Building Dreams
Ginna Gray
Dear Reader
We’ve all heard that pregnant women “glow.” I’ve actually heard some men say that they thought their wives were even more beautiful and sexy when pregnant. Thinking about that, I wondered if a man could fall in love with a woman who was expecting a child.
From that point, what I call “the what ifs” kicked in. What if he was a man who loved kids and had wanted a big family? A man who had been raised in a large, happy family? What if he’d been married before and had a son, but his wife had run away with another man, abandoning him and the boy and leaving him bitter—against women and marriage? What if circumstances (with a little help from his son) throw the heroine and hero together?
From such thoughts, dear reader, a book begins to take shape. I hope you enjoy this one as much as I enjoyed writing it.
Happy reading!
GINNA GRAY
A native Texan, Ginna Gray lived in Houston all her life until 1993, when she and her husband, Brad, built their “dream home” and moved to the mountains of Colorado. Coming from a large, Irish/American family, in which spinning colorful yarns was commonplace, made writing a natural career choice for Ginna. “I grew up hearing so many fascinating tales, I was eleven or twelve before I realized that not everyone made up stories,” Ginna says. She sold her first novel in 1983 and has been working as a full-time writer ever since. She has also given many lectures and writing workshops and judged in writing contests. The mother of two grown daughters, Ginna also enjoys other creative activities, such as oil painting, sewing, sketching, knitting and needlepoint.
Books by Ginna Gray
Silhouette Special Edition
Golden Illusion #171
The Heart’s Yearning #265
Sweet Promise #320
Cristin’s Choice #373
* (#litres_trial_promo)Fools Rush In #416
* (#litres_trial_promo)Where Angels Fear #468
If There Be Love #528
* (#litres_trial_promo)Once in a Lifetime #661
* (#litres_trial_promo)A Good Man Walks In #722
* (#litres_trial_promo)Building Dreams #792
* (#litres_trial_promo)Forever #854
* (#litres_trial_promo)Always #891
The Bride Price #973
Alissa’s Miracle #1117
* (#litres_trial_promo)Meant for Each Other #1221
† (#litres_trial_promo)A Man Apart #1330
† (#litres_trial_promo)In Search of Dreams #1340
† (#litres_trial_promo)The Ties that Bind #1395
Silhouette Romance
The Gentling #285
The Perfect Match #311
Heart of the Hurricane #338
Images #352
First Love, Last Love #374
The Courtship of Dani #417
Sting of the Scorpion #826
Silhouette Books
Silhouette Christmas Stories1987
“Season of Miracles”
Wanted: Mother1996
“Soul Mates”
Building Dreams
Ginna Gray
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Contents
Chapter One (#u6338269f-f482-5f32-8286-f3d41de851f2)
Chapter Two (#ub90335fa-1d5d-5420-80e4-a18da134c9f9)
Chapter Three (#u6189c935-5fb6-59ae-89a1-33e30cbf1014)
Chapter Four (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One
It was too quiet.
The thought struck Ryan McCall halfway up the stairs, and he paused, his expression puzzled. Normally by that point he could hear rock music rattling the walls of his apartment. Or, at the very least, the television blaring. His son rarely did anything in moderation.
Ryan trotted up the remaining steps, curious but not particularly alarmed.
The first vestige of the latter feeling came a moment later when he unlocked his door and opened it to a dark apartment. Stepping inside, Ryan flipped on the living room lights and checked his watch. It was only nine—too early for Mike to be in bed. Maybe he had fallen asleep watching television in his room.
“Mike! You here?”
There was no answer. Frowning, Ryan tossed the mail onto the coffee table and strode across the room, heading for the door that led into the bedroom hallway. “Hey, Mike! Where are you?”
His son’s room was empty. The bed, on which the boy wallowed periodically throughout the day, was made up in Mike’s usual haphazard manner but it showed no sign of having been touched.
The room was crammed with a thirteen-year-old boy’s clutter. A catcher’s mitt and a bat and ball lay on the desk, along with dozens of baseball cards, two crushed soft drink cans, a deflated football, a pair of dirty socks, a pocket electronic game, and an assortment of candy wrappers, rocks and scraps of paper. A squadron of model airplanes hung from the ceiling and another half-finished aircraft sat on a sheet of newspaper in the middle of the floor. In a pile in the corner, where Mike had tossed them, were a torn kite, a Frisbee and a skateboard. A ratty sneaker with a hole in the toe lay on its side beside the bed. Yet, for all its messiness, the room had an undisturbed air.
Real alarm began to spiral up inside Ryan. Where was Mike?
The front door slammed. “Hey, Dad. I’m home!”
Ryan whirled, his relief so great his knees nearly buckled. The debilitating emotion lasted only an instant, just long enough for parental ire to override it. Dammit, where the devil had that boy been? No matter what, he was damned well supposed to be home by dark with the doors locked.
Ryan stalked toward the living room. Mike was heading for his room, and father and son nearly crashed into one another when Ryan stormed through the door.
“Oh, hi, Dad. Wait’ll you hear—”
“You’ve got some explaining to do, young man.”
“Huh?”
“Where the devil have you been? You know you’re not to leave without permission.”
“I didn’t leave! Well…not really. I was next door.”
“Next door?”
“Yeah. I’ve been helping our new neighbor move in.”
Ryan stared at his son, taken aback. Mike was a good kid. He was responsible and cooperative, but like most teenage boys, when it came to things like household chores or anything that involved physical labor, he groused long and loud.
“Well, hey, that’s great, Mike. I’m proud of you.” Ryan hesitated. “Uh…you did volunteer to help, didn’t you? I mean…they’re not paying you, are they?”
“Heck no! I wouldn’t take money from someone like Mrs. Benson,” Mike declared, affronted. The next instant he brightened, his young face lighting up with enthusiasm. “Wait’ll you meet her, Dad. She’s really great. She’s a high school teacher—or she was until school let out last week for the summer. She says she’s not going back next fall. She’s going to take a real long sabba…sabbat…”
“Sabbatical?”
“Yeah, that. Man, I bet it’d be cool, having a teacher like Mrs. Benson. She young. Well…sorta…for a teacher, anyway. And she’s real friendly and all, and she laughs a lot. And guess what else, Dad? Amanda Sutherland…you know, that lady who does the news on television? Well she’n Mrs. Benson are best friends. Ms. Sutherland is helping her move.”
One corner of Ryan’s mouth kicked up in a faintly scornful twist. “Is that right?” he replied without a trace of interest. Women were far from his favorite topic of conversation.
He retrieved the mail from the coffee table and started riffling through it. “So how about Mr. Benson? What’s he like?”
“Oh, there’s not a Mr. Benson. At least, not anymore there isn’t. Ms. Sutherland told me he died about seven months ago.”
Ryan’s head snapped around, his eyes narrowing. “You mean our new neighbor is a widow?”
“Yeah. And she’s—”
“Oh great. That’s just great,” Ryan snapped. “Just what I need—an unattached female right next door. That’s the perfect piece of news to cap off what’s been a really rotten day.”
Ryan and Mike had lived where they were for almost eight years. Until his death the previous month, a doddering old bachelor had occupied the apartment next door. Ryan had hoped that the next tenant would be someone equally innocuous.
“Ah, c’mon, Dad. Don’t be that way. Mrs. Benson is different. She’s nice and…well…special. You’ll like her. Really.”
“Yeah. Right.” His jaw tight, Ryan returned his attention to the day’s mail.
Mike headed for the kitchen. “Tonight Mrs. Benson just brought over some small stuff. The movers are bringing her furniture tomorrow, and she’s moving everything else herself in a rented trailer. So anyway, I told her I’d be back to help some more after my softball game tomorrow,” he said with his head inside the refrigerator. “That’s okay, isn’t it, Dad?”
“I guess,” Ryan replied through gritted teeth. “But first you have to do your Saturday chores.”
“Ah, Daaad. Do I have to? Just this one time, couldn’t—”
“You know the rules, Mike.”
Actually, Ryan half hoped that the additional work would make Mike change his mind. On the one hand, he was proud of his son for generously helping out a neighbor, but he hated the idea of a single woman living next door, and he certainly did not want Mike to spend a lot of time with her. In Ryan’s experience, unattached females were usually on the lookout for a man.
He tore open an envelope with more force than necessary, his teeth clamped together so hard they ached. At the first opportunity he intended to make his feelings about women crystal clear to this new neighbor.
The opportunity arose the very next morning.
As usual whenever Mike had a softball game, Ryan’s identical twin, Reilly, came along. Depending on the previous evening and the woman with whom he had spent it, Reilly sometimes appeared on their doorstep on Saturday mornings looking a bit frayed around the edges—but he came. He was nothing if not a devoted uncle. So far, he hadn’t missed a single game.
That particular Saturday morning Reilly arrived early bearing a box of warm donuts for their breakfast and whistling off-key. Ryan took one look at the devilish twinkle in his brother’s eyes and raised a sardonic brow.
“You’re bright-eyed and bushy-tailed this morning. Don’t tell me you actually got a decent night’s sleep for a change. What’s the matter? Get stood up?”
Reilly grinned. “Hardly. If you want to know, I spent last evening with a dynamite gal. You ought to try it sometime, Hoss. Does wonders for your outlook. As a matter of fact, I know a fantastic lady I could fix you up with.”
“Forget it. When I want a woman I know where to find one. Besides, there’s nothing wrong with my outlook.”
“Wanna bet,” Reilly muttered, trailing his brother into the kitchen.
Between the three of them, the McCall men quickly devoured the whole box of donuts. A short time later they clattered down the stairs and headed for the parking lot amid laughter and good-natured jibes.
Just as they reached Ryan’s Jeep Cherokee, an older economy car towing a rental trailer pulled into the parking lot and sputtered to a stop a few feet away. Mike’s face lit up.
“Hey, look! It’s Mrs. Benson!”
Ryan groaned and tried to stop him but he was too late. His son rushed over to the car and leaned down beside the driver’s window before the woman could kill the engine.
“Hi, Mrs. Benson. Ms. Sutherland,” Mike added, sparing the woman in the passenger seat a quick glance. “I didn’t expect to see you again so soon.” Grinning, he glanced over his shoulder and motioned eagerly to his father and uncle. “C’mere’n meet Mrs. Benson, Dad. You too, Uncle Reilly.”
Ryan gritted his teeth, but he had no choice. Reilly, who needed no second urging where women were concerned, was already sauntering toward the car. Ryan followed him reluctantly.
Beaming, Mike made the introductions.
“I’m delighted to meet you,” the woman behind the wheel said, smiling up at Ryan. “And please, do call me Tess. We’re neighbors now, after all.”
Ignoring her outstretched hand, Ryan responded with a curt nod, then deliberately looked away, his expression stony.
