by Pamela Bauer
No surprise, Nick thought. Judging by the size of her shorts, he guessed the pockets had to be pretty small. “I thought you said one of the nice things about being in Tyler was that you didn’t have to lock your car.”
“It is. I must have done it automatically. It’s so second nature to me.” She thrust her fists on her hips. “Now what am I going to do?”
Nick decided that if he were smart he’d escort her to the police station and let the authorities help her with her problem. “We can probably figure out a way to get inside,” he found himself saying.
“We?”
“I’ll help you. I am a mechanical engineer.”
“I know, but this isn’t the movies and you’re not Eddie Murphy,” she reminded him, a sly grin spreading across her face.
Damn. Did she always have to have such a sexy glint in her eyes when she talked to him? “No, but this is a challenge no tool man worth his wrenches would turn down.”
“So what do you suggest we do? I know the old wire coat hanger trick doesn’t work on these new cars.”
“I can probably find something in my tool chest to help you out.”
“And just where is this tool chest?”
“At my house. It’s only about four blocks from here if you want to walk with me.” When she didn’t respond right away, he added, “Or we could go back to the carnival and hope to find some help.”
“There must be a service station in town.”
“There’s Carl’s Garage, across from Gates Department Store. I’m not sure he’d be open this late, though.”
“You’re probably right. Maybe we should go to your place,” she suggested.
Nick shrugged. “Sure.” As they crossed the street, he realized that he hadn’t mentioned the other alternative—about getting someone from the police department to open the door.
But then he wouldn’t have an excuse to spend more time with Kika Mancini. And that was what he wanted to do. He was starting to enjoy the sparks that flew between the two of them.
As they walked the short distance to his house, he deliberately kept silent, knowing she was not the type to stay speechless for long. She soon proved he was right.
“Zachary says that you’re good at fixing things.”
“Some things,” he conceded. “So what else did my son tell you?”
“That you’re starting a new job on Monday in Milwaukee and that you’ll be working four ten-hour days, which means on Fridays you’ll be able to do fun things.”
“That’s the plan.”
“You sound as if you have reservations that it’ll work.”
“It’s been a struggle to fit fun things into the schedule ever since my wife died,” he admitted.
“How long ago was that?” she asked gently.
“Almost two years.”
“But Melody’s only...” She trailed off.
“Twenty-two months. My wife died in childbirth.”
Kika reached out a hand and placed it on his arm. “I’m sorry. It must have been very painful for you and the boys.”
“We’ve adjusted,” he told her, although he knew it wasn’t entirely true. “Melody’s the one I worry about.”
“She’s never known a mother’s love. No wonder...” Again Kika didn’t finish her sentence.
“No wonder what?” he asked impatiently. “She doesn’t talk?”
Kika stopped to face him. “That’s not what I was going to say.”
“Isn’t it? If you’re thinking that I’m so caught up in my grief I can’t give Melody the attention she needs, you’re wrong.”
She thrust her fists on her hips once again. “I don’t need you to tell me what I’m thinking, Nick Miller. For your information, I was going to say no wonder she rushes to her grandmother’s arms when she needs comforting.”
Even though it was dark, Nick could see the sparkle in Kika’s eyes. He sensed a genuine compassion in her, which made him want to talk about his family—something he normally didn’t do with strangers.
“I’m sorry.” They started walking again. “You’re right. Since Melody’s been in Tyler she’s become quite attached to her grandmother.”
“Does that bother you?”
“No.” Again it wasn’t the complete truth. “She needs a woman in her life. So do the boys.”
“And what about you?”
“I haven’t given it much thought.” Again he wasn’t quite honest.
“Maybe you should.”
He couldn’t tell if she were being provocative or not. This time he was the one who stopped. “What if I wanted you to be that woman?” He couldn’t believe he had uttered the words.
Neither could she, by the look on her face. Her voice was husky when she said, “Be careful what you wish for, Nick. You just might get it.”
Her eyes held his, challenging him to make a move. He hesitated only for a second before pulling her into his arms. Gently, he brushed her mouth with his. During the brief contact, he had a tantalizing hint of a passion waiting to be uncovered.
To his surprise, she kissed him back. She pressed her lips against his, coaxing them into a response that invited intimacy. He accepted the invitation, slipping his tongue into her mouth. A shudder of pleasure ran through him as the kiss deepened, her arms sliding upward over his shoulders to cling to the back of his neck. Nick could feel himself drowning in sensations, as needs he had long denied demanded to be satisfied.
It was the sound of a horn honking that made them pull apart. Two headlights pinned them in their beams. Nick glanced around and realized they were standing at the entrance of a driveway, where someone wanted to park a car. They quickly scrambled out of the way.
Kika giggled. “Do you know that woman?”
“Fortunately, I don’t.” He liked the way Kika’s hand felt in his and decided to keep it there as they continued down the residential street.
They walked in silence until they reached the two-story house that was beginning to look familiar to Nick. “Why don’t you wait on the swing and I’ll go get what I need from the garage?” he suggested, gesturing for her to take a seat on the porch.
