Secrets of Summer

Chapter Eight #3

“Like me?” He asked the question bitterly.

“Yes,” she whispered.

“You could have told me.”

“I was afraid of what you’d think and say. I was afraid you’d finally figure out that I wasn’t enough.”

He looked at her then, regret tightening his mouth. “I wanted to marry you, Jane. No one else. You were exactly right for me.”

“We were compatible?” she asked.

“I thought so.”

“The perfect banker’s wife?”

“You could have been.”

Convenience, she thought. While she spoke of love and need, he remembered that she was malleable. Had he loved her? She wanted to ask the question. Had he cared?

“I always thought—” He offered her a quick smile.

“I had plans for us. Changes in the house. Trips. A future. I supposed I could have talked more about that. Times were hard for me then. What with the bank, and Dani and Ty needing things.” He turned back to face the yard.

“I know that I could have been there more for you. We were so suitable, I assumed that you’d know all that.

I should have realized your youth would be a problem as well as an asset. ”

It was as close to a confession of responsibility as she was going to get.

Suitable. He thought they were suitable.

What about passion? she wanted to cry out.

Tell me that you used to lie awake nights and dream about making love with me.

Tell me that you ached for my touch. Explain to me how we would grow old together, loving each other more and more each day.

He did none of those. And she didn’t ask him to. It didn’t matter anymore.

“I’m sorry, too, Adam,” she said at last, because there was nothing else to say. It was as she’d suspected. She’d loved with her whole being, while he’d followed a logical course of action. Running had been wrong; not marrying Adam had, however, been the correct decision.

He looked at her. “I feel as if this is a significant moment. A truce of sorts. Maybe we should commemorate it.”

“In case it doesn’t last?”

She meant the question as a joke but he didn’t smile. Instead, he stood up and took the single step that separated them. Before she could move away, he trapped her between the pillar, the railing and himself.

“Adam?”

He reached up and cupped her cheek, then drew his hand to the side, slipping his fingers through her curls. “I never expected to get over the anger. I never expected not to hate you.” He gave her a slight smile. “I never expected to see you again.”

He took her breath away. His gentleness, the scent of his body, his warmth surrounding her.

Except where he wove his fingers through her hair, they didn’t touch.

She wanted him with a fierceness that threatened to overwhelm her.

This was more than a woman’s need for man.

This was a lethal combination of past and present.

She hated that it didn’t matter that he’d never loved her.

She hated herself for being so weak where he was concerned.

But she understood the phenomenon. He was her first love, her only love.

He could, with just a look, tap into a lifetime of memories. How could she resist him?

He placed his other hand on her shoulder.

His skin felt warm against hers. His pinky slipped under the strap of her dress, his thumb traced a line from her jaw to the hollow of her throat.

Slowly, he twisted his fingers in her hair, until she was forced to lean her head back, exposing more of herself to him.

Anger, disappointment, regret, guilt all faded under his sensual assault. She swayed toward him. Tomorrow, she thought vaguely. She’d tell him tomorrow. Please, God, let her have tonight with the man she had once loved with her entire being. Just one perfect night to remember.

The screen door slammed. “We’ve finished the dishes. Hey, where are you guys?”

Billie!

Adam instantly stepped back. Jane cleared her throat and turned to look out at the yard.

Billie walked over to them. “What are you guys doing over here?”

“Looking at stars,” Jane said, hoping her voice sounded normal.

“Why?”

“It’s fun. Can you find the Big Dipper?”

Billie came up to the rail and leaned out to look at the sky. “It’s there.” She pointed.

“Very good.”

Billie turned to Adam. “I’m very smart for my age.”

“So it would appear.” As always, she had the power to make him laugh and forget what was ailing him, Adam thought.

This particular time, it was a case of misplaced passion.

Jane wasn’t a woman for him to fool around with.

She’d already wounded him big-time. Giving her a second chance to screw up his life would be idiotic.

Telling himself it was strictly physical might sound good, but he knew better.

The heart was a very physical organ and had a nasty habit of getting in the way.

He didn’t want to risk that kind of involvement again.

Caring meant losing. Jane was proof of that.

So why had he almost kissed her again, and why was he frantically thinking up an excuse to see her?

Wasn’t he the one who had convinced them both that if they really made an effort, their paths didn’t have to cross?