Whatever his greeting lacked in courtesy, his brother’s more than made up for in charm. With a hand braced on the car door Reilly leaned down and flashed his most devastating smile. “Morning, ladies.” His gaze slid back and forth between the two women, and he sighed dramatically. “I swear, it just isn’t fair. This brother of mine has always had the devil’s own luck. Imagine having two beauties like you move in right next door. Nothing like that ever happens to me.”
“Oh, brother.” Rolling her eyes, Amanda gave a disgusted snort and scooted down in her seat. Arms crossed tightly beneath her breasts, she stared straight ahead.
Tess’s uncertain gaze flickered from Ryan’s rigid face to his brother’s smiling one. “Uh…I’m afraid you’re mistaken, Mr. McCall—”
“Reilly,” he insisted with an affable grin.
“Uh…Reilly. You see, I’m the only one who’ll be living here. Amanda is merely giving me a hand.”
“Really. Hey, in that case, perhaps I can talk your friend into moving into my building?”
“Don’t hold your breath,” Amanda muttered, but she didn’t deign to look at him.
Reilly grinned. His eyes twinkled as they roved over Amanda’s stiff profile. “Say aren’t you…Of course! Amanda Sutherland. I thought you looked familiar. You’re a roving reporter for Channel Five, aren’t you?”
“That’s right.”
“I’m a big fan. Maybe we can get together sometime so I can tell you how much I admire your work. Say…over dinner tonight?”
Amanda cut her eyes around, giving him a look that would have shriveled most men. Reilly McCall’s grin widened.
“I’m busy.”
“How about tomorrow night?”
“No.”
“The night after that?”
Amanda shook her head.
Ryan shifted impatiently and made a point of checking his watch. “The woman’s not interested, Reilly, so count yourself lucky and come on. We have to get to the park.” He gave Tess another curt nod and turned and walked back to his own car without another word.
“It was nice meeting you,” Tess called after him, but his only response was to yell to his son to shake a leg.
Crestfallen, Mike gazed after his father. He sent Tess an apologetic look. “Gee, I’m sorry, Mrs. Benson. Dad doesn’t really mean to be rude. He’s got a lot on his mind, is all.”
“That’s all right, Mike. I understand.”
His father hollered again, and Mike darted away toward the Cherokee. “Don’t forget,” he called back over his shoulder. “I’ll be over as soon as the game ends.”
He had barely tumbled into the back seat when his father reversed out of the parking space and sent the utility vehicle shooting out of the lot.
Ryan’s expression did not encourage conversation, but Mike was too upset to care.
“Shoot, Dad. Why’d you have to go and act that way to Tess?” he demanded glumly.
“Yeah, Hoss.” Reilly’s eyes twinkled with devilment. “I’d like to know that, too. You were a real jerk back there. If a looker like Tess Benson moved into my building I sure wouldn’t bite her head off. I’d woo her with soft words and flowers.” He waggled his eyebrows. “You’d be surprised how far a little sweet talk can get you.”
“Ah, knock it off, Uncle Reilly,” Mike snapped, surprising both men. “Tess isn’t that kind of woman.”
“Hey, Mike…buddy. What gives? I didn’t mean any—”
“Oh, just forget it.” Flouncing back in the seat, Mike stared out the window, his young face sulky.
The two brothers exchanged a baffled look and fell silent.
Mike didn’t say a word all the way to the ball park, but he was never able to stay angry for long. When they arrived and he spotted his teammates he let out a whoop and rushed off to greet them, his pique forgotten.
“Now, what do you suppose that was all about?” Reilly mused.
Ryan stared after his son, a worried frown drawing his thick eyebrows together. “Beats me.”
For several seconds the two women sat in Tess’s car, staring after the McCalls’ departing vehicle.
“Well,” Amanda huffed. “He certainly won’t win the good neighbor award. That man’s about as warm and friendly as a coiled rattlesnake. Who would’ve guessed that a sweet boy like Mike would have a father like that.”
“He was rather abrupt.”
“Abrupt! The man was downright rude.”
“Yes…well…maybe we shouldn’t be too quick to judge him. It could be that he’s just having a bad day or something.”
Amanda groaned and rolled her eyes. “I swear, Tess Benson, you are the most tolerant, good-natured, incurably optimistic person I’ve ever known. It’s disgusting. The man is mannerless and abrasive. He’s got the personality of coarse-grit sandpaper, for heaven’s sake.”
Tess laughed. “Maybe. Or maybe he’s simply got problems right now. Or maybe he’s just in a bad mood. We all have days when we’re mad at the world and would just as soon people stayed away. Since I’m going to be living next door to the man I’d prefer to give him the benefit of the doubt.”
“You would,” Amanda muttered.
The rumble of a diesel engine and the squeal and hiss of air brakes announced the arrival of the moving van. The long tractor-trailer rig lumbered into the parking lot and rolled to a stop beside the car.
Tess looked up at the apartment building, and drew a deep breath. “I guess it’s time to get started. This stuff won’t get unloaded by itself.” With a determined sigh, she reached for the door handle and slowly, awkwardly, hauled her very pregnant body out of the car.
Four hours later, Tess stood in the kitchen of her new apartment, knee-deep in boxes, wadded newspaper and bubble pack, wearily rubbing her aching back.
“Where ya want me to put this one, Mrs. Benson?”
She looked around in time to see Mike come through the front door, staggering under the weight of the carton he carried. The thirteen-year-old was sweating profusely, and the tendons in his neck and underdeveloped arms were corded and straining.
“Mike! You shouldn’t carry something that heavy up the stairs all by yourself! Here, let me help.”
From the look of horror on his young face you would have thought Tess had suggested she bench-press five hundred pounds. He clutched the carton tighter and held it out of her reach when she came around the end of the bar. “No! You can’t do that!”
“The kid’s right.” Amanda sauntered in through the open doorway carrying a half dozen clothes-filled hangers hooked over each shoulder. “In your condition, you haven’t any business trying to manage something that heavy.”
“But—”
“I can handle it, Mrs. Benson. Honest. Just tell me where you want it.”
“C’mon, sweetie, follow me. I’ll show you.” With a don’t you-dare-say-a-word look for Tess, Amanda maneuvered through the maze of boxes and jumbled furniture with her unhurried, hip-swaying walk and led the boy out of the room.
Tess watched them go, feeling properly chastised and more than a little useless.
“How about it, Mike? Whaddaya say we take a lemonade break,” Amanda suggested a minute later, when she and Mike returned.
“No thanks, Ms. Sutherland. But you go ahead. There’re just a few more boxes left in the trailer. I’ll get ’em while you rest. They’re too heavy for you to carry anyway.”
“Now there goes one heck of a nice kid,” Amanda drawled, hitching herself up onto a stool beside the bar.
“Yes, he is. But I’m afraid we’re taking advantage of him.”
“Are you kidding! He’s having a ball. Look, Tess, trust me on this. If there is one thing I know, it’s the male animal. The early teens are tough on a boy. Their hormones are just beginning to bubble and they’re filled with all kinds of doubt and anxiety about their budding masculinity. Believe me, lending a hand to two women makes Mike feel manly and strong.”
“Still…I could have helped. I’m not an invalid you know.”
“No. But you’re too far along to be doing any lifting and toting. And remember, when I let you talk me into this, our agreement was that you would leave all that to me. With Mike helping there is even less reason for you to concern yourself. We can take care of the heavy stuff. You just unpack boxes.”
Tess made a face, but she didn’t argue—not when Amanda used that tone.
As her friend drank her lemonade, Tess studied her, bemused. Amanda wore a pink tank top and skimpy white shorts that showed off her spectacular leggy figure. Her lioness mane of streaked blond hair was piled atop her head and twisted into a loose knot. Her appearance today was not quite that of the sharp sophisticate seen daily on television reporting local news events, but despite the heat and humidity and hours spent in sweaty, back-breaking work, Amanda still managed to look elegant. She made Tess feel like a beached whale. An exhausted, washed-out beached whale.
They had been best friends since grade school. Even then Amanda had been a beauty, exuding an innate female magnetism that not even obnoxious six-year-old boys had been able to resist. With the passage of time her allure had merely grown stronger. The combination of keen intelligence, stunning looks and an aura of sultry sensuality continued to draw males like flies to honey.
For the same reasons, most females felt threatened by Amanda. For Tess, however, her friend’s looks and appeal had never been a problem. Tess had been the only child of adoring parents who had showered her with love and attention and made her feel special and confident of her own worth.
Not that she wasn’t aware of her shortcomings. Tess knew full well that she was at best attractive, in a girl-next-door sort of way. Her shoulder-length hair was carroty, that aggravating shade between red and blond that was both, yet neither. Unfortunately, she had the fair skin that went with it, the kind that never tanned but turned lobster red when exposed to the sun for even a modest period of time.
Even now, at twenty-nine, Tess had a splattering of freckles across the bridge of her short, slightly turned-up nose. Her mouth was just a little too wide, her chin just a bit too firm for her heart-shaped face. Her only claim to real beauty was her eyes. Big and wide set, they were the color of mellow whiskey and surrounded by long, dark brown lashes, which Tess considered a minor miracle, considering her fair coloring.
Though far from being a drop-dead gorgeous femme fatale, Tess had long ago discovered that there were plenty of men around who preferred the wholesome type. Certainly, she had never lacked for male attention, not even when out with Amanda.
Amanda fished an ice cube out of her glass and popped it into her mouth, crunching it with her teeth. “I still don’t like the idea of you living here alone, you know,” she muttered around the icy chunks. “I don’t see why you don’t just come and live with me.”
“Amanda, we’ve been all through this. I appreciate the offer. Truly I do. But surely you can see it would never work. You’re not accustomed to children. I don’t think you have any idea of how completely a baby takes over your life. And anyway, you know you like living alone, not having to accommodate anyone else. As much as I love you, you have to admit, we have completely different life-styles. Believe me, for the sake of our friendship, it’s much better this way.”
Besides, not in her wildest dreams could Tess imagine raising a baby in Amanda’s chic mauve and gray condo among all that modern chrome-and-glass furniture. Her own tastes tended toward old-fashioned patchwork quilts, needlepoint pillows and homey antiques.
“Maybe you’re right,” Amanda conceded grudgingly. Pulverizing another ice cube, she sniffed the air. “What smells so good?”
“A casserole. I knew by the time we finished unloading we’d be too tired to cook or go out to eat so I prepared it last night. There’s a salad and a jug of iced tea in the fridge to go with it.”
Amanda rolled her eyes. “Gawd, but you’re domestic. If ever a woman was meant to be a wife and mother it’s you.”
Pain stabbed at Tess.
