by Tami Hoag
Wariness and anger were the emotions that surfaced most easily now. Despite his claims, she couldn’t allow herself to trust him, and it angered her that he could toy with her feelings so cavalierly. Damn him, anyway. Who did he think he was, sauntering back into her life after seven years and turning it upside down?
Jace Cooper, that’s who he was. But was he the Jace Cooper she’d known, or was he the man those deep blue eyes portrayed—older, wiser, changed in some deeper way she caught fleeting glimpses of from time to time?
Not wanting to think about it, Rebecca crossed the kitchen, rubbing her sore head, and opened a cupboard in search of aspirin.
Hugh glanced up at her, his white mustache twitching. “What did you hit your head on this time?”
Rebecca slanted her father a burning glare as she poured herself a cup of coffee, then pinned Jace with the same look. His eyes twinkled. “There was a Peeping Tom at my window.”
Hugh frowned. “Robby Costmeyer again? I swear, that kid has a hormone imbalance.”
“No,” Rebecca said, still glaring at Jace. “It was some other kid with a hormone imbalance.”
“This neighborhood is going to hell in a hand-basket,” Hugh grumbled, turning his attention back to the plans he had spread out on the table.
“I quite agree,” Rebecca said as she dropped two slices of bread into the toaster.
“You’re a beautiful woman, Rebecca,” Jace commented, his gaze heating as he let it flow down her, from her face to her firm, full breasts, over the curve of her hip to her long legs.
She almost glanced down to make sure she had indeed put clothes on. The look he was giving her made her feel naked. But then, Jace was well aware of what she looked like undressed.
“Most men find beauty hard to resist,” he said.
“Do they find a punch in the nose hard to resist?” she asked through her teeth.
She turned to the toaster and smacked it on the side. Her bread shot out like a pair of missiles. She shrieked in surprise and ducked, just missing taking a direct hit between the eyes by a piece of whole wheat. The toast arched gracefully through the air and landed on the table, right on Hugh’s plans.
He shook his head while Jace bit his lip to keep from laughing. “A man couldn’t ask for a better, brighter daughter, but she’s a complete disaster with machines.”
Rebecca snatched her toast up and leaned toward her father’s ear. “Wait until you see how I am with murder weapons. I’m going to kill you for inviting him over without warning me.”
The elder Bradshaw muttered something Rebecca couldn’t quite catch that ended with “…and this is the thanks I get.”
She gave him a curious look, then took her toast and coffee to the dining room, where she could eat without having to feel Jace’s gaze on her—and without having to strain to keep her gaze off him, she admitted, a black mood settling over her.
The front door banged, and Justin stormed in, his face bright with excitement. “Mom, Mom! Look what Uncle Jace gave me!” he shouted. He slowed down momentarily to hold up a fielder’s glove that looked big enough to fit over his head. Seconds later he charged back out of the kitchen, his grin wide enough to show he’d lost three teeth recently. “Uncle Jace gave me this glove and a baseball with his name on it. Isn’t it cool?”
It was difficult for Rebecca to share his enthusiasm. In fact, it was all she could do to keep from letting Justin see just how upset she was. It was one thing for Jace to disrupt her life—she was a big girl, she knew what to expect from him, knew his presence was only temporary—but she wouldn’t have him hurting Justin, who was looking up at her with wide, trusting blue eyes.
“Uncle Jace is gonna teach me how to throw a screwball.”
“Uncle Jace is a screwball,” she murmured under her breath, rising from her chair as Jace sauntered out of the kitchen. “Oh, Uncle Jace,” she said pointedly, “may I have a word with you?”
Jace cringed inwardly at the look in Rebecca’s bright green eyes. He glanced at Justin. “Go on outside, son. I’ll be right there.”
Justin scampered off, oblivious to the undercurrents that were so thick the adults practically had to wade through them.
“For the last time,” Rebecca said in a low voice, “he is not your son.”
Jace folded his arms over his chest, settling in for the argument to come. “I don’t believe you.”
“I don’t care what you believe.” She tugged a hand through her hair and began pacing back and forth along the end of the table. “I won’t have you doing this, Jace. I won’t stand for it. I won’t have you trying to get to me through Justin.”
