by Ginna Gray
"I know." Emotion threatened to choke her, and her voice wavered. Fighting back tears, she gave her friend a woeful look. "Oh, Amanda," she whispered wretchedly.
Without a word, Amanda's demeanor softened, and she gathered Tess close—or as close as her girth would allow— and led her toward the sofa. "All right, now. Tell me what's happened," Amanda said in a commanding but gentle voice once they were settled.
Hesitantly, Tess recounted what-had transpired between herself and Ryan McCall. During the tale, Amanda's expression ran the gamut—from a haughtily raised eyebrow to a sagging jaw and finally ending with her beautiful face set in an icy mask of fury. "Do you mean that bastard had the unmitigated gall to accuse yon—you of all people—of trying to seduce Mike?" she said, enunciating every word in a tight, dangerous voice. "And of using that sweet boy to get to him!"
Miserable, Tess nodded.
"Why that sorry, no good... And to think, I thought he was the nice one."
"For some reason, he seems to have taken an intense dislike to me. So you can see that I have to break off my friendship with Mike. I really don't have any other choice."
"I suppose you're right." Amanda sighed. "It's a shame though. Mike is bound to be hurt."
Tess tried not to think about that. "Yes, well ... at least his father should be pleased."
❧
Ryan was delighted. For the past three days Mike had not so much as mentioned Tess Benson. He had been spending more time at home, as well. From his son's glum mood, Ryan strongly suspected that after their talk Mrs. Benson had realized she was wasting her time buttering up Mike and had dropped him like a hot potato.
He hated to see the boy so depressed, but Ryan figured he would get over it soon. In a day or two he'd be enthused about something else and forget all about their new neighbor.
However, when Ryan entered the apartment on Friday evening, far from improved, Mike's mood had worsened. Sprawled in a chair with one leg hooked over the arm, he stared morosely at the television screen. In response to his father's greeting he mumbled something but barely spared him a glance.
"Hey, what is this? Why the long face? Cheer up, son. Things can't be that bad," Ryan teased, tweaking the toe of Mike's sneaker.
"Oh, yeah? That's what you think."
"So what's the problem?" The question brought no response, and Ryan nudged him again. "C'mon, you know you can tell me."
Mike grimaced, but finally he shot his dad a sulky look. "I don't think Tess likes me anymore. She doesn't return my calls. She doesn't answer her door. I think she's avoiding me."
Ryan's lips thinned. Impatience rippled through him and edged his voice. "It that all? So what? Forget about her."
He turned away, flipping through the mail. It contained nothing of importance so he tossed it onto his desk and sat down in his easy chair. Picking up the evening newspaper, he glanced at his son, again. To his surprise, Mike was watching him, his eyes narrowed and filled with suspicion.
"Have you eaten?" Ryan asked.
"Yeah. I had some frozen egg rolls."
"Good." He snapped open the paper and tried to ignore his son's penetrating stare.
"Dad, do you know why Tess is acting strange?"
"How the hell would I know?" Ryan barked, his conscience stabbing him.
"You didn't talk to her or anything?"
"Look, Mike. Why are you making such a big deal about this woman? She's nothing to us."
"The change in her was real quick," Mike mused, ignoring his father's question. "Like maybe somebody did something to upset her."
"So? Women get upset easily." Ryan shifted in the chair and snapped the newspaper again, scowling at the printed page without seeing a word.
Mike sat forward, his eyes widening. "You did talk to her, didn't you?"
Faced with a direct challenge, Ryan could not lie. He was always honest with his son. But he resented being cornered. Why couldn't Mike just let the whole thing drop? "All right, yeah, I talked to her," he replied belligerently. "So what?"
"When? What did you say to her?"
"She called and invited us over for dinner. I turned down the invitation."
"But why?" Mike wailed.
Rarely did Ryan lose his temper with his son, but the anguished question pushed him over the edge. "Dammit, Mike, you know why. I will not be manipulated by some man-hungry female. What's more, I resent the way the woman has been cozying up to you to get to me."
