Читать книгу Valentine's Secret Child - Christine Rimmer - Страница 8

Chapter Three

Mitch got to the restaurant early. He’d called ahead and reserved a quiet corner table, but he wanted time to check it out personally before Kelly arrived, to make sure it was everything the guy who took his reservation had promised.

The place was nice. Kind of cozy. With an inviting bar, dimly lit, on one side, and a quiet dining room on the other. This time of year, the famous patio area was closed. But Mitch wasn’t complaining. The table he’d reserved was just as he’d hoped, tucked away in a corner under a muted overhead light. On the snowy-white linen tablecloth, there was a curvy candle, of clear glass, the kind that burned oil. And a white magnolia blossom floated in a square crystal vase.

“Thank you. It’s just right,” he told the host as he pressed a fifty into the man’s palm. He took the chair with a clear view of the entrance and ordered Tanqueray on the rocks. When the drink came, he sipped it slowly and suppressed an ironic smile.

Crystal, his friend in L.A. who insisted on telling people he was her brother, would have a good laugh on him if she were here.

Good thing she wasn’t—not only because she knew him too damn well and never had a problem blabbing what she knew, but because he desperately wanted Kelly to himself.

Hell. Desperately?

He was bad off here, no doubt about it. A few minutes with Kelly again after a decade, and she was all he could think about. He was head over heels and falling fast.

All over again.

Was he ready for this?

As if he knew.

The host reappeared in the arch at the entrance, with Kelly right behind him.

The sight of her hit him like a punch to the gut. Her soft brown hair was chin-length now. The cut brought out her blue eyes and her mouth like a red bow. There had always been something…retro about her. He could picture her living way back in the Roaring Twenties, with a long string of pearls and a hip flask, dancing the Charleston ’til dawn. She wore a gray skirt that clung to her hips and flared at the hem. And a red blouse under a short jacket. She carried her coat over her arm.

She spotted him. Their glances held as she came toward him. He saw excitement in her eyes, an eagerness to match his own. That ripe bud of a mouth trembled on a smile. Was she nervous?

If she was, he understood. He was nervous, too.

He rose as the host pulled out her chair. They sat in unison. Then, when the host left, she got up and draped her coat behind her.

She asked for a glass of white wine and the waiter returned with it in no time.

And at last, they were left alone.

She smiled at him, the light from the candle glowing gold in her eyes. “So how did the book signing go?”

“I sold a lot of books and talked until my throat hurt. I think you could call it a success.”

“Congratulations.”

He shrugged. “I only hope the rest of the tour goes as well.”

“And tomorrow you leave for…?”

“Seattle. From there, I move east. Minneapolis. Chicago. New York. Then London, Paris, Stockholm and Berlin. And then back here to the States, to Dallas and L.A.”

“Impressive.”

“Well, the publicist I hired to set up the tour seems to think so. And I figure it can only help to get the word out.”

“How long will all that take?”

“Three weeks. I’ll be ready for a long rest by the time I get home.”

“And home is…?”

“Mostly Los Angeles at this point. Though FirstJob.com is headquartered in Dallas, so I spend several weeks out of the year there.”

“Wow,” she said. “I can’t get over all this. You really have come a long, long way.”

He arched a brow. “From the Summer Breeze Mobile Home Park, you mean?”

She raised her wineglass. “Here’s to you, Mitch.” He touched his glass to hers and they drank.

“Now,” he said, “about you…”

Something happened in her eyes. A certain…apprehensiveness. So. She had her secrets. He wanted to know them. Damned if he didn’t want to know everything about her, to learn all that had happened to her in the decade since he’d lost her.

She asked, “What about me?”

“Tell me everything.”

“Got ten years?”

“All right, all right. I guess I’ll have to settle for the condensed version.”

“Let’s see. Where to begin? I’m the director of the Sacramento County Family Crisis Center.”

“Sounds like an important job.”

“Well, the service the center provides is important, that’s for sure.”

“Nonprofit, right?”

She laughed. He’d pay millions for that, just to listen to that laugh on a regular basis. Say, daily—morning, noon and at least twenty times a night. “Spoken like a true capitalist,” she said.

