by Gina Wilkins
IT WAS A LONG EVENING in Trevor’s household, but the children were finally in bed, and Trevor had time alone to reflect on the afternoon’s events. Standing at the window of his darkened living room, a drink in his hand, he looked out at the quiet neighborhood in which he had chosen to settle his family. It was 10:00 p.m., and many of the other houses were already dark. His hardworking neighbors tended to be the early-to-bed, early-to-rise types.
He would bet that Jamie, like him, was still awake.
Jamie. He had only to close his eyes to picture her clearly, standing outside his house the way she had earlier. Her dark red hair had gleamed like polished copper in the afternoon sun. Her gold-flecked green eyes had glittered with rapidly changing emotions. Her long, slender legs had stretched endlessly beneath the hem of her short cover-up, and the tantalizing glimpses of bikini through the mesh had almost cleared his mind of coherent thought a time or two.
He’d had to make an enormous effort to keep his reactions to her hidden. Maybe he’d done so a bit too effectively. He’d had the distinct impression that she had been miffed with him when she’d stalked away.
Truth was, it had bothered him that Sam’s unprecedented act of rebellion had involved Jamie—even though she’d done nothing to instigate the incident. He had wanted to keep whatever developed between himself and Jamie completely separate from his home life, and that wasn’t made any easier by Sam’s lingering obsession with her. He didn’t know how to deal with his own fascination with Jamie—much less his five-year-old son’s!
Turning away from the window, he finished his drink and set the glass aside. His gaze fell on the telephone sitting on a table beside the couch, illuminated by the dimmed light of the only lamp turned on in the shadowy den. Maybe he should call her. After all, she had brought Sam home safe to him. And he had been a bit short with her. He owed her another thank-you—and an apology.
He knew by her chilly tone that she’d already guessed who was calling. He didn’t bother to identify himself before he said, “I suspect I wasn’t as gracious to you this afternoon as I should have been.”
“Why would you say that?” she asked too formally. “You thanked me for bringing Sam home and then you offered me a ride. You did everything that was expected of you.”
He winced. “Jamie…”
“If you’re calling to thank me again, please don’t.”
“I called because I want to talk to you. And because I know I behaved boorishly. All I can say is that I was badly shaken by Sam’s disappearing act, and it made me forget my manners. It wasn’t an excuse, but it’s my only explanation.”
“I understand that you were upset. I hope you’ve been able to reassure yourself it won’t happen again.”
“I had a long talk with Sam—and in case you’re worried, I didn’t yell at him. I merely pointed out that he scared the stuffing out of me, and I don’t want him to even think about doing anything like that again.”
“I’m sure he got your message.”
“I certainly hope so.”
“And Mrs. Brown?”
Hearing the uncertainty in her voice, he sighed wearily. “I didn’t fire her.”
“I’m glad.”
“But I did make it clear that I want her to be prepared for any eventuality when it comes to Sam and Abbie.”
“And what did she say?”
“That it had been a while since her son was that young and she’d almost forgotten how quickly they could get into mischief. She assured me she won’t forget again.”
“I doubt that she will. She looked genuinely worried about Sam this afternoon.”
“She was,” he conceded. “And she did call me the moment she realized he was missing.”
“You might suggest to her that she try a slightly different approach with Sam. He complained to me that she talks down to him, and he doesn’t like that.”
“Yes, he finally told me the same thing. I’ll talk to her about it tomorrow.”
“Good. Was there anything else?”
“You’re still annoyed with me,” he said in resignation.
“Maybe just a little,” she confessed, and he was pleased to hear a hint of ruefulness in her voice—as though she was prepared to forgive him, he thought hopefully. “You were kind of jerky to me.”
Even after what had happened between them that afternoon, even suspecting that it wasn’t a good idea, he wanted to see her again. Needed to see her again. And soon. “What can I do to make it up to you?”
“I don’t know. I was pretty mad.”
Relieved that she’d gotten past it enough to tease him, he responded in kind. “How about dinner? Would that be enough to make you forgive me?”
“Maybe…”
“And if I throw in a movie?”
“Add a large box of Gummi Bears and you’re well on your way to being completely forgiven.”
“I’ll even spring for popcorn,” he said, hoping his deep relief wasn’t entirely evident in his voice.
“Nah. Movie popcorn’s never tasted as good since they made it healthier.”
“The new Tom Hanks film is playing in Carrolton,” he suggested.
“Sounds good. When?”
“Friday?” It wasn’t soon enough, but it would have to do.
“Friday. Oh, and Trev?”
“Yes?”
There was undisguised laughter in her voice when she replied, “Be prepared to grovel.”
With that, she hung up the phone.
It was with some surprise that Trevor realized he was smiling as he replaced his own receiver. He hadn’t expected this day to end with a smile. He could credit Jamie for that, of course.
Maybe he’d go to bed early tonight. He was tired, and not really in the mood for brooding.
He supposed he could thank Jamie for that, too.
TREVOR WAS GETTING READY for his date with Jamie Friday evening when the telephone rang. He’d already dropped the kids off at his parents’ house; his mother was taking Sam, Abbie and Clay Davenport to the newest animated film that evening and then keeping them for a sleepover. He picked up the phone hoping nothing had gone wrong. As much as he had been looking forward to this evening, he would be deeply disappointed if something interfered. “Hello?”
