonder what she saw there. “Did your wife like the D.C. social scene?”
More than he had ever realized, Trevor could have answered. As far as he had known, she’d been content to stay at home in the evenings with him and the children, which was what he had generally preferred when they had no pressing engagements. He hadn’t known, of course, that she’d found her own entertainment during the hours he had spent at the office. He merely nodded in response to Jamie’s question.
“And did you?” she asked.
“It got old fast.” Though his appetite was gone, he took another bite of his cheesecake, just to give him something to do for a moment.
Her curiosity had not yet been satisfied. “Have you decided to stay in Honoria permanently now, or will you go back to Washington eventually?”
“I have no plans to go back. My father’s been working twelve-hour days long enough. He’s needed a partner for several years. When he’s ready to retire, I’ll take over the practice.”
“Handling divorces and bankruptcies in Honoria is a lot different from dealing with affairs of state in the nation’s capital. Are you sure it’s enough for you?”
“I’m confident it will be, especially combined with the responsibility of raising my kids.”
“Tell me about the new nanny. Do the children like her?”
“Her name is Sarah Brown. She moved to town last year with her husband, who works at O’Brien’s Lumberyard. Their only son is in college now, but Sarah likes kids and enjoys taking care of them. I wanted someone more mature this time, and she came highly
recommended. Abbie’s taken to her easily enough—but then, Abbie likes everybody.”
“She’s such a sweetheart. What about Sam? Has he taken to Sarah, too?”
Trevor had to make an effort not to sigh. “Sam doesn’t accept newcomers into his life easily. It seems that his shyness grows worse with time rather than better.”
“I haven’t noticed him being overly shy.”
“That’s because he isn’t with you. He took to you right away.” And Trevor still couldn’t quite explain it—except to decide that whatever magic Jamie worked on him was equally potent to his son.
“He’s an adorable little boy, Trev. So bright and observant. And Abbie’s an angel. You’re doing a wonderful job with them.”
Trevor was surprised by how much her words touched him. “Thanks,” he said, his tone gruffer than he’d intended. “I’m doing my best. And I have a lot of help from my parents. Mother can be a handful at times, but she’s been an enormous help to me with the kids.”
“I’m sure she has. Bobbie is one of the most efficient and competent people I’ve ever met.”
“Not to mention the bossiest,” Trevor added with affectionate irony.
Jamie laughed softly. “That, too. What about the children’s other grandparents? Do they get to see them often?”
Trevor’s smile faded. “My wife’s mother passed away several years ago. Her father is still living, but in poor health. We see him very rarely.”
The young man who’d served them all evening appeared at the table with a carafe in his hand. “More coffee, folks?”
Trevor and Jamie both accepted the offer. Trevor, for one, was in no hurry to leave. However, he had not planned to spend so much time talking about his children. And certainly not about Melanie, or her family. He’d intended to keep this evening strictly between himself and Jamie.
“What about you?” he asked, watching her sip her coffee. “Has talking about New York this evening given you a yen to go back?”
“I’ll go back to New York—if for nothing more than holiday visits. But for now, I’m content where I am. I’m spending the summer resting, painting, catching up on my reading, making new friends in town. And I’m really looking forward to starting the new school year, and putting together my own productions from scratch.”