Call it Love

by Kress, Alyssa

  "I'm not pregnant," she softly told him.

  He stilled. It took him a minute to digest. "You're not...?" he repeated, slow.

  She shook her head. How, even in jest, had she ever imagined making Chess a father without his complete and willing consent? She knew where he came from, what he'd suffered from having no father of his own.

  "Then why—?" he began before abruptly stopping himself. His gaze narrowed. "You're absolutely sure of that?"

  "Positive." Thinking back, she could see the little clues that might have added up in his mind. It hadn't been so outrageous an idea for him to have concocted.

  He let go of her hands and leaned back. "I...see." The softness in his gaze hardened, masking, protecting. "I guess I owe you an apology, then."

  "Oh, you owe me an apology—like you owe me a hole in the head. Dammit, Chess!" She jumped up, sudden tears filling her eyes. She'd tried. Damn straight she'd tried, but it simply wasn't going to work.

  "Settle down, Cookie. I didn't mean to insult you."

  "Insult me!" She whirled on him, incensed. "Oh, I'm awfully insulted. You only offered to be the father of my child!"

  "But you don't have a child." He looked somewhat startled, even intimidated, by her burst of animation.

  "But you would have!" she retorted. It was getting impossible to see anything what with all the moisture in her eyes. "God, don't you have a Kleenex or anything?"

  "Here." He shifted weight to produce a clean, if wrinkled, tissue and then watched as she blew her nose and wiped her eyes. "There's no reason to cry." He sounded as though he wished there were a way to make the suggestion into a command.

  Cookie blew her nose again. "I was trying so hard to dislike you. And I almost had it, really, I did." She waved the damp tissue in the air. "And then you had to go and mess it all up. Dammit, Chess, you're always doing things like that."

  He looked utterly baffled. "I am?"

  "Yes. I simply can't help liking you."

  It was impossible to read his reaction to this statement, uttered with a great deal of justifiable ire. He simply sat with the collar of his button-down shirt undone, one lock of dark hair falling over his forehead, and those incredible sea-colored eyes staring at her.

  "Yes, well," Cookie muttered and looked away, crumpling the Kleenex in one fist. He was probably appalled by her statement. Chess couldn't have many kind thoughts toward her. "I guess it's getting late, and we've managed to clear up these lingering misunderstandings." A lie if there ever was one, but Cookie wasn't about to clear up the last, most outrageous misunderstanding.

  Luther had warned her she was only digging her hole deeper, and he'd been absolutely right. It was so deep now that she saw no possible way out of it. Or at least no way without earning, and deserving, Chess's undying contempt.

  Now, with a quiet grace, he rose to his feet. "You're right. It is late." He frowned. "I'll see you tomorrow."

  "Yes, tomorrow," Cookie agreed, too brightly. "At the theater."

  His movement toward the door checked. He turned to look at her. For a moment she saw pure confusion in his features, but he quickly covered it up. "Right," he said. "At the theater."

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Chess lifted the offending envelope from the top of his ancient desk. "Don't be ridiculous, Diana. I'm not going to accept this."

  Diana stood at attention on the other side of his desk. She was dressed in a navy suit, the jacket loose-fitting over her slender figure. "It's only right that I resign. The leak of the advertising campaign must have come from my department. I'm responsible."

  Chess rose from his seat and tried to hand her the envelope. "Maybe if I were running an army battalion and not a mere civilian business, I would have to accept this piece of nonsense, but I'm not. Nor can I afford to lose staff right now. For God's sake, take your letter and get back to work."

  Hesitant, Diana looked at the envelope. "Are you very sure about that, Chess? The loss of the ad campaign could mean the death of Scents Allure."

  He stifled a grimace at how true this was. In all likelihood, they weren't going to make it through this disaster. But firing staff wasn't the answer.

  "I'm sure. Here." He leaned over the desk, took her hand, and stuffed the envelope into her palm.

  Diana looked down. She blinked a few times.

  God, Chess thought, not another crying woman. He'd had enough of those recently to last a lifetime. "Go," he repeated. "I'm not kidding. I have work to do. Go."