Seeing her stricken expression, Amanda grimaced. “Oh, Lord, Tess, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. That was a stupid, thoughtless thing to say. Me and my big mouth. When will I ever learn to think before I speak? I should have—”
“It’s all right, Amanda. Really. I don’t expect you to tiptoe around me forever. I have to accept that Tom is gone. Anyway…” She patted the rounded mound beneath her oversize shirt. “I may not be a wife anymore but at least I am going to be a mommy soon.” With a determined smile, she opened another box and began unwrapping a set of hand-blown tumblers.
Mike came and went several more times, hauling in the last of the items from the trailer. When finished, he returned to the living room and looked at Tess over the bar, shifting from one foot to another. “I’m all done, Mrs. Benson. The trailer is empty. What do you want me to do now?”
“Oh, Mike, you’ve done more than enough already. You’ve been a tremendous help. I don’t know how we would have managed without you. But I certainly don’t expect you to do more.”
The boy flushed to the tips of his ears but looked enormously pleased. “That’s okay. I want to. Honest.”
“But won’t your parents be expecting you home for dinner soon?”
“Naw. Anyway, my folks are divorced, so it’s just me’n my dad. He decided since I was going to lend you a hand he’d catch up on some stuff at the job site tonight. When he works late, I usually just zap a frozen pizza in the microwave.”
“In that case, why don’t you join Ms. Sutherland and me for dinner? There’s plenty, and it’s the least I can do after all your hard work.”
Mike’s face lit up. “Hey, that’d be great!”
A short while later when they sat down to eat he nearly tripped over his own feet in his rush to hold out Tess’s chair for her.
She bit back a smile. It had been the same all day. Mike treated her as though she were made of fine china. Since introducing himself the evening before and volunteering to help, he had insisted on doing all the heavy work and had fetched and carried and hovered over her like a mother hen. Tess found his awkward attempts at gallantry sweet and endearing.
She wondered, though, if he had ever been around a pregnant woman before. He seemed fascinated by her condition. Several times she had caught him watching her, the look in his eyes a mixture of awe, curiosity and terror.
Mike devoured his food, eating with more gusto and appreciation than the simple meal merited. “Man, this is super,” he exclaimed, digging into a third plateful. “You’re a terrific cook, Mrs. Benson. I haven’t eaten anything this good since the last time I visited my Grandma McCall in Crockett.”
“Why, thank you, Mike.”
“Me’n Dad usually eat stuff like pizzas or burgers, or TV dinners. Once in a while he’ll grill steaks and nuke a couple of spuds in the microwave, but mostly we eat take-out. Dad’s no great shakes in the kitchen.”
Mike forked up another mouthful of food, but in midchew he looked suddenly worried and hastily swallowed it down. “Course, he’s real busy an’ all,” he tacked on anxiously, as though afraid he’d been disloyal. “He works real hard and puts in long hours. He doesn’t have time for stuff like cooking. But he’s a really great dad.”
“I’m sure he is.” Tess’s smile offered gentle reassurance, and Mike relaxed visibly. She passed him the plate of crackers and he scooped up a handful. “What sort of work does your father do, Mike?”
“He’n Uncle Reilly build houses.”
“Oh, you mean they’re carpenters?” Amanda commented.
“Naw…well…yeah, sorta, I guess. Dad’n Uncle Reilly can do just about anything it takes to build a house if they have to,” he said, flashing a proud grin. “Clear the land, pour concrete, wiring, plumbing, lay carpet—all that stuff. But mostly they’ve got other guys to do those things ’cause they’re always busy with suppliers and inspectors or down at city hall getting permits and junk.
“See, Dad and Uncle Reilly own this company called R and R Construction an’ Dad says that dealing with bureaucrats is a real pain in the bu—” Flushing, Mike ducked his head. “Uh…that is…being a builder is a real headache,” he mumbled into his chest.
Tess fought back the urge to laugh. “I’m sure it is,” she agreed with a straight face, then tactfully changed the subject. Within minutes she had Mike chattering away once more, telling them all about his baseball team and their chances of making the play-offs.
By the time they had eaten, it was getting late. There was still a lot left to do, but their number one priority was to set up Tess’s bed. They had just completed that task when heavy footsteps sounded on the stairs outside, followed by a door closing.
“That’s Dad,” Mike announced. “I hate to leave you with so much left to do, but I’d better go. I’ll be back tomorrow, though, to help you get things straightened up.”
Tess thanked him profusely, making him blush again, but he looked pleased. When he had gone, Amanda gave Tess a sly look.
“Well, well, well.”
“Well, what?”
“I think that boy has a crush on you, that’s what. At the risk of sounding immodest, I’m somewhat of a local celebrity. Usually people get all flustered and excited around me, especially males, but Mike barely paid me any notice all day…except, of course, to ask questions about you.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Amanda.”
“C’mon. You’ve got to admit, he’s been practically tripping over his feet all day, fetching and carrying for you.”
“That doesn’t mean he has a crush on me, for heaven’s sake. I think he’s just looking for a mother substitute.”
“Mmm. You may be right. If so, his instincts are good. They don’t come any more maternal and nurturing than you.”
The two friends sat in silence, slouched on the sofa, their napes resting against the top edge of the back, feet outstretched. After a while Amanda chuckled. “Right now Mike’s all knees and elbows and big feet, but give him a few years, put a few pounds on those bones, and he’s going to be drop-dead gorgeous. Exactly like his father.”
“His father? I thought you didn’t like Ryan McCall.”
“I didn’t say that, exactly. Anyway, so what? I may find his personality grating, but I’m not blind. I mean, just look at the man—tall and broad-shouldered, black hair, blue eyes, chiseled features. He probably has to fight the women off with a stick.”
“If you think he’s so handsome then why were you so short with his brother? They look just alike.”
Amanda snorted and shot her friend a sidelong look that reeked disgust. “That lightweight? Forget it. Reilly McCall is nothing but a glib-talking skirt-chaser who coasts through life on looks and charm. I’ve seen his type before and take my word for it, he’ll never amount to a thing. I don’t waste my time with men like that.
“Now his brother, on the other hand, is serious and dependable. Those qualities, combined with good looks are much more appealing. I bet even his abrasive attitude probably draws more women than it repels. Personally, the brooding angry man type doesn’t do a thing for me, but a lot of women can’t resist a challenge—the more standoffish a man is, the more they want him.
“Of the two, Mike’s father is by far the better prospect.” Amanda rolled her head on the sofa back and smiled at Tess. “And just think, you’ve got the inside track, living right next door, you lucky devil.”
“Me? Amanda, for heaven’s sake! I’m hardly in the market for a man. I’ve been a widow for barely seven months. Besides, I’m expecting a child, remember? A handsome hunk isn’t going to look twice at a woman who resembles a pumpkin with legs.”
“Maybe,” Amanda conceded in her laconic way. “But grief eventually fades and life goes on.” She rolled her head on the sofa back again and sent Tess a slow, wicked smile. “And you, my friend, won’t always be pregnant.”
Chapter Two
“Well? What do you think? Do we stand a chance?” Reilly shot his brother a hopeful look. The two men strode side by side through the lobby of Texas Fidelity Bank, heading for the exit.
“Maybe. Houston’s economy has picked up some, but things are still tight,” Ryan replied. “It could go either way.”
“So all we can do is wait, huh?” Reilly grinned and winked at a pretty blond teller. Despite the serious nature of their conversation, he was aware of the feminine sighs and dreamy stares that followed their progress.
So was Ryan, but, as always, he ignored them.
The women’s interest was understandable; the McCall brothers were an impressive sight. Except for subtle, almost undetectable differences, the two men were identical. Tall and broad-shouldered, they had the same ruggedly handsome features and both had the fit, muscular build of a man whose job involved physical labor. Each man’s thick hair had the glossy blue-black sheen of a raven’s wing, and long hours spent out-of-doors had tanned their skin to a deep bronze, creating a startling contrast to vivid blue eyes.
For the meeting with the bank’s loan officer both brothers had worn dark blue suits. There, however, the similarities ended. Ryan’s white shirt and diagonally striped navy and wine tie were conservative and sober, but Reilly sported a shirt the exact color of his eyes and a tie in multihued splotches of red, yellow and blue that looked as though it had been created by a berserk artist.
“That’s about all we can do,” Ryan acknowledged. “Wait and see if our loan application is approved.”
“I’m not worried. We’ll get the money. We’ve dealt with Larry Awkland before. He knows we have a reputation as first-class developers.”
“He also knows we damned near went under when the bottom fell out of the economy.”
“But we didn’t. That’s my point. While other construction firms were going belly up, we hung on.”
“Yeah. By our fingernails.” Ryan pushed open the plate glass doors and they stepped outside. The humidity and blistering June heat hit them like a suffocating wet blanket. “Awkland knows that, too. Anyway, it takes more than reputation to swing a loan these days.”
“So? That’s a prime piece of property we’re offering as collateral. If we get that interim loan we’ll develop it into a first-class preplanned neighborhood with all the amenities.”
Ryan’s Jeep Cherokee was parked around the corner from the bank. As he stepped around to the driver’s side to unlock it he looked over the hood at his brother.
“That’s true. But whether or not the bank feels there’s a need in Houston right now for another community of upper priced homes is something else again.”
“Aw, you worry too much, Hoss,” Reilly chided with a grin, climbing into the vehicle. “We’ll be breaking ground on this project within two weeks. You just watch.”
Ryan grunted, and his brother gave him a playful sock on the arm. “Loosen up, man. It doesn’t do any good to worry. I want this project to go as much as you do. But hey! If it doesn’t happen, it doesn’t happen. One way or another, we’ll get by. We always do.”
“Maybe you’re right,” Ryan conceded, and pulled out into the traffic.
Though at times his twin could be exasperating, Ryan envied his easygoing nature. Reilly took life as it came and rolled with the punches, always bouncing back with a grin. Nothing bothered him for long, nothing worried him, nothing—or at least very little—roused him to anger. Reilly, like their younger brother Travis, was blessed with a sunny disposition and an eternally optimistic outlook. It was Ryan and their baby sister Meghan who were the serious ones.
Ryan wished he could be as casual and unconcerned as Reilly, but he couldn’t. For one thing, it wasn’t his nature. For another, he didn’t want to just “get by.” Dammit, they had been just barely getting by for the last eight or nine years, ever since Houston’s housing market went bust.
He and Reilly had started their company right out of college. They had hustled their butts off and worked like dogs those first few years, but they had succeeded in building R & R Construction into a thriving business. In the process they had built a reputation as first-class builders and developers. It had been a bitterly frustrating experience to stand by, helpless to prevent it, and watch it all crumble because of circumstances beyond their control.
