Читать книгу Once in a Lifetime - Gwynne Forster, Gwynne Forster - Страница 7

Alexis Stevenson had spent most of her thirty years doing what was expected of her. She managed not to fall in love until she met a man of whom her family would approve. Her father expected his girls to lead the pack, and she graduated at the top of her high school and college classes. Indeed, as a model student, her grades were such that her college and graduate schooling didn’t cost her wealthy parents a penny, although they provided her with a lifestyle that she neither needed nor wanted. But her academic successes came at the expense of a healthy social life. After she married Jack Stevenson, she exchanged her job as instructor in home economics at the State University for that of homemaker, spending most of her time either planning for or entertaining her husband’s business associates, smoothing his rise to the top of the corporate ladder.

Her difficult pregnancy didn’t lessen Jack’s expectations of her as homemaker or as hostess to his never-ending parade of guests. Even when his boss’s daughter announced that she was pregnant and that Jack was the father, she did the expected and gave him a friendly divorce. But when he sought and subsequently obtained a ruling that would allow him to stop supporting their daughter, Tara, when she reached eighteen, Alexis balked.

Now, two years after their divorce became final, two years of legal battling, she had what she wanted, custody of her child, though at an enormous cost—forfeiture of her entitlement to half of their joint property. But she would have given up everything she had for custody of Tara. However, she couldn’t revel in victory over a father who cared so little for his child as to give up all rights to her in order to retain all of his wealth. She had been a fool to cater to him in his quest for status and power. But she’d learned a lesson, and in Jack Stevenson, she had a master teacher. What she learned, she learned thoroughly; it would never happen again.

No one, not her friends, her sister, her ex-husband or his relatives would believe her—daughter of a wealthy family and former instructor in home economics and health sciences at State University—capable of the decision she had just made. Too bad; from now on, she planned to live her own life, not anyone else’s. She put the money Jack sent her for Tara into a fund for the little girl’s education and prepared to support her child and herself.

Alexis looked around the house she’d lived in for the past two years, took Tara’s hand and walked out, locking the door. All they would need she’d packed in her azure Oldsmobile Cutlass Supreme. She put her daughter in her special chair in the backseat, strapped her in, got in the car and drove off. Today is the first day of the rest of my life, she told herself, and put Sting’s “Brand New Day” in the tape deck, pushed the button, said good-bye to Philadelphia and headed for Eagle Park, Maryland.

Four hours later, Alexis brought her Oldsmobile to a halt in front of number ten John Brown Drive, known for miles around as Harrington House. She put the car in Park, expelled a long, tired breath and stared at the sprawling white brick colonial house, its majestic setting proclaiming the status of its owners. An array of multihued pansies, irises, primroses, peonies and daisies along with well-spaced oak, birch and pine trees—green and fresh in the noonday April sun—gave the house a serenity and the appearance of a refuge. Well maintained, she thought, but not a human in sight.

“Are we gonna stay here, Mummy?”

Alexis glanced back at four-year-old Tara, the delight of her life. “I hope so, honey. I hope so.”

Only the Lord knew what Telford Harrington’s reaction would be when he saw her precious Tara. He hadn’t asked, and she hadn’t told, because she knew that would be the end of the best job offer she’d received in three months of frantic searching.

The picture before her beckoned, though she found the manifestation of wealth unsettling; she’d rather not return to the monied environment she escaped when she separated from Jack Stevenson almost three years earlier, but what choice did she have now?

“Let’s get out. Can we, Mummy?”

“In a minute, love.”

Staring at the unknown, she felt compelled to savor what might be her last minutes as a person free to do as she pleased whenever she liked. When she walked through that door, she would be a servant, a full-time housekeeper. She didn’t mind it, nor did she resent it. She’d opened a new chapter in her life, and she looked on it as an opportunity, a lifesaver. A way to support herself and her child. State U now required all of its teachers to have a doctorate degree, which meant that, with only a master’s, she had to find other work.

She got out of the car, took Tara’s little hand and walked with her up the winding brick path to the door. It opened slowly. “You must be the housekeeper.” The voice belonged to a dark-skinned graying man of indeterminate age who looked as if he might at one time have been a bantamweight prizefighter.

