by Lynn Patrick
“He always likes to be the wild one at a party,” Rafe explained to Melissa as he poured her more champagne and orange juice.
“And he enjoys being a professional cynic,” said Louise, laughing. “He was telling everyone about the trouble he had with some neighbors in his apartment building this year. It seems Hux put out a ‘Bah humbug’ sign and decorated it with yellow and purple lights.”
“The other tenants didn’t like it?” Rafe asked.
“Hardly. They demanded he remove the sign. Hux said he was surprised. His neighbors are never personally concerned with him and they probably wouldn’t move a finger if he was being attacked or robbed. Why should they care about his silly sign? It didn’t hurt anyone.”
“I guess some people are sentimental about holidays,” Melissa offered, remembering her theory about Hux. She was sure he acted cynical and repressed his sentimental feelings because he had no one with whom to share a good old-fashioned Christmas. He probably put up the sign to get someone to notice him. Looking at Louise and then back at Rafe, she was happy she had some loving companions with whom to celebrate.
And what fun they could plan for the next few days! Perhaps they might even celebrate all week. As soon as Louise left for her quarters to prepare for dinner with Charles’s family, Rafe and Melissa excitedly discussed their plans.
“Tomorrow, let’s go to the photography show at the Museum of Modern Art,” suggested Rafe, placing an arm around her.
“And out to dinner afterward,” Melissa said, leaning toward him.
“And let’s go dancing after dinner.”
“That would be wonderful.”
“We’ve got to make up for lost time. Ahem.” Rafe lowered his lashes sexily. “I hope we don’t get arrested. I don’t know if I can stop myself from removing your clothes on the dance floor.”
Melissa laughed as he nuzzled her chin, his fragrant breath smelling of champagne. “As long as we’re together, I’ll risk jail.”
“And we can still go out of town if you want. I’ve got a shoot on Friday, but it won’t take long. How about driving up the coast like I suggested before? You really are on vacation this week, right?”
She could tell he was being careful. She’d been hurt the last time he’d mentioned leaving town—but that had been because he’d seemed so close-minded about her work situation. Pleased Rafe was being sensitive now, she hastened to assure him, “I’m absolutely free.”
“Wonderful,” he said, drawing her closer.
Then the phone rang. Glancing toward the instrument on the kitchen wall, he grumbled, “Who can that be?” As he rose to answer it, he turned back to Melissa. “Say, what time is it? Two o’clock?” Eyes suddenly alight with expectancy, he reached for the receiver, explaining, “It must be the kids!”
“Hello? Hank? Merry Christmas! How are you doing?…Put Gretta on, will you?…Huh?” Melissa watched his smiling face grow serious. “Wait a minute…slow down. What happened?” Scowling, he asked abruptly, “Is your mother there? I want to talk to her. Don’t worry, Hank, everything will be all right.”
Although she couldn’t hear the other side of the conversation, Melissa gathered that something had gone wrong with the children or their trip. Filled with concern, she hoped neither Gretta nor Hank was hurt.
“Nicole?” Rafe said, pausing as the other person spoke. “It’s an emergency? Why? Doesn’t your employer have any respect for your family responsibilities?” His dark eyes seemed to snap with anger. “What about the kids’ feelings?…Well, okay, I guess I understand. What flight will they be on?…Put Hank back on, will you?…Son, I’ll see you and Gretta tomorrow. And don’t worry, we’ll have fun here anyway. I’ll try to get tickets for a show for Friday. And you’ve got lots of nice presents here, you know.”
Were the children actually coming home? And were the tickets for Friday of this week? What about the other plans she and Rafe had just been making? Melissa quickly decided to withhold her questions until she knew exactly what was going an. After hanging up Rafe looked so dejected she rose to comfort him.
Holding her loosely against him, he said, “This changes everything. You must have heard—the kids are coming home tomorrow night. There’s an emergency with Nicole’s sales job and she has to travel for a week. She sounded upset, although I’m always suspicious about her emergencies. Now we won’t be able to go to the photography show and we certainly can’t go out of town.”