“It wasn’t a criticism.”

“Well, good. And yes. We’re nonprofit. We offer family counseling and a children’s shelter for kids who need a place to go, temporarily, when there’s a big problem.” There was a proud gleam in her eyes.

“You believe in the work you do.”

“I do.”

“And you enjoy it.”

“Yes.” She ran a finger around the rim of her wineglass and slanted him a glance. “Mitch, I…” She seemed not to know how to finish.

He waited for her to go on. When she didn’t, he asked, “How’s your mom?”

She groaned and tipped her head back. “Oh, God. Now, there’s a story…” She leaned toward him. “You remember the famous Bravo Baby, kidnapped for a fortune in diamonds? The ransom was paid, but the baby was never returned to the parents.”

“Of course, I remember.” He reminded her, “You told me about him, back when we were together….”

“That’s right. I did, didn’t I? But ten years ago, nobody knew that the baby had lived, or who the kidnapper really was. I used to imagine I might be related to them, to that rich family named Bravo from Bel Air. I used to fantasize that I would go down there and knock on the door of their beautiful mansion. They’d know instantly that I was part of the family. They would want me to live with them, so I’d move into the mansion. I’d have a whole wing to myself….”

He couldn’t get enough of just looking at her. Her skin had a tempting glow. He ached to reach across the table and brush her cheek with the side of his hand. Would her eyes go soft, welcoming his touch?

He asked, “You always wanted that, didn’t you? A family of your own?”

“I did.”

Ten years ago, he’d wanted to be her family. He’d wanted to be all she’d ever need. He’d demanded to be the center of her world. And because of that, he’d lost her.

He said, “It was five or six years ago, wasn’t it, that they found out the Bravo Baby’s kidnapper had been his own uncle? I remember reading about it.” It was a major story, all over the wire services and the talk shows. The notorious Blake Bravo, who had previously been declared dead in an apartment fire, had stolen his own brother’s baby and lived for more than thirty years with no one knowing that he was very much alive the whole time. “He actually is dead now, right?”

“Yes. He’s dead.”

About then, Mitch realized where this story was headed. “Your own dad, the one you never met. His name was—”

“Blake. Yes. The Blake Bravo was my father. The Bravo Baby—all grown up now and living in Oklahoma City—is my cousin. And the famous Bravo Billionaire in his Bel Air mansion? He’s my cousin, too. I was related to my fantasy family the whole time. Also, as it turns out, Tanner and I have half siblings all over the country. Beyond being a kidnapper and other scary things, my father was a polygamist. He married a lot of women.

“He would marry them and get them pregnant and then abandon them. If he did return, it was only long enough to father yet another baby. Oh. And that reminds me. Tanner and I have a sister, too—a full sister. My mother had a third child neither of us ever knew about. My sister is a couple of years younger than me. Her name is Hayley. She’s married, with a new baby. Lives in Seattle.”

“Slow down a minute. You’re telling me that your mother had three kids and put them all in foster care….”

“And told each of us that us we were the only one. Yes.”

Mitch had met Lia Bravo a couple of times back in the day. A thin, quiet woman with a faraway look in her eye. “She never seemed strong, your mother.”

“She wasn’t. She had no education to speak of and she had trouble keeping a job. She couldn’t take care of us, and yet she would never agree to sign the papers so we could be adopted and maybe find new families for ourselves—and, as I said, she lied to us and never told us we had siblings. I don’t know what drove her to do the things she did. I’ll probably never know.”

“What drove her? Past tense?”

“She died last May. That’s how we found Hayley. We met her when we all just happened to show up in Mom’s hospital room at the same time.”

“Damn. That must have been quite a surprise.”

“Oh, yeah. I look back and realize it would have been the same with Tanner and me, that we probably wouldn’t have found each other until last year. We were lucky because Tanner vaguely remembered that there had been a baby when Mom put him in the system. Ten years ago, he had to practically blackmail her to get her to admit that yes, he did have a sister. One sister. She never did cop to Hayley’s existence. So another decade went by before we found her.”

He asked carefully, “You and Tanner are still close, then?”

“Very.” Her smooth brow creased. “You don’t still hate him, do you?”

