by Thea Dawson
He was halfway to the exit when he was suddenly distracted by a flash of blond hair not far from the podium. He blinked and looked again.
What on earth was she doing here?
Changing course, he began to pick his way through the crowded room toward her.
As he pushed through the milling crowd, he smiled. She was here, really here. He felt a mix of relief and delight at the sight of her. Although he would have been just as happy to see Celia as she usually was—in jeans and sneakers, her hair in a ponytail—he was intrigued to see that tonight she looked unusually dressed up. She was, by her standards, quite made up, and her hair was down and neatly styled, framing her face in gentle waves. Her outfit, a short fitted dress and a long cardigan, was simple but elegant. She was smiling cheerfully and shaking hands with several people who had gathered in a small knot around her.
The tedium of the evening and the depressing memories seemed to melt away and leave him feeling delightfully buoyant—but the sensation vanished suddenly when he saw the man who was standing beside her. He was younger than Richard, possibly younger than Celia, and stylishly dressed in jeans, a t-shirt and a blazer. He was laughing and talking, gesturing animatedly with one hand, while his other hand rested comfortably around Celia’s shoulder.
Richard felt a sense of betrayal, which was completely unfair, he knew. He was sure Celia had said she had to do something for her design class—so why was she here? She obviously knew the man who was standing beside her—could they be on a date? But what kind of numbskull would bring a woman to an academic reception on a first date, he wondered petulantly.
But why was he assuming it was a first date? Did he really expect that someone as attractive and delightful as Celia had no other options but to wait for him to get his act together?
His steps slowed as he neared the podium, and he began to search for the exits instead. Whatever Celia was doing here, it was none of his business, and if she was involved with the man beside her, greeting her would be an awkward encounter for both of them. He was about to veer toward the door when she caught his eye.
“Richard!” She waved enthusiastically, and he had no choice now but to walk over to her, a smile plastered on his face.
“I was wondering if I’d see you here. I didn’t actually realize this was a celebration for the School of Engineering until we got here.”
The word “we” lodged in Richard’s consciousness and refused to leave.
“Richard is a professor in the civil and environmental engineering department,” she explained to the small group. “Richard, this is Taylor St. Claire and Harvey Schmidt, they both work in Development—” he shook hands with a sharply dressed but very young-looking woman and a distinguished-looking man in his mid-fifties, “This is Dan Benson, in Publications—” Dan was a short, slightly chubby man who looked to be in his mid-thirties, “—and this is my graphic design teacher, Paul Harding.” Paul removed his right arm from Celia’s shoulder in order to shake Richard’s hand, giving him a friendly smiled as he did so. Richard did his best to return it.
“How do you two know each other?” asked Harvey.
Richard caught Celia’s slight hesitation. “Our kids go to school together at Silverweed Academy. Our daughters are best friends,” he said smoothly. Celia clearly wasn’t here as a nanny, and he doubted he’d be doing her any favors by calling attention to her part-time job. He caught a quick, grateful look from her.
Small talk wasn’t Richard’s strength, but Taylor and Harvey showed genuine interest in his research—“We like to know what’s going on in the university. You never know when we’ll be able to match a funding opportunity to a donor,” said Harvey—and kept the talk flowing for several minutes.
Dan broke in to shake Celia’s hand and tell her that it had been nice to meet her. “I’ve got your card. I’ll definitely be in touch,” he promised her before heading over to another cluster of wine-drinking administrators. Richard narrowed his eyes, wondering if he intended to be in touch personally or professionally. Surely he could see that Celia was out of his league? But again, he was being unfair—perhaps Dan made up for his lack of physique by being a decent, uncomplicated guy who knew how to make a woman happy.
Then, to his relief, Paul patted Celia’s shoulder a few moments later. “I gotta run and talk to some other people. Thanks for coming, kid!”
“Oh no, thank you!” Celia squeezed his hand and flashed him that brilliant smile of hers. Richard, who had felt his heart lift at Paul’s casual departure—not a date, after all—felt it contract at the sight of Celia’s grateful expression.
