Читать книгу The Paternity Factor - Caroline Cross - Страница 10

Three

When Shane walked in the door after work Friday night, Jessy was curled up on the family room couch, reading a magazine.

She sat upright as he came into the room. Pushing her glossy mane of golden brown hair off her face, she sent him her usual friendly smile. “Hi.”

He tossed his keys onto the counter and loosened his tie with a jerk. “Hi, yourself.”

He realized he sounded surly, but he didn’t particularly care. The whole damn day had been horrible. He’d overslept and missed his morning run. The rain that had threatened for two days had commenced at exactly the same time he’d had a tire blow out on the freeway. When he finally arrived at the office, damp, disheveled and late for an important meeting, he’d learned that Grace, his secretary for the past three years, had fallen in the shower and broken both arms. Topping things off, a shipment meant for Minnesota had gone to Missouri, one of his major suppliers was having financial problems and the truckers’ union was making noise about a possible strike.

Now here he was, home at last Or at least, he thought it was his home, he amended, taking a swift look around. In the time since he’d left that morning, it appeared he’d acquired an oversize rocker-recliner, several occasional tables, a pair of table lamps and a richly patterned Persian rug for his family room, plus a sleek dinette set that now occupied a space next to the windows.

Following his gaze, Jessy said mildly, “The furniture came.”

“Yeah. I noticed.” He was in no mood for small talk. It was after eight, he had indigestion from the too-spicy pizza he’d eaten for dinner and he was dead-dog tired. All he wanted was to be left alone, to have a little quiet time to get his head together before the whole damn thing started all over again in the morning. Not that he expected her to care.

“You’re home late.” She drew up her legs and looped her arms around them.

“Yeah.” He’d gone by the hospital to take Grace some flowers and wound up spending more than an hour assuring her she didn’t have to worry about her job, the hospital bill, or anything else. “I guess I should have called.”

“No problem,” she said easily. “Have you had dinner?”

“Yeah.” He picked up the mail and began to sort through it.

She was silent a moment. “Tough day?”

“You could say that.”

“I’m sorry. It must be the rain. Chloe had a bad one, too, poor little thing. It wore her out. She was out like a light by seven-thirty.”

He set down the mail, which except for an invitation to one of his best customer’s wedding was mostly flyers and bills, and turned to face her. “Well, I’m not far behind her. I’m going to go for a short run, then turn in, okay?”

It wasn’t a question so much as a declaration of his need for space, but she nodded anyway, her eyes very blue in her tranquil face. “Fine by me. I’m going to finish this article and then watch a movie. Enjoy your run.” That said, she curled up, propped her head on one hand and went back to her magazine.

Shane remained where he was for a second, feeling off-kilter and not liking it. Turning on his heel, he started out of the room, only to grind to a halt halfway across the floor. Exasperated with himself, he slowly retraced his steps. “Listen,” he said without preamble, certain that the next few minutes were going to be about as pleasant as the rest of his day. “I almost forgot. I have to fly to Dallas tomorrow. One of my suppliers is having some cash flow problems. Can you handle things with Chloe?”

Jessy looked up, studied his face for all of two seconds and said, “Sure. Don’t worry about it.” She resumed reading.

He stared at her finely drawn profile. That was it? No muss, no fuss, no major upset? “Okay then,” he said, feeling inexplicably irritated.

She nodded but didn’t look up, and after a moment he turned and left the room, his annoyance growing with every step. He stopped briefly to look in on Chloe—the kid was flat on her back and snoring noisily—then changed out of his suit and into some sweats, and went for his run.

It was still light out, so he started out on the wide, well-maintained path that circled the lake. Later, he’d take one of the many offshoots and come back along the road to the house, but for now the wide vista of silvery water suited his mood.

For the first mile or two he tried not to think. He concentrated instead on the even ebb and flow of his breathing, the cool slide of the rain against his skin, the firm feel of the running path beneath his sneakered feet.

At some point, however, he began to brood about his exchange with Jessy. What was her problem, anyway? Why did she have to be so damn accommodating? It wasn’t normal—not for a female. She was so rational, so reasonable, so calm and sensible. She acted just like a guy.