“Yes.” She extended her hand. “I’m Alexis Stevenson, and this is my daughter, Tara.” The man didn’t fit the picture of Telford Harrington that she’d formed in her mind’s eye after her one brief conversation with him.

“M’ name’s Henry, and I’m the cook. Come on…” He noticed Tara. “She’s yours?”

Shivers raced through her, but she steadied herself. After all, this was the cook, not Harrington. Still, he probably reflected his boss’s attitude about things. Alexis nodded, as if having the child with her were of no consequence.

“Why, yes. She is.”

Tara moved closer to Alexis. “My name’s Tara. What’s yours?”

Henry stared at the little girl and shook his head. “M’ name’s Henry, like I said. I don’t know if this is gonna work, ma’am. Nobody told me nothing ’bout no little girls. Where’s your stuff? Might as well get you settled in.”

Nothing about his behavior eased her anxiety about Tara; indeed, he behaved as if she needn’t hope for understanding. “How about giving me a tour of the house, Henry?” she called after him, hiding her concern.

“Soon as I put together something for you to eat. Course, if you don’t like what I fix, feel free.”

Henry gave them a lunch of hamburgers and French fries with ginger ale for Alexis and milk for Tara, enough to feed two more people and causing her to think the Harrington men were big meat eaters. Tara walked over to Henry, tapped him on the thigh and thanked him for her lunch. He looked down at her as though making up his mind whether he’d allow himself to be captivated, but Tara smiled and took the matter out of his hands.

Henry wiped his hands on his oversize, blue-denim apron and started out of the kitchen. “Come on,” he threw over his shoulder. “This’ll take a while. Ain’t much changed here since the old man passed, and that was well-nigh twenty years ago.”

Alexis glanced around the kitchen, enormous with Chinese-blue brick walls and kitchen cabinets, and a chrome sink, stove, dishwasher, grill and refrigerator. A round table with three curved-back Moroccan chairs rested in a white nook as if forgotten.

Hmmm. How odd, she thought as she walked with Henry through the dim living and dining rooms, rooms that obviously once boasted the elegance of their day. At the end of the hour-long tour, she’d decided that Telford Harrington lived much to himself. His bedroom contained a huge sleigh-style bed with a bedspread to match the tan-colored drapery, a beige-and-brown Tabriz carpet, mahogany desk, oversize brown leather chair and chest of drawers. What appeared to be a violin or a viola rested in a corner. A large black-and-white drawing hung over his bed. Nothing cheerful there. And nothing to calm her fears that he might send her packing, as would have been the case if his room were bright and cheerful.

Three other bedrooms, two of which belonged to Telford’s brothers, met the criteria for a master bedroom with anterooms and private baths. Henry had placed her things in a different end of the second floor.

“You might want to ask Mr. Tel if you and your little girl can stay back on the other side in the room on the end by the garden. It’s got an anteroom with a nice bay window, and your little girl could have that by herself. Course, I ain’t saying he’s gonna like none of this, but that’s twix you and him.”

She wished Henry would stop his frequent references to Telford Harrington’s certain displeasure about her child. But she said nothing to that effect, only thanked him. She put Tara to bed for a nap, and walked around the gardens to get her bearings. She loved natural settings—gardens, forests, the ocean, places where a person could feel free. On an impulse, she cut a large bouquet of pink peonies and purple irises, put them in a water-filled vase and placed them on the marble-top walnut table in the foyer. Observing the elegance that the flowers added to the area, she moved the gilt-edged mirror from its dark corner in the hallway, found a hook and hung it above the flowers.

“Now that’s really an improvement,” she said to herself.

“The men won’t like you making changes, ma’am,” Henry said, coming up behind her. “They like things the way they is.”

“I can imagine. What are you planning for supper?” They wanted a homemaker, and she intended to turn that mausoleum into a home.

“Whatever I find in there.” He pointed to the pantry. “Some chops, baked potatoes and beans, apple pie…something like that. They ain’t hard to feed.”

“I’ll do the marketing from now on, Henry. We’ll sit together, plan the menus and make out the grocery lists. Okay?”

“Don’t matter none to me. Mr. Tel said I’d take care of the upstairs and the kitchen, and you see to the downstairs. Twice a week, Bennie comes in and does the heavy cleaning.”

Just as he’d written into her contract. “Thanks, I’m sure we’ll get on well.”

