“Then, you’ll understand what Jen’s going through. She needs friends like that now.” Cori looked down at Michael. “You’ll play with Skyler for a few minutes while I talk to Jen, won’t you?”
“Sure.” It seemed Michael had found a new role model. If only he and Blake had hit it off as easily.
As Cori went inside, she heard Skyler say, “Do you know how to play Rock, Paper, Scissors?”
She walked through the living room and glanced into the kitchen. Although she’d never lived here, she’d baby-sat Jen a few times and was familiar with the layout of the house. MTV blared from a small television above the refrigerator. Meat defrosted on the counter. No Jen.
Cori headed upstairs, following the sound of melancholy music, and knocked on Jen’s door. It didn’t take long for her to swing it open. Red eyes and a deep scowl greeted her.
“Are you out of your mind bringing Skyler Wight here?”
“Jen, I—”
“Why didn’t you call? You always have that cell phone of yours on.”
Actually, Cori had turned it off at the hospital and hadn’t turned it back on. It sat silently on the dresser in the pink room. “I—”
“I look like such a dork.” She held out the bottom of her T-shirt. “I bet he took off fast after I slammed the door in his face.”
Cori grabbed Jen’s shoulders and gave her a little shake to disconnect her motor mouth. “Jen. He doesn’t think you’re a dork. He’s waiting downstairs with this lovesick expression on his face.”
“Really?”
The hope in her eyes was almost too painful to look upon. The girl needed some extra-special attention. Cori was going to make sure she got it, if she had to hog-tie Jen and drag her downstairs.
Jen’s face fell. “I can’t. I can’t talk to him.”
“Why not?”
“Because Sophia’s sick.” Jen’s throat worked. “Really sick.”
The pressure of tears clogged the back of Cori’s throat. She placed her arm around Jen’s shoulders and led her to the un-made bed. It said something for Jen’s state of mind that she didn’t immediately shrug out of Cori’s embrace, although the girl’s shoulders were tense beneath Cori’s arm. Tossing the covers in the general direction of the pillows, Cori sat, patting the spot next to her. Jen sank down, keeping her distance.
“A long time ago, when Mama had cancer the first time, I told her I’d turned down an invitation to the prom because she was sick. I thought she was going to go through the roof, she was so mad. She told me clearly, loudly, and in a voice that said I shouldn’t argue with her, that I was never, ever to stop living my life based on what was happening in hers.”
Jen looked at her in openmouthed amazement. “What did you do?”
“The next day, I found Nick at school. I told him I’d changed my mind, only by that time, he’d already asked somebody else.”
“Eewww.”
“Yeah. I ended up going with the son of one of my mother’s friends. Pity date. Major geek alert.”
Jen giggled. “I can just imagine you with some four-eyed dork.”
“Gee, thanks.” First she was considered old enough to have a twelve-year-old, and then she was easily pictured with a geek for a prom date. Cori’s self-image was getting quite a few knocks today. “I guess this is where I tell you to get your butt out there lest you end up in the same boat.”
Jen shook her head. “I can’t. I mean, he’s seen me do some incredibly stupid things lately. Besides, look at me.” She pulled on her T-shirt.
“I don’t think that matters. He said he came because he was worried about you. Still—” She gave Jen the once-over. “You could use a little polishing up. Do you have anything clean to wear? Something that fits you?” Clothes seemed to be growing like twisted vines from the dresser. Nothing hung in her closet. “Then a quick brush of hair and teeth, and voilà, you’re ready for business.”
“Oh, crud. Do I have bad breath, too?” Jen looked stricken.
Cori sighed. She may be in love with Blake, but at least she wasn’t young and in love.
LEANING AGAINST A TREE, Cori watched the river flow past, shimmering under the full moon. As a child, she’d dreamed of taking a boat downriver whenever the pressure of being a Messina got to her. Now she realized that was just a four-year-old’s way of dealing with the horror of seeing her dad disappear around the river bend. At twenty-five, she was going to have to learn how to deal with her mother’s death, and she didn’t think it would be as easy as it had been for her to let go of her father.