Taylor and Harvey excused themselves as well and began to circulate amongst the throng.
Richard and Celia were left alone, face to face.
“I wondered if I’d run into you,” Celia said again.
“I didn’t expect to run into you at all,” he told her.
“Paul wanted me to meet Harvey and a few other people. The university outsources a lot of design work, and they even have a few in-house positions that come up once in a while. So here I am, networking.”
“Did it go well? Make lots of contacts?”
She shrugged. “I met everyone Paul wanted me to meet. It was fun, but I think I’m done for the evening. I’ll probably head back to the kids soon.”
“I should head out soon myself.” He racked his brains trying to think of a way he could postpone their going back to the kids. “Would you ... like to go somewhere and get coffee before we head back?”
She paused and some of the light in her face seemed to dim. “I ... can we step out into the hall or something? It’s so crowded in here.”
“Sure.” He was just as happy to get away from the crowd himself.
He led her out into the wide corridor. There were still a number of people circulating. Celia bit her lip. “Is there some place a little quieter where I could talk to you for a moment?”
Her suddenly serious expression sent a wave of unease through him. “My office is just down the hall.” He led her past the exhibition hall and around the corner, where he unlocked his office door and they stepped inside.
“Listen,” Celia began slowly, “I can tell you’re trying really hard to make up for ... for ...”
“For my abominable behavior the morning after I came back from San Francisco,” he filled in for her. A wave of sick anxiety washed over him. Although he’d regretted his behavior as soon as it had happened, he hadn’t fully appreciated what he’d thrown away until now, and he knew there was no guarantee that he’d get another chance.
“Yes, that.” She looked down at the floor as if she might find the words she wanted there and then looked up again, her navy blue eyes meeting his. “The things is, you’re giving me mixed signals. You do something really sweet, and then you remind me that you’re still not over your ex-wife. And you say you’re going to find another nanny to take my place, but I honestly don’t think you’re looking. And you ask me out for coffee, and maybe you mean that in just a nice, friendly way, I don’t know, but ... you’re messing with my head, Richard. I can’t keep working for you and also keep wondering if you want me to be something more than a part-time babysitter.”
Richard stared down into the big, earnest blue eyes, anxiety curling in his stomach. “What do you want?” he asked.
She let out an exasperated breath. “I just … I just want to get on with my life. I would have liked to see if it could have been something more, but you made it clear you’re not interested, and even if you were, it wouldn’t be a good idea as long as I’m working for you.”
For a moment he could hear nothing but the pounding of his own heart, then he stepped closer to her, placing his hands against the door on either side of her and trapping her between his strong arms.
She looked at him, her lips parted, as she drew in a surprised breath. The air around them suddenly seemed to crackle with an electric charge. Celia’s breath caught, and her gaze flickered away nervously, but when she lo
oked back he could see that her dark eyes had grown even darker with desire.
“What are you doing?” she whispered.
His voice was hoarse. “I’m firing you,” he said, then his lips were on hers.
21
There was passion in his kiss, but tenderness too, like a sweet, lingering promise. It wasn’t like the heady, hormone-fueled kisses of the night they’d spent together. Instead it was something gentle, persuasive, seductive …
She forced herself to pull away from him. “What are you doing to me?” she whispered, tears pricking her eyelids. “Richard, I can’t—”
He looked down at her, his hand still holding her face. “Can’t what?”
Her gaze darted to the floor again. “I can’t face another rejection like last time,” she whispered. “This is ... it’s more than just sex for me. I wish you’d stop.”
He held her face in his hands and looked earnestly into her eyes. “It won’t be like last time.” He paused, groping for words, and took a deep breath. “I want you in my life, Celia. I don’t know what it will look like, or how we’ll make it work with the kids ... but I can’t not try. Please,” he closed his eyes and kissed her reverently on the forehead, “I may not deserve a second chance, but I’m asking for one anyway.”