She opened the windows downstairs, let the breeze flow through and immediately felt better about her new job. She found table linens, place settings and flatware and set the table in the breakfast room. Then she cut more flowers and put them on the table along with long tapered candles that she discovered in the linen closet.

Henry stood in the doorway scratching his head and shaking it. “Like I said, I don’t know if this is gonna work. The men eat in the kitchen, and I ain’t seen none of this—” he waved a hand around the breakfast room “—since Miss Etta passed. Course, like I said, that’s twix you and Mr. Tel.”

“How long have you worked here, Henry?”

“’Bout thirty years, since the boys were little. Why?”

She raised an eyebrow. “And you call Telford Harrington Mr. Tel?”

“Humph. I call him anything I want to. I figured that’s what you’d call him.”

She liked Henry, but she didn’t think he’d appreciate her telling him that. “What time do we eat dinner?”

“You mean supper? Whenever they gets here…sometime ’round six or seven.”

She’d have to work on that. Around five, she bathed Tara and dressed her in a yellow pique dress, braided her hair and secured the ends with matching yellow bows. Then she showered, put on a floor-length yellow T-shirt that flattered her svelte and curvaceous five-foot-seven-inch frame, secured her permed hair in a French knot and waited for the verdict. Hers and his. Thinking of what she had to lose, tremors raced through her, and she groped her way to a chair. With three hundred and eighty dollars to her name, Telford Harrington would have to see reason or she’d have a problem.

She’d hung up most of their clothing when she heard the doorbell ring but, thinking that anyone who lived there would use a key, she didn’t move from the closet. She couldn’t. The colors of her clothing danced in a mirage before her eyes, and her feet would not budge.

Tara. She had to find Tara. If she’d gotten into something… She looked around for the child, didn’t see her and walked quickly toward the stairs in time to hear a deep male voice—one she wouldn’t likely forget—explain, “Well, hello to you, too, and who are you?”

“My name is Tara. What’s yours? Do you live here?”

“I certainly do.”

“What’s your name?”

Alexis raced down the stairs and stopped, for he had looked up in her direction, and from that distance, his masculine persona, strong and heady, jumped out to her. Lassoed her and claimed her. She shook her body the way one rids clothes of wrinkles and got a grip on herself. “My name’s Telford,” she heard him say to Tara, though he’d locked his gaze on Alexis. “I’ll be right back.”

He stopped before reaching her and stared into her eyes. She tried to look away, but couldn’t. He seemed to pull her to him the way a magnet captures steel, and she realized that she was closing the distance between them. Her whole body slammed on alert, tingling with a strange new vibrancy, with life, and a blaze leaped into his eyes. The expression burning in them nearly unglued her. She felt him then; oh, how she felt him! He rimmed his top lip with the tip of his tongue, bringing her back to herself and to a halt two steps above him. If she trusted her judgment right then, she’d swear that he shuddered as though tension seeped out of him.

“I’m Telford Harrington, and something tells me you’re Alexis Stevenson.” That didn’t sound as if he was happy about it, either.

She took the hand he extended and shimmered with awareness from her scalp to the soles of her feet. He jerked his hand away from hers as if she’d scalded him. What a mess! Maybe she’d better leave right that minute and take her chances somewhere else.

“Yes,” she said, as though leaving hadn’t occurred to her. “I’m glad to meet you.”

He remained there, a breath away, eye to eye with her though she stood two steps above him. “You didn’t tell me you had a child. If you had, I’m not so sure I’d have hired you.”

“You didn’t ask me, nor did you mention it, so I figured you didn’t think it relevant.”

“If you had three kids, would you still think that?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know what I’d think if I had three. I’m just thankful that I only have to support this one.” She said that pointedly to ring his bell of compassion, if he had any.

He looked down suddenly, and she saw Tara pulling at his pants leg. “Mr. Telfry, Mr. Henry said supper is ready, and I’m hungry.”

“Mr. Telford, honey,” Alexis corrected.

She held her breath while she waited for his reaction. Tara reached up for his hand, anxious, as usual, to get her way. “Come on,” she said, and he turned and let the child lead him down the stairs to the kitchen, where he stopped.

“Where’s the food, Henry?”

“We’re eating in the breakfast room tonight, Tel. New house rules.”