Cori didn’t know how long she stood in the darkness pondering how her life had been like the river. She’d gone with the flow until she’d gotten pregnant. Then she’d gone with the flow again after she’d had Michael. Oh, she’d tried to steer herself in a specific direction to prove that she could, but when it came down to it, she was still drifting. If Cori wanted to be part of her family badly enough, she’d have to do something. She just didn’t know if she needed her family as much without her mother in it.
But she did know she needed Blake.
She wanted the Blake she’d fallen in love with, the Blake she’d leaned on, then chased away. Could they make it work if Cori sacrificed her pride to be what her grandfather wanted her to be, to play the role left empty by Mama, the one he’d tried to make her play the other night at dinner? Cori didn’t think she could do it. She’d tasted professional life, in the real world where people respected her opinion. At least, some of her clients respected her. Coming back to Healdsburg and not being a part of Messina Vineyards was not an option. She couldn’t do that to her grandfather.
Cori wished she could forget all the secrets and crossroads she was facing for just a few hours of acceptance from Blake. Would it be too much to ask him to hold her one more time? No strings, no hidden agendas, no games and no fear of reprisals?
Why couldn’t she? Because he despised her for keeping his son from him, that’s why.
Didn’t he?
Cori recalled how compassionate Blake had been to her these past few days before the scene on the stairs. Wary, but the white-hot anger and derogatory remarks were gone.
Of their own accord, Cori’s feet turned and started off toward Blake’s house. It was only eleven. He might still be up. But when she reached the house, it was dark.
Cori lowered herself onto the top porch step. She’d wanted to talk to Blake now. Her courage would most likely have deserted her by morning. Dejected, she wrapped her arms around her knees and sank her chin into the cradle she’d created.
A sound around the corner of the house had her shooting to her feet, reminding her how dangerous it could be outside at night. Vagrants sometimes traveled along the river, as did mountain lions and other wild animals. She moved back into the shadows of the porch, held her breath and waited.
It was a man, all right. Tall, broad-shouldered…Blake.
Cori sighed in relief. Blake stopped and looked toward her.
“Who’s there?”
“Me.” She moved onto the top step and into the moonlight.
Blake approached, not saying anything. He stopped at the bottom of the steps, doubt evident in his expression even in the darkness. Cori felt the most insane urge to lean over and wrap her arms reassuringly around him. Instead, she sank to the porch, her gaze taking in his flannel and jean-clad body before resting on her own tennis shoes.
“Why didn’t you tell me? Were you scared of me?”
She didn’t have to ask what Blake meant. She knew he wanted to know more about her decision back then. “It’s complicated.”
His gray eyes were as chilly as the night around them. “Cori, I’m trying to understand your side, but these evasive answers don’t help.”
“They don’t help anyone, do they.” Cori took a deep breath, bolstering her resolve to tell him most of the truth. “You should probably sit down. This could take a while.”
BLAKE DIDN’T WANT TO SIT. He had too much pent-up energy to remain still, yet he had
to sit if he wanted his answers. Blake lowered himself to the bottom step on the opposite side of the porch from Cori, and leaned his back against the railing. He rested one foot on the step and one on the ground.
“When I was twelve, my girlfriends were having a sleepover on the same night my grandfather was entertaining visiting diplomats. While my friends were scaring each other with ghost stories and talking about boys, I had to smile and be polite to these people who barely acknowledged my presence.” She hugged her knees, staring out at rows of cloaked vineyard. “In high school, I could never go to football games because it was harvest season and we needed every pair of hands. When we weren’t tending to the grapes, we traveled or entertained. Actors, politicians, reporters, wine critics. My friends were experiencing their first kiss and hanging out with boys when I was having six-course meals with the president of the United States. By the end of high school, I had no friends here and no life of my own.”