“It’s late,” Jane said. “We should get this one home. She’s got a big day tomorrow.”

“Mo-om, it’s barely dark. My bedtime’s not for a couple of hours.”

“Your mother’s right,” he said, suddenly needing to be away from Jane before he said or did something he would regret. The control he’d prided himself on for so long seemed to be failing on a regular basis.

“Thank you, Adam.” She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, as if not sure what to do with herself. “We had a lovely time. Tell Charlene thank you as well.”

“I will.”

Billie held out her arms, and he obligingly picked her up and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “You’re the best,” she said as she leaned forward and rubbed her nose against his. “Too bad Atlanta lost.”

“Yeah, we’ll get you next time.” He squeezed her tight, then set her on the porch. “Oh, I almost forgot.” He hesitated, telling himself not to ask. Damn. “The triple-A team is going to be opening a home stand. Would you like to go next Saturday?”

“Sure!” Billie spun in a circle. “Can I, Mom? Can I?”

“Calm down.” Jane brushed her daughter’s hair out of her eyes. “Certainly, if Adam doesn’t mind.”

Billie rolled her eyes. “He asked, didn’t he? Why would he mind?”

“You’re welcome to join us,” he said, then wondered why the hell he was playing this game. Did he want to see what else Jane could do to him? What exactly was his problem?

“I’m sure you’d rather spend the time alone with Billie.”

Billie jabbed him in the stomach. “She’s just saying that. She wants you to really ask her.”

“Billie!”

Her daughter hunched her shoulders. “Sorry. I’m going to go to the house and wait for you, Mom. Maybe I’ll start my bath water.”

“You do that,” Jane said.

Billie scurried between the hedge dividing the two properties, then stomped into the smaller house.

“She can be a trial,” Jane said, not meeting his eyes.

“But you love her.”

“Of course. She’s my daughter.” She bit her lip, then stared at the ground. “I should go, too. Thanks for dinner.”

She reached up and gave him a quick kiss on his cheek. Her perfume whispered around him, like a sensual ghost.

“You’re welcome.”

She walked down the steps and toward the hedge. “Oh, Adam, I’d love to go with you to the game. If you’re sure?”

He wasn’t. About anything. “Of course.”

“See you Saturday, then.”

“Saturday.” He watched her disappear into the night.

* * *

Rain fell from the sky. Sheets pounded into the earth as if a permanent rift had been created somewhere in the atmosphere.

“I can’t believe you went to all this trouble,” Jane said as she studied the contents of the refrigerator. Hot dogs and salads sat on the top two shelves. An assortment of sodas filled the door. A bottle of white wine rested on its side on the bottom.

“I’d promised the two of you a baseball game,” Adam said, pulling out the wine and closing the refrigerator door. “What else was I supposed to do?”

“But a barbecue in the rain? We could have rescheduled.”

“The porch is wide enough to handle the grill. Besides, did you want to have Billie to yourself all day? She strikes me as the type of kid to go stir-crazy in this kind of weather.”

“She is a little trying. I was thinking about driving into town to catch a movie with her. It was that or lock her in a closet.”

He smiled. “We still can. The movie part. After we eat.”

“Sure. Unless you’ve made other plans for tonight?” She sounded to herself as sophisticated as the twelve-year-old who’d first fallen for him. Get a grip, she told herself.

“Not at all.”

When she’d woken up to a gray wet day, Jane had been convinced that Adam would excuse himself from seeing her and Billie today.

Disappointment had flared, her distress much stronger than it had a right to be.

It had been almost a week since she’d seen him.

Every day she’d strolled in her yard after he got home from work and had hoped he might come outside, too.

He hadn’t, and she’d gone inside each night feeling foolish and lonely.

It was worse than being a teenager again.

Back then she hadn’t known what she was missing.

Billie had been almost as crushed as she was. Adam’s phone call had rescued them both from a case of the blues.

In concession to the muggy heat, he wore shorts and a T-shirt.

She tried not to stare, but his long lean legs, tanned from his morning jogs, stretched endlessly down to deck shoes.

The T-shirt wasn’t any safer to study, she thought, taking in the broad expanse of chest and rippling muscles.

The man was a walking cliché. Tall, dark, handsome.

How had she ever found the strength to walk away?

Upstairs, in the far reaches of the house, something thudded to the floor. Adam looked up. “Should we go investigate?”