“Hi, Trevor. It’s Tara.”
He felt his frown melt at the sound of his sister’s voice. “Well, hi, yourself. How are you?”
“Miserable,” she answered cheerfully. “I’m ready for this to be over.”
“What’s your doctor saying?”
“She keeps saying ‘any day now.’ She’s been saying that for the past two weeks.”
“How’s Blake holding up?” Trevor asked, smiling as he mentioned his dashing, eccentric, private-investigator brother-in-law.
“He’s a nervous wreck. As cool and patient as he can be in his work, imminent fatherhood has him rattled.”
Trevor chuckled. “He’ll be a great parent. You both will.”
“I hope you’re right. We have you, of course, to use as a role model.”
Wincing, Trevor shook his head. “I’m not sure I qualify for that.”
“Nonsense. You’re doing a wonderful job raising Sam and Abbie. How are my little angels, by the way?”
“They’re fine. Mother’s taking them and Clay to see that new kids’ movie this evening. I don’t know whether or not Abbie will sit still long enough to watch it, but Mother seemed to think she would.”
“Sam will like that. He always enjoys being with Clay. It’s so cute the way he tries to emulate his older cousin.”
“Yeah—and I’m relieved Clay’s a decent kid for him to emulate.”
“Clay’s a sweetheart,” Tara agreed fondly. “And Claire is adorable, isn’t she? I talked to Emily this afternoon. She was delighted to announce that Claire’s sleeping through the night, for the most part.”
“Yes, well, Abbie’s a year older than Claire and she still wakes up at least once most nights, so don’t get your hopes too
high for uninterrupted sleep for the next couple of years.”
“How’s Abbie doing with her walking?”
“She isn’t.” Trevor shook his head in resignation. “She’s still just taking a few steps when she’s holding on to things. Her pediatrician assures me there’s nothing wrong with her. She just hasn’t chosen to walk yet. She likes being carried.”
“She’ll decide soon that she’ll have more fun when she can get around on her own two feet. And then you’ll be complaining that you can’t keep up with her.”
“I’m sure you’re right.”
“So what are your plans for the evening? Going to sit around and enjoy the silence?”
“No, actually, I, uh, have plans.”
“Plans?” He could almost see his sister’s ears perk up. “Do you have a date?”
“Well, yes. Sort of.” Since he was sure their mother would tell her, anyway, he added casually, “I’m taking Jamie Flaherty out for dinner and a movie.”
“Jamie Flaherty? Really? I haven’t seen her in years. Mother told me about her pulling Sam from the swimming pool a couple of weeks ago. I know you must be so grateful to her for that.”
“Of course.”
“I think this is great, Trevor. I’m glad you’re getting out. You need to take some time for yourself.”
“It’s only dinner and a movie,” he felt compelled to remind her, not wanting her to get any unfounded ideas.
“I bet Jamie has some fascinating stories to tell about her time in New York. I never knew her all that well, of course, since she was several years behind me in school, but I always thought she was incredibly talented. It was a shame Mrs. Lynch didn’t showcase her as much as she should have in school plays. We all know why she didn’t, of course, but it was so unfair.”
Everyone in town had known about Jamie’s unfortunate home life, of course, Trevor reflected. Her father had spent many a night drying out in the town jail and her mother was known as a vague, quiet woman with unfocused eyes and a fondness for cheap wine. Jamie had been well liked by her peers because of her outgoing nature and wicked sense of humor, but her parents had been a definite social disadvantage with the adults in town. Especially the other parents, who were reluctant for their sons to date her, or their daughters to spend too much time with her. As if her parents’ drinking was a contagious disease that Jamie might carry, Trevor thought with a frown, looking back now with an adult’s view of her youth.
How much had he been influenced by the whispers and rumors? Had his failure to ask her out then, even knowing there was a strong attraction between them, been due as much to unconscious snobbery as to wariness of their differences?
And wouldn’t that have been hypocritical, coming from one of the wild McBrides?
Because the question made him uncomfortable, he abruptly changed the subject. “Have you heard from Trent lately?”
Tara’s sigh carried clearly through the phone lines. “He called this morning. He wanted to know if—to use his words—I had ‘dropped my load’ yet.”
Trevor chuckled. “That sounds exactly like the way he would have worded it. The kid’s a fruitcake.”
“I don’t know, Trevor, I worry about him. He just sounds so cocky and reckless sometimes that I can’t help being afraid he’s going to get a rude awakening if he isn’t careful. Does that make any sense to you?”
It made entirely too much sense, actually. Trevor had once been smug and cocky, himself, so certain his life was progressing exactly the way he had planned. So confident that nothing could go wrong. So stupidly blind to what had been going on right under his nose.
“Trent will be okay, Tara,” he gruffly assured her. “You just take care of yourself, you hear? Your kid brothers can look after themselves.”