He slipped into the garage through the service door, flipping a switch as he entered. Although he had sold all the furnishings of their California home, Nick had kept his tools. Fortunately, Mr. Watson had been a handyman. Built-in cabinets and shelves lined the walls of the garage. One of the first tasks Nick had accomplished when he had moved into the house was to unpack his tools and put them away.
He pulled open a drawer on the workbench and found a long, narrow strip of metal. Next he grabbed a flashlight, then turned off the garage light and went back outside. Gently swaying back and forth on the porch swing, Kika looked even more attractive than she had earlier that evening. She also looked chilled.
“Would you like to borrow my jacket?” he asked, slipping his arms out of the navy-blue windbreaker.
“Thanks.” She took it from him and slipped it on. “What’s that?” she asked, gesturing to the metal strip in his hand.
“This is your key. At least, with any luck it will be. Why don’t you wait here and I’ll bring my car around to the front?”
He went back into the garage and got his brand-new red Mustang convertible. As he pulled up in front of the house, she came hurrying down the sidewalk.
“Nice car,” she said with a grin as she slid inside. “I never expected you would drive a convertible.”
“What kind of a car did you think I would have?”
“I don’t know. A minivan or a station wagon, I guess.”
“Why? Because you think I don’t know how to have fun?”
“No, because you’re a father with three kids.”
“So?” The tires squealed as he pulled away from the curb. He felt like a teenager trying to show off in front of his girl.
“This is really fun,” Kika exclaimed, staring up at the starry sky. “Do you know, I’ve never been in a convertible with its top down at night?”
“Now that I find hard to believe.”
“It’s true. I grew up with a father who continually reminded me that convertibles weren’t practical in a climate where you need heat nine months of the year. I suppose you cruised Sunset Boulevard with all the other Hollywood teens, right?”
“Don’t I wish. My father thought convertibles weren’t practical, period. Maybe that’s why I have one now. I always wanted one as a kid.”
The ride was over much too soon for Nick. By the time they reached her car, her hair was windblown and her eyes were sparkling. Never had she looked more beautiful.
“Why don’t you hold the flashlight and I’ll see what I can do,” he told her, handing her the lantern.
Nick worked the long strip of metal between the rubber edging and the glass window. It wasn’t long before he could reach the automatic lock button and the door opened.
“You did it!” Kika exclaimed in relief. “You are good at fixing things, aren’t you?”
“As I said, some things.” He didn’t want to tell her that inanimate objects were a piece of cake compared to human emotions.
Kika swung the car door open and slid inside. “Look. Here they are.” She held up the car keys for his inspection. “Thank you for your help.”
“You’re welcome,” he answered, leaning over her. His mouth still tingled from the kisses they had shared. The mere thought was enough to send his blood pounding through his veins.
“You’re going to have to let me think of a way to repay you,” she told him. “Why don’t you come to Timberlake Lodge for dinner tomorrow night?”
“It’s not necessary,” he answered, ignoring the protest his hormones made at his declaration.
“But I want to do it,” she insisted.
It was a tempting offer. Mentally, he debated whether he should accept. If he went, he would send her a signal that he was attracted to her. The smart move would be to refuse. Unfortunately, he didn’t want to do the smart thing.
“All right. Dinner it is.”
“Seven okay?”
“Seven’s fine.”
“Good.” She reached for the door. Reluctantly, he stepped aside so she could shut it. She rolled down the window. “You’re a nice man, Nick Miller. Good night.”
She had pulled away from the curb and was about halfway down the block when she stepped on her brakes, lighting up the rear end of the car as she backed up. She stopped in the middle of the street, got out and came running toward him.
“I almost forgot this,” she said, pulling off his jacket. “Thanks for loaning it to me.” She handed it to him.
Just as quickly, she returned to her car and drove away. Nick slid his arms into the sleeves of the nylon windbreaker. It was still warm from her body and he could smell the faint aroma of wildflowers.
A wave of longing shot through him. As he drove the short distance to Annabelle’s, all he could think about was how good Kika had felt in his arms. It had been so long since those familiar stirrings of desire had coursed through him. They reminded him of what he used to have with Beth.
A feeling of guilt washed over him. His love for Beth had been so passionate. Not once in their thirteen years of marriage had he ever desired another woman. Now he did and the feeling was unsettling.
He didn’t want to be attracted to Kika Mancini. She was just the opposite of what he needed—the exact opposite of Beth. Something his mother-in-law reminded him of when he arrived at her house.
“What took you so long?” Annabelle demanded the minute he stepped inside.
“Kika had locked her keys inside the car. I had to help her get the door open,” Nick answered.
“Why would she lock her car in Tyler? Surely she must know this isn’t like the city. You can trust the people here.” Annabelle clicked her tongue. “That’s the problem with city folks. They’re so suspicious of everything.”
Nick wanted to remind her that he was a city person, too, and so had Beth been for the last thirteen years of her life. Somehow it didn’t seem worth mentioning.
“She didn’t do it intentionally.”
“I wouldn’t be too sure of that. While you were helping her out, she didn’t just happen to try to convince you to let Melody audition?”
“No, we didn’t talk about Melody.”