He wrapped his strong arms around her. She leaned her head against his shoulder and put her hand on his chest. Beneath the crisp cotton she could feel his heart beating.
Her own heart already knew her answer and was beating wildly in return, but she needed time for her mind to catch up. Stalling, she laughed uncertainly.
“When I said I wanted you to stop messing with my head, this isn’t exactly what I had in mind.”
“Could I take that as a maybe?”
“Oh, Richard … I’m not sure …” After weeks of fantasizing about him, suddenly all she could think of were the potential pitfalls of a relationship with him—what would the kids think? How would they find any private time? And what if it didn’t last—would it mean heartbreak for the children as well as for them?
“Come here,” he said. He sat down in the nearest chair and pulled her onto his lap. As if she’d expressed her doubts out loud, he went on. “I know it’s a risk. We’ve both been hurt, and we have children to think about, who have also been hurt. I can’t tell you what will happen in the future, but I can promise you that I’m willing to try.”
Looking down into his dark, earnest eyes, she stroked his face. Yes, she would think about it, but it was hard to think at all when she was this close to him, feeling his strong arms around her, smelling the scent of his cologne, and wondering how things had shifted so much.
Still stalling for time, she traced the thin white line over his left eyebrow. “How did you get this scar?” she asked. She imagined a childhood accident; Lily had a similar scar on her forehead from an encounter with a coffee table when she was two.
Half-consciously, Richard rubbed his hand over the scar. “Melanie,” he said.
“What?” Celia drew her hand back as if it had burned her.
Richard sighed. “You know, when you were telling me about Brad, I was thinking we had too many of the wrong things in common. She went crazy, Celia. Some kind of mental disorder, maybe … I don’t know how else to describe it.”
“Tell me,” she said gently.
Richard’s arms circled her more firmly. “We were together almost twelve years. I thought were perfectly happy. Honestly, for a long time, I think she was happy. And then, I don’t know, she realized I wasn’t enough for her. Her job at the university, Silverweed, motherhood … me. None of it was enough. And she changed.”
His eyes grew dark with memory. “She stared behaving erratically. She’d scream at Peyton for the most ridiculous things, she’d accuse me of flirting with other women, of sleeping with them, of badmouthing her to her colleagues—all stuff I would never have done. Her behavior got more and more unpredictable.”
He ran a hand through his hair and continued. “One night we’d gone out to a dinner with some of her colleagues from Legal Affairs. Everything was fine. When we got back, I made a remark about it being a rather dull evening—and she lost it. Started screaming insane accusations, swearing at me … I couldn’t have ever imagined anything like it. Angel was looking after Peyton, and she heard most of it. Angel can be quite … forceful when she wants to be, and she came downstairs and told Melanie, basically, to shut up before she woke Peyton. Melanie picked up a brass paperweight and threw it at her … but she hit me instead.”
Celia remembered Angel’s words and bit her lip. “Hit you instead? Or you stepped in front of Angel to protect her?” She looked into his face and knew the answer. “I’m so sorry this happened.”
He nodded in agreement. “Angel called 911. I probably should have pressed charges but I didn’t. The police gave Melanie the choice of leaving the house and staying somewhere else or going to jail. She left, and that was it. She served me with divorce papers a few days later.”
“I’m so sorry, Richard.”
He shrugged ruefully. “Me too.” He took a deep breath. “But I don’t want to talk about Melanie anymore. I want to talk about us. It’s time for us to get on with our lives. I’d like to see if we could do that together. If you’re willing.”
The uncharacteristic humility in his voice touched her to the core. Tilting his face to hers, she kissed him again. It was sweet at first, but gradually it grew deeper and more sensual. The heat between them intensified and she lost herself in the scent of his cologne, the taste of his mouth, and the feeling of his arms.