He walked to the breakfast room, still holding Tara’s hand, stared at the table and spun around. “What the… What’s all this for? You’re having a party? Before I get all the way in the house, I see the place looks and smells like a woman’s boudoir. Now…”

She lifted her chin. “I’m sorry. Should I have set the table in the dining room? That seemed so formal.”

“What’s wrong with the kitchen?”

“It’s the kitchen. Besides, that table has only three chairs. Why do you have dining and breakfast rooms, if you don’t use them?”

Tara tugged at his hand. “Can we sit down?”

“Yeah.”

“What about Henry?” Alexis asked him. “Doesn’t he eat?”

“Ask him.” He let his impatience show and picked up a slice of jalapeño corn bread.

“We have to say grace,” Tara said and bowed her head.

To her amazement, Telford bowed his head and waited. Realizing that he wouldn’t say it, she did, but she knew Tara would be disappointed.

“I don’t like the pepper, Mummy.”

“Then eat the potato and the pork chop, and remember, you do not complain at the table.”

“Sorry, Mummy.”

Telford looked at her, and she wasn’t sure whether the fire in his eyes bespoke annoyance of or delight in her presence, though she suspected it was not the latter.

“You’ve been here, let’s see, half a day, and in that short time, you’ve managed to get dust flying all through the house, change my furniture around as well as my eating habits, and you’ve got the foyer looking like a girl’s dormitory. Ms. Stevenson, this is the home of three adult men and one grizzly cuss. We don’t need this.”

She leaned back, squared her shoulders and looked him in the eye. “‘Wanted: a woman of taste, intelligence and refinement as homemaker for three brothers.’ That’s what your ad said, and I was expecting a man who could appreciate that in a woman.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t ask you to come here and change my life.”

“Not to worry,” she said in as casual a tone as she could manage, though she couldn’t get her heart to settle down or her nerves to reassemble themselves. “You’ll be pleased, and it’s only for two years.”

He looked toward the ceiling in an air of resignation. “Two years. We’ll talk after we finish supper.”

She’d thought they were talking about it right then. “Whatever you say, sir.” She emphasized the “sir.”

“Call me Telford, and no nicknames please. Henry calls me Tel, but that’s because he can’t remember that I’m no longer six years old. I don’t accept that from anybody else. What do you want me to call you?”

“Alexis is fine.”

“And you can call me Tara.”

She watched Telford carefully to judge his reaction to her daughter. He smiled at the child—composed and at ease in her new environment with the strange man—and her heart raced a little faster. He may be annoyed, but he wouldn’t take it out on her child.

“How old are you, Tara?”

“I’m four, but I’ll be five this year. Mummy says I change ages every year, but only one time a year. Isn’t that right, Mummy?”

She nodded. If Telford and his brothers accepted them, Tara would thrive in the environment. She reached for some lemonade, but Telford took the pitcher from her and refilled her glass.

“This is a lot more than I thought I was getting, Alexis. With a child this age among us, Drake, Russ and I…well, we’ll have to learn a new way of living. Henry will, too.”

“I…I’m sorry, but I’ve burned all my bridges.”

He focused his gaze on her, and she could hardly withstand the intensity of it. There was no telling what those hazel-brown eyes were saying. “Then…all of us will have to give a little.”

Five minutes later, Drake Harrington breezed into the room. “Man, what the hell’s going on here? Henry told me… Whoa!” He walked over to Alexis. “Things have definitely brightened up around here. First, I see flowers, and now I’m looking at a beauty who puts flowers to shame. I’m Drake, the handsome brother.” He shook her hand.

A smile swept across her face. She liked his sense of humor and answered in kind. “So far, that would describe the two I’ve met. Does the other one live up to this standard?”

Drake’s wide grin gave her a sense of well-being. “You mean old sourpuss? If Russ thought he was handsome, he’d do something to change that.”

“Tut-tut,” she said, barely able to contain a giggle. “You should show more respect for your older brother. Have you met my daughter?”

Drake’s eyes widened. “Your… Well, who are you?” he asked Tara. He hadn’t seen her, partly because he hadn’t expected to find her sitting there and partly because he’d glued his gaze on Alexis.

“Mr. Telford already asked me that.” She pushed her glass to Telford. “I drank my milk. Can I please have some lemonade?”

