by Gina Wilkins
Sam turned to his father. “Can Jamie come, too?”
“Of course she can.”
Even though Trevor had answered without hesitation, Jamie felt a slight frisson of uneasiness go through her. There’d been something in his voice…
“Help me gather everything up, Clay,” Wade said, standing and officially bringing the picnic to an end. “Make sure all the trash is in the canisters.”
“I’ll help,” Sam offered, sliding off Jamie’s lap.
It didn’t take long for all evidence of the meal to be removed, the supplies stowed away and the children hugged, kissed and buckled into their respective seats. Jamie thanked Emily and Wade for including her, waving to them as they drove off. And then she turned to Trevor, who stood beside the unopened driver’s door of his car.
“I had a good time,” she told him. “I hope you don’t mind that Emily invited me.”
“Why should I have minded?”
She decided to let him answer that for himself. “Are we still on for tomorrow evening?”
He nodded. “My folks are going to watch the kids again. Then we’re all going early Saturday to visit Tara and Blake and the baby.”
Which meant, Jamie interpreted, that he probably wouldn’t be staying very late at her house. She would just have to make good use of the time they had together. “Why don’t I cook dinner for us tomorrow? We can watch a video or play cards or something instead of going out.”
It was the “or something” that she was actually offering, of course, and Trevor probably knew it. He nodded. “That sounds nice.”
She would have loved to kiss him goodbye, and it wouldn’t have mattered to her if half the population of Honoria saw them. But because she knew it mattered to Trevor, she took a step backward. “’Bye, Trev.”
He already had one hand on his door handle, prepared to join his children in the car. “Drive carefully.”
“I will.” Maybe she was just tired, she thought, taking another step away. Maybe that was the reason she was suddenly feeling a little depressed.
“Jamie?”
She looked over her shoulder. “Yes?”
Trevor’s faint smile was crooked. “I enjoyed being with you today. I’m glad you came.”
Her heart suddenly lighter, she returned the smile with a bright one of her own. “So am I.”
“See you tomorrow.” He slid into his car and closed the door, though he didn’t drive away until Jamie was safely in her own vehicle.
I enjoyed being with you today. I’m glad you came.
The encouraging words kept her company as she drove home.
WHEN JAMIE’S DOORBELL rang Friday evening, she rushed to answer it, rather surprised that Trevor was early. He was usually predictably punctual. It pleased her that he’d been impatient to see her.
But Trevor wasn’t the recipient of her bright smile when she threw open the door. “Hello, Clark. Have I forgotten we were supposed to meet this evening?”
“No. I stopped on my way home from the office, and I promise I’ll only bother you for a minute. I need your signature on a form. It’s one we overlooked earlier. My mistake, I’m afraid.”
“Come in,” Jamie offered, holding the door wider. “How have you been?”
“Hanging in,” he said with a shrug, stepping past her into the living room.
She closed the door. “And your boys?”
“They’re doing as well as can be expected, considering that our family is in the middle of a breakup.”
She didn’t know what to say in response to his bitter tone. To her relief, Clark made it unnecessary for her to say anything. He reached into the pocket of his jacket and pulled out a neatly folded sheet of paper. “I’m sure you have plans for the evening, and I promised not to hold you up for long. You need to sign at the bottom of the page, on the line I marked with a red X.”
“Have a seat. Would you like some coffee while I read this?”
He looked tempted. “I don’t…”
“The coffee’s already made,” she assured him.
“In that case, yeah, I’d like a cup.”
She smiled. “I’ll be right back.”
Settling on the couch, he loosened his tie. “Take your time.”
Jamie glanced at her watch on the way to the kitchen. She still had half an hour or so before Trevor was due to arrive. It was a good thing she’d been ahead of schedule this evening for a change.
“I forgot to ask if you take anything in your coffee,” she said a few minutes later, carrying a filled mug back into the living room.
“No, I take it black.” He smiled as he accepted the cup from her. “Thanks.”
She sank onto the couch beside him and picked up the form he’d laid on the coffee table. Clark sipped his coffee while she looked it over, asked a couple of questions, and then signed it with the pen he handed to her. She returned the pen and folded the form along its original lines.
“Good coffee,” Clark said, setting the mug on a coaster.
She smiled. “You look a bit more relaxed now.”
“Yeah. It’s been a stressful day. First chance I’ve had since breakfast to sit down and unwind a little.”
“The high-powered life of a small-town accountant,” Jamie murmured.
He made a face at her. “I know mockery when I hear it,” he said, but showed no sign of offense.
“Not mockery,” she assured him. “I was just teasing.”
“Jamie Flaherty’s specialty.”
She shrugged. “I just can’t resist sometimes.”
He turned on the couch, resting one arm on the back. His jacket parted, revealing his pudgy middle, ruining the studly pose he seemed to be attempting. “You always make me smile, I’ll give you that. I enjoy spending time with you, Jamie.”
A warning bell rang in her mind. Apparently, she was slipping. She usually sensed when someone was going to make a move on her. She’d assumed Clark saw her as no more than a friend and client. Sure, they’d flirted a little, but she’d kept it light and impersonal. At least, she thought she had.
