Keast, Karen

by The Surprise of His Life

  The song continued, the pianist singing that a thousand violins begin to play when her lover takes her hand.

  Hand. Her hand. It still felt incredibly warm. Baby warm. Womanly warm. Father. He didn't feel like her father. Not in the least. In fact, the way she felt in his arms was decidedly alarming. Primarily because it might be worth risking feeling like an old fool just to feel this alive.

  Alive. He made her feel alive. Wonderfully alive. So many times she'd wondered if what she was feeling was right. Was there something wrong in what she felt for this man? This she'd pondered, questioned, worried about to the nth degree. She'd decided, though, even before returning home, that what she was feeling had to be right, simply because it felt right. If she'd needed that fact corroborated, the feel of his arms did so. In spades.

  Acting on pure instinct, Lindsey sighed and, slipping her hand from his, slid it along the back of his neck to join her other hand. At the same time, her cheek nestled against his, while she eased her body one step, two steps closer. The pose was unquestionably that of a lover's pose.

  Lover.

  The thought struck Walker. She felt like a lover in his arms—her fingers gently kneading the back of his neck, her cheek flush with his cheek, her body swaying softly, sensuously against, and into, his. It struck him like a bolt out of the blue that he liked the lover's feel of her. God help him, he liked it!

  Abruptly, he stopped. So did Lindsey. So did the music. As the last dying notes of the song echoed throughout the room, Lindsey pulled back until her gaze found Walker's. A lazy, hazy sultriness danced in her eyes. For one crazy moment, Walker could almost believe that Lindsey was feeling the same thing he was. In the next instant, however, reality snatched him by the collar. The moment wasn't crazy. He was. He had to be to think that Lindsey would ever entertain anything but daughterly feelings for him. As for himself, he was appalled at his unfatherly feelings. For the love of heaven, he cried silently, what was happening to him?

  Lindsey saw Walker's confusion and could only pray that she knew its source. Surely she could not be imagining the longing look in his eyes. Surely she couldn't have imagined the perfect way their bodies had fit. Surely he had felt that perfect union, too. For the first time since coming home, Lindsey allowed herself to be encouraged. That encouragement bubbled like vintage champagne in her veins. God willing, she'd find a way to make him love her. She had to, because her heart would allow no less.

  The following week proved interesting. At least as far as Lindsey was concerned. Her father, for unknown reasons, actually chose to spend some time with her. They went to lunch twice and dinner once. He still refused to talk to her about the divorce or, rather, cleverly avoided even letting the topic come up. It was almost—almost-amusing how he headed the subject off at the pass. Perhaps fueled by her father's reticence, Lindsey remained convinced that a good discussion—for that matter, any discussion—between her mother and father would end their ridiculous separation.

  If the week saw Lindsey spending more time with her father, it saw her spending less with Walker. In the beginning, she didn't think much about it, but as day after day passed with Walker finding more and more flimsy reasons to be out of the office, Lindsey started to wonder if he wasn't manufacturing them. At first the thought dismayed her. Maybe she'd misinterpreted his reaction. Maybe he hadn't been attracted to her. Furthermore, maybe he'd sensed her feelings, which in no way matched his, and he was trying to spare her as best he could.

  On a miserably sleepless Thursday night, however, it occurred to her that maybe the opposite was true. Maybe she had been right about his reaction. Maybe for one unguarded second he had seen her as a woman and not merely his godchild, and maybe that vision had scared the living daylights out of him. Hadn't she been frightened in the beginning? And, if he was frightened, wouldn't his behavior, his refusal to be near her, make sense?

  It was that same Thursday night that an idea regarding her parents came to her. She didn't kid herself; she knew that the idea wasn't exactly fair, that is, that it would be based on a lie—a white lie, to be sure, but a lie nonetheless. Did the circumstances warrant such a breach of honesty? She'd always believed that there was such a thing as situational ethics. Did she believe it strongly enough to justify her actions in this case?

  Bright and early Friday morning she called Walker, who sounded as sexy as sin being awakened from a dead sleep. Forcing herself to concentrate on her parents, and not on his gravelly voice or the image of him naked to the waist with the sheet pleated about him, she informed him that she wouldn't be able to come in to the office until the afternoon. She took a secret delight in knowing that her absence would force him to spend some time in the office. She wondered, though, what excuse he'd drum up for leaving the minute she got there. After she hung up, she went down to breakfast.