  Diana blinked some more. "Thank you, Chess. I—I'll stay if you still want me."

  As the door closed behind her, Chess put his head in his hands and released a groan of pure exhaustion. One of these days he was going to have to get some sleep. Such an exercise had been impossible ever since his wedding. Last night, for example, he'd stared at the ceiling for hours, wondering what kind of bizarre, maddening creature he'd married.

  One minute she acted like he was the abominable snowman. The next minute, after he'd accused her of trying to stick him with the paternity of her unborn child, she'd wept and said that she liked him. She liked him!

  And he'd loved it! All the blood had rushed to his head in a sudden, unbidden exultation—merely because Cookie liked him.

  Now a knock sounded on the glass of his office door. Chess stood up, rubbing the tension in the back of his neck. "Come."

  Kate stuck her head through as she half opened the door. "Are we interrupting anything?"

  Chess's brows drew together. His mother had never before cared if she were interrupting him. "No. Come on in."

  She came through the door, wearing a soft cream suit of the same general cut that Diana had been wearing. Behind her trailed Alex, dressed in jeans and a short-sleeved white shirt. Kate put on a pleasant smile. Alex didn't even try.

  "We were wondering if you'd seen this." Kate lifted a folded newspaper and gingerly placed it on his desk.

  "Now, what?" Chess reached for the paper. "Go ahead and sit down," he told his mother. Alex had already taken one of the old metal frame chairs on the other side of his desk. Still standing, Chess unfolded the Chronicle.

  "The Datebook section," Alex prompted in a voice tinged with warning. He narrowed icy blue eyes at his older half-brother.

  Chess spared no more than a cursory glance at the photograph gracing the front page of the Datebook section. All he caught was a brief impression of a man with a woman in his arms and the fleeting recognition of himself and Cookie getting off the airplane.

  "Another one of Ruth's publicity stunts." He threw the paper onto his desk. He made certain to throw it, however, in such a way that he didn't have to look at the photograph again.

  Kate's eyes followed the trajectory of the paper. There was something like regret in their expression, as if she wished Chess had had a different reaction.

  "There's probably no harm in it," Chess added.

  "I beg to differ." Alex regarded Chess with open hostility. "How was your honeymoon?" Alex's tone made it clear he thought the photograph indicated a completely different set of circumstances from the truth. His expression said he didn't intend to put up with Chess making a sexual playmate of his half-sister.

  Chess shrugged. "Our trip was pleasant enough." It struck him with grim humor that Alex was going to have his hands full if he intended to protect Cookie's honor.

  Alex's face darkened as he pointed toward the newspaper. "It looks like it was a lot more than 'pleasant.'"

  "Don't be absurd. Cookie tripped on the carpet of the airport ramp. I caught her fall. If the photograph looks like anything more than that, it's a fluke."

  Sincerity rang in his words, and Alex obviously heard it. The kid leaned back in his chair, his face relaxing.

  Kate lowered her eyes. "Alex shouldn't have asked that. It's really none of our business."

  Chess shifted his gaze toward her in amazement. Was she actually taking Chess's side against Alex?

  Carefully, Kate rose from her seat. "I'm sorry."

&nb
sp; Chess frowned. "For what?"

  She raised her hands with a peculiar, helpless smile. "Nothing." Then, quietly, she turned, walked to his glass door, and left.

  Chess shifted his brooding gaze from the door to his half-brother.

  Raising an eyebrow, Alex leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest.

  The kid was on the point of asking Chess what he'd now done to their mother. Chess didn't want to answer that question or any others Alex might have. So he took the offensive.

  "It's good you came into my office today." Frantically, Chess scrambled for a reason it was good. To his surprise, he remembered one. "I, uh, want to show you something."

  Alex's raised brow lowered. "I only took a minute off. I'm supposed to be washing beakers."

  Chess waved a hand. "That can wait."

  "Oh, yeah? Tell Henry."

  "I'll cover for you with Henry."

  "I don't know..." Alex looked worried. "I don't wanta make Henry mad."