Memories of that time were painful even now, and Ryan’s jaw clenched. He remembered how desperate he had felt, how hard he and Reilly had struggled to hang on. They had been forced to unload almost all of the property they had acquired for future development, taking a loss just to get out from under the debt. All they had managed to retain title to was the wooded tract in northwest Houston, and that only because it was theirs, free and clear. Ryan had even been forced to sell his home—the enormous, extravagant home that he had built for Julia—just to keep the company afloat.
Ryan’s fingers clenched around the steering wheel. Julia had never forgiven him for that. To his wife, that luxurious house, their upscale life-style, all the trappings that went with it, were essential. More essential, it turned out, than their marriage, or him…or even their son. Julia had been unable, or unwilling, to face a life without money and status.
It had been tough, these past eight years, raising a boy alone and at the same time scrabbling to hold on to his business. For a while it had been touch and go, but he’d gotten through it. Mike was one hell of a kid; a father couldn’t ask for better. And despite several shaky years, the company was still operating.
It galled Ryan when R & R, a firm that had once built prestigious homes, had been reduced to bidding on remodeling jobs or any other piddling project that came along. However, it had been those small jobs that had paid the bills and allowed them to scrape by…barely.
Their most recent job was an apartment complex renovation that was nearing completion. They were scheduled to meet with the owner in less than an hour for a walk-through inspection. Rather than waste time going home to change, Ryan drove straight to the project. Both he and Reilly kept a set of spare work clothes in the trailer that served as their on-site office.
They had almost reached the site when the car phone emitted a chirping ring.
Ryan snatched it up at once. The instrument was an expense he normally would not have bothered with, but after Julia left, he had gotten it so that his son would be able to contact him wherever he was.
“R & R Construction. Ryan McCall speaking.”
“Hi, Dad. It’s me. I’m over at Tess’s.”
“Again? I thought you got her place straightened up yesterday.”
“We did, but today I’m helping her hang curtains. I just wanted to let you know that we have to make a quick trip to the hardware store for some bolts. Just in case you called looking for me.”
Ryan sighed impatiently. “All right. But look, son, be home early, okay? The Astros are playing in the Dome tonight. I thought we’d take in the game. How about it?”
“Aw-right! You gotta deal, Dad! See you about six.”
“Damn.” Ryan slammed the receiver down. At the same time he brought the Cherokee to a sliding halt in front of the office.
“Something wrong?” Reilly asked, but his brother was already out of the vehicle and striding for the trailer. When Reilly followed him inside he found Ryan sprawled in his desk chair, his face like a thundercloud.
“An Astros game? Since when? You said earlier we were going to stay late and work up a bid on the McElhaney project?”
“I changed my mind, okay. I think it’s more important that I spend some time with Mike.”
Reilly leaned back against his own desk and crossed his arms over his chest. “All right. What’s bugging you?”
The question earned him a sour look. “What’s bugging me? I’ll tell you what’s bugging me. Mike is spending practically every waking moment at the widow Benson’s apartment. He’s been over there everyday for four straight days, ever since Saturday when she started moving in. In the mornings he gobbles down his breakfast and bolts out of the apartment like he’s going to a fire. All I hear out of him is ‘Tess this’ and ‘Tess that,”’ he mimicked in a nasty singsong. The mere mention of the woman’s name made Ryan want to grind his teeth.
“It’ll pass. Anyway, where’s the harm? She seems like a nice person.”
Ryan snorted. “People are seldom what they seem. Especially women. Regardless, I don’t want Mike to get attached to her.”
“Why not? The boy could use some feminine influence in his life.”
“He has Mom and his aunts for that,” Ryan argued. “And there’s Erin and Elise and David’s wife, Abby. He has plenty of women in his life.”
“C’mon, Ryan. They all live in other towns. Erin and Elise live in another state, for Pete’s sake. Mike sees them on holidays and at family gatherings. Look, the kid’s been motherless for the last eight years. It’s only natural that he’d try to find a substitute. Face it, brother. Mike needs a mother.”
“The hell he does! Mike and I are doing just fine on our own.” Glaring at his brother, Ryan thumbed his chest angrily. “Whatever my son needs, I’ll give him.”
“Hey. Don’t get defensive on me. You’ve done a great job with Mike. Nobody’s saying you haven’t. But face it, there are just some things that only a mother can provide.”
“And you expect me to believe that’s why Mike is hanging around the Benson woman? Because he’s looking for a mother substitute?” He gave a bark of scornful laughter. “Yeah, right. That’s why he picked a delectable redhead with sexy eyes.”
A grin spread over Reilly’s face. “So you noticed, huh?”
“I’m not blind,” Ryan snapped. “Just because I don’t care for women or trust them doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate the way they look.”
“Good. I’m glad to hear it,” his brother said with a wink. “Maybe there’s hope for you yet where women are concerned.” With a smug smile on his face, Reilly walked over to a metal locker, removed a pair of jeans and a chambray work shirt, sent his brother a taunting wink and disappeared into the bathroom.
Ryan’s icy stare followed him and bore into the bathroom door. His eyes narrowed into two slits. Don’t count on it, brother.
Balancing on Tess’s kitchen step stool, Mike hooked the curtain rod over the bracket and snapped it into place. “There. That does it. That’s the last one,” he said, and jumped down in one agile leap.
Tess moved in and attached the tiebacks to the dotted Swiss curtains. When she had fluffed the folds and adjusted the drape just so, they both stepped back to admire their handiwork.
“Oh, Mike. They look lovely. In fact, the whole place looks lovely.”
Turning in a slow circle, she surveyed with pleasure what she could see of the apartment, which at present was the nursery, where she and Mike were, and a bit of her bedroom across the hall. All of her furniture was arranged where she wanted it, curtains or draperies framed every window, her pictures and paintings hung on the walls and all of her familiar keepsakes and decorative items were in place. Every box and carton had been unpacked and their contents put away. There wasn’t so much as a scrap of bubble wrap or packing material in sight.
“I can’t believe we got it all done so quickly. I really don’t know how to thank you, Mike. You’ve been such a tremendous help. With Amanda out of town on assignment these past few days, I would have been on my own if it hadn’t been for you. I never would have managed without you.”
She turned to Mike, but her grateful smile collapsed when she saw his face. He looked as though he had just lost his best friend. “Why, Mike. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” He shrugged and looked at the floor, his mouth sulky. “We’re all done, huh?”
“Yes. There’s not a single thing left to do.”
“I guess that means I won’t be seeing much of you anymore. I mean…” He shrugged again and dug the toe of his sneaker into the carpet. “Now that we’re all done, there’s no reason for me to come over.”
Abruptly, the reason for his distress became clear. Tess gazed tenderly at his woebegone face, her heart melting. “Oh, Mike.” She grabbed his hand and squeezed it between both of hers and looked deep into his eyes. “Of course there’s a reason for you to come over. We’re friends. That’s all the reason you need. You’re welcome to visit me anytime you like.”
Mike looked up, a glimmer of hope in his blue eyes. “Really? You mean it?” His voice broke, sliding from a manly baritone into a squeak, but for once he didn’t look discomfited.
“Yes, of course I mean it. The truth is, I’ll be hurt if you don’t come over often. I’m new here, remember. You’re the only one in the whole complex I know. If you don’t visit me I’m going to be terribly lonely.”
“Oh, don’t worry,” he said, perking up dramatically. “I’ll be here. I promise.”
“Good.” She gave his hand a brisk pat. “Now that we have that settled, you’d better hurry if you’re going to that game with your father.”
“Jeez! I almost forgot. I’ve gotta get cleaned up before he gets home.” He took off at a lope. Smiling, Tess followed more slowly. She waddled into the living room just in time to see Mike streak out the front door. “Bye, Tess! See ya tomorrow!”
Chuckling, she shook her head and eased down onto the sofa.
Tess was getting so large, her body was becoming more cumbersome by the day. Almost all movement was awkward for her, but sitting down was particularly difficult. Getting up was even worse.
Leaning forward, Tess stuffed a pillow behind her back and lifted her feet onto the hassock. With a sigh, she leaned back and splayed her hands on top of her swollen tummy.
“Well, baby. Here we are. This is home now. No matter what anyone else thinks, I know I’m doing the right thing. When you get here, you’re going to have my time. All my time.”
Beneath her palms, the baby kicked as though he or she understood, and Tess smiled. “And you know what else? We’re going to make each other happy, too, you and I. We’d better,” she added with a wry chuckle. “We’re all we’ve got. It’s just the two of us, sweetheart.”
Tess had read that a newborn infant recognized its mother’s voice from hearing it while in the womb, and that the baby drew comfort from the sound. It worried her that, living alone as she did, she seldom had anyone with whom to talk. To compensate, she had started carrying on one-sided conversations with her unborn child so that the baby would grow accustomed to her voice. Also, it made Tess feel less alone.
Rubbing her distended abdomen, Tess wrinkled her nose. “Well…actually…that’s not absolutely true. There is your daddy’s family. But the Bensons live way up north. And anyway, they and your daddy were estranged. That means they didn’t get along,” she added in a confiding whisper.
“Not that the Bensons are bad people, mind you. In fact, they’re considered pillars of Boston society. The problem is they’re…well…managing.” Actually, Tom had called them manipulative and domineering, but she hesitated to use such harsh words when talking to the baby. They were also distant and snooty, but Tess kept that thought to herself. “That’s why Daddy stayed away from them. And somehow I don’t think he would like for us to go to them for help, either.”
The baby kicked again, and Tess moved her hands over her tummy in a slow, hypnotic rhythm. Resting her head against the edge of the sofa back, she gazed at the ceiling through half-closed eyes. During her six-year marriage to Tom she had met his parents only once—briefly—when they had come to town to attend some sort of charity gala. She and Tom had met them for dinner at a posh restaurant, where they had endured three interminable hours of stiff, at times interrogating, conversation. She had gotten the impression that the elder Bensons had not been all that taken with her.
Tess shook her head at the memory, a bemused half-smile tugging at her lips. It still boggled her mind that her warm, loving, unpretentious husband had been the offspring of two such stuffed shirts as Harold and Enid Benson.
Tess knew Tom’s older brother Charles only slightly better. He had visited them three or four times when he’d been in town on family business. Though not as stiff as his parents, he was ultra sophisticated and polished, but at least he had made a halfhearted effort to be friendly.
As yet, the Bensons did not know about the baby. The last contact she’d had with any of them—Charles included—had been at Tom’s funeral, and she hadn’t known then that she was pregnant. She had written to them twice but received no reply. She could only conclude that to Tom’s family, his death had severed whatever tenuous tie had existed between them.
Should she write and tell them about the baby? Tess groaned. She had been asking herself that question for months. On the one hand, it seemed wrong not to. But on the other hand, she was uneasy about how they would react to the news. Tom had always maintained that the only way to remain independent from his family was to have as little to do with them as possible. She certainly did not want them interfering or trying to take control of her child, as they had tried to control Tom.