Only she wasn’t a guy, he reminded himself impatiently. She was Jessy, the motherless little buddy he’d practically adopted back in high school. And for all her lack of pretension, her penchant for dressing in T-shirts and shorts, for going without makeup and wearing her hair simply, there had always been a kindness about her, a sensitivity to other people’s feelings, that was markedly feminine. So, too, was the way she’d always looked up to him, treating him as if he were some sort of paragon or, better yet, her own personal knight in shining armor who could do no wrong.

Shane grimaced. Now, that was a laugh. A real man wouldn’t care that the child he loved wasn’t truly his. He’d be able to get past his wife’s betrayal, to get on with his life instead of merely going through the motions—

He clamped down on his thoughts, his stomach twisting with the familiar self-disgust. He’d been over this ground so often he knew every futile twist and turn, every useless bump and bend. No matter how often he considered it, or how much he wished things were different, that he could be different, it changed nothing.

Nor did it help to address the situation with Jessy. As much as he hated to admit it, all the time he’d been telling himself she’d be good for Chloe, part of him had nevertheless been dreading the moment when she finally saw him for the sorry son of a bitch he really was.

Yet so far—despite his less-than-admirable demeanor—she’ d been nothing but warm and understanding. And she’d saved him a monumental hassle tonight when she’d agreed to stay with Chloe while he went to Dallas. Without her, he’d be back at the house calling childcare agencies, not out in the fresh air running off the day’s worries.

He considered the rest of the week. He had to concede that because of her he’d been able to come and go as he liked, instead of juggling sitters. And she was certainly easier to deal with than his mother, who had recently started nagging him about the way he was neglecting her granddaughter. Best of all, it seemed that he could trust Jess not to demand more than he was able to give.

He reluctantly conceded he ought to be grateful for her presence. But had he shown even the slightest appreciation? Hell no. Instead, ever since she’d moved in, he’d been expecting her to act like Marissa. He’d been waiting for her to demand his attention, to complain that he was never home, to sulk or pout or cry.

But she hadn’t—for which he was damn grateful.

He sighed. Under the circumstances, he supposed it wouldn’t kill him to act a little more civil. He could still keep his distance. It didn’t mean he had to spend any time with her or let down his guard.

For some reason, the decision lifted his spirits. He picked up his pace, pounding out the next few hundred yards, then slowed as he approached the house. By the time he’d showered and thrown on a T-shirt and jeans, he felt nominally better.

It wasn’t until he came down the hall to put his dirty clothes in the utility room that he heard the opening theme from Star Wars. Surprised, he stopped in the doorway, sure he must be mistaken until he glanced across the room and saw the opening credits unrolling on the TV screen. He was swept by a wave of nostalgia; the George Lucas saga had been his absolute favorite as a teenager.

He wasn’t sure how long he stood there before he admitted he was hooked. He edged into the room and watched for a while longer, then set down his laundry, walked over and finally sat gingerly down in his new recliner. He felt Jessy glance over at him briefly, but she didn’t say anything.

During a lull in the action, he cleared his throat. “Jess?”

“Hmm?”

“Thanks for staying with Chloe this weekend.”

It was a moment before she spoke. “No problem. You want some popcorn?”

“Sure.”

As she passed him the bowl and he realized that was the end of it, something inside of him that had been wound tight began to uncoil just a little.

“Oh, I almost forgot,” she said suddenly. “Bailey called. He said he’d give you a call in the office next week.”

“Yeah?” Although not as close as they’d once been, he and Jessy’s brother still talked periodically. In addition to their friendship, Bailey had an endorsement contract with TopLine, thanks to his status as one of the NFL’s premier quarterbacks. As usual for this time of year, he was at summer camp with the rest of the Florida Falcons. “How’s he holding up?”

Jessy’s teeth flashed briefly in the dim light. “He sounded beat. He says the younger players have been giving him a pretty hard time. I think he finally means it about this being his last season.”

“Maybe.” Shane put up the recliner’s foot rest and leaned back. “Although what he’s going to do afterward...” His voice trailed off as his gaze met Jessy’s. There was no need to say more, since they both knew how tied to football Bailey’s identity was—and how difficult it was going to be for him when he finally gave it up.

“He’ll be all right,” Jessy said firmly. Her face suddenly lit with a quick, impish grin. “Everyone has to grow up sometime. Even Bailey.”