  "I've got that," Chess repeated firmly. He rose from his seat. One promise he'd made Cookie in getting her to agree to marry him was that he'd spend more time with Alex. Chess had yet to take care of that obligation. "I, uh, had an idea I wanted to work on with you."

  Alex regarded him askance. "What is this?

  Mentally, Chess released a sigh. Cookie hadn't realized the difficulty of the task she'd set him. "Relax. I'm not going to shoot you. Just come over here."

  Without looking back, Chess walked from his desk toward his composing center. When he heard the sound of sneakers, he knew Alex had decided it was safe to follow.

  "Here," Chess said, turning toward his half-brother. He rolled his chair out. "Have a seat."

  After giving the chair a dark glance, Alex appeared to decide there'd be little harm in sitting down. Once seated, he regarded Chess's shelves of scents. "What is all this?"

  "It's where I begin designing a scent." Chess parked his hip on the tabletop.

  Alex looked up at him, obviously ambivalent.

  For his part, Chess actually started to feel a little excited. "Let's find out how much of our common grandfather you might have."

  He reached for a bottle of jasmine, opened the cap, and stuck in one of his blotting strips. "Jasmine," he said, holding the strip out to Alex.

  As if he were handling dynamite, Alex took the piece of paper.

  "Sniff," Chess commanded while opening another bottle. He dipped in a different blotting strip and then handed it to Alex. "This is rose. Can you smell the difference between the two?"

  Alex sniffed each of the papers. "Yes."

  "Good," Chess pronounced, although most people could easily distinguish the difference between the scent of the two flowers. "Now let's bump it up a bit." He grabbed a handful of empty bottles and began combining a mixture of the pure scents, varying only a few ingredients between the new bottles.

  "What are you doing?"

  Chess hummed. "Seeing how sensitive you are. Some of this is training, mind you, but most is pure genetics."

  "Oh, I doubt that I could tell the difference between these things the way that you can." Alex eyed the growing army of bottles on the desk in front of them.

  "I wouldn't be so sure of that. Here, try this." Chess handed Alex another blotting paper, dipped into one of the bottles he'd mixed up. "What does that smell like to you?"

  Alex sniffed. "Flowers," he said flatly.

  Chess refused to be discouraged. "Fruity or sweet?"

  "Sweet." Alex wrinkled his nose. "Too sweet."

  Chess smiled and reached for a bottle of ambergris. "That's what this is for."

  Alex showed a reluctant smidgen of interest. "What is it?"

  "A rather mysterious excretion made by whales. Smells like an old closet."

  "That sounds appetizing."

  Chess's smile turned knowing as he used a pipette to add a tiny drop of the ambergris. "Most perfumes contain small amounts of the most vile smells known to nature. Try it now."

  Alex took the proffered blotting paper. His eyes went to Chess in surprise. "The sweetness is gone. Now it's just...fresh."

  Satisfaction coursed through Chess. "That's very good, Alex."

  "Is it?" His younger brother looked, cautiously, pleased.

  They ended up spending the next half hour together. Chess actually started to feel good about something on a day he'd imagined would be awful. Not only was Alex beginning to ask questions, but also he was listening with interest to the answers. There was no doubt his half-brother had an aptitude for fragrances, but it was Alex's show of interest that gratified Chess the most.

  "Who knows?" he said, feeling a little punchy. "One day you may be sitting here next to me coming up with your own perfume."

  The prediction seemed to bring Alex up short. His brows drew down. "I don't think so."

  Chess frowned as he recapped one of the bottles they'd been using. "Why not? I'm pretty sure you have the talent."

  "Yeah, well, it takes more than talent, doesn't it? You have to practically be a scientist. Didn't you study years of botany or chemistry?"

  "Both," Chess said. "So could you."

  Alex gave Chess an incredulous look. "Please. I don't have your brains."

  "That's ridiculous."

  "Is it?" Alex gave a short laugh. "Mom told me you got straight A's in high school. You had your pick of colleges to go to when you were my age."

  "Just because you're taking a year off before you go to college doesn't mean you'll be in any worse shape," Chess quickly replied. "As a matter of fact, you'll be ahead of where I was since you'll have a year of practical experience under your belt."