“No. Knowing Billie, she’s found something to throw, or hit.”

“I must admit, I didn’t think she’d want to play dress up.”

Charlene had sent the girl up into the attic with the promise of chests of old clothes and secret treasure.

“She will. Only don’t expect her to come down dressed as a princess or movie star. She’d rather be a pirate. Maybe she’ll find the secret Barrington treasure lost during the Civil War.”

Adam opened a drawer in the center island of the kitchen and removed a corkscrew. “You’ve been gone too long.”

“Why?”

“It’s the War of Northern Aggression.”

“Sorry.”

“Besides, there isn’t any secret Barrington treasure.” He opened the wine and poured them each a glass.

“How do you know if it hasn’t been found?”

“You have a point.” He raised his drink toward her. “To friends?”

It was a peace offering, she realized with a sinking feeling in her stomach. A token that, after their intimate conversation last weekend, left certain doors opened. She was a coward and a liar.

“To friends,” she answered, tightening her grip on the stem so that he couldn’t see her tremble.

He rested his hand on the small of her back and pressed lightly, urging her toward the front parlor.

The thick clouds made the late afternoon seem more like evening.

Shadows filled the corners of the rooms. The steady drip-drip onto the porch railing should have soothed her, but the sound of rain only seemed to repeat the same refrain.

“Tell him, tell him, tell him.” She would. Now.

He seated her on one end of the floral print sofa, then sat next to her.

He’d left enough space between them so that they weren’t touching, but he hadn’t sat on the far end, either.

Brown eyes regarded her thoughtfully. What would have happened if Billie hadn’t interrupted them?

she wondered. How far would his caresses have gone?

Would he have hated her more or less when he found out the truth? There was only one way to find out.

“Adam, I—”

“I’ve been—”

They spoke at the same time.

“You first,” he offered.

“No. Go ahead.”

He took a sip, then set his glass on the table in front of them. Half-opened shutters allowed in the dusky light. A single lamp in the corner illuminated the area by the hallway door. He turned toward her and rested his arm along the back of the couch, his fingers inches from her shoulder.

“I’ve been thinking about our last conversation,” he said.

That look. She knew it. Sultry brown eyes caressed her face, then dipped lower. The filmy gauze of her tank top provided little protection against what he sought. Her small breasts swelled as her nipples hardened inside her bra.

“Me, too,” she confessed.

“Everything between us is different,” he went on. “I didn’t expect—” He shrugged, as if not sure how to put his feelings into words.

“I know.” His long fingers brushed her bare shoulder. She leaned forward. “But first, Adam, I have to tell you some—”

Something heavy thumped down the stairs, followed by clattering footsteps.

“Look what I found!” Billie called. “Hey, where are you guys?”

“In here,” Jane said. Timing, she thought grimly. Just when she’d been about to spill the beans. Maybe locking Billie in a closet wasn’t such a bad idea. She shook her head. She’d just have to wait until her daughter went to bed. Then she and Adam could be alone and she’d tell him the truth.

“There’s a bunch of sports equipment and uniforms. I found this softball and bat. Can I have this jersey, Adam? And where’d you get the wig?”

At last Billie stepped into the doorway. The light from the lamp highlighted her appearance, including the blue and white numbered jersey that hung down to her knees and the long blond wig perched on her head. In one hand she held a softball, in the other a mitt.

Jane felt her breath catch in her throat.

That wasn’t her daughter standing there smiling proudly.

It was another girl. Funny how with dark hair, Billie didn’t look much like Adam’s sister at all.

But with the long wig, and her old high school team uniform, she was the spitting image of Dani Barrington.

“Well?” Billie asked. “What do you guys think?”

It was like in the movies, when everything suddenly happened in slow motion. Billie’s question sounded as if she were a hundred miles away. Jane felt her muscles clench as panic chilled her blood.

He knew.

She didn’t have to look at him to confirm her suspicions. She could feel it in the way he sat so quietly and stared at her daughter. His daughter.

Without saying a word, he rose to his feet and walked over to Billie. He crouched in front of her and touched her face.

“What?” she asked, puzzled. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Billie.” His voice sounded hoarse. He kissed her cheek, then took her hand.

“Where are we going?”

“To see Aunt Charlene. You’re going to visit with her for a few minutes while your mother and I have a talk.”