Before he could answer, the waiter appeared. They took a few minutes to look at the menu and order.

Then they were alone again. And Kelly was watching him.

Time to face the music. From the moment he’d seen her the night before, standing there on the edge of that stage, he’d known he would find a way to be with her again—and that he would need to make amends.

He said, “I was way out of line. An idiot, ten years ago. Believe me, Kelly. I know that now. You heard me last night. It’s a major point in my book and my lectures that ultimatums just don’t work, but I made you choose between me and your newfound brother. All I can say is, I was eighteen and crazy in love with you and sure I would lose you—which, as it turned out, I did. Talk about a self-fulfilling prophecy. It was stupid. And self-defeating. And wrong.”

Now her eyes were as soft as a summer sky. “So I left you—and then you lost your mom, too.”

“Pneumonia. At least it was quick. Sometimes I think she was relieved to go. She was never the same since we lost Deirdre—and my dad.” Deirdre had been two years his junior. She’d died at the age of nine, hit by a drunk driver while she rode her new bike home from a friend’s house down the street. His father couldn’t stand the loss of his adored daughter and deserted them soon after. His mom had done her best, but they couldn’t afford the house. She’d spent her remaining years in a cramped, single-wide trailer.

“Deirdre,” Kelly softly whispered. Her eyes welled with sudden tears.

He did reach across the table then. “Hey.” She let him take her hand. Damn, it felt good, just touching her. Her palm was soft and cool. “You would always cry, remember, whenever I talked about DeDe?”

She swallowed, nodded. “I…I knew you loved her very much. And nobody should die that young. It’s just…so sad.”

Even now, he could close his eyes and see her, his lost little sister. She would look up at him through those wide-set hazel eyes, trusting and proud to have him as her own big brother. “She was the greatest little kid. Nothing got her down, you know?”

Kelly glanced away. She swallowed again. “Mitch, I…”

“What? What’s the matter? Whatever it is, just say it. I can take it, I promise you.”

“Yes. I…well, I…”

The waiter arrived with their appetizers.

Kelly gently pulled her hand from his so the waiter could serve them. He asked if they wanted refills on their drinks. When they both passed, he left them.

“Now,” Mitch said, “what is it you keep trying to tell me?”

“It’s only that I…” she picked up her fork “…I want you to know that I did come back looking for you, a couple of months after I left….”

He shook his head. “Not a trace, huh?”

“No. The trailer had strangers living in it. They knew nothing about you. The guy in the park office told me about your mom and said he had no idea where you went. You’d left no forwarding address.”

“I had no forwarding address. And we were renting the trailer. The weekly payment came due. I didn’t have it. I realized I didn’t want to be there, anyway. So I took what I could fit in my backpack and I hit the road.”

“And you went…?”

“To Dallas. By way of L.A. and Las Vegas and Phoenix. I lived on the streets for about a year.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry….”

“Why? It wasn’t your fault. And living on the streets can be damn instructive—and you know what?”

“Hmm?”

“We’ve got this one evening. And then I’m on a plane tomorrow. Here we are again, after all these years. It’s like magic. And I don’t want to waste another minute of tonight talking about all the grim stuff we’ve been through since we were last together.”

Another of those beautiful smiles trembled across her mouth. “Oh, Michael.”

“Mitch,” he corrected.

She sighed. “Mitch.” She sent him a teasing look. “I like your attitude, Mitch.”

“Well, I’ve been working on it for the past decade or so. It’s good to know you see improvement.”

“Oh, I do.” She glowed at him. “I truly do. But as for the grim stuff, well, it’s what made us who we are, right?”

“That’s true.”

She sipped the last of her wine. He had the feeling she was about to reveal something important, one of those secrets he couldn’t wait for her to share with him, something about her life now that she found difficult to speak of. But then she only asked him more about himself.

“Your name. Why the change?”

He teased, “What? You don’t like the name ‘Mitch’?”

“I do like it. It just seems like a big step, I guess.”

“People do change their names. It’s more common than you might think.”

“I’m not asking about ‘people.’ I want to know why you changed your name.”

“I wanted to be…someone else. And now I am.”