  Alex put his palms flat down on the desk and gave Chess a level look. "I'm not the perfect one. You can't just tell me to take botany and chemistry and think that I'll be able to do it."

  Chess's hands froze around the bottle he'd been recapping. "The perfect one?"

  "Anything anyone ever put in front of you to accomplish—you did," Alex claimed. "You've never failed at anything in your life."

  Chess was utterly stunned by this assessment of his character. He was further stunned to hear it uttered by Alex. "Th-that's hardly true." He placed the bottle back on the shelf randomly—a sloppiness he never employed. "I've failed at plenty of things. Big ones." He smiled crookedly. "Hell, this launch may prove to be the biggest one yet."

  Alex's staunch expression turned worried. "Is it that important?"

  Chess only hesitated a split second before deciding on the truth. Alex wanted to be treated like an adult. "Do or die."

  Alex gazed at him fixedly. "Exactly what happens if it fails?"

  Chess lifted a shoulder. "Corporate bankruptcy, I suppose. The factory will either get sold or torn down."

  Alex's paling face had Chess immediately regret this much candor.

  "But you have nothing to worry about personally," he went on. "The bankruptcy would only affect the corporation, not Kate or you. She has plenty of healthy investments that should keep you secure."

  Alex frowned. "What about you? What would happen to you?"

  Chess was taken aback by Alex's concern. Coughing to clear his throat, Chess claimed, "I'd survive."

  The glass door of the office received a heavy knock, followed by Henry opening it up. "Oh, there you are. Was wondering what happened to my dishwasher."

  "Shoot." Alex jumped up from his seat. "Sorry, Mr. Dublin."

  "My fault," Chess put in, calmly turning to face the lab tech. "I borrowed Alex for a little experiment I wanted to run."

  "Of course, Mr. Bradshaw." Henry kept his face neutral. Though Chess briefly scrutinized that face, today it revealed nothing. Odd. Usually, Henry was an open book.

  Chess made a mental note to keep an even closer eye on the man. Damn, but he hated having to watch and suspect everybody, but that was the situation.

  Alex glanced toward Chess. "Um, thanks, you know, for showing me all that stuff." He quickly looked away.

  A
lex had just thanked him? Chess blinked a few times. "Alex," he said, just as his half-brother reached the door.

  Alex turned back.

  "We'll do it again," Chess promised.

  Something that looked oddly like pain flashed past the guard on Alex's face. He dropped his gaze. "Sure, Chess." He cleared his throat. "Sometime."

  Chess watched the door close after them both with a helpless sensation. What had happened? He'd done something wrong, obviously, somehow messed up their brief camaraderie. But, as usual, he had no idea what that wrong thing was. He never did.

  Not with Alex, not with Kate...not with Cookie.

  Sighing, Chess walked back to his desk. Dammit, the newspaper was still there, the one his mother had brought in with the photo Ruth had snapped at the airport. The thing pulled him with a power he wished it didn't have. Giving in, he reached over and opened it up. He looked down at the blasted photograph.

  Good Lord. How had Ruth done it?

  Frowning, Chess reached to turn on the desk lamp. He spread the paper flat with his palm and gave the photograph a closer look.

  It was still there. That aura of...romance. Ruth sure the hell knew what she was doing with a camera. She could produce on film what he hadn't been able to create in real life. Cookie looked—

  He drew the paper closer, studied her very carefully. Why, she looked positively enthralled. She looked as though Chess were the be-all and end-all of masculinity. She looked as though she wanted to be covered with his kisses, as though she'd go ecstatic with his caresses. She looked like she couldn't wait.

  Merely standing there and looking at her photograph made Chess get hot.

  It was an illusion, he sternly reminded himself, struggling to bring his body under control. She'd simply tripped and been startled when he'd automatically caught hold of her. All the camera had done was capture her moment of surprise. That was it.

  But he ran the tip of his finger over her face, wondering. He might be imagining messages in this photograph that weren't there. But he hadn't imagined the way she'd kissed him at the church. He hadn't imagined the way she'd responded to him in the hotel room before everything had gone sour. And he most certainly hadn't imagined that clinging nightgown she'd put on Friday night.