Jace’s expression darkened at the insult. He tightened his arms against his chest to keep from reaching out and shaking Rebecca. “I’m not using Justin. When I spend time with him, it’s because I enjoy being with him. He’s a fabulous kid, and I have every intention of the two of us getting to know each other better.”
Rebecca shook her head, feeling as if she were teetering at the very edge of her control. “I won’t allow you to wrap him around your little finger until he idolizes you, and then break his heart when you leave.”
The way you did to me.
The words stretched between them like a tightrope.
Jace’s anger seeped out of him. Rebecca had every reason to be wary of him. He couldn’t be insulted that she had such a low opinion of him when he had earned it.
He took a step closer, knowing she couldn’t escape him without running around to the other side of the table—and knowing she wouldn’t do that because she was too damn proud. He lifted a hand to cup her cheek. His fingertips tingled where they brushed at the teasing silkiness of her ebony hair. His thumb skimmed over her high cheekbone. “I won’t hurt him, Becca. And I won’t hurt you. Not this time. I promise.”
“Don’t make promises you know you won’t keep, Jace,” Rebecca said tiredly. “It only makes things worse in the end.”
He dropped a quick kiss onto her mouth and stepped back before she had a chance to react. The new Jace Cooper didn’t break promises, but there was no use telling Becca that. He was going to have to show her. He was determined to show her.
“I’d better get outside,” he said, pointing to the front door. “Justin’s waiting for me.”
Rebecca frowned at him. Same old Jace. He did as he pleased, and to hell with everyone else’s feelings.
He chucked her under the chin and gave her a lopsided smile. “Don’t worry about Justin. We’re only playing baseball.”
She scowled at him. “With my luck, you’ll teach him how to spit and scratch.”
Saturday was traditionally the Bradshaw family’s night out. Rebecca could remember them all going out together from the time she had been Justin’s age—her parents and her sister and herself. They had made the rounds of family restaurants and fast food places in the South Bend—Mishawaka area. Sometimes they had followed dinner with a movie or an evening in a park or a drive into the country.
Hugh’s natural affinity for teaching had turned every outing into a learning experience, and Rebecca, ever the scholar, had eagerly soaked up the information, whether it was the historical details of a building or landmark or lessons on astronomy as they gazed at the summer night sky. Ellen, who was younger by two years and not in the least interested in astronomy or anything remotely related to school, had invariably ended up getting into some kind of trouble.
When ALS had confined Rebecca’s mother to a wheelchair and a rest home, their family outings had become trips to the cafeteria there or “picnics” in Gabrielle’s room. The tradition had passed away with Gabrielle Bradshaw, not to be resurrected until years later.
All these memories stirred restlessly inside Rebecca as the three of them drove into the parking lot at Captain Jack’s Great Fun Place. In the backseat Justin jabbered incessantly about the intricacies of playing catch with a real fielder’s glove and a real ball player. Hugh kept trying to turn the conversation toward the progress he
and Jace had made on his latest electronic device. Rebecca managed to nod and make monosyllabic comments at appropriate intervals. She parked her Honda next to a strangely familiar-looking black DeSoto that was at least as old as she was.
Located in an old brick warehouse, Captain Jack’s was a place that boasted something for everybody. The decor was a blend of eclectic and eccentric, with everything from mounted moose heads to Studebaker hubcaps lining the walls. The restaurant section overlooked the St. Joseph River. But Captain Jack’s was much more than a restaurant. There was an immense game room crammed with coin-operated rides and video games for children of all ages. Just off the game room was a dance floor where a huge, old-fashioned jukebox ablaze with neon lights stood on a raised dais.
The hostess, who was in buccaneer dress, gave Justin his complimentary King of the Pirates crown and led them toward a booth. As was usually the case on Saturday night, the place was crowded with families. The noise of people talking and eating along with the mechanical chatter of the games and the music from the jukebox combined to make a festive atmosphere. Rebecca ordered herself to shake off her melancholy mood and join in the fun.
