by Nancy Warren
After the girl had finished with the yucks and gagging motions, she leaned down to kiss her soft cheek. “See you at home.”
She helped Mark get Annie settled across the back seat then grabbed Kitsu’s leash. She waved until they’d pulled away from the curb, then she glanced at the dog, knowing they were heading through squirrel territory. “Do I need to put a paper bag over your head?”
A soft whine greeted her. The panting jaws opened in a big doggy grin, and the tail started wagging.
“Trying to butter me up won’t work,” she warned the dog as they started walking.
“I’m not the woman I was a few weeks ago. I could flatten you with a well-aimed karate chop.” She paused to inspect the muscled flanks and powerful throat. “Well, maybe.”
They walked on companionably.
“I’ll tell you one thing, for sure, without Emily here, I’m not chasing you to hell and back. You go tearing off, you’re on your own. And I gotta tell you, squirrel as a steady diet gets old real fast.”
She wasn’t certain if her threats had sunk in or if they were just lucky enough not to pass any of the bushy-tailed creatures, or whether the dog had just tired himself out. But amazingly, she made it to her car with only one small incident.
She’d stopped to pick up her clown gear in the trailer, and as she wended her way to her vehicle a guy with a huge belly drooping over his jeans and one too many tattoos lurched across the parking lot in her direction. He gestured with the open beer in his hand. “Hey, babe” he leered. “Wanna come to a party?”
“It’s a tempting offer, but no, thanks.”
With a fatuous grin on his face, he kept coming until he was close enough to get a look at Kitsu, who could appear amazingly ferocious when he chose. Teeth bared, hackles up, a low growl took care of the drunken partyer in no time.
“You know, you’re a good dog to have around.”
She opened the rear car door, and he balked. “I know, it hasn’t got the headroom you’re used to. You’ll have to slum it till we get home.”
With a big, huffy pant, he scrambled into the back.
She walked to the driver’s side and opened the door. “I don’t believe it!” He was sitting in the passenger seat grinning at her.
“I guess you earned the privilege. You did good today.” She leaned over and patted him, getting a big tongue slurp for her trouble.
“Okay, Kitsu. Let’s go home.”
But she made a couple of stops on the way.
“HOW DO I STOP her from leaving?” Mark wondered for the thousandth time.
“What are you mumbling about, Uncle Mark?” Em asked from the back seat. Her voice was a little slurred, probably from the painkillers the doctor had given her. As he’d hoped, it was just a sprain. Her ankle, swathed in an elastic bandage, looked huge. Tomorrow he’d have to get her some crutches.
He sighed. Aloud he said, “How do we stop Annie from leaving us?”
In the rearview mirror he caught her puzzled frown. “But you said we have to let her go.”
“I
changed
my
mind.”
She was silent for a moment or two. “Maybe we could phone the plane and tell them Annie’s a criminal and they should kick her off. I saw that on a movie me and Annie watched.”
“Not bad, kid. Apart from the breaking-the-law aspect, it’s a pretty good plan.”
“We could steal her passport.”
“You really are headed for a life of crime, aren’t you?”
“Well, let’s hear your ideas, Mr. Smarty!”
“We could set Kitsu to guard her. Which would be fine until a squirrel came along.”
“I know, I know! We could give away all her clothes.”
“Now you’re talking.”
By the time they pulled into his gate, they’d pretty much figured out a million ways to make Annie’s life hell. Neither of them seemed to care, so long as they could keep her with them. As he turned off the engine, they both fell silent. It had been fun to fantasize that they could make Annie stay, but real life had once again intruded.
Or had it?
He hauled Em in his arms. Just as he got to the front door, it opened. He damn near dropped her. She gasped in his ear, then started to giggle.
Everywhere he looked were balloons.
Not just any balloons. His crazy clown had fashioned balloons into dogs and squirrels. Shiny red dogs, blue dogs, yellow dogs chasing bright balloon squirrels in orange, pink and purple that hung always just out of reach. They chased each other across the hallway floor, hung from the ceiling in a moving tableau.
And there was Annie, a huge smile on her face, holding a balloon doll with yards of toilet paper wrapped around its left ankle. And finally, Kitsu, a big helium balloon that said Get Well Soon attached to his collar.
“How are you feeling, Em?” she asked, handing her the balloon doll.
“Okay. Kind of tired. The doctor gave me some pills.”
“Are you hungry?”
“Yeah.”
Annie then turned her attention to Mark, and he noticed she’d put on some makeup and brushed her hair. Her clothes were different, too. She wore a tight-fitting long skirt in a kind of leaf pattern and a green top that lifted whenever she moved, just enough to give him a glimpse of the faux diamond glinting from her navel.