Telford looked at Alexis. “What do I do here? I don’t know what’s good for children.”

Drake glanced at her and, when she nodded, walked around the table, took the glass and half filled it with lemonade. “Now who’s your friend?”

With her face wreathed in smiles, she said, “Mr. Telford, ’cause I saw him first.”

“Whew,” Drake said, hunkered beside Tara’s chair. “How do you like that?” He got up. “Looks like this one’s yours, brother. I’d better eat before Henry gets antsy and doesn’t leave anything for me.”

Alexis noticed that Telford looked from her to Drake as if he expected something to happen. Then it dawned on her that he thought she’d fall for Drake, who obviously had a way with people and was probably famed as a ladies’ man. She looked at Telford steadily and with as much dispassion as possible, hoping to convince him without speaking about it that, although she liked Drake at once, she was not and never would be attracted to him. By the time they finished the meal, Tara was leaning against Drake’s thigh and talking to him nonstop.

If only Telford will accept us. I can’t stay, contract or not, if he’s not happy having Tara here.

“After you get Tara to bed, we’ll talk,” Telford told Alexis after sipping the last of his coffee.

Drake winked at her. “I’m going for a ride. See you later.”

The two men stared as Tara ran to Henry. “Thank you for my supper, Mr. Henry,” she said, smiling up at him. “Mummy said you’re a nice cook.”

The man had the grace to show embarrassment, and to Alexis’s mind that was a good thing. He liked her daughter.

“You just tell old Henry what you like. I’ll fix it.”

“I like black-cherry ice cream,” she told him, smiled and clasped her hands in front of her.

“First thing you know, I won’t recognize the place,” Telford said before heading upstairs.

For the nth time, she read Puss ’n Boots, and for as many times, Tara applauded constantly. When at last Tara was asleep, Alexis walked down the stairs and into the family room or den, where Telford waited for her.

Telford stood beside the gray-stone fireplace with a snifter of cognac in his right hand. How was he going to turn his life around to fit what he considered an appropriate environment for a little girl? No woman had lived among those four men since his mother died fifteen years earlier. Flowers, open windows in the spring and the breeze wafting through, a properly set dining table and a beautiful woman at its head. It reminded him of his mother, whom he had loved and, on many occasions, hadn’t loved at all. He downed the Hennessy VSOP cognac and walked to the window that overlooked the garden, where he saw Drake dismount his horse and tether him.

“I wanted to be here when you started chewing out Alexis for bringing Tara,” Drake said as he entered the den. “And don’t say you hadn’t planned to do it. I have a feeling she’s just what we need.”

“Who? Alexis or a four-year-old?”

Drake pulled off his riding boots, kicked them under a chair and poured himself a snifter of cognac. “Both of ’em.”

“Sure. Alexis Stevenson and ten more would suit you perfectly, but don’t make a move on her. She’s the housekeeper.”

Drake crossed his unshod right foot over his knee, and a grin burst out on his face. “Wake up, man, I saw what was going on.”

Telford stuffed his hands into his trousers pockets and kicked at the brass andiron that graced the fireplace. “What do you mean by that?”

“Figure it out. Suffice it to say, she’s not one bit interested in me, nor I in her.”

“Glad to hear it. When you start after something you go like a bat out of hell.”

Drake grinned. “By the time you know I’m going after it, I’ve done some thinking about it and made up my mind. Ready to move. And when I take off, I make time.”

“Yeah, tell me about it. Say what you please, though, she can’t stay.”

His gaze caught Drake’s foot swinging at a slow, even rhythm. “She stays, Telford, because you know you aren’t going to ask her to leave. If you do, I’ll oppose you.”

Telford expelled a long breath. “Yeah, but she can’t make the rules in this house.”

“Let’s wait and see. I wouldn’t mind having a little order around here.”

“I suppose you’re planning to walk around fully clothed, remember to close the bathroom when you’re taking a shower and watch your mouth when you talk. Et cetera, et cetera.”

“Oh, hell. Yeah, I guess I’ll have to.”

“I was wondering where you were,” Alexis sang as she glided into the room.

The simplest dress a woman could put on, and she looked like a goddess, soft, feminine and…and…for Pete’s sake, what was he thinking? She refused the cognac he offered.

“Wine at dinner and a glass of champagne, occasionally, are my limit. You wanted to talk with me, Telford?”