Tess didn’t know what to do, so she kept putting the decision off. There was plenty of time.
From the McCalls’ apartment on the other side of her living room wall, came the faint sound of a shower running and Mike singing at the top of his lungs in his cracked voice. Tess grinned and closed her eyes. A minute later she heard Ryan McCall climb the stairs and enter the apartment.
Suddenly an idea occurred to her. Tess opened her eyes and sat up, mulling it over. Of course. Why hadn’t she thought of it sooner. She had been trying to come up with a way to thank Mike properly for all his help, and this was perfect. She would do it right now.
Getting up off the sofa proved difficult but after three tries she finally heaved herself to her feet and headed for the telephone.
Mike’s father answered on the second ring.
“Mr. McCall, this is Tess Benson. I—”
“Mike can’t come to the phone right now,” he said shortly. “He’s in the shower. You’ll have to call back later.”
“Oh, but I’m not calling for Mike,” Tess said in a rush, sensing he was about to hang up. “I called to talk to you.”
The statement met dead silence at the other end of the line.
Suddenly, Tess felt uneasy and she wasn’t sure why. “I uh…I called to invite you and Mike over for dinner Friday night. After all he’s done to hel—”
“No.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“I said no. I’m turning down your invitation.”
“I…” Tess was so flustered she could barely think. She had never met anyone quite as abrupt as Ryan McCall. “Oh. I see. Well, look, if Friday isn’t convenient we can make it—”
“The answer would still be no. It isn’t a matter of inconvenience. I’m simply not interested in having dinner with you.”
Tess was shocked to the core of her being. She could not utter a sound, and for several seconds the line hummed with a stunned silence. Never in her life had anyone spoken to her with such brutal frankness. Hadn’t the man ever heard of tact or social grace?
Finally Tess cleared her throat. “I see. Mr. McCall, have I offended you in some way? If so, I assure you it was unintentional.”
“Very good, Mrs. Benson. That really sounded sincere. But you’re wasting your time.”
“I—Pardon me? I don’t understand.”
“You can cut out the innocent act. I know what you’re up to.”
“Up to?”
“Having Mike over constantly. Flattering him, making him like you. Inviting the two of us over for dinner.”
“Mr. McCall, I have no idea what you’re talking about. I merely thought that you and your son would enjoy a home-cooked meal. It was just my way of thanking Mike for his help and you for allowing him to give it.”
“Yeah, right,” he sneered. “You know, at first I thought you were one of those licentious women who get their kicks by seducing young boys.”
“What!”
“But now I realize that you were just using Mike to get to me,” Ryan continued without missing a beat.
“Using—Me—? You—? You mean you thought I would seduce—? Oh!Ohhh! Why, you…you…”
Tess sputtered and fumed, too shocked and enraged to think of anything vile enough to call him.
“Save your outraged act for someone else,” Ryan snapped. “It doesn’t work on me. As I said, you’re wasting your time, Mrs. Benson. I’m just not interested.”
Tess gulped a deep breath and fought for control. “Mr. McCall, you are not only a colossal egotist, you’re sick and disgusting! I am hardly at the peak of my sexual attractiveness at the moment, but even if I were, let me assure you that I would not be interested in you!”
She had started off speaking slowly and distinctly through her clenched teeth but with each word her voice rose in pitch and volume, until by the time she reached the end she was shrieking.
“Good. Then we understand each other,” he said matter-of-factly, and hung up.
Tess gasped and jerked the receiver away from her ear. She stared at it. “Oh! Of all the—!” She slammed the phone down so hard it jumped out of its cradle and she had to do it again, which made her all the more furious.
Unable to move, she stood there, shaking all over, her heart pounding, breathing hard. Several seconds passed before she noticed. Oh, Lord. It couldn’t be good for the baby to get so upset, she thought. Calm down. Just calm down.
Leaning back against the wall, she closed her eyes, splayed one hand against her heaving chest, the other across her belly and drew several deep breaths.
“I’m sorry, baby. I’m sorry,” she soothed in a caressing voice. “I shouldn’t have yelled like that. But Mommy’s okay now. Everything’s fine.”
Gathering her scattered composure, Tess pushed away from the wall and returned to the sofa, lowering herself gingerly onto the cushion. She still felt shaky. No one had ever made her that angry before. She hadn’t known she could get that angry.
But then, who wouldn’t if they had to deal with an obnoxious man like Ryan McCall?
When she had met him, she had given him the benefit of the doubt and put his abruptness down to a bad mood, but not this time. The man was a rude, evil-minded, ill-tempered brute. Imagine! Accusing her, in her condition, of coming on to him! And worse, of trying to seduce his thirteen-year-old son. It was a mystery how that hateful man ever produced a boy like Mike.
Mike. Tess sighed, sadness washing over her. As bad as she hated to, she would have to break all ties with the boy. His father obviously did not approve of their friendship. Anyway, the way things stood, she doubted that she could hide her feelings. Certainly she wouldn’t be able to hold her tongue whenever Mike mentioned his father, which was sure to be often. Mike and his dad were close, and the boy clearly adored him. Whatever else he was, Ryan McCall was apparently a good parent.
Tess discovered that she did not have the heart to tell Mike that they could no longer be friends. When faced with those guileless blue eyes and that eager face, she simply could not utter the words. So she tried to discourage him by withdrawing.
Over the next few days she avoided him whenever she could. When he knocked, she didn’t answer her door. She monitored her telephone calls through the answering machine, never picking up when the caller was Mike. When she left her apartment or returned, she did so quietly, tiptoeing in and out like a thief, and feeling as guilty as though she were one. On the few occasions when she did run into him, she pretended to be either in a hurry to get somewhere or terribly busy.
Mike, however, was not one to be put off by evasions. On the evening of the third day after the disastrous telephone conversation, he waylaid Tess in the hallway outside their apartments.
It was late when she climbed the stairs and found him sitting on the floor outside her door. He looked as though he had every intention of staying there all night if he had to.
Tess jerked to a halt at the top of the stairs so suddenly that Amanda nearly barrelled into her.
“Hey! Watch out,” her friend yelped, but Tess didn’t hear her.
“Mike! What are you doing here? It’s late.”
Mike looked up, his expression sullen. “Waiting to see you.”
“Oh.” Tess licked her lips and glanced uneasily at her friend. “We’ve…uh…we’ve been to a Lamaze class. Amanda’s my coach.”
“Hi there, sweetie. How ya doing?” Amanda said, but he merely shrugged and mumbled, “Okay” before returning his attention to Tess.
He climbed to his feet and brushed off the seat of his pants. His gaze never left her.
“I thought you said we were friends.”
“Why…we are, Mike.”
“Then how come you didn’t answer your door this morning when I knocked?” Both his look and his tone accused.
“I…guess I wasn’t here.”
“Your car was in the parking lot. I checked.”
“I see. Well, then…” Tess gestured vaguely. “I must have been in the mail room.”
“Uh-uh. I checked there, too.”
Amanda remained silent. Her shrewd gaze switched back and forth between them.
“I see. Well…I, uh…I suppose we just missed each other somehow,” Tess said lamely.
Mike stared at her in silence. Tess could feel the guilt written all over her face, but there was nothing to do but brazen it out.
“Can I come in?” he asked finally.
“Oh. Well…I’m pretty tired, and it’s getting late. Maybe some other time.”
Hurt flashed in Mike’s eyes. Then pride took over and his young face grew remote. “Yeah. Sure.” He nodded and stuck his hands into his back pockets. “See ya.”
Tess watched him walk away with a lump in her throat.
“Would you mind telling me what that was all about?” Amanda demanded the moment they stepped inside Tess’s apartment. “You were downright cold to that boy.”
“I know.” Emotion threatened to choke her, and her voice wavered. Fighting back tears, she gave her friend a woeful look. “Oh, Amanda,” she whispered wretchedly.
Without a word, Amanda’s demeanor softened, and she gathered Tess close—or as close as her girth would allow—and led her toward the sofa. “All right, now. Tell me what’s happened,” Amanda said in a commanding but gentle voice once they were settled.
Hesitantly, Tess recounted what had transpired between herself and Ryan McCall. During the tale, Amanda’s expression ran the gamut—from a haughtily raised eyebrow to a sagging jaw and finally ending with her beautiful face set in an icy mask of fury. “Do you mean that bastard had the unmitigated gall to accuse you—you of all people—of trying to seduce Mike?” she said, enunciating every word in a tight, dangerous voice. “And of using that sweet boy to get to him?”
Miserable, Tess nodded.
“Why that sorry, no good…And to think, I thought he was the nice one.”
“For some reason, he seems to have taken an intense dislike to me. So you can see that I have to break off my friendship with Mike. I really don’t have any other choice.”
“I suppose you’re right.” Amanda sighed. “It’s a shame though. Mike is bound to be hurt.”
Tess tried not to think about that. “Yes, well…at least his father should be pleased.”
Ryan was delighted. For the past three days Mike had not so much as mentioned Tess Benson. He had been spending more time at home, as well. From his son’s glum mood, Ryan strongly suspected that after their talk Mrs. Benson had realized she was wasting her time buttering up Mike and had dropped him like a hot potato.
He hated to see the boy so depressed, but Ryan figured he would get over it soon. In a day or two he’d be enthused about something else and forget all about their new neighbor.
However, when Ryan entered the apartment on Friday evening, far from improved, Mike’s mood had worsened. Sprawled in a chair with one leg hooked over the arm, he stared morosely at the television screen. In response to his father’s greeting he mumbled something but barely spared him a glance.
“Hey, what is this? Why the long face? Cheer up, son. Things can’t be that bad,” Ryan teased, tweaking the toe of Mike’s sneaker.
“Oh, yeah? That’s what you think.”
“So what’s the problem?” The question brought no response, and Ryan nudged him again. “C’mon, you know you can tell me.”
Mike grimaced, but finally he shot his dad a sulky look. “I don’t think Tess likes me anymore. She doesn’t return my calls. She doesn’t answer her door. I think she’s avoiding me.”
Ryan’s lips thinned. Impatience rippled through him and edged his voice. “It that all? So what? Forget about her.”
He turned away, flipping through the mail. It contained nothing of importance so he tossed it onto his desk and sat down in his easy chair. Picking up the evening newspaper, he glanced at his son, again. To his surprise, Mike was watching him, his eyes narrowed and filled with suspicion.
“Have you eaten?” Ryan asked.
“Yeah. I had some frozen egg rolls.”
“Good.” He snapped open the paper and tried to ignore his son’s penetrating stare.
“Dad, do you know why Tess is acting strange?”
“How the hell would I know?” Ryan barked, his conscience stabbing him.
“You didn’t talk to her or anything?”