They were more than halfway across the wood-planked floor of the dining room when she saw him—or rather, them. Jace and Muriel occupied a spacious corner booth. Rebecca’s heart picked up an irregular rhythm as the unlikely couple motioned for her family to join them.
“Look, Mom, it’s Uncle Jace and the cat lady!” Justin said excitedly, tugging on her hand.
“Sweetheart, please don’t call Mrs. Marquardt ‘the cat lady,’” Rebecca said wearily. She suddenly felt exhausted from trying to escape Jace. It was clear he meant to remain a part of her life for the duration of his stay in Mishawaka. The smart thing would have been to resign herself to that fact.
“Gee, I thought that was Muriel’s old car in the parking lot,” Hugh said, the surprise in his voice about as genuine as wax fruit.
Rebecca was ready to make a biting comment about his having told Jace where they were going to be for the evening, but she stopped herself. Her father had a rather unusual sparkle in his eyes as he headed for the booth. Either she was hallucinating, or that was a blush blooming on his cheeks as he said hello to Muriel Marquardt.
Her father and Muriel Marquardt?
“I’m losing my mind,” she said conclusively.
“Don’t be so hard on yourself, sweetheart,” Jace said, taking her hand and leading her to the booth. “All you need is a good pizza.”
She scowled at him. “This is not a date. If you call this a date, I’ll slug you.”
Jace shook his head, his blond hair tumbling into his eyes. “When did you develop this latent streak of violence?”
“When you came back to town.”
He took the audacious liberty of brushing a kiss over the tender spot just in front of her right ear as he handed her into the booth. “But, sweetheart, I’m a lover, not a fighter, remember?”
Did she remember? The urge to burst into hysterical laughter was almost too much for Rebecca. She remembered every touch, every tender caress, every whispered word of passion. She’d spent every night since his return lying in bed remembering. The least provocation brought the memories so close to the surface, she trembled with renewed need.
She knew if she closed her eyes now, she would be transported to a time and place where Jace had held her in his arms and his lips had moved across her cheek in a hot trail of kisses. She would feel the tangled sheets beneath her, feel Jace’s powerful body surging into her, feel the incredible buildup and climax of sensation.
“Are you all right, Rebecca dear?” Muriel asked, leaning across the table, squinting at her through rhinestone-studded glasses.
Rebecca jerked herself out of the trance she had fallen into. “Yes, yes, I’m fine, Muriel. I’m just a little tired.”
Muriel’s bright brown eyes widened in horror. “You’ve been fired? Oooh, but you’re such a wonderful therapist! What is that hospital coming to?”
“Not fired, tired,” Hugh shouted, leaning close to Jace’s landlady.
Muriel looked up at him and breathed a sigh of relief, her dimpled hand pressed to her round bosom. “Thank heaven!” She sent Rebecca a grand-motherly smile. “All you need is to get out and have a little fun. Fun is the greatest tonic in the world. That’s what Jace says.”
Rebecca looked at Jace. “I’ll bet,” she said dryly.
She managed to make it through dinner without stringing together more than five words at a time. Between Justin’s chatter about his newfound love of baseball, Hugh’s excitement about his new project, and Muriel’s hearing problem, Rebecca really didn’t have to say much. But suddenly Hugh and Muriel were off to try their luck in the game room, and Rebecca was left with Jace and Justin, who was still in the process of finishing his dessert.
“Are you having fun?” Jace asked, his gaze holding hers in a way that somehow made escape seem impossible.
“Tons,” she said morosely.
Justin grinned up at the two of them, the traces of a hot fudge sundae on his chin. “I’m having lots of fun. Captain Jack’s is my favorite place.”
“We’ll have to come here again then, won’t we?” Jace said, dabbing a napkin at the streaks of chocolate and ice cream on the boy’s face.
Rebecca’s heart flipped over at the tenderness of his touch and the expression in his eyes. He was truly very good with Justin. Trying to get to her through him had nothing to do with it.
Justin adjusted his pirate crown and, out of the blue, announced, “I don’t have a dad.”
Rebecca felt herself go pale.
Jace glanced from her back to Justin with an intense expression. How was he supposed to field a hit like that? Very carefully, Jace old boy. This is no time for errors. “How do you feel about that, Justin?”