“I enjoy being with you, too, Clark,” she said briskly. “It’s nice when you can be friends and professional associates.”
“Maybe we could have dinner one night next week? I mean, since we enjoy spending time together and we’re already friends…”
Clark must have been one of the few people not plugged into the Honoria grapevine. Either that, or he was ignoring reports that she had been seeing Trevor. “Thank you for asking, Clark, but I—”
The doorbell cut into her tactful reply. Trevor was early, after all. What interesting timing.
“That will be my dinner guest,” she said, standing. “And, Clark—it’s Trevor McBride.”
He grimaced, his arm falling to his side. “Oh, boy.”
“Be nice,” she said, pointing a warning finger at him. “This is not a courtroom and you aren’t adversaries here.”
Clark stood and slipped the form back into his jacket pocket. “I’ll be going. There’s no way I can make small talk with that bloodsucker.”
Resisting an impulse to roll her eyes, Jamie opened the door. “Hi, Trev.”
“Whose car is that—oh.” Trevor’s face hardened when he spotted Clark over her shoulder.
Apparently keeping Jamie’s instructions in mind, Clark nodded stiffly. “Trevor.”
Trevor hadn’t been given orders to “be nice.” “What are you doing here?”
“Clark is here on business,” Jamie interceded quickly. “He was just leaving.”
Trevor stepped into the room, clearing the doorway. “Don’t let me detain you.”
Clark turned pointedly to Jamie. “Thanks for the coffee.”
She nodded. “Give me a call if there’s anything else I need to sign. I’d be happy to stop by your office and save you a trip.”
It was a gentle hint, but she hoped it got through.
From the way Clark’s mouth twisted, she assumed it had. “Good night, Ja
mie.”
He exchanged a hard look with Trevor on his way out, but they refrained from further comments, to Jamie’s relief.
She turned to Trevor after Clark left. “Well. That was pleasant.”
“Did you know he was coming?”
“No. He stopped on his way home. He had a form for me to sign.”
“Was that his excuse?”
“He had a form for me to sign,” she repeated firmly.
“I hope you read it very carefully.”
His suspicious tone might have been amusing if he hadn’t looked so grim. “I read the form,” she assured him. “Now, would you like dinner, or would you rather stand here and bash my accountant?”
Though he looked tempted by the latter, he motioned toward the kitchen. “Let’s eat.”
Jamie wasn’t sure he’d ever remember what he’d eaten. He spent most of the meal studying her across the table, answering her comments in monosyllables.
“I’m beginning to wonder if I should wave a hand in front of your face to see if anyone’s there,” she commented after yet another conversational gambit died for lack of input on his part.
“I’m listening to you,” he defended himself.
“I know you’re listening, but you aren’t responding. Is there something on your mind this evening? Something bothering you?”
He looked down at his plate. “No.”
“Are you annoyed with me about something?”
“Of course not.”
“PMS?”
He gave her a look. “Cute.”
“Well, come on, Trev, you’ve hardly said a dozen words since you got here.”
“I’m sorry if I’ve been rude.”
“You haven’t been rude. Just…distant.”
“Then I’m sorry I’ve been distant.”
“Are you sure there isn’t something you want to talk about?”
He glanced up at her. “I’d like to tell you to be careful around Clark Foster, but something tells me you wouldn’t take it too well.”
“You’re right,” she agreed equably. “I would probably point out to you—again—that Clark is my friend and my accountant.”
“Even if I warned you again that he isn’t exactly a choirboy? That it was because of his fooling around that his wife is divorcing him?”
“I would tell you again that his divorce is none of my business. And that I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself with men.”
“Then I won’t say any of the above,” Trevor conceded. “I don’t want to quarrel with you this evening.”
“Neither do I.” She smiled at him. “So I’m really glad you’ve decided not to mention Clark. Would you like dessert? I made peach cobbler.”
“Peach cobbler?” His frown lightened.
“It’s still warm. And I have ice cream.”
That almost made him smile. “I suppose I could eat a little more.”
She chuckled and got up from the table. “I’ll dish it up. Help yourself to coffee.”
“Want me to pour you a cup?”
“Yes, please.”
The peach cobbler and ice cream seemed to put him in a better mood. Jamie made a mental note that sweets were a way to perk him up. By the time he had polished off a generous helping, he was almost cheerful.
“So what would you like to do now?” she asked when the cobbler had been devoured and the dishes cleared away. “Watch TV? Play Scrabble? Wash your car?”
“I think we can come up with something more interesting than any of those options—particularly the latter.”
The way he was suddenly looking at her made her smile and move closer to him. “We could always alphabetize my pantry.”
He slipped his arms around her waist. “Try again.”
Looping her arms around his neck, she pretended to give it some thought. “Organize my sock drawer?”
“Do you keep your socks in your bedroom?”
“Of course.”
His mouth crooked into a smile. “Why don’t we go in there and discuss it?”
“Why don’t we?” she murmured, rubbing her lips lightly against his.
They never got around to organizing the sock drawer, of course. And Jamie soon discovered that sweets weren’t the only way to put Trevor in a good mood.