“I’ll be happy to help you take the kids somewhere,” Melissa suggested.
He seemed hesitant. “Thanks, but in circumstances like these, it’s better if I deal with them alone. They’re very upset. When they get home they’ll have to talk it out with me. Let’s not make any definite plans for going out together now. Why don’t I call you?”
She was silent as he looked down at her. “I’m sorry. I’m sure you understand I’ve got to make it up to them. I want my kids to have good memories of family and Christmas when they grow up.”
“I understand.”
Rafe released her to search for the newspaper that listed the times and prices of the Ice Capades, then called to ask about the availability of tickets for Friday. Since he didn’t ask Melissa if she wanted to go, she knew she might not hear from him until the weekend.
When he got out a pile of catalogs to look at computer modems, Melissa went to the bedroom to dress, all the while sadly wondering if she’d have any more holiday time with Rafe at all. When would he call her? She’d said she understood his devotion to his children and she’d been telling the truth. But why couldn’t he include her in outings with them? And couldn’t she and Rafe continue with a few outings of their own, alone? He didn’t need every minute with his kids, did he? Wasn’t he willing to fit her in somewhere?
“Melissa,” Rafe said as he entered the bedroom to find her zipping up her pink tulle fairy dress. “What do you want to do tonight? Shall we go out? Would you like to stop at your place and change clothes first?”
“I’d like more comfortable clothing,” she admitted as he put his arms around her. “But there’s not much to do on Christmas Day.”
“We’ll either find an open restaurant or I’ll make you a fabulous dinner.”
“Sounds good.” She nestled her head against his chest, willing herself to forget her disappointment about the abrupt cancellation of their holiday plans. At least they would have this one night together. And she’d feel guilty if she let herself actually be resentful of two children.
Chapter Eight
“What’s a wicket stepmother?” Gretta asked, startling Melissa as she was tucking the girl into bed. Though Gretta looked at her with wide innocent eyes, the question was loaded.
“A wicked stepmother?”
“Uh huh. Hank said he didn’t want no wicket stepmother, but Daddy might get one anyhow. Hank wouldn’t tell me what it was.” Gretta frowned, making her dark brows draw together. “He told me to read the fairy-tale book you bought me for Christmas, but I don’t read so good yet.”
Trying to keep her voice light, Melissa said, “When a father gets remarried after his wife dies or after a divorce, his new wife is called a stepmother. She’s like a second mother to his children. In fairy tales sometimes the stepmother is mean and nasty and makes the kids miserable. That’s why she’s called a wicked stepmother. But that’s only a story, sweetie. Lots of stepmothers love their husbands’ children very much, just like they’re their own.”
“Well, I don’t want a wicked stepmother either.” Gretta’s dark eyes filled with tears. “You don’t think Daddy will get one, do you?”
“If your father ever remarries,” Melissa said reassuringly, ruffling the little girl’s bangs, “it will be to someone who would love you, Gretta.”
“But I already got a mommy who loves me!”
“I know you do, sweetie.” Not knowing what else to say, Melissa bent over to kiss Gretta and was warmed by the little girl’s big hug. “Sweet dreams.”
“Night, Melissa.”
; Thoughtfully, Melissa left the room, then leaned against the bedroom door after closing it. The last month since the children had come back from California hadn’t been easy for her. Just when her relationship with Rafe had been progressing to new intimate and emotional levels and they had needed time together to explore them further they’d had to bring things pretty much to a halt. Now Gretta’s innocent questioning made her realize how much more difficult her relationship with Rafe could get.
Or, rather, how much more difficult Hank could make it.
She hadn’t been blind to the way Rafe’s son used his clever intelligence to manipulate his father, using subtle ploys to keep Rafe’s attention on himself and off Melissa on those occasions when they all spent time together. The kid had even had the nerve to invite himself along on two of their dates when the couple had made plans to spend time alone.
Once Hank had pretended he was very interested in the modern art exhibit they were going to see. He’d nagged at his father until he was given permission to come along. Then he’d made Rafe explain the meaning of every painting they saw, leaving him no opportunity to talk to Melissa.