Mike leaped out of his chair. His gangly body vibrated with outrage. "Tess wouldn't do that!" he shouted. "Anyway, she's not interested in you!"
"Don't kid yourself. All women are on the make for a man. Or maybe I should say, a breadwinner."
"Not Tess. That's just plain stupid. You don't even know her. You don't know anything about her! She's nice, and.. .and...and she's special! And now she probably won't ever speak to me again! And it's all your fault!" he shouted, and bolted for his room.
"Mike! Mike, come back here!" Ryan called after him, springing up out of his chair. He could have saved his breath. Mike's door slammed with a force that rattled the walls.
❧
"Damn." Spinning around, Ryan slammed his fist down on the back of the chair.
He paced back and forth across the room. This was all that damned Benson woman's fault. He and Mike had never had a serious disagreement until now.
Why was his son so taken with her? What the hell was so special about the woman?
Ryan stopped and glanced toward the bedrooms. Mike might be innocent enough to believe she had no interest in him beyond simple neighborliness, but experience had taught him otherwise. Ever since Julia had walked out on him and Mike, women had been pursuing him like hounds after a fox. Strangely, it seemed that the more he tried to discourage them, the more remote and abrupt he was, the more relentless they were. And the more devious their ploys. Tess Benson certainly wasn't the first woman who had tried to use Mike to attract his interest.
Ryan sat down on the sofa. Slumping forward, he braced his elbows on his spread knees and massaged his temples. He sighed. Maybe Reilly was right. Maybe Mike did need a mother figure in his life. That gentling, nurturing female influence that he and his brothers and sister had grown up with.
Guiltily, Ryan recalled the wistful look that sometimes came over Mike's face when he talked about a friend's mom. On those occasions Ryan had always stifled his twinges of conscience and told himself that they were doing just fine on their own. But were they? Was Mike?
Yes, dammit! Ryan shot up off the sofa and began to pace. Mike was bright and happy and well adjusted. He was doing well in school; he had plenty of friends. Just because no woman played an active role in his life that didn't mean he was deprived. He could even be better off. God knew, some women were wretched mothers. Julia certainly had been.
He wanted to forbid Mike to have anything more to do with Tess Benson, but he knew that would not be wise. Mike was at a touchy age. Ryan didn't want to push him into rebellion. No, the best thing he could do was wait it out. It might take time, but eventually Mike would get over his infatuation with their new neighbor.
❧
At breakfast the next morning the atmosphere between the two McCall males was frosty. Mike responded to his father's pleasant "Good morning" with a curt nod and skirted around him in the small kitchen as though he weren't there, his young face stiff. Ryan's question about what Mike wanted to eat was met with an abrupt, "Never mind. I'll get it myself."
After five minutes of sitting side by side at the breakfast bar, eating their cereal in stony silence, Ryan had had enough.
"This is ridiculous," he snapped. "We have to talk about this, Mike."
Mike merely shrugged and kept on spooning cereal into his mouth.
"Look, son," he said as patiently as he could manage. "You know how I feel about women. You've always known. But, hey! Just because I don't want to be around Mrs. Benson doesn't mean you can't be friends with her."
Mike cut his eyes to
ward his father, his expression still sullen. "You hurt her feelings. Now she doesn't want to be friends with me."
"Well then, I guess you'll just have to try harder. Look, tell her I said it was all right."
Mike grimaced and stared at his cereal bowl.
"C'mon, son." Ryan cuffed him on the shoulder. "Whaddayasay?"
Dramatically rolling his eyes, the boy heaved a sigh. ''Okay," he agreed finally, in a put-upon voice that only a teenager can achieve.
"Good. So, how about it? Are we friends again?"
Mike shot him another sharp look. Ryan could see that he was struggling to hold on to his rancor, but Mike's basic good nature never allowed him to stay angry for long. In that respect he was far more like his Uncle Reilly than his father. Ryan's twin was unfailingly, at times maddeningly, good-natured and jovial, and on those rare occasions when he did lose his temper his anger never lasted long.