To his surprise, Shane started to smile back, then abruptly caught himself. He forced himself to speak coolly. “Yeah, I suppose.” After all, he didn’t want to give her the wrong impression; he might be glad for her help with Chloe, appreciative of her easy-going manner, even impressed with her insight when it came to Bailey, but that was it.

Just as he was no longer the person she remembered, their youthful camaraderie was also over, and the sooner she accepted that, the better off they’d both be.

Yet even as he turned his attention to the movie and forced himself to concentrate on a galaxy far, far away, he couldn’t stop the errant thought that if he had to have somebody around, he could have done a whole lot worse than Jessy Ross.

“Dada!”

Shane lifted his suitcase out of the Explorer’s trunk. Setting it on the driveway next to his briefcase, he twisted around at the sound of Chloe’s voice, surprised to see her emerge from the jogging path that led to the lake. She raced forward, her chubby little legs churning, and launched herself at him.

Short of letting her crash to the ground, he had no choice but to sweep her up and into his arms. Yet he’d no more lifted her up than he found he had a whole new problem as she promptly wrapped her arms around his neck in a stranglehold. “Hey, Chlo, take it easy,” he said, his voice muffled against her silky head.

Her response was to press a noisy kiss to his ear. He tensed, uncomfortable with the display of affection, only to have his attention diverted as a familiar feminine voice said wryly, “I think she missed you.”

He looked up and found Jessy standing at the edge of the pathway. For some reason, the sight of her gently amused face seemed to lessen the strain of the moment. “Yeah, I guess.”

She resumed walking, her long legs eating up the handful of yards between them as she crossed the narrow strip of lawn. Dressed in a pair of white shorts and a cocoa-colored tank top that brought out the gold tones in her hair and skin, she looked strong and healthy and vibrant. “Welcome home.”

“Thanks.”

“How did it go?”

He shrugged. “Okay.” He gave Chloe a cursory pat, then reached up and unsuccessfully tried to unpeel her arms from his neck. Swallowing a sigh, he settled on shifting her sideways, awkwardly holding her in the curve of one arm so he could reach down and grab his suitcase with the other.

When he straightened, he found Jessy watching him, her expression thoughtful. Catching him by surprise, she leaned close and laid her hand gently on Chloe’s back. “Hey, sweetie. Why don’t you show Daddy what you have?”

For a few seconds the toddler didn’t react Then, to his relief, she suddenly raised her head and let loose of his neck. Leaning back, she unexpectedly held up a water-filled plastic bag she had clutched in one small hand. “Isa goadpish, Dada,” she said.

He glanced from the bag, where a skinny little orange fish was doing its best to navigate the swirling, Chloeinduced currents, to her earnest little face and back again. “Nice.”

She looked excessively pleased. “Wudy gibbed it to me. Wudy has lotsa goadpishes.”

He looked inquiringly over at Jessy.

“Rudy Markovich,” she clarified, leaning over and picking up his briefcase. She started toward the front door and it seemed the most natural thing in the world to fall into step beside her. “He lives on the point—the big gray Colonial with the flag. He’s retired and into fish. Mostly tropical, but he also has a goldfish pond.”

He considered the healthy flush in her smooth cheeks. “I take it you guys have been for a walk?”

“That’s right.”

Leave it to Jessy to go for a stroll and wind up making a friend. With his luck, she’d be on a first-name basis with the entire neighborhood by the end of the summer, ruining any chance of totally reclaiming his privacy once she was gone.

Yet as he glanced down at Chloe’s glowing face, he had to admit his irritation suddenly seemed petty. Besides, what could he do? Ask Jessy to stay in the house with the blinds closed?

He could imagine her reaction to that.

With a caustic twist to his mouth, he murmured his thanks as she opened the door for him and they proceeded inside, continuing on into the living area after he’d set his suitcase in the hall.

He paused in the doorway, struck by how different the room looked. Part of it was due to the new furniture, no doubt. But there was also no denying that Jessy’s presence had brought an infusion of life and color to the place.

A fuzzy pink pastel baby blanket was draped over the back of the couch; a jumble of red, blue and green blocks were piled next to the entertainment center, and there was a pair of women’s sandals lying in front of a sliding glass door. There were three brilliantly hued fingerpaintings taped to the refrigerator; a half-dozen pillows in rainbow colors piled across one end of the couch, and a child’s yellow plastic pail sat on one end of the breakfast bar, filled to overflowing with a bouquet of summer flowers in crimson, maroon and magenta.