“Thank goodness. Did you see the way Melody ran from her? It doesn’t surprise me. The woman looks uncomfortable around children.” She harrumphed. “No wonder she can’t find Fancy’s Baby.”
Again Nick came to her defense. “The boys seem to like her.”
“That’s because she’s throwing around all those showbiz names, trying to impress people.”
Nick decided it was better not to discuss Kika Mancini with his mother-in-law, especially after what had happened this evening. Thank goodness Annabelle hadn’t seen them kissing.
“Dad, can we go home now?” Zachary asked, his voice weary as he trudged into the kitchen.
“Sure. Where’s Melody?”
“She fell asleep on my bed,” Annabelle answered. “She can stay with me tonight if you like.”
Nick didn’t like the idea. Ever since he had arrived in Tyler he felt as if his daughter preferred the company of her grandmother over his. He tried to be objective about the situation. After all, he was the one who wanted Melody to have a woman’s influence in her life. But it still bothered him.
“Don’t you have to work in the morning?” Nick asked his mother-in-law.
“Yes, but I can bring her by on my way to the post office. Don’t worry. It’s no problem.”
Maybe for her it wasn’t, but for Nick it was. How could he not worry about his daughter? Melody was a miniature of the woman he had loved and lost. Now he had this awful feeling that his daughter was slowly slipping away from him, that she would grow up without needing him in her life.
He knew it was an irrational fear. She was his daughter, and all he had to do was be there for her. Yet in the nearly two years since Beth’s death, that had been a difficult assignment. Now Annabelle seemed to be able to reach her in a way he hadn’t been able to thus far, convincing him that it wasn’t his daughter who had the problem, but him.
Reluctantly, he left Melody to spend the night with Annabelle. Zachary and Patrick chose to go home with him.
“I’m glad you didn’t make us sleep over at Grandma’s,” Zachary told his father when they were in the car.
“Me, too,” Patrick chipped in, adding to Nick’s uneasiness.
“Why is that?” Nick asked, even though he wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answer.
“I like my new bed better than the one at Grandma’s. Hers is hard,” Zachary said, which made Nick a little less uncomfortable.
“And she makes us eat all kinds of yucky stuff,” Patrick added. “Except Melody doesn’t have to. I think Grandma likes her better cuz she’s a girl.”
“Plus she’s a baby. Grown-ups always treat babies as if they’re something special,” Zachary said astutely.
“Melody is special, don’t you think?” Nick asked.
“Grandma says she’s just like Mom, but I saw pictures of Mom when she was a baby and she didn’t look like Melody at all,” Zachary told his father.
Nick felt the familiar emptiness that always came over him when one of his sons mentioned Beth. He figured it was a blessing that children were resilient. Their loss was as great as his, yet they had managed to leave their sorrow behind. Something he hadn’t quite managed to do yet.
As he pulled up in front of the house, Patrick’s excitable chatter diverted his attention.
“Hey, Dad! You forgot to close the garage door,” the six-year-old announced.
Nick had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. The light was off inside the garage, but the door was wide open. He had been so preoccupied with impressing Kika Mancini with his wheels that he hadn’t even realized that he hadn’t shut the garage door.
“I hope nobody stole our bikes!” Zachary scrambled
out of the car as soon as it came to a stop.
A quick inventory of the garage assured all three of them that everything was in the same place it had been earlier that day. Three mountain bikes were parked against the far wall. Nick’s tools still hung from hooks and lined the shelves of the workbench. He breathed a sigh of relief.
“We can go inside now. Nothing’s missing.” He herded his sons out of the garage.
“It’s a good thing we moved to Tyler, huh, Dad?” Zachary said as they climbed the porch steps to the house.
“You’re right, Zach. It’s a good thing,” Nick agreed.
As they prepared for bed, Zach said, “It was a great day, wasn’t it, Dad?”
“It was pretty good,” Nick agreed.
“I loved getting stuck on the Ferris wheel, didn’t you?”
“It was fun,” Nick answered honestly, then ruffled his son’s hair as he said good-night.
Long after the boys had fallen asleep, Nick sat out on the front porch swing, thinking about everything that had happened that day. It had been a special Fourth of July celebration. For the first time since Beth died, life seemed almost normal. Part of the reason was that he and the kids had spent the holiday with family. The other part had to do with Kika Mancini. As much as he hated to admit it, she had been able to part the clouds that had shaded his emotions.
CHAPTER SEVEN
“WHEW. IT’S HOT today, isn’t it?” As she stepped up to the counter in the post office, Tessie Finklebaum dabbed at the tufts of platinum-tinted hair that poked through the center of her sun visor.
Annabelle could tell by the way Tessie’s eyes avoided hers that the older woman knew something about somebody. If there was one thing Annabelle had learned in her years as the town’s postmistress, it was how to read people’s faces. And right now Tessie’s flushed cheeks were telling her she had a secret she was dying to share.
“So what brings you out in this heat? You got some good gossip or something?” Annabelle was not one to beat around the bush.
“Oh, no,” the woman replied quickly. “I just wanted to get this in the mail.” She waved a pink envelope in front of Annabelle. “It’s a birthday card for my niece—the one who’s teaching in Australia.”