by Roz Denny
Gabe's brow arched. "Why would you lie to him?"
"Now, just a darn minute—" Sarah prepared to defend herself.
"So this is what you meant when you said you knew Gabriel." The lilting voice came from behind Sarah. She whirled again.
"You didn't say your son was his community service project." Sheena Maxwell's cultured tone held the barest hint of amusement.
Sarah took in all of Sheena's pristine white silk pantsuit before she snarled, "My son is no one's service project." Furious, she turned to Gabe. "We do not need charity, Mr. Parker. Which brings me to the subject of soccer shoes. I told you I'd get them." Digging in her purse, she pulled out her fifty dollars, and although she could ill afford the gesture, she smacked it into his hand. "There. Why don't you trot on back to the high-rent district where you belong? I'll be paying for his soccer camp, too."
"Yippee!" Mike gave a whoop.
Gabe stood, lifting the happy child into his arms. He shoved the bills back in Sarah's purse. "I don't understand any of this. The shoes were a gift. I didn't realize there was any question about my attending his game. And Coach asked if I'd discuss camp with you." He paused a moment, cocking an ear. "The preliminary whistle just blew. Could we sort this out later?"
Sarah's face remained mutinous.
Mike tugged Gabe's chin around. "You said you'd sit with the team. Are you still gonna do that?"
"You bet I am, kicker." Gabe smiled.
"What about me?" Sheena protested as Mike slid to the ground and the two started walking away.
Gabe turned, his face a mask of surprise. "You asked to come. Go with Sarah. That way you'll be rooting for the right team." He left the two women glaring daggers at one another.
Sarah swept past Sheena. Gabe's little playmate could follow or not. When she was stopped by a mother collecting a nominal fee to help defray the cost of full uniforms only to learn that Gabe had already paid for her and Sheena, Sarah was livid. If he thought he could treat her like one of his surf bunnies, he'd better think again.
Stalking away, Sarah scanned the bleachers for Mitzi. Once she'd located her, she made her way up, then flung herself down on the hard bench. She staved off the other woman's questions with a curt, "Don't even ask."
"Wow," Mitzi said. "Who's that? Get a load of the white suit. Is she for real? White at a kids' soccer game! Who'd be that stupid?"
"French silk, I'd bet," said Sarah tartly. "That, is Sheena Maxwell. She's with Parker."
"You mean he's here? No kidding? Where?" Mitzi craned her neck. "And I thought you were upset because of Mike."
"I am." Sarah lowered her voice. "Could we go into this later? People are listening."
A chubby boy dressed in a T-shirt that matched Mike's stepped on Sarah's toes as he scrambled past.
"Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Cline." Sarah nodded to the parents of Mike's school friend, Jim, who were seated on Mitzi's right.
"Glad you could make the game, Mrs. Michaels." An older balding version of the son smiled at her. Then his wife chimed in, "We were just discussing you, Sarah. Is Mike's father back in town?"
Sarah nearly dropped her teeth. "No. Ah, the man is just a friend. Mike's friend," she added needlessly, then felt her cheeks grow warm.
"Really?" Mrs. Cline's eyebrows shot up.
"I get your drift now, Sarah," Mitzi whispered.
Sarah focused on the team. Mike's resemblance to Gabe was uncanny. It wasn't hard to see what Mrs. Cline was thinking.
Mitzi whistled long and low. "So that's Parker? I can tell you the pictures in the paper don't do him justice. He's beautiful."
"Mitzi!" Sarah might have said more, but a hush fell over the crowd as everyone stood for the presentation of the flag, which signaled the start of the game. The moment the pledge ended, Sarah sat. It bothered her to be looking down on Gabe's broad back, so she studied the crowd, instead. There was a good turnout. But throughout the first quarter, her eyes strayed often to the ripple of muscles playing beneath Gabe's white shirt. Unlike Sheena, who was sitting beside him, he fit right in with the casual crowd. Sarah's pulse sped up just watching him.
Mitzi poked her and cheered as Mike's team scored a point. Guiltily Sarah straightened and tried to concentrate on the game.
Suddenly it was half time. Mike hadn't been off the bench. Sarah didn't want to go to the concession stand, but Mitzi propelled her forward. Did all parents agonize over their children's feelings the way she did? Sarah wondered. For an unguarded moment she watched Gabe talking quietly with her son. Was it wrong to be relieved that someone else was consoling him for a change? An inner voice cautioned, Don't depend on Parker too much.