The lived-in look didn’t end there, either. Out on his formerly pristine deck, there was now a pair of patio chairs with electric blue cushions, a matching chaise longue and a bright turquoise wading pool. A trio of rubber ducks bobbed on the pool’s shallow surface, as did a hot pink beach ball, while a pair of red-and-white beach towels that had been tossed over the rail gently flapped in the breeze.

It looked like a home. And it smelled like one, too, thanks to the rich, tantalizing scent of roast beef that was wafting from the oven. Against his better judgment, he heard himself say, “Something smells good.”

Jessy gave a dismissive little shrug. “Pot roast.”

He glanced at her sharply. Like waffles and Star Wars, pot roast was one of his favorites and he was struck by the sudden thought that she was deliberately trying to please him. For an instant he felt uneasy, wondering what she wanted from him, and then he caught himself. After all, this was Jessy—not Marissa.

She headed into the kitchen. “So, were you able to get things straightened out with your supplier?”

“Yeah.” He turned to keep her in sight. “Things are still shaky, but we managed to come up with some interim financing.”

“That’s good.” She began to search through the cupboards. Finally finding what she wanted, she went up on tiptoe and lifted down a heavy glass bowl. He frowned as he found himself thinking that she wasn’t quite as skinny as he remembered.

She started toward the sink, only to hesitate as she glanced over and found him staring at her. “Shane? Is something wrong?”

He jerked his gaze from her fanny to her face. What the hell was wrong with him? he wondered impatiently. “No. No, I just—whers’d that come from?” Hoping he didn’t sound as lame as he felt, he indicated the bowl.

“Oh. It’s mine.” She turned on the tap and rinsed it out, then filled it with water and set it on the counter. “Chloe, sweetie, why don’t you come with me—” she walked around the end of the counter to where he stood and held out her arms “—and we’ll put your fishie in his new home.”

“’Kay.”

She leaned in and he handed her the toddler. For a moment before the transfer was complete, he could feel the soft pressure of her hand as it grazed his chest, and smell her light scent, a pleasing combination of soap and carnations.

She straightened and walked away. He stared after her. For a few disconcerting seconds there, he could have sworn he’d felt something that bore an alarming resemblance to...awareness.

Which was absolutely ridiculous. After all, this was Jessy he was talking about. Jessy, who was practically one of the guys, whom he’d known since she was nine, who—although her effort was misguided—was just trying to make his life a little easier by being here.

He must be more tired than he’d thought, he decided. Either that or he was just plain mistaken, and had simply confused a belated appreciation for her warmth and kindness toward Chloe for something more elemental.

Yeah. That must be it. Because thanks to what Marissa had done, he didn’t want to be aware of anybody. And even if he changed his mind in the future, the last person he’d consider would be Jess, who was too young and too naive to be expected to cope with the kind of baggage he carried.

At the counter, she helped Chloe lay the bag on the water, floating the fish the way that was proper. “There. Mr. Fish should be ready to go in the water after dinner.” She glanced over at him. “Have you eaten?”

“No.”

“Good. Right after I clean up a certain person—” she tapped Chloe on her button nose “—I’ll fix the salad and then we’ll eat.”

He shook his head. “You two go ahead. I’m going to shower and change first.” Mistaken or not, he saw no reason to push it.

“No problem,” she said pleasantly. “We’ll wait. The truth is, I’d really appreciate the company. As much as I like the munchkin here—” she glanced affectionately at Chloe, then flashed him an apologetic smile “—I’ve had about all the baby talk at meals I can handle. I’d really like to hear about what’s going on in the outside world.”

He stared at her. Despite her light tone, there was the slightest note of strain in her face and he suddenly felt ashamed. Here she’d taken care of Chloe for nine days without a word of complaint, and he was too selfish to even stick around for a meal. “All right. Thanks. I won’t be long.” He headed for the hall.

“Hey, Shane?”

“What?”

“I’m glad you’re home.”

Remembering the vow he’d made four days ago to try to cut her some slack, he said gruffly, “Yeah. So am I.”

It wasn’t the truth, of course.

Yet for the first time in a long time, it wasn’t quite a lie, either.