Another time he’d insisted on tagging along with them to a foreign film so he could practice his French. He’d convinced Rafe it was necessary if he were to pass the class. She couldn’t believe it when the kid actually sat between them, complaining about the height of the people in front of the other two seats.
If he’d handled those situations adeptly, the computer scheme had been his most clever ploy. When Rafe had to cancel their date the Sunday before, it had been because his computer files with his business records had gotten messed up. He’d blamed himself, saying he must have been really tired or distracted because of the kids’ problems. Since his appointment with his tax accountant was scheduled for that week, Rafe had had to stay home to straighten things out.
Later he’d told her Hank volunteered to help him and the job had been completed quickly. In reward he’d taken his son to a hockey game. When he’d bragged about his kid’s responsibility and intelligence, Melissa had merely smiled without saying anything. She was sure Hank had been responsible for the foul-up, but she doubted Rafe would believe it. The doting father thought his children could do no wrong. In any case she wouldn’t think of telling him something so negative about his son.
There were days when she could swear Hank liked her, but it seemed that every time he was nice to her, he had to do something contrary to make up for it. It hurt Melissa because she was already fond of both children, though Gretta was far easier to love. Knowing Hank’s problems stemmed from feeling deprived by his parents’ divorce didn’t help. How was she supposed to deal with the sticky situation, especially now that he was trying to turn Gretta against her?
Wicked stepmother indeed!
With a sigh she headed down the stairs, wondering what it would take to win Hank over, or if she’d ever succeed. If not, how could her relationship with his father progress?
“What’s keeping you?” Rafe demanded, bounding up the stairs and catching Melissa in his arms at the halfway point. His kiss was short but passionate. “I’m ready to go.”
“Does that mean what I think it does?”
Melissa rubbed her body invitingly against his while nipping, then kissing, his lower lip. Rafe had promised to take her home for a romantic tryst. It had been difficult to arrange time alone, and they were both eager to further explore their magical lovemaking. Hands on her buttocks, he pressed her lower body into his, allowing her to feel his meaning.
“Do I have to be more specific?”
Melissa tingled with fevered expectancy from the roots of her hair to the tips of her toes. Rafe’s state of arousal was achingly obvious even through their clothing, and she was eager to be alone with him. About to say something naughty, she hesitated when she spotted a movement from the corner of her eye. Looking up, she saw Hank leaning over the railing, a sour expression on his face. How long had he been spying on them?
“Hey, Dad, if you’re through fooling around, could you help me with my math?”
Rafe immediately let go of Melissa. “Uh, can’t it wait until tomorrow?”
“The test is tomorrow. Aw, that’s okay if you don’t want to help me,” the boy said, turning his face into a mask of disappointment. “I guess I won’t flunk.”
Knowing math was Hank’s best subject, Melissa recognized the ploy for what it was. But, as usual, Rafe refused to. He looked at her as if to ask for permission, a plea for understanding in his eyes. She shrugged in acceptance and tried to smile, hoping her expression didn’t resemble a grimace.
“All right, Hank. But I have to take Melissa home, first.”
“Aw, Dad.”
“I’ll be back in a half hour,” Rafe told him firmly, already heading back down the stairs.
It was Melissa who caught the sly triumph briefly reflected on Hank’s face.
“Listen, I’d better not come up,” Rafe said when the taxi pulled in front of her building after the short, silent ride. “I’d never get home if I did.”
“I wouldn’t even try to convince you. I don’t have the powers of persuasion Hank does.”
Without looking at Rafe, Melissa opened the door, but before she could get out he stayed her with a firm grip on her upper arm. “Try to understand,” he begged. “The math test is important to Hank.”
“Right.” She tried to leave again, but he wouldn’t let go.
“I’ll make it up to you. I promise. Be patient, Melissa, please. You’re just as important to me as the kids are. But we’re adults. We can make a few concessions for them, especially now, when they’re still so unhappy. It won’t last forever.”