“But you are still Michael. Deep down. No matter how much you change.”

He reached out. And so did she. Her fingers met his in the middle of the table, by the white magnolia blossom, in the candle’s golden glow. Met. And held.

He said, “I’m not Michael. Not anymore. I’m someone different. Someone named Mitch. And believe me, I like myself as Mitch a whole lot better than I ever liked Michael.”

“When did you change it?”

“When I was nineteen.”

“A year after…”

“We broke up. Yes. By then I’d created my first video game and I was working on the second one. I had a little money, at last. I’d rented an apartment. It seemed like total luxury to me. To sleep in a bed, to finally stop wondering where the next meal was coming from.”

“That must have been a great feeling.”

“Clean sheets and food in my stomach. Oh, yeah.”

She laughed again. “Actually, I meant how you came from nothing, and within a year you found success.”

“Well, I still had a long way to go. But things were definitely looking up.”

He’d still missed her like hell back then. It was an ache that never completely left him. But time had been kind and dulled the pain more year by year. He’d thought himself over her the past couple of years….

And then, last night, there she was, standing off to the side, her smile nervous and hopeful.

Since then, he couldn’t stop thinking about her.

Again, she pulled her hand back. She picked up her fork and went to work on her asparagus salad. He ate some of his stuffed portobello mushroom appetizer. They were quiet for a few minutes. The food was good and the silence held promise it seemed to him.

Eventually, she asked, “Why Mitch Valentine?”

“Well, it starts with the same letters as my given name, so it was a change, which I wanted, but at the same time, it felt comfortable, you know? It felt… right. Familiar.”

“But why Valentine?”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know. It’s not a name I can picture you choosing, I guess. It’s a little too…” She couldn’t find the right word.

He gave her some help. “Soft? Girly? Romantic? Imaginative? Kelly. I’m hurt. You don’t think I’m imaginative…?”

She groaned. “Excuse me while I remove my foot from my mouth—and actually, I like it. It just surprises me you chose it, that’s all.”

“I actually did have a few reasons for making the choice. I’d already chosen Mitch some time before. As I said, I wanted a last name that started with a V, like Vakulic. And it was Valentine’s Day when I went to see the lawyer about making the change. I thought, hell. Valentine. Vakulic. Same first two letters, just like Mitch and Michael. And I thought Valentine sounded like the name of somebody famous. I liked that. A lot.”

She sat back in her chair. “So. That was nine years ago today….”

“That’s right, now you mention it.”

They shared a look. She broke the eye contact first. “Mitch,” she said softly. Her mouth kept tempting him.

He wanted to kiss it. “I like it when you say my name.”

There was urgency in those blue eyes. And something else. Something…what? Worried? Afraid? “Mitch, I…”

“What? Say it. Tell me.”

She shook her head—and then she slid her napkin in beside her plate. “Be right back.” And she got up and headed toward the arch that led to the ladies’ room.

He watched her go, admiring the slim, softly curving shape of her, thinking that he was probably pushing too fast, promising himself he’d slow it down a little when she returned, smiling wryly as he realized there was no way he would keep that promise.

The ladies’ room was blessedly empty. An orchid in a black pot graced the white marble sink counter. Beside the elegant flower a stack of neatly folded linen towels waited. So much nicer than ordinary paper ones.

Kelly braced her hands on the rim of the sink and leaned in toward the mirror. “You will tell him,” she commanded in a whisper, glaring at her own image. “You will go back out there and you will tell him that he has a daughter and you will do it the minute your butt hits that chair.”

She straightened. With slow deliberation, she smoothed her hair and then her skirt. She washed her hands and dried them on one of those beautiful cloth towels.

And then she drew her shoulders back and turned for the door.

At their table, the waiter was just setting down the main course. He slid over behind her and held her chair. She thanked him, he nodded and left them.

She spread her napkin on her lap again. Tell him, tell him, tell him. “This looks good…” She glanced up, into those amazing dark hazel eyes.

And she was lost. Finished. She just couldn’t do it.

He was there, across from her, after all these years. And somehow the boy she had loved had become the kind of man she dreamed about.

It was…a fantasy, this evening. Her fantasy. Just the two of them, by candlelight, sharing a lovely meal and good conversation.