Mike caught sight of her and yelled, "Coach says I get to play the second half. And, Mom, I invited Gabe for pizza. That's okay, isn't it?"
Sarah glanced from Gabe to Sheena, who had suddenly appeared at his side. "Maybe another time. Tonight's family. Besides, I'm sure Gabe has other plans."
Gabe kept silent as he lifted Mike and swung him in the air. The child giggled, and Sarah's heart twisted convulsively.
"Aunt Mitzi isn't teal family," Mike said.
Belatedly remembering her manners, Sarah introduced Mitzi.
Gabe, in turn, did the same with Sheena.
Sarah almost laughed, thinking how amiable they must seem to others.
"Well, can he?" Mike pressed.
"Oh, we couldn't possibly," Sheena answered for them. "Gabriel is taking me to dinner at the club."
Sarah felt relieved. Although she'd never been to the country club, she knew it was a far cry from Arnold's Pizzeria.
Gabe laughed and said to Mike, "Women go for atmosphere, kicker." Turning to Sheena, he said lightly, "I only promised food. Pizza's food."
"All right!" Mike jumped up and down. "So is it okay, huh, Mom?"
"Of course they're welcome," Sarah agreed stiffly. "But Arnold's doesn't have atmosphere."
"Does so," Mitzi interjected. "They have tablecloths and candles."
"There you go." Gabe winked at the now glowering Sheena.
Before Sarah could mention that Arnold's table coverings were oilcloth and their candles the drip kind stuffed into cheap wine bottles, the call to play sent them all scurrying for their seats.
"Latch on to that guy, Sarah," murmured Mitzi near her ear. "Mike adores him and vice versa. Plus, he's got a beautiful bod."
"Mitzi Kealoha," Sarah sputtered. "It's out of the question. We'd kill each other first."
"Too bad. Oh, hey," Mitzi grabbed Sarah's arm. "Mike's going out to play." Clinging to one another, they stopped and took seats where they were. In spite of the balmy night, Sarah shivered as she watched her son join the fracas. She did want him to play, but… sometimes players got hurt. Quite by accident, her anxious gaze locked with Gabe's.
Casually he left Sheena and moved up the aisle to sit beside her. He placed a broad comforting hand on her shoulder. "First-game jitters, huh, Mom? Mike's doing fine."
She breathed in the scent of his expensive after-shave and felt her heartbeat quicken. He smiled then, and Sarah saw confidence in her son reflected in that smile. It was crazy how her pulse leapt again.
"What do you suppose Mrs. Cline's thinking now?" Mitzi asked in a low amused voice.
Sarah looked guilty and slid out from under Gabe's hand.
Seemingly oblivious of the undercurrent—and of Sheena's pout—he remained at Sarah's side, shouting encouragement to the players until the whistle blew and it was formally declared that Mike's team had lost by one point. Then he rushed out to meet the team, leaving all three women behind. They filed after him in silence, reaching ground level as a dejected Mike shuffled off the field.
Gabe clapped him on the shoulder. "No dishonor in losing when you play a good game. How would you like a ride to Arnold's in my Porsche?"
"Really?" Mike's demeanor changed. "Can I, Mom?" he asked.
As though sensing her hesitation, Mitzi piped up with, "Such a deal, kid. I'm jealous. We'll meet ya.
First one there gets the table. We'll have a good time. Right, Sarah?" She started hustling Sarah away.
Sarah blinked. Why was it she lost all control whenever Gabe Parker was around? For Mike's sake, she needed to make an effort to be more congenial. "That's right," she called back. "We're going to have fun."
She meant it, too, until she was stuffed in a too-small booth next to Gabe and Sheena. Sarah gave up all pretense of congeniality and simply held her tongue until Gabe snapped up the bill. Sarah insisted it was her treat. But he already had his money out.
Mitzi silenced her with a kick under the table.
Sarah gave in gracefully, making a mental note to settle with him in private.
Outside, she lost no time saying good-night. Mike protested, but she was firm. "Mike, you've claimed enough of Gabe's attention. He and Sheena still have time to go to the club." At that, the woman in white actually aimed a stiff smile her way. Gabe, though, didn't seem in any rush to leave.