TREVOR LEFT much sooner than either of them would have liked. He had no choice, of course, since he had to pick up the children. They were leaving early the next morning to go visit Tara in Atlanta. What bothered her, though, was that it hadn’t even seemed to occur to him to invite Jamie along. She told herself not to be offended. Trevor was obviously concentrating on establishing a relationship with her before introducing her into his family. That made sense, she supposed—but she had really enjoyed the family picnic, and she would love to be included again.
But she could wait, she told herself, until he was ready. Or at least until her limited patience ran out completely.
He kissed her lingeringly at the door. “I’ll call you.”
“Drive carefully tomorrow.”
“I will.”
“And give my best to your sister and her husband and their new baby.”
For some reason, he frowned again—just a little—but he nodded. “I’ll do that.”
“Good night,” she said, trying to keep the wistfulness out of her voice.
He kissed her again. “Good night, Jamie.”
As Jamie locked the door and prepared to get ready for bed, she realized that she was missing Trevor already, wondering when she would see him again. It was a little scary how hard she had fallen for him. How much she suddenly had at stake.
She had come back to Honoria when she’d realized that something was missing from her life. She’d thought facing her past, and reexamining her roots would help her identify what she needed to fulfill her. It wasn’t money—she could have gone on making a decent income in New York. More than she made here, actually. It wasn’t fame, though there had been a time when she’d fantasized about that, too—before she’d realized that she wasn’t destined for superstardom. She was too private and independent for that sort of fishbowl life, anyway.
One of the first things she had done when she came back was to revisit the old house on the edge of town where she had grown up. Someone had taken pains to repair the signs of neglect her parents had left behind when they’d moved away. The little house bore new siding, shutters and shingles, and the carport had been enclosed to make a garage. It was obvious that whoever lived there now took pride in the place. But Jamie had been unable to appreciate the improvements. She had looked at the house and had remembered the unhappiness she’d known there. She’d spent a long time parked on the side of the road, staring at the darkened windows, and putting those memories to rest.
Since then, she had found fulfillment here in several ways. Her teaching job—the chance to be a positive influence in so many students’ lives, the opportunity to encourage their creativity and talent. Her participation in the fledgling community theater—a chance to be actively involved in the community, to encourage the arts in Honoria. The new friends she had made and the old ones she had reconnected with.
And she had fallen in love.
She had watched Emily and Wade having their picnic with their children yesterday, and she’d found herself envying them. Wondering if she would ever have what they’d found—commitment, security, children.
She wondered if there was even the slightest chance that she would have those things with Trevor.
He’d had it all before. She realized that, and she was honest enough to admit to herself that it bothered her sometimes. Mostly because she knew so little about his marriage. Had he loved his late wife so much that he would never recover, never love anyone else that much again?
He wanted her—she could hardly doubt that now—but could he ever love her?
HIS SISTER SEEMED happier than Trevor had ever seen her. She looked both beautiful and relaxed, he decided. Less driven than she had been only a co
uple of years ago. Losing her job with a stuffy old legal firm, meeting her unpredictable P.I. husband, starting her own two-person law firm, having her first child—all the changes had combined to make her look happy, contented and fulfilled.
Trevor was happy for her.
Tara’s home was filled with the cheerful noise of family—adults laughing, children babbling, babies fussing. In addition to Trevor, his children and his parents, Emily and her family were there. Everyone wanted to celebrate the newest addition to the McBride family—even if this one’s last name was Fox.
When the boys grew restless, Emily and Wade volunteered to take them out for ice cream. They took Abbie, too, leaving Trevor and his parents to visit with Tara and Blake.
Bobbie fretted a bit that little Alison had been exposed to so many people that day, but Tara pointed out that the baby might as well get used to being surrounded by family. As fast at the McBride clan was growing, there were many noisy gatherings ahead.
“I only wish Trent could be here,” she added. “Did everyone see the beautiful roses he sent me? And the ridiculously big teddy bear he included for the baby?”
More family talk followed. Then Tara turned to Trevor. “Anything new going on in your life lately?”
Glancing suspiciously at his suddenly innocent-looking mother, Trevor replied, “Not much.”
Tara gave him her patented big-sister grin. “No new ladies in your life?”
Bobbie, Trevor noted, did everything but look up at the ceiling and whistle to distance herself from this particular topic. “What did Mom tell you?” he asked fatalistically.
“Only that you’ve been spending a lot of time lately with Jamie Flaherty.”
What the hell. “She sends her regards to you and Blake.”
“How sweet. Please send mine in return.”
“Yes, of course,” he answered dryly, preparing to be interrogated.
“I’ve seen her on TV,” Blake commented, looking up from little Alison cradled so securely in his strong arms. “She’s certainly attractive.”
“Blake’s a soap opera buff,” Tara explained with a chuckle. “He saw Jamie when she played a visiting vixen on one of his soaps.”
“She was good, too,” Blake added equably. “She almost broke up Dirk and Velvet on Private Lives, and their marriage has survived numerous other near disasters. Then Jamie—her name was Veronica on the show—died in a suspicious skydiving accident. Her body was never recovered, though, so there’s always a chance she could come back.”