“Look, Mike. Why are you making such a big deal about this woman? She’s nothing to us.”
“The change in her was real quick,” Mike mused, ignoring his father’s question. “Like maybe somebody did something to upset her.”
“So? Women get upset easily.” Ryan shifted in the chair and snapped the newspaper again, scowling at the printed page without seeing a word.
Mike sat forward, his eyes widening. “You did talk to her, didn’t you?”
Faced with a direct challenge, Ryan could not lie. He was always honest with his son. But he resented being cornered. Why couldn’t Mike just let the whole thing drop? “All right, yeah, I talked to her,” he replied belligerently. “So what?”
“When? What did you say to her?”
“She called and invited us over for dinner. I turned down the invitation.”
“But why?” Mike wailed.
Rarely did Ryan lose his temper with his son, but the anguished question pushed him over the edge. “Dammit, Mike, you know why. I will not be manipulated by some man-hungry female. What’s more, I resent the way the woman has been cozying up to you to get to me.”
Mike leaped out of his chair. His gangly body vibrated with outrage. “Tess wouldn’t do that!” he shouted. “Anyway, she’s not interested in you!”
“Don’t kid yourself. All women are on the make for a man. Or maybe I should say, a breadwinner.”
“Not Tess. That’s just plain stupid. You don’t even know her. You don’t know anything about her! She’s nice, and…and…and she’s special! And now she probably won’t ever speak to me again! And it’s all your fault!” he shouted, and bolted for his room.
“Mike! Mike, come back here!” Ryan called after him, springing up out of his chair. He could have saved his breath. Mike’s door slammed with a force that rattled the walls.
“Damn.” Spinning around, Ryan slammed his fist down on the back of the chair.
He paced back and forth across the room. This was all that damned Benson woman’s fault. He and Mike had never had a serious disagreement until now.
Why was his son so taken with her? What the hell was so special about the woman?
Ryan stopped and glanced toward the bedrooms. Mike might be innocent enough to believe she had no interest in him beyond simple neighborliness, but experience had taught him otherwise. Ever since Julia had walked out on him and Mike, women had been pursuing him like hounds after a fox. Strangely, it seemed that the more he tried to discourage them, the more remote and abrupt he was, the more relentless they were. And the more devious their ploys. Tess Benson certainly wasn’t the first woman who had tried to use Mike to attract his interest.
Ryan sat down on the sofa. Slumping forward, he braced his elbows on his spread knees and massaged his temples. He sighed. Maybe Reilly was right. Maybe Mike did need a mother figure in his life. That gentling, nurturing female influence that he and his brothers and sister had grown up with.
Guiltily, Ryan recalled the wistful look that sometimes came over Mike’s face when he talked about a friend’s mom. On those occasions Ryan had always stifled his twinges of conscience and told himself that they were doing just fine on their own. But were they? Was Mike?
Yes, dammit! Ryan shot up off the sofa and began to pace. Mike was bright and happy and well adjusted. He was doing well in school; he had plenty of friends. Just because no woman played an active role in his life that didn’t mean he was deprived. He could even be better off. God knew, some women were wretched mothers. Julia certainly had been.
He wanted to forbid Mike to have anything more to do with Tess Benson, but he knew that would not be wise. Mike was at a touchy age. Ryan didn’t want to push him into rebellion. No, the best thing he could do was wait it out. It might take time, but eventually Mike would get over his infatuation with their new neighbor.
At breakfast the next morning the atmosphere between the two McCall males was frosty. Mike responded to his father’s pleasant “Good morning” with a curt nod and skirted around him in the small kitchen as though he weren’t there, his young face stiff. Ryan’s question about what Mike wanted to eat was met with an abrupt, “Never mind. I’ll get it myself.”
After five minutes of sitting side by side at the breakfast bar, eating their cereal in stony silence, Ryan had had enough.
“This is ridiculous,” he snapped. “We have to talk about this, Mike.”
Mike merely shrugged and kept on spooning cereal into his mouth.
“Look, son,” he said as patiently as he could manage. “You know how I feel about women. You’ve always known. But, hey! Just because I don’t want to be around Mrs. Benson doesn’t mean you can’t be friends with her.”
Mike cut his eyes toward his father, his expression still sullen. “You hurt her feelings. Now she doesn’t want to be friends with me.”
“Well then, I guess you’ll just have to try harder. Look, tell her I said it was all right.”
Mike grimaced and stared at his cereal bowl.
“C’mon, son.” Ryan cuffed him on the shoulder. “Whaddaya say?”
Dramatically rolling his eyes, the boy heaved a sigh. “O-kay,” he agreed finally, in a put-upon voice that only a teenager can achieve.
“Good. So, how about it? Are we friends again?”
Mike shot him another sharp look. Ryan could see that he was struggling to hold on to his rancor, but Mike’s basic good nature never allowed him to stay angry for long. In that respect he was far more like his Uncle Reilly than his father. Ryan’s twin was unfailingly, at times maddeningly, good-natured and jovial, and on those rare occasions when he did lose his temper his anger never lasted long.
Finally Mike’s mouth twitched in a reluctant, somewhat abashed smile. “Yeah. I guess.”
By the time they headed out to do their Saturday grocery shopping and errands, the camaraderie between father and son was fully restored. Ryan’s mood was buoyant…until, a mile or so from the apartment, he spotted Tess.
Her car was sitting by the side of the road with a flat tire, and she was bending over the open trunk. He couldn’t see her face, but there was no mistaking that bright hair or that battered little car.
Ryan speeded up, hoping that Mike wouldn’t notice her. That hope was dashed almost instantly.
“Look! There’s Tess!” he shouted. “And she has a flat!” He looked at his father, his face at first eager, then crestfallen. “Aren’t you gonna stop?”
Ryan opened his mouth to tell him that these days liberated women changed their own flat tires, but before he could, Tess straightened up and turned around with the jack in her hands.
Ryan’s head whipped around as he zoomed past her. “What the—?” His eyes bulged and his jaw dropped.
He snapped his mouth shut then opened it again to cut loose with a stream of colorful curse words that had Mike gaping, stomped on the brake and brought the Cherokee to a screeching halt on the shoulder of the road.
He stabbed his son with an irate glare. “She’s pregnant! Why the hell didn’t you tell me she was pregnant!”
Chapter Three
“Me!”Mike squeaked. “Why should I? I thought you knew!”
“No, I didn’t know. How the hell would I kn—” Ryan stopped and raked a hand through his hair, aware that the anger he was heaping on his son was misdirected; it was himself he was furious with.
A pregnant woman, for Pete’s sake. A pregnant widow!
“Uh…are we going to help her?” Mike asked cautiously. He watched his father, his young face puckered with anxiety and hope.
Biting off another sharp curse, Ryan turned his face away and stared out the window. He did not see the traffic whizzing by nor feel the buffeting of its backdraft.
His emotions warred. He felt guilty as hell.
But dammit! He was angry, too. He had the inescapable feeling that he was being sucked into a situation against his will. It was as though he’d fallen into a raging torrent and was being dragged inexorably toward a waterfall, no matter how hard he fought against it.
He gritted his teeth. Dammit! Tess Benson wasn’t his problem. For several moments he sat ramrod stiff and stared into the distance, his face grim. His fingers clenched and unclenched around the steering wheel. A muscle along his jaw worked. Finally, as though drawn by a magnet, his gaze slid to the rearview mirror.
“Oh, what the hell!” he snapped, and reached for the door handle. “C’mon. Let’s go give her a hand before she hurts herself.”
“Yes! Yes!” Making a fist, Mike bent his arm and jerked it downward in one sharp pump of victory before scrambling out of the car and racing after his father.
With a face like thunder, Ryan stomped back toward the disabled car, his long strides eating up the ground. Mike had to break into a trot just to keep up.
When they rounded the end of the vehicle Ryan came to an abrupt halt, his frustration and fury soaring to even greater heights at the sight of Tess on her knees inside the trunk, trying to drag out the spare tire.
“Will you…come out of…there!” Grunting and straining, Tess tugged at the tire with all her might, but she couldn’t budge it. Unable to reach the spare because of her girth, she had climbed up into the trunk to get closer, but she still couldn’t get a good grip on the tire. Huffing and puffing, she sat back on her heels, perilously close to tears. What was she going to do?
She looked around forlornly. The traffic zipped past her as though she were invisible. Weren’t there any white knights left in the world?
The thought had barely flitted through her mind when a pair of hard hands hooked under her arms from behind.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” a furious voice barked in her ear. Tess let out a frightened squeal but she was plucked out of the trunk as though she weighed no more than a sack of groceries.
Just as unceremoniously, she was plunked down on her feet and released. The instant she gained her balance she spun around—and gasped.
“You!”
Ryan McCall stood before her with his fists planted on his hips, his feet spread aggressively wide, glaring down at her as though he were contemplating mayhem. “Are you crazy?” he shouted. “Don’t you know you shouldn’t be climbing around in the trunk of a car or trying to lift a heavy tire?”
“Of course I know,” Tess fired back. “But I have a flat that needs changing. What else could I do? The nearest gas station is at least three miles away.”
“You can stand by the side of the road and look helpless until a good Samaritan comes along.”
“Oh really? If I waited for some big strong man to help me I’d be here all day.” She gestured toward the unending stream of traffic rushing by. “In case you haven’t noticed, chivalry doesn’t exactly seem to be in vogue these days.”
“Don’t worry, Tess. Dad’s real good at fixing tires. He’ll have it done in no time.”
Tess’s head whipped around. “Mike!” She had been so stunned by Ryan’s sudden appearance, she hadn’t even noticed his son hovering beside her.
“Just stand back and stay out of the way,” Ryan ordered, and swung around to the car.
“No, wait! Stay away from there!” Tess rushed forward and grabbed his arm. “I don’t want or need your help, Mr. McCall.”
“Don’t be an idiot. You can’t change this tire. If you won’t think of yourself, at least think of your baby.”
Giving her a disdainful look, he shook off her hand and, with infuriating ease, reached into the trunk and lifted out the spare. He bounced it experimentally on the ground and immediately erupted in another colorful burst of profanity.
Alarmed, Tess took a hasty step back, her eyes growing wide at the fierce expression on his face.
“This thing is flat, too! Woman, don’t you have a lick of sense? Driving around on half-bald tires without even a decent spare?”
“I…I didn’t know the spare was flat.”
“You didn’t know? That’s no excuse. You drive the damned car—you’re suppose to know what shape it’s in.”
“But…you see…my husband always took care of those kinds of things. I don’t know anything about cars.”
“Then you better learn. You don’t have a husband now,” he said heartlessly. He turned away and walked around to the side of the car to retrieve the jack, muttering a stream of invective and criticism.