Finally Mike's mouth twitched in a reluctant, somewhat abashed smile. "Yeah. I guess."
By the time they headed out to do their Saturday grocery shopping and errands, the camaraderie between father and son was fully restored. Ryan's mood was buoyant... until, a mile or so from the apartment, he spotted Tess.
Her car was sitting by the side of the road with a flat tire, and she was bending over the open trunk. He couldn't see her face, but there was no mistaking that bright hair or that battered little car.
Ryan speeded up, hoping that Mike wouldn't notice her. That hope was dashed almost instantly.
"Look! There's Tess!" he shouted. "And she has a flat!" He looked at his father, his face at first eager, then crestfallen. "Aren't you gonna stop?"
Ryan opened his mouth to tell him that these days liberated women changed their own flat tires, but before he could, Tess straightened up and turned around with the jack in her hands.
Ryan's head whipped around as he zoomed past her. "What the—?" His eyes bulged and his jaw dropped.
He snapped his mouth shut then opened it again to cut loose with a stream of colorful curse words that had Mike gaping, stomped on the brake and brought the Cherokee to a screeching halt on the shoulder of the road.
He stabbed his son with an irate glare. "She's pregnant! Why the hell didn't you tell me she was pregnant!"
Chapter 3
"Me!" Mike squeaked. "Why should I? I thought you knew!"
"No, I didn't know. How the hell would I kn—" Ryan stopped and raked a hand through his hair, aware that the anger he was heaping on his son was misdirected; it was himself he was furious with.
A pregnant woman, for Pete's sake. A pregnant widow!
"Uh...are we going to help her?" Mike asked cautiously. He watched his father, his young face puckered with anxiety and hope.
Biting off another sharp curse, Ryan turned his face away and stared out the window. He did not see the traffic whizzing by nor feel the buffeting of its backdraft.
His emotions warred. He felt guilty as hell.
But dammit! He was angry, too. He had the inescapable feeling that he was being sucked into a situation against his will. It was as though he'd fallen into a raging torrent andwas being dragged inexorably toward a waterfall, no matter how hard he fought against it.
He gritted his teeth. Dammit! Tess Benson wasn't his problem. For several moments he sat ramrod stiff and stared into the distance, his face grim. His fingers clenched and unclenched around the steering wheel. A muscle along his jaw worked. Finally, as though drawn by a magnet, his gaze slid to the rearview mirror.
"Oh, what the hell!" he snapped, and reached for the door handle. "C'mon. Let's go give her a hand before she hurts herself."
"Yes! Yes!" Making a fist, Mike bent his arm and jerked it downward in one sharp pump of victory before scrambling out of the car and racing after his father.
With a face like thunder, Ryan stomped back toward the disabled car, his long strides eating up the ground. Mike had to break into a trot just to keep up.
When they rounded the end of the vehicle Ryan came to an abrupt halt, his frustration and fury soaring to even greater heights at the sight of Tess on her knees inside the trunk, trying to drag out the spare tire.
"Will you... come out of... there!" Grunting and straining, Tess tugged at the tire with all her might, but she couldn't budge it. Unable to reach the spare because of her girth, she had climbed up into the trunk to get closer, but she still couldn't get a good grip on the tire. Huffing and puffing, she sat back on her heels, perilously close to tears. What was she going to do?
She looked around forlornly. The traffic zipped past her as though she were invisible. Weren't there any white knights left in the world?
The thought had barely flitted through her mind when a pair of hard hands hooked under her arms from behind.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" a furious voice barked in her ear. Tess let out a frightened squeal but she was plucked out of the trunk as though she weighed no more than a sack of groceries.
Just as unceremoniously, she was plunked down on her feet and released. The instant she gained her balance she spun around—and gasped.
"You!"
Ryan McCall stood before her with his fists planted on his hips, his feet spread aggressively wide, glaring down at her as though he were contemplating mayhem. "Are you crazy?" he shouted. "Don't you know you shouldn't be climbing around in the trunk of a car or trying to lift a heavy tire?"