Each glance was electric. And when he reached out and touched her hand…

Just a few more minutes. Just a little while longer.

She would tell him before they left the restaurant, before the night was over. But as soon as she did it, everything would change.

The fantasy would end. He would probably be angry. He would definitely be stunned. The hazy, soft magic between them would be blasted away.

Yes, she knew that every minute she kept the truth from him made her all the more culpable. Until last night, when she found him again, she was innocent of wrongdoing.

She’d tried to find him and failed, but she had tried. She’d had no thought, ever, of hiding the truth from him.

Now, though, this evening, as she sat here across from him, exchanged warm glances with him, told him of her life and urged him to tell her of his…

Now she was a cheater. A liar. Ultimately culpable.

She knew it.

And still, she took her fantasy—stole it, really. She had her sweet, tender, romantic lie of an evening.

Because he drew her. Powerfully.

Because she wanted him.

Because she’d never felt like this with anyone, except Michael. And now, here he was, the Michael she’d lost all those years ago, reincarnated into an amazing man named Mitch Valentine.

They had coffee, after the entrée. And they shared a crème brûlée. The vanilla bean custard was warm, sweet silk in her mouth, and she looked across the table and thought of kissing him.

A long kiss. Slow and deep and lazy—and wet. A kiss that would be crème brûlée-sweet.

The look in those eyes of his told her he was thinking along similar lines.

By then, her evilness knew no bounds. She found herself imagining what it might be like to spend a whole night with him. They could go to his hotel, make love for hours on the white, white sheets of a huge hotel bed. She just knew it would be incredible.

And, of course, it was also impossible. First, she’d have to sneak off somewhere so Mitch wouldn’t know what she was up to when she called Tanner.

She’d head for the restroom again, probably. By the marble sink with its linen towels and graceful orchid, she would auto-dial her brother. She would tell him that she’d decided to spend the rest of the night behaving inappropriately with the new, improved version of her high-school sweetheart. Would Tanner mind staying over ’til morning?

Tanner would ask the million-dollar question: Had she told Mitch yet that he was a dad?

She would have to say no, she hadn’t. Not yet.

Oh, that would go over excellently. But just say, for argument’s sake, that after Tanner finished telling her how badly she was handling this, he agreed to stay over and watch DeDe for the night….

Then what?

She’d have a whole night with Mitch. She’d have her fantasy come true.

Too bad about the next morning. By then, she would have run out of chances to put off the moment of truth. She would end up telling him about DeDe in the harsh light of the morning after, before he headed for the airport to board a plane.

How could he see that as anything but a gross and hideous betrayal?

Uh-uh. The evening was drawing to a close. They would not be going to his hotel together. The beautiful, sexy, romantic time was ending here. The fantasy was over before it ever had a chance to really begin. She did accept that.

And she needed to tell him about DeDe now, before they left the restaurant. She knew that. She did.

But still, she said nothing.

He paid the check. She thanked him. They rose. He helped her with her coat and shrugged into his own. She felt his hand at the small of her back, a tiny gesture of care and consideration, one that echoed temptingly of possessiveness.

She wished he would keep his hand right there forever….

He guided her toward the door. She looked up at him and he smiled into her eyes and every atom in her body heated and bounced. A happy dance of the most elemental variety. She yearned for his kiss, for his hands on her bare flesh.

The host beamed and wished them a good evening. They nodded and thanked him. Mitch pushed the door open and they were out on the sidewalk in the cold night air.

It was quiet on the street, a weeknight in midtown. Another couple strolled by, arms wrapped around each other.

Mitch turned her to face him, at the same time as he pulled her a little closer to the building, into the shadows, out of the way of any more strolling pedestrians. He had both arms wrapped lightly around her and he gazed down at her and…

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” he said. His mouth descended.

She needed to tell him, before he kissed her.

But no. Once again, she surrendered to temptation. She lifted her mouth to welcome his kiss.

His kiss…

It was…everything she’d hoped for. It was her forbidden, lying fantasy fulfilled.

First, the touch—his mouth, her mouth. Nothing like it. She took his breath into her. It was as sweet as vanilla, rich as good coffee….