Champagne, eh? “Yeah. Look,” he began, rubbing the back of his neck, “have a seat. This is no place for a small child.”

She sat forward, alert and anxious, and he had the feeling she’d spring out of the chair in a second. “Are you saying you want me to leave?”

Hearing her voice shake brought out his protective streak, and try as he would, he couldn’t forget that by her own account, she was vulnerable. “Can you imagine what it’s like for three men and a male cook living in a house this size together? On summer weekends, we hardly ever put on clothes, and I don’t ever remember wearing bathing trunks in that pool out back.”

Alexis stood. “Maybe you should have advertised for a homemaker with greatly impaired vision. You’ll have to be just as circumspect around me as around Tara.”

The howls of laughter from Drake accentuated Telford’s embarrassment. He hadn’t thought of that. He folded his arms against his chest, leaned against the wall and asked her, “Will I have to refrain from saying damn?”

“Yes, you will.” He realized he’d raised her temperature level when she walked to within a foot of where he stood. “And there are a few other things we have to straighten out. My contract says two years, and I intend to stay for at least that long. If you’re three blood brothers, you’re a family. Families eat their meals together, so you shouldn’t straggle in whenever it suits you. Say dinner’s at seven, all of you sit down to the table at seven. Or six, or whatever time you decide.”

“Anything else?” Telford asked her, and Drake eyed them the way a sleuth watches a suspected criminal.

“No hats on in the house or at the table, no boots beneath chairs and no swearing. I don’t want my daughter conditioned to accept such behavior from men.”

She had hutzpah, all right, he had to hand it to her.

“Of course not,” he said, sarcasm lacing his words. “She might one day go to college and live in a coed dormitory, and she’d be prepared for just what she found there—a bunch of naked men in the showers. Alexis, I would treat Tara with no less respect than I would my own daughter.”

Drake got up, took off the Stetson he wore when riding, pulled his boots from beneath the chair and winked at Alexis. “You won’t get any flack from me; unlike Robinson Crusoe over there, who enjoys his own company—” he pointed to Telford “—I love women. The more around me, the merrier. And Tara can stay here as long as she likes. She’s just what this tomb needs.” He left them and walked up the stairs, whistling “Knock About Sweetheart” as he went.

“Oh, yes,” Alexis said. “I forgot to add that you shouldn’t raise your voices in disagreement or anger.”

His glare had to suffice, since he couldn’t grab her and shake her till…till she was soft and…and warm and perfumed with the tantalizing odor of woman, till she… He brought himself up short and regrouped. “Alexis, don’t push me too far. Don’t ever do that. Never. You got that?”

She didn’t give quarter, and in spite of his annoyance, he admired her. “I know this all sounds like a bad pill you have to swallow, and I’m sorry, but I figured you’d want us to settle everything now, and it’s best to get these things straight in advance.”

He’d had enough. “Do you think you’ve happened upon a houseful of barbaric, uncivilized men? If so, you’d better make a run for it.”

She appeared thoughtful. “Barbaric? Uncivilized? Hmmm. I’m not sure I’d go quite that far. A little rough around the edges, maybe.”

His glare broadened to a thunderous glower. “You trying to test my restraint?”

She lifted one shoulder in a careless shrug. “Wouldn’t think of it. Anybody can see you’re a paragon of willpower and self-control. Cool. Real laid-back.”

“All right, all right. You and I both know what’s going on here. If these verbal whacks are helping to relieve your frustration, by all means don’t spare me.”

Apparently less assured now, she avoided looking him in the eye for the first time. “You’re assuming a lot, Mr. Harrington.”

“Don’t fool yourself.” He poured half a glass of club soda, dropped two cubes of ice in it, offered the glass to her and, when she declined, sipped it slowly. “Let’s get back to business. I was not expecting you to come with a child. You told me you were divorced, and I got the impression you were much older.”

“If you’d asked my age, I would have told you. You didn’t.”

“I know, I know. But I always heard that women don’t like to tell their age.”

“Sorry, I can’t help you there.” Suddenly her demeanor seemed to change. Lord forbid she should try some feminine tactics on him. He wasn’t holding still for that.