  "Hi, Mom," she said, suspecting that her mother hadn't slept well again. Once more it broke Lindsey's heart to see her mother, usually a typically vain woman, with no makeup and her hair in need of some loving attention.

  Bunny smiled, or gave a facsimile thereof, as she automatically picked up the coffeepot and poured her daughter a cup. "Good morning, darling. What do you want for breakfast?"

  "Just toast."

  "No, let me make you pancakes," she said, reaching for a mixing bowl. "A working girl needs a hearty breakfast."

  "Toast is fine, Mom. Besides, I'm not a working girl this morning."

  Bunny Ellison looked up, her tired eyes connecting with Lindsey's. "Why not?"

  "Because I'm taking the morning off. We're—that's you and I—are going to pamper and pet ourselves. We're getting a facial, getting a massage and getting our hair done. Oh, and I think we'll toss in a pedicure and a manicure."

  "Lindsey, I'm not in the mood."

  "That's all the more the reason to do it, isn't it?"

  "Lindsey—"

  "My treat, and I won't take no for an answer."

  "Lindsey—" Bunny tried again.

  "It's not negotiable, Mom. You're going to return to the land of the living whether you like it or not. That's it, final, over and done with."

  Bunny seized the mixing bowl, as though it were the only way she knew to cope with this new crisis. "Then we'll need a hearty breakfast," she said, proving that her daughter wasn't the only stubborn member of the family.

  Lindsey moaned.

  It was nearing two o'clock when Lindsey sashayed into the office of Gal-Tex. She had been pounded and pumiced, powdered and polished—all in the name of beauty. Refreshed, she felt optimistic about both her parents and about Walker. She had only to believe that she could make something happen in both quarters and she could. For her parents, she had a plan for that very evening, a plan she'd set into motion with a call to her father following breakfast.

  Though Walker had no idea how Lindsey had spent the morning, he knew that his breath fled the second he saw her. From her rosy skin to her gleaming blond hair, which coiled in riotous curls down her back, to the shell-pink nail polish that covered both her fingernails and her toenails—the latter peeking out from strappy high-heeled sandals—she looked gorgeous. Positively, absolutely come-on-give-my-pounding-heart-a-break gorgeous.

  "Hi," she said, sounding as perky and sassy as the brassy sun beating down on the island. "Sorry I'm late."

  "H-hi," he managed to get out after he'd cleared his froggy throat. He tried to ignore the way her white slacks molded her derriere, but couldn't. Some things, some perfect things, a man couldn't disregard however much he tried. "What have you been up to?" Good, he thought, he sounded normal. Or close enough.

  "Mom and I had a make -over. What do you think?" she asked, slowly pirouetting.

  At the sight of soft curls and sweet curves, the frog jumped back into Walker's throat. What he thought was that he needed to get away from her. Now. Or possibly sooner. "N-nice," he stammered. "Look, I'm glad you're here. I need to check on something outside the office. I'll be gone—"

  "All afternoon
?" Lindsey ventured knowingly. She fought a smile.

  "I, uh, I don't know about all afternoon. I'll, uh, I'll probably be back. I don't know. It, uh, it depends."

  On whether it's five o'clock and I'm gone, Lindsey thought. "Well, before you go, do you know where Dad is?" As she said this, she picked up the phone and started to dial her mother's number.

  "He's checking on some part."

  "Here in town?"

  "Yeah."

  "Then I can reach his beeper?"

  "You should be able to." For a reason he couldn't explain, Walker hung around to see what Lindsey was up to. There was a suspicious glimmer in her eyes.

  "Hi, Mom," she said. "Look, I've just had a marvelous idea. I don't know why I didn't think of it earlier." She hoped the idea sounded spontaneous. She hadn't mentioned the plan earlier because phone-to-phone deception was easier than face-to-face deception. "Since we're all dolled up, why don't we go out to dinner tonight...? No, Mom, we can eat in anytime. Let's eat out." She mentioned the name of a restaurant. "I'll meet you there at seven o'clock, okay? I'm going to work a little late here.... No, I've got a couple of things to catch up on… No, we'll have the pork chops tomorrow night. Mom, just meet me at the restaurant, okay?"