"Of course I know," Tess fired back. "But I have a flat that needs changing. What else could I do? The nearest gas station is at least three miles away."
"You can stand by the side of the road and look helpless until a good Samaritan comes along."
"Oh really? If I waited for some big strong man to help me I'd be here all day." She gestured toward the unending stream of traffic rushing by. "In case you haven't noticed, chivalry doesn't exactly seem to be in vogue these days."
"Don't worry, Tess. Dad's real good at fixing tires. He'll have it done in no time."
Tess's head whipped around. "Mike!" She had been so stunned by Ryan's sudden appearance, she hadn't even noticed his son hovering beside her.
"Just stand back and stay out of the way," Ryan ordered, and swung around to the car.
"No, wait! Stay away from there!" Tess rushed forward and grabbed his arm. "I don't want or need your help, Mr. McCall."
"Don't be an idiot. You can't change this tire. If you won't think of yourself, at least think of your baby."
Giving her a disdainful look, he shook off her hand and, with infuriating ease, reached into the trunk and lifted out the spare. He bounced it experimentally on the ground and immediately erupted in another colorful burst of profanity.
Alarmed, Tess took a hasty step back, her eyes growing wide at the fierce expression on his face.
"This thing is flat, too! Woman, don't you have a lick of sense? Driving around on half-bald tires without even a decent spare?"
"I... I didn't know the spare was flat."
"You didn't know? That's no excuse. You drive the damned car—you're suppose to know what shape it's in."
"But...you see...my husband always took care of those kinds of things. I don't know anything about cars."
"Then you better learn. You don't have a husband now," he said heartlessly. He turned away and walked around to the side of the car to retrieve the jack, muttering a stream of invective and criticism.
It was too much for Tess. The tears that came so easily these days welled up. She struggled for control, but Ryan McCall was more than her overwrought nerves could take. He was the last person she had expected—or wanted—to see. Moreover, he was obviously furious and giving his assistance grudgingly.
Tess's face crumpled, and she burst into tears.
"Daaaddd.."
Mike's anguished wail brought Ryan whirling around. ''What? What's wro-? Aw, hell."
"Come quick, Dad! Hurry!" Mike's face wore a look of horror. His frantic gaze jumped back and forth between his father and the weeping woman.
Wanting to give comfort but afraid to touch her, he hopped around Tess, shuffling from one foot to the other, his hands hovering over her heaving shoulders.
Ryan stomped to the rear of the car and threw the jack into the trunk. Tess sobbed brokenly, the sounds harsh and raw, verging on hysterical.
"I don't know what's wrong with her, Dad. All of a sudden, she just started bawling." Mike sent his father a desperate look. "Do you think she's hurt?"
"I doubt it. Women in her condition tend to be high-strung. That's probably all it is."
Tess cried harder. The sounds were piteous and unnerving and they served to exacerbate Ryan's guilt. His jaw clenched.
Mike looked distraught. "Do something, Dad!"
"Here." Digging into the back pocket of his jeans, Ryan pulled out a clean handkerchief and stuffed it into Tess's hands. "Now, take her back to the Cherokee, son, and try to calm her down. I'll lock up her car and bring the tires."
"Calm her down? How am I suppose to do that?'' Mike squeaked.
"Oh, for— Here. Like this." Ryan wrapped his arms around Tess and pulled her close. He expected her to resist, but she sagged against him and burrowed her face into his chest, her fingers clutching his shirt. Her response was so urgent and wholehearted, he realized that she had no idea who held her; she was merely reacting instinctively, responding to the warmth and comfort of human touch.
Ryan's guilt deepened. He had forgotten how precariously balanced a woman's emotions were during pregnancy. Julia had been a basket case when she carried Mike. She had burst into tears if you so much as looked at her. If anyone had shouted at her, she probably would have dissolved into a puddle.
Expectant mothers needed support and reassurance. They needed to feel loved and cosseted and cared for. He had learned that much. And when you thought about it, simple physical contact and gentle words—that really wasn't too much to ask, considering what they were going through.