He deepened the contact. She sighed. Opened. Tasted him as he tasted her.

The same, she thought. The thrill, the wonder, the delicious yearning that rode the fine edge between pleasure and pain. Still the same…

His tongue swept in, teasing, caressing. He was the boy she had lived for and loved with all her yearning, hungry, lonely heart.

He was that boy. And more….

He framed her face, lifted his mouth from hers. She stifled a cry, to be losing such a kiss.

Oh, she didn’t want this lovely intimacy to be over. She didn’t want this magic to end.

His palms were warm against her cheeks, his fingers so gentle at her temples. “I used to think I would go after you,” he told her. “That I would find you, that we could try again. But then, as time went by, I decided it was better, wiser, to let the past go….”

“Oh, Mitch. I know. I understand.”

“But tonight…seeing you again, being with you again…”

“Yes. Exactly. Oh, I do know.”

He took her shoulders. “Okay, this is crazy. But I don’t want tonight to end. Do you think…is it possible that you could go with me, tomorrow?”

The question stunned her. She echoed, stupidly, “Go with you?”

“It’s wild, I know. But wild doesn’t have to equal impossible. All night, I’ve been thinking about how I might talk you into coming with me. I was thinking, what if I endowed that shelter of yours, gave them a big grant? Lots of money. You think it would be enough that they could do without you for a few weeks?”

“Oh, God.”

He rubbed her shoulders, soothing her—and, oh, this was terrible. Why hadn’t she told him an hour ago, two hours ago?

“Hey,” he said. “Okay, maybe it’s not possible. But well, I thought I’d at least give it a shot.” His wry smile broke her heart.

Oh, to be able to simply say yes. To go with him, just pack a bag and take off, to follow this sudden, rekindled magic wherever it took them…

But who was she kidding? That couldn’t happen. Even if she could somehow manage to take a few weeks off from the center with zero notice beforehand, there was DeDe to consider.

DeDe. His daughter.

The child she had yet to tell him about, though telling him had been the whole point of the evening.

Time was up. She knew it, accepted it. She’d stolen her little impossible fantasy, though she had no right to do it, though it only made this moment when the truth was upon her all the more painful.

He scanned her face, a frown forming between his brows. Something was very wrong and he was seeing that now. Still, he tried to play it light. “Okay, okay. I said it was a wild idea. Too wild, I guess. But a guy needs a fantasy, now and then.”

“A…fantasy… Oh, Mitch.” She took his big hands between her own. “I don’t know how to do this. I’ve been trying all night, and failing miserably. I’m just so…attracted to you.”

He looked at her sideways, with a teasing half grin. “And that’s bad?”

“No. It’s not. It’s wonderful. Too wonderful. I didn’t want it to end. I wish I could go with you, I swear, I do. I’m flattered and thrilled that you would ask me and I…” She squeezed her eyes shut. “Oh, God.”

“What? What’s gone wrong? I’m glad you still feel it for me. I feel it, too. I thought I’d made that clear. I thought we had something going here. Something good. Damn it, Kelly. Tell me what’s wrong.”

“I…”

“What?”

“When we broke up ten years ago?”

He nodded. “Yeah? What about it?”

“I was, um, pregnant.”

He went absolutely still for a second or two—and then he moved, but only to pull his hands free of her hold. “What did you say?”

She prayed for the sidewalk to open under her feet, to just swallow her whole. “Oh, please, Mitch. Don’t look at me like that.”

He shook his head. “Pregnant? But you never said—”

“No, I didn’t. Because I didn’t know then. I didn’t miss a period for two weeks after I left for Fresno with Tanner. And then it took me another few weeks to face the possibility, to admit what might be happening to me. When I finally took the home test, six weeks had gone by since we split up.”

“All right.” Now his voice was flat, devoid of expression. His eyes were shuttered—against her. “So. What happened then?”

“I tried to find you….”

“And you didn’t. Got that. And then?”

“I…” She bumbled on, making a complete hash of it. “Seven months later, I had a baby.”

He flinched as if she’d struck him. “No.”

“Yes. I had a baby. Your baby. I had a little girl.”