“This has nothing to do with us.” So growing up a Messina wasn’t a bowl of cherries. Blake’s childhood hadn’t been rosy, either, not before Kevin Austin entered the picture. None of that was an excuse for what she’d done.
“It has everything to do with us.” Cori leaned closer. “By the time I made it to college and realized there was more to life than following orders, I knew I couldn’t come back here after graduation.”
“Your family would have understood. You didn’t need to fit some mold. You could have done public relations for them here.” They loved her. He loved her. Couldn’t she see that?
“My grandfather wanted another Sophia Sinclair, someone willing to be the goodwill ambassador for the winery, someone loyal enough to stick by his side and make sure his needs were taken care of. He’s never wanted anyone around with an idea and the guts to express it, particularly when their opinion contradicted his. I know he dogs Luke on everything, questioning every decision Luke tries to make without him. You’ve seen that in him, haven’t you?”
Blake recalled Mr. Messina ignoring Cori’s advice the other night, and how he’d questioned Blake’s choice of grafting crew. Of course, that hadn’t been the first time Blake’s judgment had been questioned, but he wasn’t going to be caught bad-mouthing his employer, particularly to his granddaughter. So he sat, seemingly absorbed in the shadowy view, waiting for Cori to continue.
“I came home that summer and met you.” She ran her fingers through her hair, an enticing movement that reminded him how silky and alive her hair was to touch.
“You were independent and self-sufficient. I yearned for that. I’d always felt years older than my peers, but with you, it was right. We became friends, despite your best efforts.” She smiled regretfully. “I went back to school for my final year feeling more focused than ever. I treasured those nightly phone calls with you because you’d proved to me that a person could make it without family. I hadn’t possessed the courage to grasp that idea before meeting you.”
Blake stared at the eaves. He’d been in love and she’d been motivated by him to move on?
“I knew by then that I wanted to work in public relations and I interviewed with some firms until I landed a job. In the meantime, my grandfather made plans for me without my knowledge. He had me scheduled to attend dinners, show visitors around, even take a group of wine critics on a tour of Europe.” She turned and set her back against the railing, mirroring his position. “I was getting a business degree from Stanford and he wanted me to play hostess? To continue smiling and hiding the fact that I had an opinion? I couldn’t do it.” She sighed. “But I couldn’t tell him, either.”
Blake replayed scenes from the awards dinner, recalling how Cori had continued to state her opinion despite being rebuffed by her grandfather. At twenty, would he have been able to accept that as his future?
“When I came home at spring break, I knew I didn’t want to come back here in June—and the last thing I should have wanted was to sleep with you.”
“Great.” Blake barely found enough air for the word. Everything fell apart. “I thought what we felt was mutual.”
Cori winced. “That didn’t come out right. I…liked you. A lot.”
The “friend” speech. Hell, this wasn’t getting any better. Blake ordered his heart to keep beating.
“But you were just starting out and building your career here. You were one more tie to this place I couldn’t have.”
When he didn’t respond, she added softly, “I just couldn’t resist you.” Cori sighed heavily. “I came home for spring break knowing I had to be with you at least once. It was totally selfish, but I had to have you.”
Balm on the wound, but she’d cut too deep for it to be healed that easily. Blake focused on the point, or lack thereof. “That explains why you left me that night. It doesn’t explain why you didn’t tell me you were pregnant.”
Silence. The dreaded Messina silence. Please tell me the truth.
“It was a hard decision. I was…” She hesitated. “Alone.” She rushed on. “I’m not saying it was the right decision. It was just the only option for me at the time.”
Another explanation of what she’d done. Not why. Not the truth. Would she ever tell him the whole truth? Convinced his lower status in life played a hand in it, Blake’s spirits hung around his bootlaces.
“So here we are,” Blake said awkwardly, wondering where that left him. But he knew. Alone. With no easily attainable parental rights. And no Cori.
She moved down a step closer to him. Her feet tucked below her. Her dark eyes riveted on him.