If he didn’t get that thing between his teeth before the night was through, it wouldn’t be for want of throwing everything he had at her.
He must have been staring. She tugged the top down, as if it would stay there, and said, “Thanks for phoning from the hospital. Dinner’s almost ready.”
“What’s for dinner?” Em asked.
“A special surprise.”
“If it’s green, I’m not eating it.”
“Emily, mind your manners,” Mark chided.
Annie preceded them into the kitchen, and his eyes widened. The table was set with the usual green china and linen napkins, but in the middle were ketchup, mustard and relish, a big plate of pickles and a bowl of potato chips.
He glanced over to where Annie was busy slipping wieners in buns.
“Hot dogs?” Emily exclaimed in awe.
His eyes narrowed suspiciously. “This isn’t some New Age bean-sprout wiener, is it?”
Her eyes danced. “No. It’s a real old-fashioned hot dog.”
“Wow,” Emily said. “The bun isn’t even whole wheat.”
“Come on. I’m not that bad.”
Mark shifted his gaze to Em, who was nodding. “Yes, you are,” they chorused.
“I even got some soda for you, Em. Do you want some, Mark?”
“After the day I’ve had, I need a beer. How about you, do you want some wine or something?”
“A beer would be great. Thanks.”
“Come on, Em, we’ll go wash up, then I’ll carry you to the table.”
IT WAS LIKE so many meals they’d had, and yet so different. For one thing, Em didn’t usually need a second chair with a pillow on it to prop up her leg. For another, Annie was in love. She had to admit it to herself. Not just with Mark, but with Em, as well. She even loved the overgrown squirrel terrorizer who gazed with rapt attention at the hot dogs, though he’d already wolfed down the two she’d slipped him for a reward, plus the jujubes Mark had slipped him when he thought no one was looking.
Maybe it was her new appreciation of her feelings, but the atmosphere around the table was subtly different. They still told stupid knock-knock jokes in between Emily and Mark telling her about the hospital visit. But she found herself superaware of the man across the table. She kept sneaking little glances his way simply for the pleasure of seeing the man she loved.
She hoped he’d like her surprise.
Emily made it halfway through her ice cream before her eyes started drifting shut. Annie and Mark shared the kind of conspiratorial smile she’d seen parents exchange countless times.
He stood and reached to lift Em into h
is arms while Annie picked up the pillow and supported the foot all the way up the stairs. Once in the child’s room, Em’s eyes half opened as her uncle lay her on the bed. “Don’t forget to phone the plane,” she mumbled to him.
He smiled and kissed her cheek. “Good night, Em.”
“I’ll get her into her nightclothes and then come down to help with the dishes. And, uh, we have to talk.”
“The four most terrifying words in the English language.” He shook his head with a grimace that made her grin. “See you downstairs.”
“No. It’s good—” She started to explain, but he was already gone. “At least, I hope it’s good.”
When she emerged downstairs, butterflies were doing the Watusi in her belly. What if he said no? She bit her lip, knowing she deserved his rejection and deciding she’d have to be forceful about what she wanted.
With his usual efficiency, he was wiping the counters when she got to the kitchen.
“Come on into the living room,” he said.
“The living room?” She’d never seen a soul in there.
“It’s a good place for serious discussions, don’t you think? All that leather.”
As long as she lived, she’d never understand men. What was serious about leather furniture? “You didn’t think my leather skirt was serious?”
“Honey, nothing that small could ever be taken seriously.” Then he grinned at her, and she started to feel woozy. He’d called her honey.
He flicked on a couple of lamps, and soft pools of light appeared. Headed for some kind of mission control panel, he stopped and turned to her. “Is this discussion too serious for music?”
“Uh, no. Not at all.”
“Good.” Methodically, with the same care and precision he did just about everything, he chose a CD. Soon soft jazz filled the air. He pushed another button, and a gas fireplace added a pool of flickering light.
“How about a cool drink?”
For some reason, she was getting more nervous. It was becoming clear that he had a hidden agenda. Or a secret joke, probably at her expense. She cleared her throat. “A drink would be great. I think I have some beer left.”
He returned in a few moments with a bottle that most definitely did not contain beer. Her eyes widened. “Champagne?”
“This is a celebration, isn’t it?”
“Is it?” Her voice was squeaky all of a sudden. Maybe she was coming down with some kind of laryngitis. She cleared her throat again.
“We found Emily. And Kitsu finally did something useful.” A slow, thumping noise came from behind the couch.
“Did that dog follow us in here?”
“I asked him to. He’s a chaperon.”