Her lips parted beneath his insistent tongue, her hands buried themselves in his hair before she was fully conscious of what she was doing. He circled her waist with one arm, pulling her closer, cradling her face with his other hand. He pulled his mouth away from hers and began kissing her neck, leaving a hot trail from the soft spot beneath her ear to her collarbone. A soft moan escaped her as he brushed her hair away from her shoulder.
She shifted her position so that she was straddling him. The hem of her dress hiked up, leaving her legs bare, and he wasted no time running his hands up her thighs.
She held his face in her hands and grinned playfully down at him, feeling his hard length between her legs, enjoying her power over his. Seductively, she rocked her hips and he groaned.
He kissed the base of her neck. “If you don’t stop, we’re going to have a very unprofessional encounter on my desk,” he growled in her ear.
“I might be up for that,” she whispered hoarsely.
“I might too, but believe it or not, I don’t keep condoms in my office. I really do just work here.”
“I guess I’m glad to know you’re not seducing women here on a regular basis. A bit disappointing about the condoms, though.”
He chuckled. “I have an idea. Did you ever sneak boys into your room when you were a teenager?”
Celia laughed and shook her head. “No, I was much too well behaved.”
“I’m glad to hear it. Now, here’s the plan. You go home, get the kids to bed, I’ll go home and grab a few things, then come back and spend the night. In the morning, I’ll just pretend I came over early to get Peyton.”
Celia raised a skeptical eyebrow. “You think it’ll work?”
“Actually, I can think of a million things that could go wrong, but I’m willing to chance them. You?”
He pulled her into another deep, persuasive kiss.
Reluctantly, she pulled away from him. “You’ve talked me into it.” she whispered. “I walked over. Will you give me a ride back?”
“Of course. I’m not going to let you walk home alone in the dark.”
“I’m not worried. I just don’t want to waste any time.”
A rumbling chuckle emanated from his chest. “I like the way you think.” He sighed and straightened up, giving her a lingering kiss before he allowed her to stand up. “I’m kind of looking forward to meeting your goat-lady neighbor.”
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nbsp; Celia pursed her lips disapprovingly and shook her head as she smoothed her dress back into place. “She’s too young for you.”
He raised his eyebrows. “I pictured her being a crazy little old lady.”
Celia shook her head. “She’s young and very pretty.”
Richard cocked his head as if considering it. “Still doesn’t sound like my type.”
“Just because she has a goat?” Celia smiled.
“No. Because she’s not you.” He pinned her against the desk again and went in for another lingering kiss. “Oh, hell. We need to get out of here.”
The red and blue flashing lights of a police car awaited them as they pulled up to the curb in front of Celia’s house.
Celia leapt out of the car almost before Richard had stopped it. He was right behind her as they ran up to Tracie’s house where Peyton, Lily and Rosie were standing on the porch, the police lights reflected across their excited faces. In the front yard, Tracie was talking to a bemused-looking police officer. She turned and gave Celia a cheerful wave as Celia ran across the lawn and up the porch steps.
“Where’s Rowan?” she asked at the same time Richard said, “Is everyone all right?”
The three girls all started talking at once.
“Guinevere got out!”
“And she started eating Mrs. Rycroft’s roses—”
“And Mrs. Rycroft hit her with a broom—”
“So Guinevere ran away—”
“And we all chased her—”
“Where’s Rowan?” Celia shouted, silencing them momentarily.
She was answered with a loud, sleepy wail from inside the house.
“Well, he was asleep.” Lily gave her pitying look.
Celia pushed into the house and retrieved the fretful Rowan from where he was lying on Tracie’s couch. She marched out again. Her make-out session with Richard in his office now felt like a dream she’d had a long time ago and the adult evening she’d been looking forward to seemed to fade into the distance, out of reach. She wondered if Richard was already regretting saying the wanted a relationship with someone who left her kids—and his—in the care of a woman who was currently being interviewed by the police. And who—Celia glared at Tracie’s unrepentant back—didn’t even have the good sense to seem particularly upset about it.