But she fooled him. “Telford, let’s see this from my point of view. I sublet my house, packed some necessities, stored the remainder of my belongings, got in my car and changed my life by coming here. Where do I go if I leave here, and what will I do with Tara while I find another job and a place to stay? That’s my dilemma, but if you don’t want my child here, I don’t want to stay, and I won’t.”

“I’m not asking you to leave. What do you think I am, an ogre of some kind?”

“She’s obedient, and she’s smart. You’ll see.”

And she was a beautiful, loving child who would soon have him and every other man around rolling over whenever she snapped her fingers. He looked at the hopeful expression in Alexis’s soft brown eyes. Hopeful, but not pleading. What had he thought he’d gain by giving her the third degree? Except perhaps to establish some vital distance between them. They’d hooked the minute they looked at each other on those stairs. She could deny it if she wanted to, but he’d felt it to the marrow of his bones, and he’d bet anything, even his varsity ring, that it was the same for her.

The present arrangement wouldn’t work; he didn’t want Tara running around in the corridors near their bedrooms. “Tomorrow, I’d like you to move over to that guest room off the garden. It’s private and safe, and it’s much more spacious. No one can scale that wall without spending a few weeks in a hospital. Furthermore, Tara will be less likely to grow up too fast. Henry will show you to that room.”

“Thanks. When you have time, please tell me how you like things done.”

He looked at her to see if she might be pulling his leg, and realized that she was serious. In spite of himself, he laughed aloud. “Why would I bother to do that? You’ll do what you like. Sleep well.”

For some reason, he didn’t want to see her walk out of the door, so he went over to the window and busied himself closing first the blinds and then the draperies. He heard her say good-night, but he pushed from his mind the soft caress that was her voice.

He went back to the bar, poured himself another glass of club soda and sipped it, mostly to have something to do. When he’d looked up those stairs and seen her looking down at him, he thought a barrel of bricks had fallen on his head. And as she glided toward him, her motion slow and fluid as if something other than her feet propelled her, a sweet, terrible hunger that he hadn’t experienced in his thirty-six years began to churn in him. She stopped just in time, bringing him to his senses seconds before he would have reached out for her.

He brushed his fingers over his curly hair, exasperated at the thought of having that woman in his home for the next two years. He’d had enough of women, beautiful and otherwise. First his unfaithful mother, and then… He pushed the thought from his mind.

“Well, does she stay?”

He spun around at the sound of Drake’s voice. “She stays. What else can I do? She has to work, and she has a child. I—”

“That’s a great little girl, too. Don’t sweat it, Telford. We’re in the doldrums; been in ’em for years. I liked sitting at a properly set table. Hell, half the time, Henry serves the food right from the pot so he can wash one less dish.”

“I know, but it’s… Well—”

Drake’s hand clasped his right shoulder. “Don’t let it get to you. You’ll either like it or it won’t amount to a thing. Trust me; I’ve been there.”

He looked at his brother, the person closest to him, and shook his head. For all Drake’s apparent frivolousness, his insight into human feelings and behavior could be startlingly clear, so he didn’t try to mislead him. “Right. It may take me a few days, but I’ll get it together.”

“I may be a little late for breakfast tomorrow morning, Tel,” Henry called from the door. “I don’t suppose that matters, though, since it’s Saturday. But I thought I’d run down to Bridge Market and get some of that good double-smoked bacon. We ain’t got nothing here but country sausage.”

“Isn’t that what we always eat for breakfast?”

“Yeah, but Tara told me she likes pancakes with bacon and maple syrup. We got the syrup, but we ain’t got—”

Telford held up his hands, palms out. “All right, all right. Get the bacon. Anything else she wants. I hope I get my breakfast before I have to leave for Baltimore.”

“Do my best.”

Do his best. “Henry knows breakfast is my favorite meal. I have to change my suppertime, eat in the breakfast room, walk around in the house fully clothed with dust flying around in my face, wait till you get home before I can eat and I’ll probably have to give up sausage and eat bacon with my grits?” He threw up his hands.

“Don’t look at me,” Drake said, his white teeth sparkling against his olive complexion. “And quit complaining. Just think of the fun you’re probably going to have.”

“Man, you’re wasting your thought process. I’m not going that way.”

“If you say so. A first-class woman is in the house.”

Drake raced back upstairs, and his thoughts turned inward. If only he were as sure as he’d sounded.