A soft pop, and the wonderful fizz of champagne pouring came to her ears. He handed her a glass that felt cool against her skin. Unable to help herself, she gazed into his eyes, and the butterfly Watusi turned into an acrobatics competition. He touched his glass to hers. “To us.”
It was the opening she needed. Taking a quick, delicious sip of the pale gold wine, letting it crackle and fizz on her tongue, she swallowed. Then took a couple more deep sips, hoping to drown those darned butterflies.
He was still watching her, and there was definitely amusement in his eyes…mixed with something she didn’t even want to think about. She forgot the speech she’d prepared and skipped to the chase. “I want my job back.”
He refilled her glass. She couldn’t believe it had been emptied so fast. He must use really small champagne flutes. “You can’t have it.”
She’d been prepared to have to argue her case, but somehow the bald refusal stunned her. She sipped more champagne while she dredged her mind for the reasons she’d prepared in case he was doubtful.
“I know you think Bea’s better qualified in the self-defense department—and I grant you she is. But I really think I’m good for Em.”
“You are. That’s not the reason.”
“Oh. Um, if it’s my cooking—”
“Your cooking’s fine. A little more fat, a few more grams of cholesterol once in a while might be nice…but overall, no complaints.”
“You probably think a clown isn’t a very good role model for an impressionable child. However, studies show—”
“I think you’re terrific with Em. I already told you that.”
“If it’s about our personal relationship—”
“Now you’re getting warmer,” he said approvingly, adding more wine to her glass. He sank down beside her on the leather couch, addling her brains.
“It’s just that—I was scared.”
“I know.” His voice rumbled deep and rich in her ear, sending little shivers chasing each other down her spine.
“My trip. I, well, I figured out a week ago I didn’t even want to go. I mean, I’d love to see the Orient. Traveling is very educational and culturally enriching. And fun. But I was using my trip as an excuse to run away. To avoid responsibilities.”
He seemed so calm and quiet beside her, totally relaxed, while she couldn’t seem to stop babbling.
“I’ve loved the time I’ve spent with Emily. I’d really like to stay.”
“How about me?”
“Huh?”
“How do you feel about the time you’ve spent with me?”
A warm flush stole its way up her body from her toes to her ears. “I, um, enjoyed that, too.”
In the same reasonable, conversational tone that made her want to slap him, he continued. “How about making love with me. Did you enjoy that?”
A little whimper quivered through her lips. Unable to form an actual word, she nodded vigorously.
His lips tilted in the semidarkness, and she longed to lean over and kiss them. “I hope you can begin to see why you’re completely unsuitable to be Emily’s nanny.”
That was just so unfair. “But you had sex with me, too. And you’re her guardian.”
“I’m planning to change that.”
Her heart sank. Surely he wasn’t even thinking—he couldn’t be planning to send Em to someone else. She couldn’t let that happen. It would break the little girl’s heart.
“I want to adopt Emily legally.”
“What are you—”
“I don’t think she needs a nanny and a guardian. I think she needs a mother and father again.”
“What are you saying?”
He picked up her hand and began toying with her fingers. “I’m saying I love you.”
Ooh.
“And Emily loves you. She was trying to figure out ways to stop you from leaving. But there’s only one thing that will stop you. And that’s if you love us enough to settle down. Enough to make a commitment.”
“Oh, Mark. I do love you. I do.”
He half grinned. “I kind of thought you did when the travel agent phoned and left a message. Something about canceling your ticket.”
“She phoned? But I was saving that for my surprise!”
“The thing is, I know you’re terrified of commitments, and marriage probably terrifies you more than anything. If it was just me, I wouldn’t care. But Emily needs someone who’ll be there permanently.”
“Are you asking me to marry you?”
“Yes.”
She waited for the fear to grip her and choke the life out of her. But it didn’t come. She played a game with herself, waiting for it to happen. She tried to put all her scary words out there at once. “So, I’d be your wife. You’d be my husband. We’d wear rings and have anniversaries and life insurance policies and, ah, retirement plans.”
He nodded gravely.
She gulped. “Mutual funds, a dental plan, his and hers towels?”
“I might have to draw the line at the towels. But I do have full medical coverage.”
“More
children?”
“It’s a definite possibility,” he agreed.
“So I’d be, like, a mother?”
Little gleams of blue fire burned in his eyes. “You’re the most
likely candidate.”
It was a miracle! She didn’t feel even a twinge of fear, only a strange kind of elation. She could imagine it all. Children, grocery lists, dentist appointments. Golfing in her golden years with this man and actually having a pretty good time. Of course, she’d have to buy him outlandish golf shirts, just to keep things balanced.
“You won’t mind being married to a clown?”