It was too much for Tess. The tears that came so easily these days welled up. She struggled for control, but Ryan McCall was more than her overwrought nerves could take. He was the last person she had expected—or wanted—to see. Moreover, he was obviously furious and giving his assistance grudgingly.
Tess’s face crumpled, and she burst into tears. “Daaad!”
Mike’s anguished wail brought Ryan whirling around. “What? What’s wro—? Aw, hell.”
“Come quick, Dad! Hurry!” Mike’s face wore a look of horror. His frantic gaze jumped back and forth between his father and the weeping woman. Wanting to give comfort but afraid to touch her, he hopped around Tess, shuffling from one foot to the other, his hands hovering over her heaving shoulders.
Ryan stomped to the rear of the car and threw the jack into the trunk. Tess sobbed brokenly, the sounds harsh and raw, verging on hysterical.
“I don’t know what’s wrong with her, Dad. All of a sudden, she just started bawling.” Mike sent his father a desperate look. “Do you think she’s hurt?”
“I doubt it. Women in her condition tend to be high-strung. That’s probably all it is.”
Tess cried harder. The sounds were piteous and unnerving and they served to exacerbate Ryan’s guilt. His jaw clenched.
Mike looked distraught. “Do something, Dad!”
“Here.” Digging into the back pocket of his jeans, Ryan pulled out a clean handkerchief and stuffed it into Tess’s hands. “Now, take her back to the Cherokee, son, and try to calm her down. I’ll lock up her car and bring the tires.”
“Calm her down? How am I suppose to do that?” Mike squeaked.
“Oh, for—Here. Like this.” Ryan wrapped his arms around Tess and pulled her close. He expected her to resist, but she sagged against him and burrowed her face into his chest, her fingers clutching his shirt. Her response was so urgent and wholehearted, he realized that she had no idea who held her; she was merely reacting instinctively, responding to the warmth and comfort of human touch.
Ryan’s guilt deepened. He had forgotten how precariously balanced a woman’s emotions were during pregnancy. Julia had been a basket case when she carried Mike. She had burst into tears if you so much as looked at her. If anyone had shouted at her, she probably would have dissolved into a puddle.
Expectant mothers needed support and reassurance. They needed to feel loved and cosseted and cared for. He had learned that much. And when you thought about it, simple physical contact and gentle words—that really wasn’t too much to ask, considering what they were going through.
Staring out into space, Ryan rubbed his hands over Tess’s shoulders in slow circles. He had given Julia all that. Willingly. Gladly. Hell, he’d been downright enthralled by the whole process.
He had held his wife’s head and commiserated with her during morning sickness, rubbed her back when it ached, assisted her when it became awkward to rise from a chair, tied her shoes. When advanced pregnancy had forced her to make several trips a night to the bathroom he had helped her out of bed and waited outside the door to assist her back into it. Many times in the small hours of the morning he had dressed and gone out in search of whatever special food would satisfy her weird cravings.
Tess Benson was alone, with no one to do those things for her. Ryan wondered how she coped.
Despite her swollen abdomen—which he could feel pressing against his middle—she was surprisingly slender. She was a little thing, he realized. The top of her head didn’t even reach his chin, and as he ran his hands up and down her back, he noticed that her shoulder blades and ribs seemed incredibly delicate, almost fragile. She was soft and utterly feminine, the kind of woman that brought out a man’s most basic protective instincts. He was surprised at how pleasant it felt to hold her.
Ryan’s nose twitched. She smelled good, too. Over the acrid odors of exhaust fumes, road dust and hot paving he caught an occasional whiff of the sweet, clean scent that drifted from her hair.
Mike, Ryan noticed, was watching him intently, just as he always did whenever he was learning a new skill. With a pang, Ryan realized that in the past eight years his son had not once seen him show concern or affection for any woman outside of those within their family. The boy probably truly did not know how to comfort Tess.
The thought was oddly troubling, and Ryan quickly pushed it aside and set Tess away from him.
“See, that’s all there is to it. So, go on. Take her to the car,” he ordered brusquely. “I’ll be there in a few minutes.”
Carefully, as though afraid she might break, Mike put his arm around her shoulders. “C’mon, Tess.” With awkward but touching solicitude, he led her down the shoulder of the road to the waiting vehicle. Ryan watched them go, his expression thoughtful.
Tess could not stop crying; she had completely lost control. The Cherokee rocked when Ryan tossed her tires in the back and she let out a startled yelp, but still the tears came. When he climbed in behind the wheel, all she could do was bury her face in his handkerchief and gasp and choke and sob.
She was mortified. She expected him to berate her, but he merely leaned against the door and waited with surprising patience for the storm of weeping to end.
After what seemed like an eternity, she managed to pull herself together. Gulping, she wadded his handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes and nose. “I—I’m…s-sorry,” she mumbled between watery sniffs. “I—I guess I over…re-reacted.”
“It’s okay. Don’t worry about it.” Ryan turned the ignition key and started the engine. “Where were you headed?”
“To the gro-grocery store,” she said without thinking. Her head came up. “Oh, but…if you’ll just take me ho-home, that will be fine. I’ll call the garage to pick up the tires.”
“It’s no problem. Mike and I were headed to the store anyway. We’ll drop off the tires on the way and save you a road call fee.”
“But—”
“Don’t worry about it,” he snapped.
Tess stared at his hard profile in helpless frustration. Short of jumping out of the moving vehicle, it appeared that she had no choice.
The next hour was the longest, most miserable that Tess could recall. Despite Ryan’s assistance, she was still seething over the nasty things he had said to her. During the drive to the store neither spoke. He stared straight ahead, his face so hard it looked as though it had been chiseled from granite. Tess held herself stiff and pressed against the passenger door and did her best to ignore him.
The instant he parked the vehicle, she scrambled out. She doubted that it would occur to a mannerless oaf like Ryan McCall to open her door for her, but she wasn’t taking the chance of him getting that close.
If he even noticed her hasty action he gave no indication.
“We’ll meet back here in half an hour,” he announced when they entered the store. “If you finish first, wait for us.”
“Fine,” Tess replied just as tersely, and sent up a silent thanks as they parted company.
Throughout the store she constantly bumped into the McCalls. She and Ryan tried to ignore one another, but Mike made that impossible. At every encounter he greeted her with a huge grin and a barrage of silly adolescent banter. Even when they weren’t in the same aisle, he darted back and forth between Tess and his father. She had the horrible feeling that to the other shoppers they probably looked like a family out for their weekly shopping.
When they met at the checkout stand, Tess could not help but notice that, other than a few staples, Ryan’s cart was filled with frozen foods and microwave dinners. She experienced a pang of sympathy that anyone would have to survive on a steady diet of such tasteless junk. Then she remembered Ryan’s rude and vile response the last time she had shown concern over their eating habits, and hardened her heart.
On the drive home, Tess and Ryan barely uttered a word, but Mike more than made up for her reticence and his father’s tight-jawed remoteness. Sitting in the back, the boy leaned forward between the front bucket seats and chattered away about anything and everything. He was so obviously delighted to have her along, it wrung Tess’s heart.
Never had she seen such a welcome sight as their apartment complex. She was all set to grab her groceries and make good her escape, but Ryan foiled her plan.
“Mike, you take our groceries up. I’m going to help Mrs. Benson with hers,” he said before she could get the door open.
“I can help Tess, Dad.”
“No, I’ll do it. I want to talk to her. In private,” he added pointedly when Mike opened his mouth to argue further.
The boy’s alarmed gaze skittered back and forth between his father and Tess. “About what? You’re not gonna hurt her feel—”
“That’s enough, Mike.” Ryan silenced him with a long look. “Take the groceries upstairs like I told you.”
“Oh, all right.” His young face set in a sulky pout, Mike hurtled out of the Cherokee, snatched four sacks out of the back and stomped off.
Tess and Ryan followed. She wanted to protest that she had no desire to talk to him about anything, but since he had come to her rescue she couldn’t very well do that. After hefting each sack for weight, he handed her the two lightest and gathered up the rest. Side by side, they climbed the stairs without speaking, their arms laden. With every step, her dread grew.
Nevertheless, Tess always faced things head-on. If she had a dose of nasty tasting medicine to take, she swallowed it down quickly and got it over with. The instant they set the sacks on her kitchen counter, she turned to Ryan.
“You wanted to talk to me, Mr. McCall?” Her face stiff, she stared over his right shoulder, not quite meeting his eyes.
Ryan studied her, the look on his granite face inscrutable. “I owe you an apology. I shouldn’t have said those things to you the other day.”
The statement caught her by surprise. An apology was the last thing she expected. “No, you shouldn’t have,” she agreed, slanting him a cool look. “So why did you?”
“At the time, I didn’t know you were pregnant. Mike failed to mention that fact. I only made that discovery when I saw you standing beside your car this morning.”
Tess stared at him, her jaw slack. “So? What possible difference does that make?”
“Look, Mrs. Benson—”
“No, you look. You don’t know me at all, Mr. McCall. Yet you were rude and insulting. Your nasty accusations were un-called for, and most certainly undeserved…whether or not I happen to be expecting.”
“Okay, okay. Maybe you’re right. I guess I did jump to some hasty conclusions,” he conceded grudgingly. “But women aren’t very high on my list these days.”
Tess’s eyes widened slightly. Now what did that mean? Before she could ask, Ryan went on.
“Still, I shouldn’t have said what I did. I apologize.”
Tess merely looked at him. It would have been a lot easier to accept his apology if he had not sounded as though he were making it under duress. The terse words were correct, but he spoke them as though they left a bitter taste in his mouth.
Tess sighed. Ungracious or not, it was an apology. She supposed she would have to accept it, if only for Mike’s sake. Besides, she hated strife. And it wasn’t good for the baby. Unless he moved, she was going to be living next door to this man for years, so the prudent thing was to make peace.
“Very well, Mr. McCall. Apology accepted. Now, if you’ll excuse me…”
Her lips curved in a stiff smile, and she made a subtle move to escort him to the door. Ryan McCall made her nervous. She hadn’t noticed before just how big and overpowering he was. He dominated her small kitchen—with his height and his broad, brawny shoulders, all that brooding, raw masculinity he exuded. He was big and dark and fierce looking, and she was suddenly more anxious than ever to get him out of her apartment.
“There is one other thing,” Ryan said, thwarting her plan.
“Oh?”
“Yes. It’s about Mike. He’s…uh…very taken with you.”
Unconsciously, Tess’s face softened at the mention of the boy, and her smile turned gentle. “I’m very fond of him, too. Mike’s a good kid.”
“He’s been upset these past few days. He thinks you don’t like him anymore.”