“Can you ever forgive me?”
There was a part of him that already had and there was a part of him that never would. She continued to wait for his answer.
“You haven’t told me why.”
She looked hurt and rubbed her bottom lip over her top one. Her mouth absorbed his attention for a moment. Or two. Not the time, he told his suddenly alert body. Not ever again.
Cori hung her head. “I thought if you understood what brought me to that point, you’d realize why.” Her voice sounded small. Remorseful.
“I think I know why,” Blake finally admitted, moved by the pain in her voice. She had wanted out and he hadn’t been good enough to make it worth staying. “And somewhere inside me I think I can forgive you…someday.” What a fool he was for opening himself up to more hurt. The smart thing to do would have been to say no.
They sat staring at each other, he mooning stupidly, and she with an unreadable expression on her face. If there had been more light, Blake might have pinpointed it as longing, unbelievable as that was. Yet, they continued to stare mutely at each other.
Maybe it was longing. What the hell did that mean?
Just take her into your arms, you dummy.
While he debated his internal voice, she blinked, seemed to realize they were having an awkward moment and stood. Blake shot up, too, both feet firmly planted on the ground. With Cori on the second step, they were almost on equal footing.
“I guess I should be going. Luke said he’d stay with Mama, but you never know what he’ll do.”
Blake wanted to say, don’t go. “I’ll walk you home” came out instead. In his mind, they were lip-locked, his hands roving across her back, while he wondered what color panties she had on.
She held up her hand. “It’s all right. I know the way.” Only, instead of lowering her hand to her side, it managed to land on his chest. She blinked, almost as if she were as surprised as he was at the contact.
Warmth seeped through his shirt, seemingly into his heart. He covered her hand with his, pressed it against his chest and drew in a ragged breath. She took a step closer.
“You’re not going to do this to me again, are you?” The last bastion around his heart made him ask.
She reached up and curled her hand around his neck until her fingers were threaded in his hair. Then she drew him down to her mouth. “Make love to you?” she asked before their lips touched.
Blake groaned over the images
her use of the word love conjured up. Definitely up. Upstairs to his bedroom and a couple of condoms. Her touch heated him more than the memories of her ever could. Lip-locked, his hands glided across her back, while his mind wondered persistently what color panties she wore.
Her flavor burst inside his mouth as their tongues danced. She was sweet and warm, just as he remembered. He was home. He left her mouth to taste and nibble his way down the side of her neck, rejoicing in the familiarity of her smell, of her feel against him, the fact that she was in his arms.
“You do forgive me?” Cori whispered across his ear.
Would he forgive her? “Only if this isn’t just for one night.”
Cori cradled his head in her hands and gazed at him with eyes brimming. A tear rolled down her cheek. He brushed it gently away.
“None of that. I’m the one who should be crying. The last time I said something like that to you, you hightailed it out of town.”
“I love you,” she said, so sincerely that he thought she believed it.
His body clamored for him to trust her. His head wondered how long it would be before she left him.
He bent his head to kiss her again, then scooped her into his arms and wobbled up the stairs to the front door. He set her down and turned the knob, only to find it locked. He groaned. “I only have a key to the back door.”
Cori smiled against his lips and moved her hands teasingly over the placket of his jeans.
“What now?”
“We go to the back door.”
He slid his hands over her firm cheeks and lifted her to him, needing her closer now, not thirty paces and fifteen stairs from now. She wrapped her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck. All he could think about was carrying her upstairs, taking a brief appreciative look at the thong he’d felt beneath her jeans and burying himself inside her, finally recapturing the peace he’d felt that one night so long ago.
“Wait a minute. Before I take the steps again I need some sustenance.” He slid a hand beneath her Stanford sweatshirt, splaying his palm over the smooth skin of her belly. He closed his eyes for a moment, imagining his son—Michael—growing inside of her. She must have been scared half to death, alone and away from her family. Away from him.
Michael's Father (Harlequin Super Romance) Page 24