  She hung up before her mother could offer any more resistance. Without hesitation, she dialed her father's beeper and left a message.

  "Hi, Dad. Don't forget about dinner tonight." She confirmed the restaurant. "And be there at seven o'clock. Not a minute later."

  Frowning, Walker asked as she replaced the receiver, "And just what are you up to?"

  "Matchmaking," Lindsey answered without apology. "If they'll just sit down and talk, they can work this out."

  "Lindsey—"

  She held up her newly manicured hand. "I don't want to hear how this is none of my business. I don't want to hear how underhanded and deceitful this is. Trust me, when they're back together, you'll see that I was right."

  "Lindsey—" Walker tried again.

  "Please," she whispered so plaintively that Walker would have done anything she asked. What she was doing was not only foolhardy, but also potentially explosive, but he supposed he had to let her find that out for herself.

  Raking his hand through his hair, he sighed. Hell, maybe she was right! Maybe all Bunny and Dean did need was to sit down and sort through their differences. He wasn't exactly the one to be giving anyone advice these days, since his own sanity seemed to be sitting on such unstable sand. He was the one who couldn't sleep at night for thinking thoughts so forbidden, so verboten, that their very existence shamed him.

  It took Walker and Lindsey a while to realize that they were staring at each other. And even then, neither seemed inclined to look away. Lindsey was remembering being warmly tucked against Walker while they danced. She could remember, vividly, the hard, muscular wall of his chest, the iron strength of his thighs. Walker was remembering how he'd lost his breath at the sight of her only minutes before. The way he was still losing his breath, because, disbelievingly, she seemed to grow more beautiful as the seconds passed.

  "I, uh, I need to go check on that, uh... on that..." Exactly what was he going to check on?

  As though in response to his query, the phone rang. It rang again. And again. Walker never did seem to notice it. At length, however, Lindsey forced her gaze from the man before her and down to the telephone. Walker's expression said that he was surprised to find it ringing.

  "Good afternoon. Gal-Tex. May I help you?" she answered, then said, "Oh, hi. Yeah, it's me. Fine, thanks." At the question that the caller posed, she looked back up at Walker. "Yeah, he's right here. Hold on." Passing the phone to Walker, she added, "It's Adam."

  Careful not to touch Lindsey's hand, Walker took the receiver. "Adam?" He listened, then grinned. "That's great! Is the baby all right? Good. What about Grace?" Walker laughed. "Tell her that she'd better get some rest while she can." There was silence as Adam spoke, then Walker's answer. "You bet I'm coming to see him." Walker glanced at his watch. It read a little after two o'clock. "I'll leave here about five. Right. See you, then. Oh, Adam... congratulations." He replaced the receiver and glanced back at Lindsey. He'd purposely stared out into the parking lot while talking to his son. Lindsey looked as beautiful as he was trying to persuade himself that she didn't.

  "A boy?" she asked with a glowing smile.

  God, yes, she was beautiful! How had he ever hoped to convince himself otherwise? "Yeah," he answered, "a boy. Eight pounds, eight ounces. Born at 1:21."

  "Baby and mother are fine?"

  "Yeah."

  Lindsey's smile widened. "One-twenty-one this afternoon?"

  Walker couldn't help but grin. "Okay, so he blew my theory about babies being born only at night. But," he hastened to add, "that's what kids do best—blow all your theories."

  Once more they were staring, he at her, she at him. This time, though, they were smiling. She thought his smile as sexy as moonlight and satin. He thought her smile wonderfully vibrant. Slowly, however, Walker's smile began to fade as he realized that he was simply staring.

  "I, uh, I need to go check... something." He was still obviously uncertain just what he was leaving the office to check. He was certain only that he should be leaving.

  "You're going to see the baby after work?" Lindsey asked.

  "Yeah," he answered, telling himself that he'd be fine once he got away from Lindsey. He'd be able to breathe again then... which was what he needed—a decent, mind-clearing breath in his lungs.

  "Would you mind if I went with you? I'd love to see Adam, and what better time than now?"

  Walker's heart turned over in his chest. He searched for a reason to deny her, but couldn't find one. The truth was that it was natural for Lindsey to suggest accompanying him to Houston. After all, she and Adam were as close as brother and sister. What wasn't natural was what he was feeling. On the one hand, being with Lindsey pleasured him. On the other hand, it pleasured him too much, leaving him to grapple with feelings he didn't understand.

