She shrugged. “You seemed concerned last night that if I took her with me to my apartment to sleep, your friends would show up and be upset to find her not with you. I figured if they showed up while I was changing, I’d just whisk her up the back stairs, and no one would be the wiser.”
“It wasn’t necessary, but thanks for the concern.”
She slid three pancakes onto a plate and placed it on the table. “Would you like some breakfast?” she offered with a smile.
He was only hungry for her. He also found himself wishing that she could greet him this way every morning, a wish that was definitely disconcerting to a man who had convinced himself that he was a confirmed bachelor.
“Breakfast sounds great.”
“Dig in, then.” She nodded toward the plate.
He sat down at the table, and she picked up the coffeepot. “Coffee?”
“Yes, please. Black. Mmm,” he added appreciatively as she placed a steaming mug at his side. “These are from scratch.”
“I wouldn’t ruin that pure maple syrup of yours by serving anything less.” She gave an impish grin. “Plus, there was no pancake mix in your cupboards.”
Heart thudding madly, he found himself unable to look away from her. Why did she fascinate him so? She was striking, yes, but he’d known and been intimate with women more beautiful than Gretchen. None of them had affected him the way she did. None of them had constantly occupied his thoughts when they weren’t together.
The answer came to him in a flash of understanding. She was fresh and open and honest. There was no artifice about her. She truly cared for people. And she gave of herself without stopping to consider what she might gain in return. That was the difference between Gretchen Montgomery and most of the women he’d had relationships with.
Until that moment Marco hadn’t realized just how jaded and self-centered the women he had dated the past few years had all been. They had definitely been beautiful, and they had definitely been sophisticated and accomplished in their careers, not to mention highly entertaining and sexy as hell. But not one of them could hold a candle to Gretchen when it came to generosity of spirit. And, beautiful as each woman had been, as accomplished in the art of lovemaking as each had been, the aftermath of their coupling had never left him feeling that they’d joined together on a more spiritual plane.
To them, as well as to him, lovemaking had been a release of pent-up energy, a passing, fleeting pleasure. He had no question that, as far as Gretchen was concerned, lovemaking would mean much, much more: a giving, a sharing, a belonging that was hard to find in a day and age where casual sex had become as commonplace an act as the brushing of one’s teeth.
That was why she’d been so ambivalent the day she’d offered herself to him. She’d wanted to fulfill a promise, but fulfilling it with him meant she would be violating the tenets of her inner self. She would be violating an act that was both physical and spiritual to her.
She was getting under his skin, he realized. If he wasn’t careful, he’d find himself doing the unthinkable. He’d find himself renouncing his confirmed bachelor status and trying to find a way to make her his in a manner far more permanent than the temporary, no-strings-attached affair she had once offered him.
For his peace of mind, and for Gretchen’s safety, he’d be better off spending the rest of the weekend focusing more on Kristen, and less, much, much less on his other unexpected house guest. And he would start now, this very minute.
A woman learned a lot about a man, Gretchen decided, when she watched him play with a child.
With Kristen, Marco had infinite patience. He helped her pull all the pots and pans out of his cupboards, then fetched a couple of wooden spoons so they could bang on them in an endless, cacophonous concert. He put her up on his shoulders and charged around the living room like a bucking bronco, yodeling at the top of his lungs. He crawled around on his hands and knees—getting rug burns for his troubles—and chased Kristen around the dining room table. After a while, it became a game between them to see who could elicit the most smiles from the child.
Of course, he did go a little green around the gills when confronted with his first messy diaper, and Gretchen had had to step in and take charge. But that was only to be expected.
Now he was lying on the floor while Kristen climbed all over him, her chubby fists pulling at his cheeks and hair. He looked as though he was loving every minute of it.
This was a man who didn’t want children? Or maybe it was marriage that was his sole objection.
“You’re wonderful with her,” Gretchen said softly.
Kristen got a handful of leg hair, and Marco winced. “That’s only because you’re here to help me out if I get into trouble. I can relax and not worry that I’m going to screw up.”
If he relaxed any more, she’d be tempted to shoulder Kristen out of the way and jump him where he lay.
“Did some woman break your heart?” she asked. “Is that why you’ve decided not to marry?”
“I was engaged once,” he acknowledged as Kristen climbed onto his lap. “But that has nothing to do with my decision not to marry.”
She didn’t know why that surprised her so—that at one time he had let a woman close enough to his heart to ask her to marry him. After all, it made sense.
“You were engaged?”
“Way back in medical school,” he told her.
“Who broke it off?”
“She did.”
Another unexpected revelation. “Why?”
“She said if she spent so much time alone when I was still in school, she could just imagine how alone she’d be when I became a full-fledged doctor. She was right, of course.”
“That must have hurt,” Gretchen observed.
He spread Kristen’s arms wide, then clapped them shut in a silent game of patty cake. “At the time, yes. But I got over it. It made me do a lot of thinking.”
“What happened to her?” Gretchen asked.
“Last I heard, she’d married a banker. Someone who works strictly from nine to five. By all accounts, they’re very happy.”