Justin shrugged, rubbing a spot of chocolate off the front of his pint-sized Notre Dame T-shirt. “Sometimes it makes me sad. Most of my friends have dads. Some of their folks are divorced. I have Grandpa, though. He’s cool. And now I have you, Uncle Jace. You’re super cool.”
He stood up on the seat of the booth and threw his arms around Jace in an unself-conscious hug. Jace hugged him back, his eyes misting over. How was it he had lived so many years without knowing what it was to want this—a wife, a home, the love of a son? Looking back, the last few years of his life seemed like such a waste of time, of talent, of everything that mattered.
“Can we go play the games now, Mom?” Justin asked brightly as he twisted around in Jace’s arms.
Rebecca didn’t trust herself to speak. She forced a smile and nodded. As Justin scrambled over Jace’s lap, she steeled herself. Surely he would take advantage of this opportunity and bring up the subject of Justin’s paternity again. She slid across the vinyl seat with her eyes lowered and glanced up in surprise when her hip bumped up against Jace’s. His expression was one of concern and the same tenderness he had shown Justin.
“You’re a wonderful mother, Becca,” he said softly, earnestly.
Tears welled up in her eyes. He could be the sweetest man on earth. It was so unfair that he could also be the most fickle. For the moment, though, she welcomed his words and the heartfelt sentiment behind them and remembered that he had once been her best friend.
“Thank you,” she whispered, trying to smile and sniffle at the same time. “I try.”
“I know you do.” He stroked a hand over her dark hair, which gleamed under the amber lights. In what was fast becoming a habit, Jace leaned down and kissed her softly. She offered no protest, which was encouragement enough to bring a smile to his face. “Are you ready to beat me at PacMan?”
Rebecca groaned. “You know how I am with machines.”
Jace eased himself out of the booth, carefully straightening his left leg. Then he gave Rebecca a hand out. Testing his luck, he slipped an arm around her shoulders. “I’ll let you cheat.”
Rebecca wasn’t sure who was more fun to w
atch, Jace and Justin or Hugh and Muriel. Her father seemed to be having the time of his life. With Muriel Marquardt. Who would have guessed, she wondered. All these years Muriel had lived right across the alley.
It made Rebecca feel a little guilty, but she had never really wondered whether her father would want another romantic involvement. He had loved Gabrielle in a way that happened once in a lifetime. It had never occurred to Rebecca that he might yearn for a relationship with another woman.
“Dad and Muriel are having a great time,” she said as Jace slid down onto a chair at the little table they had claimed off the games area.
Jace kept his eyes protectively on Justin, making sure the boy made it safely through the crowd to the machine his grandfather was playing. “Yeah. Hey, that Muriel is pretty sharp at pinball. I think she’s some kind of hustler.” He turned back to Rebecca with a smile that warmed her heart. “How about you, beautiful? Are you having fun?”
She smiled down at the table, embarrassed that he could still make her blush with nothing more than a look. “I’m having a very nice time.”
“Gee, could you try not to sound so surprised?” he complained teasingly. “The male ego is a delicate creature.”
“A delicate creature the size of a sperm whale,” she corrected, chuckling. Jace reached across the table and tweaked her nose.
“Hey, look! It’s Cooper!” a voice boomed above the noise of the room.
Jace looked up and grinned as two of his new teammates and their girlfriends made their way through the throng carrying pizzas and a pitcher of beer. He had begun attending team meetings, anticipating the day when he would be able to work out with the Mavericks and eventually play with them. The team was a motley crew of jouneyman players, more of them on their way down than up, but they were, for the most part, nice guys. Jace had hit it off with them instantly.
“Becca,” he said, standing up, “this is Pat Wylie, the Mavericks’ catcher, and Jerome Tarvin, shortstop and Elvis impersonator extraordinaire.”
Jerome jerked a hand back through his well-oiled pompadour, curled his lip, and sang a couple of bars of “Hound Dog.” Everybody laughed and applauded. The players introduced their girlfriends and asked Rebecca how long it would be before they could get Jace into the Mavericks’ lineup.