"We'll see," he said, lifting Mike, who was trying hard not to yawn. Carrying him to Sarah's car, Gabe tucked him carefully into the back seat.
"Thanks," Sarah said, grateful for his help. "He's getting to be a chunk, I'm afraid."
Gabe straightened, concern in his expression. "I could follow you home and lift him out at the other end. He'll be good and zonked by then."
Sarah stopped digging for her keys. She gave him a blank look.
Sheena called to him from the Porsche, but Gabe leaned an arm along the top of Sarah's car. "Would it be okay if Mike helps out on my boat tomorrow? I promised him I'd ask. I'll come pick him up about ten."
"Absolutely not," Sarah hissed. "Shh. I don't want him to hear you."
"Oh, please, Mom!" Mike's eyes flew open. "You said he hadda ask first. So he did."
Visions of Farrell's wild beach parties swam before Sarah's eyes. Stubbornly she shook her head. "I don't like boats," she said at last.
"Mine is docked for repairs." Gabe smiled. Privately he wondered what she had against boats. There seemed to be an awful lot she didn't like. Sometime—later, when she trusted him more—he'd ask her some questions…
"He's not you-know-who," Mitzi was murmuring in her other ear.
Sarah slid behind the steering wheel. "I wouldn't want Mike to get in any workman's way."
"If that was the case, I wouldn't have asked," Gabe said. "Don't tell me you couldn't use a little time to yourself."
Time to herself? A rare commodity. A tiny smile crept in. Still, the feeling that she needed to protect herself and her son from some unnamed threat was stronger than the appeal of a few private hours. "Uh…"
Mitzi butted in. "You deserve a break," she said. "But I warn you—" she nudged Gabe "—she'll grow to like it." Taking charge, Mitzi shooed him away, saying, "I'm spending the night with Sarah. Since I live on the way to your marina, you can give me a lift home in the morning. Sarah won't even have to leave the house."
"Now look what you've done," Sarah whispered as Mike came awake again long enough to clap gleefully. "And Sheena looks ready to kill you," Sarah added, watching Gabe climb in the Porsche and drive off.
"Really?" Mitzi drawled. "I was just thinking what a sport ol' Sheena was being, too."
Sarah shot her friend a sidelong glance. A devilish smile hovered on Mitzi's lips. Sarah dissolved in laughter. "I swear, Mitzi, you'd make a good politician. How do you lie with a straight face?"
"Is that any way to treat someone who got you a morning of freedom?"
"Freedom?" Sarah sobered and glanced at her sleeping son. "I don't think so. Mitzi, I'm scared. Haven't you noticed that Gabe Parker is… is stealing Mike's affections?"
"Mike loves you, Sarah," Mitzi insisted. "Nothing can change that."
"I guess I don't have your faith, Mitzi," Sarah said unhappily. "Right now, I wish I'd never signed him up for that stupid program."
CHAPTER FOUR
Everyone in the Michaels household slept late the next morning. When they did awaken, Mike was so excited Sarah noticed he brushed his teeth three times—without once being told. And yet, some part of her didn't want to let him go.
"He'll be all right, Sarah." Mitzi sighed as she watched her friend keeping a nervous eye on the clock. "Just what do you think can happen to him on a boat docked on dry land?"
Sarah chewed at her lip, her habitual expression of worry. "I don't know how to explain it. Weekends have been our special time together since he was born. It's harder sharing him than I ever imagined it would be."
Mitzi finished her coffee and rinsed the cup. "I'm sure those child-care books of yours have a paragraph or two on letting go. What if you remarry? Have more children?"
Sarah was mildly surprised at Mitzi's attitude. "It's not like I'm being one of those smother-mothers," she said defensively.
"I'm not accusing you," Mitzi assured. "It's just, well, I don't want you to forget you have a life of your own. Mike'll get married one of these days and leave home. Then where will you be?"
Sarah rolled her eyes. "He's only eight years old, Mitzi." She would have said more, but was interrupted by Gabe's arrival and Mike's effusive shout from the living room.
"He's here, Mom. Gabe's here. Hurry, Aunt Mitzi. We don't wanna keep him waiting. 'Bye, Mom. See you later."
The front door opened, then banged shut.
Sarah's mouth gaped, and Mitzi laughed.
"He's not excited or anything," Mitzi said dryly. "Do you want to come wave goodbye, or should I just leave quietly?"