What about Marco? Gretchen wondered. Was he happy? Did his heart still ache all these years later for the woman who got away? Since he wasn’t looking at her, it was hard for her to read the emotion on his face.
“Is that when you decided to become a confirmed bachelor?”
“Shortly afterward.”
“Based on one bad experience?”
“There were a couple of other factors influencing my decision.”
“Do you mind sharing them?”
While Kristen played with the buttons on his shirt, Marco propped himself up on his elbows and leveled his gaze on Gretchen. “Mind telling me why you’re so interested?”
Because everything about him fascinated her, the way an unexcavated site fascinated an archaeologist. Of course, there was no way she was going to admit that to him.
“We’ve got a long weekend ahead of us. We have to pass the time somehow.”
“I see.”
She studied him a little more closely. “Does this discussion make you uncomfortable?”
“Why should it?”
“You just don’t seem…comfortable talking about it.”
“I’m very comfortable talking about it. The other factors influencing my decision were Brian. And my parents.”
“Brian?”
Lying flat again, he propped Kristen on his lower legs, raised them in the air and bounced her up and down. The baby crowed her delight.
“Brian and dozens of men and women just like him,” he said. “Doctors. People devoted to a career that demands all that we have to give. Physicians are not noted for having the most stable marriages in the world. Those who do have children usually miss the greater part of their developing years.”
“You mentioned your parents having a significant impact on your decision,” Gretchen said. “What does your father do for a living?”
“He’s retired now
. But when I was growing up, he was a cop.”
“Was he too busy with his job to spend time with you?”
“No. When I was small, he was always there for my mom and us.”
Gretchen took Kristen from him, raised her up in the air and rubbed her head into the little girl’s tummy. “Correct me if I’m mistaken,” she said, smiling at Kristen’s laughter, “but don’t cops work long hours, too? Don’t they work double shifts, as well as weekends and holidays?”
“Yes.” A defensive note had crept into his voice.
“And still your father was there?”
The defensive note intensified. “Yes.”
“Maybe because he made the time?” she suggested.
“Maybe,” he allowed.
“What about your mother?” Gretchen asked. “Did she work outside the home?”
“No. She was a homemaker. She was devoted not only to my father, but to me and my five brothers and my sister.”
It sounded like the ideal childhood to her. Why wouldn’t Marco want to replicate it with a family of his own?
“Is their marriage not a good one?”
“They had a wonderful marriage. I’ve never seen another relationship to equal it.”
He was speaking in the past tense, she realized. “You said ‘had,’ Marco. Are your parents divorced?”
He climbed to his feet and crossed the room to peer out the window at the falling rain. “No. My mother died.”
Now they were getting somewhere, she thought. Picking up a rattle, she handed it to Kristen. The little girl shook it vigorously.
“When?”
“I was fourteen. Roberto, my oldest brother, was nineteen and newly married. Kate, the baby, was ten.”
Gretchen had lost her own mother at eighteen. As awful as that had been for her, it must have been doubly devastating to a young boy on the brink of manhood. And for a little girl of ten? She shuddered at the thought.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “It must have been a very difficult time for all of you.”
“Want to know the truth?” he asked, his voice heavy with his memories. “It was hell. I’ve never seen my father the way he was then. He was a different man after my mother died, lost somehow.”
“As you said, he loved her very much.”
“I often wondered, if he hadn’t had us, whether he would have willed himself to join her.”
“But he didn’t.”
Marco shook his head. “No, but for a long time he was a broken man. My brother Carlo, who was only seventeen, stepped into the breach. He sacrificed a lot to make sure we all got the attention and the direction we needed. I don’t know how we would have survived if he hadn’t.”
The pain in his voice made her heart ache for him. “I’m sorry, Marco. I didn’t mean to resurrect such sad memories.”
He turned to face her. “And I’m sorry for being so maudlin. The whole point of my mentioning my parents was, if I can’t create the kind of home life they did, I won’t create one at all. With the way things are with my job, the way they’re going to continue to be, I don’t see me changing my mind on that issue.”
“Don’t you have a full week off every month?” she asked, unwittingly betraying how much she knew about his schedule. “Seems to me, if you wanted to, you could pack a lot of husbanding and parenting into that week.”
“One week a month isn’t enough, Gretchen. If it was, Brian and Val wouldn’t be having the problems they’re having. The other three weeks are just as important. Children need both of their parents, every day. When they don’t have them, their whole world falls apart.”
The way his had when his mother died?
“Maybe now you’ll understand a little better why I’m a confirmed bachelor.”
Oh, she understood all right. The question was, did he?
He was a man who specialized in transient affairs, yet he’d refused to have one with her. If she believed him, his refusal had nothing to do with his not being attracted to her, but to his being sensitive enough to sense her inner hesitation. That, coupled with his revelations today, told her a lot.
Whether Marco knew it or not, there was more to his decision to never marry than the demands of being a doctor. It all dated back to his mother’s death, and to his feelings of abandonment by both of his parents.
“How’s your father doing now?” she asked him.
“Wonderfully. He remarried a couple of years ago.”
At least one Garibaldi had gotten the courage to risk loving again.
“So, you’re determined to never marry,” she said softly.
“Yes.”