Melissa said nothing, but allowed Rafe to turn her head so he could kiss her before she left the cab. She ran up the stairs to her refuge where she could think in peace. Would Hank succeed in causing real problems in her relationship with his father? How much longer could she tolerate his childish manipulations and his father’s blind devotion? If she said something to Rafe would he believe her? What would Hank do next?
In the following weeks it seemed that Hank would do nothing at all to impede her growing relationship with Rafe. Perhaps he was satisfied with his display of power over his father, Melissa thought, unable to figure out why the boy was extra nice to her in addition. He and Gretta even gave her Valentine cards. She spent more time at the brownstone and Hank adopted the friendlier attitude he’d had before the disastrous holidays, demonstrating computer games he’d programmed using the book she’d given him for Christmas. Was Hank finally accepting her? Melissa wondered, happily contemplating the future. She suspected she was in love and was sure Rafe felt the same. Anything was possible.
Everything was going her way, she decided, straightening her apartment late on a Saturday afternoon. She’d had a job offer for a fulltime teaching position the week before. Unfortunately, it was in Pennsylvania. The principal at her old school wanted Melissa to replace a retiring teacher. She’d been elated at the offer, but did she really want to leave just when things seemed to be working out? Uncertain, she’d said nothing to Rafe.
When the phone rang she assumed it was he, calling to make some kind of last-minute plans for the evening. “Hello, you sexy man. What’s your pleasure?”
“Uh, if I told you, Rafe would punch me out,” came the reply that made Melissa want to die of embarrassment.
“Hux?” she squeaked.
Laughing, he asked, “Hey, remember that promotions idea I had? If you’re still interested I think you’d make a classy storytelling fairy to give our toy department the boost it needs on Sunday afternoons and Thursday nights. And there might be more work as well in personal appearances later. Can you come down to the store on Wednesday to negotiate, say three-thirty?”
Was she interested? She wouldn’t have to pass out food samples in grocery stores anymore! “Absolutely! See you then. Thanks, Hux.”
After hanging up, Melissa dialed Rafe’s number.
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“Yeah?” came the answering reply.
“Hank? Is your dad there?”
“Naw. He’s out.”
“Well, can you give him a message? It’s real important.”
After a slight hesitation, he grunted, “I suppose.”
Her elation at her news making her oblivious to his sullen tone, Melissa told him, “Hux offered me a promotions job. I don’t know what hours I’ll be working, but tomorrow might be my last Sunday off for a while, so I’d like to do something to celebrate. Would you tell your dad to call me as soon as he gets home?”
“Bambi said they’re going out to dinner. I don’t know what time he’ll be home.”
“Oh, I see,” was all Melissa could say to that announcement.
“Well, I gotta go now.
Stunned, she hung up. Bambi? Rafe was going out with someone named Bambi?
Melissa told herself not to jump to any conclusions, but that was impossible. To get her mind off the idea of Rafe seeing another woman, probably some glamorous model, she decided to take in an early movie. Later, she could barely remember the plot.
After a virtually sleepless night she agreed to go out to breakfast with Terry. Though she merely picked at her food she was happy to listen to him talk so she didn’t have to think. Terry told her all about the act he and Clarence were in at one of the more unusual art clubs in Soho. Net exactly Broadway, but it kept them in the business, he told her. She promised she’d come to see them.
Afterward, two hours spent in her apartment waiting for Rafe’s call did Melissa’s disposition little good. Unwilling to waste the rest of what might be her last free Sunday, she decided to visit the Metropolitan Museum of Art. It was after five when she got home. Exhausted, she finally was able to sleep.
Sometime later she practically jumped off her futon when a noise startled her awake. Groggily, Melissa fumbled around for a light when the buzzer shrilled, alerting her to company.
“Who’s there?” she croaked into the intercom.
“It’s Rafe.”
Tempted to let him stew standing around in her vestibule, Melissa hesitated answering long enough that he signaled her again. She buzzed him up, then trudged through the kitchen to open the door. It was obvious he didn’t discern her cranky mood, for he kissed her as though nothing was wrong and didn’t seem to notice she wasn’t kissing him back.