Sarah followed Mitzi to the door. Mike was already belted into the jump seat, urging Mitzi to hurry. A stab of jealousy knifed through Sarah's heart. Once again, she couldn't help feeling that Gabe was replacing her in her son's affections.
"See you later," called Gabe. "Enjoy yourself." He grinned, waved to her and started backing out the moment Mitzi was settled in the passenger seat. Those two chatted like old friends.
Today, Sarah noticed, Gabe's electric-blue eyes were hidden by mirrored sunglasses. One suntanned arm rested casually out his window.
" 'Bye." Mike twisted on his perch, stuck an arm out the window behind Gabe's head and flopped his hand like a dead fish. Suddenly Sarah was struck by envy. Was that what this was all about? Surely not. She had never wanted to go with Farrell. Maybe if she had… but no, she'd never had time to play. There was always so much to do around the house.
Sarah remained on the porch until the car disappeared from view. Then it hit her that she'd failed to ask Gabe for a telephone number—again. Come to think of it, she hadn't even asked when they'd return. What kind of mother was she? A little smile came and went. The way Mike talked nonstop, he'd soon drive Gabe crazy. No doubt she'd see them back before lunch. Time for herself, indeed. In fact, she'd better work fast to get everything done.
But noon came, and they hadn't returned. Sarah collapsed with a cup of leftover breakfast coffee and wondered how Gabe was faring. She'd finished the wash, changed all the beds, cleaned up the mess in Mike's room and scrubbed the bathroom floor. Any minute now they'd walk in.
She checked her watch. Did she have time for a shower? Moments ago she'd caught a glimpse of herself in one of the mirrors. Her hair was frightful, poking willy-nilly out from beneath a hastily tied scarf. Plus, she had several black smudges on her face.
What would Gabe think if he saw her looking like Cinderella before the ball? He probably believed all women dressed like Sheena. She found herself picturing his family. He'd mentioned his father, but what was his mother like? Frivolous, or athletic?
When the duo didn't arrive within the next ten minutes, Sarah rose, dumped her coffee and peered out the window. She unloaded the dishwasher, keeping one ear tuned for the whine of the Porsche.
As she cleaned counters, Sarah had a new thought about how to reach Gabe. She leafed through the Yellow Pages, looking for marinas. Parker's was listed in bold type, and she felt a moment of triumph. Triumph soon gone sour, as she reached a recorded message informing her that all
sales staff were out helping customers at the moment. Leave a name and number, the message told her, and someone would call her back. Sarah hung up.
She decided to scrub her oven next. Since it wasn't the self-cleaning type, this was a chore she normally saved until a pie bubbled over. The inside and both racks sparkled before she tried the marina again. By this time three of her fingernails had ragged edges. Irrationally she blamed Gabe. If he'd been as responsible as the agency said, he'd have told her what time they'd be back.
"Parker Boat and Marina," a sweet voice trilled over the line.
"My name is Sarah Michaels," she said without explanation. "I'm calling Gabriel Parker. Could you transfer me or give me a number where he can be reached?" Since she'd made an effort to keep her tone professional, the silence at the other end surprised her. Sarah repeated her request with less patience.
"I'm sorry," the woman said. "Mr. Parker is not available on weekends."
"But you don't understand," Sarah said. "My son's with him on his boat. I expected them back before now."
"I really can't give out his private number. Now if you'll excuse me, I have another call coming in."
A click and soft hum sounded before Sarah could explain further. "Blast." She slammed down the receiver. Did that woman think she wanted Gabe for personal reasons? Sarah realized it was probably exactly what she thought.
Feeling a sudden need for fresh air, she went outside and set about pruning hibiscus that hadn't felt a blade in two years. She swiveled toward the road each time she heard a car until it seemed her head would split.
After the flower beds were tidy, Sarah washed windows—another dirty job that matched her mood. If they didn't arrive soon, she was going to call the police. Although just what she'd say wasn't clear in her mind. She could hardly report the man for kidnapping, could she?
By five o'clock, Sarah was not only exhausted, she was frantic. She abandoned all pretext of work and paced from window to window, her head throbbing like a war drum. All sorts of wild possibilities flitted about inside her head. Mike had fallen from the boat. Gabe had been in a wreck and they were in some emergency room, unconscious. He'd gone to some beach party and forgotten Mike altogether. Not once did she think they might simply be having such a good time that the hours slipped away.