  What he did patently understand was that she was waiting for an answer. Which he couldn't avoid much longer. Corner. He felt himself being backed into a corner. A velvet-lined corner. Oh, God, where was that decent breath of air?

  "Sure," he heard himself say as the velvet-lined corner closed in around him, smothering him in its folds. He didn't want her to go. He truly didn't. Even so, he couldn't help but feel a burst of excitement. The excitement shocked him and shamed him. Most of all, however, it made him feel alive.

  Chapter Six

  Walker peered through the nursery window at the baby bundled in the fleecy-soft blanket. Blond hair the color of honey sculpted the infant's head, while eyes as blue as a Texas sky lit the baby's angelic face. The child also had a teeny mouth into which it was trying to wedge a teeny fist. Suckling, slobbering, then suckling again, the baby obviously concluded that there was no nourishment in the clenched hand. This realization produced a whimper, which was closely followed by a cry. Then, as though he decided it wasn't worth the effort, the crying died back down to a whimper. At the same time, eyelids closed so that the sandman could come acalling.

  Love, deep and unqualified, filled Walker's chest until he felt he must surely burst from the precious pressure. This was his grandson. Flesh of his flesh. Child of his child. He had loved his son the moment he'd seen him twenty-four years ago, but the love he felt now was different. Not any greater, not any less, just different. Perhaps it was love factored with maturity, hopefully with even a little wisdom. Whatever, it was a love that said you belong to your parents, but you also belong to me—in a very special way because I'm now old enough to know the value of love, old enough never to take it for granted.

  "What do you think?" a voice, reverently hushed to befit the occasion, asked.

  Walker turned, his eyes meeting those of his son. Tall and lithe, Adam Carr had his father's nut-brown eyes and his mother's blond hair. Blond hair. It crossed Walker's mind that although
Adam and Lindsey had blond hair, they were totally dissimilar shades. Adam's was ash blond, while Lindsey's hair reminded Walker of homespun threads of gold. Even so, there was similarity enough that Adam and Lindsey could have been brother and sister.

  That fact reminded Walker that he was old enough to be Lindsey's father. He immediately shelved the thought, along with memories of the drive from Galveston to Houston. It had been a long drive, which had had nothing to do with mileage and everything to do with soft laughter, billows of golden-blond hair and glossy pink lips. Thank heaven that Lindsey had chosen to visit Grace before seeing the baby. It had given him a moment to breathe again... and to convince himself that he truly wasn't losing his mind and that he wasn't harboring unnatural, even immoral, feelings. Somehow or other, he'd just stepped into a surreal world for the past few days. It probably had something to do with the stress he'd been under. Yeah, that was it. He'd just been under stress.

  "He's perfect," Walker said, slipping his arm around Adam's shoulders and luxuriating in the reality of his son. There were no surreal imaginings here. Adam was real. And so was this newborn child.

  "Yeah," Adam agreed in awe as he stared down at the sleeping infant. "He's so little, though."

  "Babies are supposed to be little, although eight pounds, eight ounces isn't all that little. In fact, he weighs a pound more than you did."

  "He's bigger than I was?"

  Walker nodded. Adam looked as though he'd accomplished something of paramount importance—producing a son who weighed a pound more at birth than he had.

  "Yeah, I guess he isn't all that small," Adam said, adding, "What do you think? Tackle or linebacker?"

  Walker laughed. "He'll be tough enough and rough enough to be either... if we can just keep him from sucking on his fist."

  Adam grinned. "He stays hungry."

  "So did you. If I remember correctly, you can still pack it away pretty good."

  Adam's grin turned to soft laughter. "Yeah, I guess I can." The grin faded slowly, replaced by a dead earnestness as the young man looked over at his father. "The baby's great and all... and I'm excited... but, I don't know, the whole thing's kinda scary, too. I, uh, I wasn't expecting to be scared, but I am... I mean, being responsible for another human being is scary." He shrugged his shoulders. "They don't pass out instruction booklets with babies. At least they didn't with this one. How the heck are you supposed to know what to do?" Adam grinned sheepishly. "I guess I'm asking just how easy babies are to break and am I supposed to feel scared?"