Though she was barely a year older than Trevor and six years older than Trent, Tara had always taken her responsibility as the eldest too seriously. She’d always watched out for them and worried about them—which was one reason Trevor had never told her about his experience in Washington last year. She had grieved for him enough. She had her own life to enjoy now.
“I know you can both take care of yourselves,” she answered him affectionately. “It’s just that I want you both to be happy.”
“And Trent and I want the same for you, sis. It was great talking to you, but I’d better go now or I’ll be late picking Jamie up.”
“Tell her hello from me, will you?”
“Yes, I’ll do that. And tell Blake to call as soon as the baby arrives so we can all come admire it.”
“I hope that will be very soon,” Tara said fervently.
“So do I. See you, Tara.”
He hung up the phone and glanced at his watch.
It was time to pick up Jamie.
7
“SO THEN the director looked at me and said, ‘Well, what are you waiting for? Get out there, Flaherty.”’
Trevor regarded Jamie intently over the rim of his coffee mug. “And what did you do?”
Curled on her couch beside him, her bare feet tucked beneath her, one arm propped on the back of the cushions, she grinned at him. “I went out there, of course. And I ad-libbed like crazy. And somehow, it worked. My reviews were better than I could have hoped for. Unfortunately, the critics weren’t so kind to the rest of the show. It closed after two weeks.”
“Was that when you decided to leave New York?”
“Heavens, no. That incident happened four years ago. I’ve been in three obscure plays and two soap operas since then.”
“So why did you leave?”
“I’ve told you. My aunt Ellen called about the teaching position here and I decided to give it a try. I was actually working when she called me—a small, but interesting part in a critically well-received off-Broadway production. The public hasn’t really discovered it yet, but I think it will happen soon.”
Sometimes when Trevor looked at her, she felt as though he could look right into her head. It was those unnervingly intense blue eyes of his—they sometimes seemed to see too much. She wouldn’t want him to guess that she’d come back partially because he was here. She had only recently admitted that to herself.
“So you just dropped everything in New York and came back here because you heard there was an opening for a drama teacher?” he asked, politely skeptical.
She lowered her eyelashes to conceal her expression—just in case he could see more than she wanted him to. “Yeah. Something like that.”
He obviously didn’t believe her, but he must have decided he had no right to pry any further. He took another sip of his coffee and set it aside. “I forgot to tell you that Tara called just before I left the house this evening. She said to tell you hello.”
“How is she?”
“Ready for the baby to be born. They already know it’s a girl. They’re going to call her Alison.”
“Pretty.”
“Mom’s beside herself, of course, at the thought of another grandchild. She does love being a grandma.”
“You’re lucky to have her. I know she’s been a big help to you with the children.”
“I don’t know what I’d have done without her,” he admitted. “She actually enjoys baby-sitting. She even asks me to let her keep the kids.”
Jamie couldn’t help comparing Trevor’s family to her own. His could have come from a 1950s sitcom. Lawyer father, schoolteacher mother, three smart, well-behaved offspring. Sure, they were McBrides—but they’d been remarkably scandal-free in comparison to the other branches of the family, as far as Jamie knew. Had Trevor’s wife not died in that car accident, he would probably still be living that Norman Rockwell life, himself.
Though the prospect of having her own children seemed remote at the moment, Jamie couldn’t imagine her mother being a devoted grandparent. Lorena Flaherty spent her days in a blurry haze of booze and television. The only time she’d paid much attention to Jamie in the past few years was when Jamie had had a small, ten-week part on Lorena’s fa
vorite soap opera. During their usually stilted weekly phone calls, Lorena had pelted Jamie with questions about the other characters. Somewhat pitifully, she had seemed to truly believe the actors were the people they played—she’d even confused Jamie with her character a few times, chiding her for causing problems between a popular pair of lovers in the story.
She would have to give birth on the air to get her mother’s attention, Jamie thought with long-resigned irony. And then she wondered what had triggered the thought. It wasn’t as if she was planning to have children any time soon—if ever.
“Do you want more coffee?” she asked, nodding toward Trevor’s empty cup.
“No. Actually, there’s something I still have to do this evening.”
“Oh?” She wasn’t sure how to read his expression.
He nodded. “You told me to be prepared to grovel. I’m ready to do so now.”
She’d almost forgotten their little spat earlier in the week. “Perhaps you’ve noticed that I’ve forgiven you. Groveling isn’t necessary at this point.”
“You’re sure?”
“Quite sure.”
“I’m happy to hear that,” he said, and pulled her toward him.
Her mouth only an inch or so from his, she murmured, “It was probably the case of Gummi Bears you brought when you picked me up this evening that did the trick.”
He chuckled, his breath whisper-warm against her lips. “It was a toss-up between Gummi Bears and diamonds.”
Cupping his face between her hands, she pulled him closer. “You made the right choice.”
He couldn’t know how much it had touched her to find him on her doorstep with the big box of candies in his hand. Diamonds could never have affected her the way the whimsical gesture and his slightly sheepish smile had.
She was crazy about his mouth, she thought as they dived into an eager kiss. His lower lip was full, his upper lip straight and firm. Two deep creases bracketed his smile—not dimples, exactly, but sexy hollows that begged to be explored with the tip of her tongue. Delicious.