“Isn’t that a lonely way to live?”
“I don’t think so. My work, my family and my relationships, temporary though they may be, give me everything I need.”
Why was she so concerned? Gretchen asked herself. It was his decision to make, after all, not hers. A thought struck her. Surely she wasn’t still trying to mold him into the man with whom she could have a wild, crazy affair. Was that what this was all about? Was that why she was giving him the third degree?
If so, she had to banish the foolish notion from her mind. Now. This very minute. Before she opened herself up to a world of hurt. Because, whether or not he understood the truth behind his decision to remain a bachelor, the one thing she believed was that he definitely intended to stay that way. He fully intended to shield his heart from emotional involvement with any woman.
Which meant that, no matter how fast he made her heart beat, or how tightly he made her toes curl, Marco Garibaldi was not the man for her.
Chapter 6
“Like I already told you when you called earlier,” Marco said into the telephone receiver, “Kristen’s doing just fine.”
“But I can hear her crying,” Val protested.
“That’s because the ringing of the phone woke her from her nap.”
“Oh. I’m sorry. I guess it is that time of morning.”
Marco looked over to where Gretchen was pacing the room with the still-sleepy, and understandably fussy, child. “See, she’s quiet now. She’s even smiling at me. Trust me, Val, please.” The “please” had a pleading note to it. “Your daughter is doing just fine.”
“If you’re sure.” Doubt filled Val’s voice.
“I’m positive. Look, is Brian available? Can I speak to him for a minute?” After a brief pause Marco said, “Hey, pal. How’s it going?”
“Okay.” Brian sounded cautious, and Marco wondered if his friend was censoring his comments because Val was standing there.
“You getting much talking done?”
“Not much.”
That’s what he’d thought. “How’s the weather where you are?”
“It’s pretty gray out, but it’s not supposed to rain.”
“Good. Could you stand a word of advice from a concerned friend?”
“Sure.”
“Get her out of there. Take her for a long, and I do mean long, walk. You two will get a lot more talking done if she doesn’t have access to a telephone.”
“I see your point.”
“Good. Now go commune with nature, and your wife.”
With a sigh Marco hung up the phone. For long seconds he stared into space.
“Not going so well, huh?”
Gretchen’s question brought him back to reality. “No.”
Shrugging aside his worries for his friend, he looked from the portable crib to the stairs. “I’ve got an idea. Why don’t we put this thing in my office? I’ll disconnect the phone in there. At least when Kristen goes down for her next nap, and Val calls, there’ll be no sudden noises to wake her.”
“Sounds like a plan to me.”
Marco lugged the crib upstairs and reassembled it in the darkened alcove on the far side of his office. At one o’clock, Gretchen placed Kristen, along with the pillow she seemed to adore so much, inside. Together they hovered anxiously over the little girl, until, lulled by the dimness and the soft drumming of the
rain, she closed her eyes, and her chest rose and fell in an even rhythm.
Putting a finger to her lips, Gretchen plugged in the baby monitor Val had provided and quietly backed out of the room. It wasn’t until they had descended the stairs and entered the living room that Marco realized they were alone together for the first time since he’d gone with her for a ride in her new car.
An awkward silence settled between them as Gretchen picked up a few scattered toys before taking a seat on the edge of the sofa. Earlier, when Kristen had been asleep in the room, he’d expected, even welcomed, the silence. Not that it had lasted all that long. Val had phoned a scant fifteen minutes into Kristen’s nap. And he had spent that time cleaning up in the kitchen. Now, with the child no longer in the room with them and with no breakfast dishes to attend to, Marco felt compelled to find a way to fill the silence.
Not knowing what else to do, he sat down in an armchair. He crossed and uncrossed his legs and twiddled his thumbs, before moving on to more productive pastimes, like looking around the room, down at his lap, up at the ceiling, anyplace but at Gretchen. Suppressing the nervous urge to whistle aimlessly, he studied a cobweb in the corner that the maid service had missed. And a dust bunny under the television set. He’d have to speak to them about both items.
Right about now, he decided, a phone call from Val would be a welcome interruption. He glanced over to the end table where the phone sat and willed it to ring, but it remained stubbornly silent.
“How long do you think she’ll sleep?” he finally asked.
Gretchen shrugged. “From my day-care experience, anywhere from thirty minutes to three hours.”
Three hours? What on earth were they going to do to pass the time for three hours?
Marco knew what he wanted to do, had wanted to do ever since he’d seen her in that tight black dress. It was an activity most eminently suited for consenting adults on rainy afternoons just like this one. He hadn’t exaggerated when he’d told Gretchen that making love to her was all he could think about.
She’d said it was all she could think about, too. Did that mean she was thinking about it now? Was that why she couldn’t meet his eyes?
If so, why wasn’t he making his move on her? The reason had nothing to do with his self-imposed moratorium or the ambivalence he still sensed in her. Marco wasn’t making his move on Gretchen, because he couldn’t meet her eyes, either. He was the one who had practically gone down on his knees and begged her to stay with him this weekend; yet, all of a sudden, without Kristen in the room to keep them both otherwise occupied, he was feeling extremely wary around her.
Promises, Promises Page 9