“Mr. McCall—”
“Look, I understand. You’ve been avoiding him because of what I said to you. But…well…” Ryan rubbed his nape and grimaced. For the first time, he looked ill at ease. “It’s been pointed out to me recently that Mike needs some feminine influence in his life. From his reaction to you, it’s difficult to argue with that. So…I just want you to know that I won’t object if you do want to befriend him. That is, if you don’t mind having him hanging around?”
“Of course I don’t mind. I enjoy Mike’s company. And he is a tremendous help to me.”
“Good. Then it’s settled.” He nodded brusquely and headed for the door, much to Tess’s relief, but before he reached it, he turned back. “Oh, I almost forgot. I’ll need your car keys.”
“My car keys? Whatever for?”
Ryan exhaled an impatient sigh. “So I can drive your car home after I put the tire back on.”
“Oh, no. Really, Mr. McCall. I can’t let you do that. I’ve been enough trouble already. I’ll—”
“It’s no big deal,” he said sharply, and Tess could tell she had annoyed him again. “Both tires should be repaired by now. I called my brother from the store. He’s going to drive me to pick them up. I’ll have your car back in less than an hour.”
With that settled, he stalked out. Tess locked the door behind him, then turned and leaned back against it, shaking her head, her expression bemused. What a strange man.
After that day, Mike became a frequent visitor. Though too young to be on the payroll, he often accompanied Ryan to construction sites and did odd jobs for his father and uncle. When Mike wasn’t with Ryan or hanging out with his buddies, he could usually be found at Tess’s apartment. On those evenings when his father worked late, she always made a point to invite the boy over for dinner.
Mike was boisterous and friendly as a puppy. And like a puppy, he was at that gangly stage where he seemed to be constantly tripping over his own feet. Filled with eagerness and boundless energy, Mike never walked; he loped. Nor did he merely sit down; he collapsed. As though he were held together by a single vital pin that someone had suddenly pulled, he would drop onto a chair or sofa like a sack of loose bones, sprawling out, long arms and legs draping over the furniture with all the rigidity of freshly cooked spaghetti.
Observing him, Tess often had to bite back a smile. She found his awkwardness endearing and viewed his guileless abandon with amused indulgence.
“If that kid ever grows into those feet of his and gets some meat on those bones he’s going to be one big son-of-a-gun someday,” Amanda commented on more than one occasion. “A big, good-looking son-of-a-gun. Just like his dad.”
Though it galled her, Tess had to agree. In spite of his perpetual fierce look, Ryan was a strikingly handsome man, and Mike was the very image of him. Unlike Ryan, though, Mike had a happy disposition and a lively sense of humor.
The boy had a penchant for telling jokes—bad jokes—the cornier and sillier the better. In Tess, who possessed a slightly skewed sense of humor herself, he found the perfect audience. He constantly barraged her and Amanda with awful puns and riddles and knock-knock jokes, and when a punch line drew groans, he clutched his sides and doubled over in a fit of laughter.
Of Ryan, Tess saw very little, which did not surprise her. Despite his apology, she did not delude herself that they had parted friends. At best, they had achieved a cautious truce.
Daily, she heard his comings and goings, and once she left the parking lot at the same time he entered it, but the only acknowledgment he gave her was a curt nod as they drove past one another. They didn’t exchange a word or come face-to-face until one evening about a week and a half later.
Tess and Amanda were almost halfway down the stairs when Ryan, his twin brother and Mike came pounding up them. All three McCall men carried white, grease-spotted sacks that reeked of onions, charbroiled burgers and fries.
“Hey, Tess! Amanda!” Mike called.
Ryan’s head jerked up, annoyance flashing in his eyes.
Reilly grinned. “Well, well. Good evening, pretty ladies.” His twinkling gaze slid warmly over Tess and zeroed in on Amanda. “This is a pleasant surprise.”
Ryan didn’t look pleased. His mouth flattened and he nodded. Tess had the distinct feeling that he would have kept going if there had been room on the stairs to get around them.
Her nerves fluttered. After ten days with no contact, to suddenly come face-to-face with the man was unsettling. She responded with a restrained, “Good evening.” Her polite smile encompassed both men briefly, then turned warm when her gaze focused on the boy.
“Hi, Mike. How did your game go?” All afternoon he had bounced around her apartment, keyed up and nervous as a caged cat, fretting over the baseball game scheduled for that evening. The outcome of the contest was vital to Mike and his teammates, since the winner would advance to the play-offs.
“We clobbered ’em, six to three,” he bragged, grinning from ear to ear.
“Congratulations. That’s terrific.”
“Hey! Way to go, sweetie,” Amanda drawled, ruffling his dark hair.
“Yeah, it was a great game. We were just about to celebrate with double cheeseburgers and shakes.” Reilly hefted the four sacks he carried and looked expectantly at Amanda. “We’d be delighted to have you lovely ladies join us.”
“Reilly.” Ryan practically growled his twin’s name, the low tone reverberating with warning.
Reilly ignored him. He leaned closer to Amanda and gave her a heavy-lidded look. “Whaddaya say?”
One of Amanda’s eyebrows arched. “No, thank you.”
The frosty look and clipped tone had annihilated more than one man in the past; Reilly merely grinned wider. “C’mon, Mandy. You know you want to.”
“Mr. McCall. My name is Amanda, not Mandy. And furthermore, I wouldn’t have dinner with you if you—”
“What Amanda is trying to say is we’re busy tonight,” Tess put in hurriedly. “We’re on our way to class, and if we don’t hurry we’ll be late as it is.”
“Class?”
“Yeah, you know, Uncle Reilly,” Mike piped up. “Lamaze class. Amanda is Tess’s coach.”
The statement drew a sharp look from Ryan. He opened his mouth to say something, then seemed to think better of it and said instead, “We won’t keep you, then.” He gave Mike a prod in the back. “Let’s go, son.”
“’Night, Tess. ’Night, Amanda,” Mike said as he and his father squeezed past them and continued up the stairs.
“Ryan’s right,” Reilly said. “We don’t want to make you late. We’ll just give you a rain check on dinner. You ladies have a nice class.” He winked and started after his brother and nephew, taking the stairs two at a time.
“Hey, wait a minute! We didn’t ask for a rain check!” Amanda yelled after him, but Reilly merely laughed and kept going.
Making a strangled sound, she whirled and stomped off down the stairs. Tess had the feeling that she had forgotten all about her.
“Amanda! Amanda, wait for me!” she called, hurrying after her as fast as her ungainly body would allow.
By the time she reached her friend’s car, Amanda was already behind the wheel, revving the engine. The instant Tess climbed inside and fastened her seat belt, Amanda rammed the floor shift into gear and sent the little red fireball of a car careening out of the parking lot.
“The gall of the man! Of all the overbearing, egotistical, Neanderthal jerks!” she spat, taking a corner with a squeal of tires.
“Amanda, for goodness sake. What are you getting so worked up about? Reilly merely asked you to dinner. It’s not as though he made an obscene suggestion.”
Amanda shot her a blistering look. “His words may have been harmless, but believe me, his thoughts were obscene. Take my word for it, that man wants a lot more than a meal and conversation. I’ve met his kind before. The cretin.”
Tess wanted to laugh, but she didn’t dare. She had never seen her friend in such a snit over a man before. Cool, unflappable and thoroughly sophisticated Amanda had been fending off passes and winding men around her little finger since she was a preschooler. She couldn’t remember a time when her friend hadn’t had a whole pack of males panting after her. Amanda never so much as turned a hair over any of them. She tolerated their fawning and salivating with a blasé, almost cynical amusement. Yet a few simple words and a teasing look from Reilly McCall had shattered her insouciance and sent her temper soaring.
Studying her friend’s set profile, Tess pursed her lips. What an interesting reaction.
Personally, she thought Reilly was charming. A bit of a flirt perhaps, and no doubt a rascal…but charming. It was just too bad that some of that charm and cheerfulness had not rubbed off on his dour twin.
Tess was sure that Ryan’s brother meant to pursue her friend. She also had a strong hunch that Reilly would not be as easily discouraged or manipulated as Amanda’s other admirers. One thing was certain; whether it was war or romance, whatever developed between those two would not be dull. Tess found that she was looking forward to witnessing the next meeting between them.
Amanda visited Tess frequently—more so than usual, now that Tess was in her last trimester—and Reilly was in and out of his brother’s apartment all the time. They were certain to run into each other again soon, Tess was sure.
The next day, however, Amanda called to tell her that she was being sent overseas to cover a fast-breaking story in one of the world’s hot spots. She was leaving within the hour.
“Oh, Tess, I’m so excited. This could be my big break. I’m sick to death of covering local holdups and fires and political rallies. I’ve just been waiting for something like this so I could show the bigwigs what I can do. And who knows, if I can get a really fresh angle on the story or ferret out an exclusive of some kind it might even lead to a network job.”
“I’m happy for you, Amanda.” Tess bit her lip, hoping that Amanda had not heard the catch in her voice.
Ever since they were children, Amanda had been driven by the need to prove herself, to succeed, to be the best at whatever she did. Beneath that sophisticated nonchalance was a burning ambition to make it to the top.
Amanda was very dear to Tess, and she wanted her to be happy, but the thought of her taking a network job in New York or Washington filled Tess with dread. So did the possibility of Amanda getting hurt.
“You will be careful, won’t you? Things are horribly unstable where you’re going. Promise me you won’t take any unnecessary chances.”
“Honey, taking chances comes with the territory. But I can handle myself. You know that. I’ll be fine. So don’t you fret about me. You hear? It’s not good for junior.”
“I won’t,” Tess lied, but Amanda must have heard the forlorn note in her voice, for she immediately sobered.
“Tess, honey, I’m really sorry about running out on you like this. But I’m sure this assignment won’t last long. Three…four days tops. Don’t worry. I’ll be back in plenty of time for Lamaze class next Thursday night.”
Three days passed with no word. Then four. By Wednesday Tess was almost frantic. Then that evening she received an overseas call.
“Tess, it’s me,” Amanda hollered over the static. “I’m sorry I didn’t make it back, but things are really popping over here.”
“Never mind me. Are you all right?”
“I’m fine. Great!” Even over the crackle and pop on the line and the disturbing shouts in the background, Tess could hear the excitement in Amanda’s voice. “Look, Tess, I’ve gotta run,” Amanda shouted over the worsening static. “I’ll be back…few days if all goes well. Should th…ituation get wor…be a week…more. If that hap…I’ll ca—”
The line went dead. Tess replaced the receiver with a heavy sigh and closed her eyes. Thank God, Amanda was all right.
She collapsed on the sofa, her relief so great it was some time before it occurred to her that she was now without a Lamaze coach.
She worried over the problem for a while before finally accepting that there was only one thing to do. The instructor had stressed the importance of attending class during these last months. Tess had no family and no other friend with whom she felt comfortable enough to ask them to take over as her coach. She would just have to go alone.
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