Читать книгу Plain Jane Macallister - Joan Elliott Pickart - Страница 12

Honey instead of sugar in his sun tea.

“Damn it, Maxwell,” Mark said to the dark room, “give it a rest.”

He glanced at the clock on the nightstand next to the bed in his hotel suite and groaned as he saw it was after two o’clock in the morning. He hadn’t even been able to doze since attempting to sleep hours before.

His mind, Mark thought angrily, was a jumbled maze of disturbing information he’d gathered while at Emily’s house earlier that night.

“Yeah, Emily,” he said, dragging both hands down his face, “I still like honey in my sun tea.”

Even though he’d lashed out at her when she’d asked him that, Mark thought, he’d known from the look on Emily’s face and from the way she’d flinched when he’d yelled at her, that she hadn’t been playing tricky games. Her asking him that question had been an honest reaction to her knowing he was coming to dinner.

And Emily had remembered after all these years that he liked honey in his sun tea.

And for reasons he couldn’t begin to fathom, that fact warmed him to the very depths of his soul.

“Ah, I’m losing it,” Mark said, dropping his arms heavily onto the bed.

He was on mental overload, that was for damn sure. He had nowhere to put all that he’d discovered since returning to Ventura less than twenty-four hours ago.

He had a son.

Trevor MacAllister, who from the moment he was born should have been Trevor Maxwell.

It was time, it was long overdue, for Trevor to know the truth.

Yeah, okay, he could see Emily’s point that a news flash like that shouldn’t be dropped like a bomb on a kid of that age. But the existence of Trevor, plus the package of lies that Emily had told her family wasn’t all that was keeping him from getting the sleep he so desperately needed.

No, it was more than that.

It was Emily, herself.

Mark sighed.

Emily, his mind echoed. She was still so beautiful, so…her. In all his travels he’d never seen brown eyes as enchanting as Emily’s. He’d never seen lips so perfectly shaped, so kissable. He’d never seen hands so delicate that they fluttered gracefully in the air like exquisite butterfly wings when she became animated. He’d never seen—

“You have three seconds to knock it off, Maxwell,” Mark said aloud, anger and frustration making his voice gritty. “Or I’ll strangle you with my bare hands.”

Mark rolled onto his stomach, punched his pillow with far more force than necessary, then total exhaustion finally claimed him and he fell into a restless, dream-filled sleep.

“Why are you putting flowers in a vase on the table, Mom?” Trevor said. “I don’t think you’re supposed to do that when a guy comes to dinner. It’s lame. Girl stuff, you know what I mean?”

“Company is company,” Emily said, peering into the oven. “I’m simply setting an attractive table because we have a guest sharing our meal.” She straightened and looked at Trevor. “You, sir, need to go take a shower and put on clean clothes before Mark gets here. Shoo. And shampoo your hair, too. If you don’t get the chlorine from the pool out of it, it’s going to turn green.”

“Really? Cool.”

“Trevor!”

“I’m going, I’m going,” he said, stomping across the room. “Sure is a bunch of big deal about some old guy you used to go to school with. Geez. You’d think he was somebody important, for crying out loud.”

As Trevor disappeared from view, Emily leaned back against the counter and sighed.

Important? Mark Maxwell? she thought. No way, Trevor. The man is only your father, who you believe is dead, an angel in heaven. The man who intends to inform you of his true identity in the very near future.

“Oh, what a mess,” Emily said, pressing her fingertips to her temples as she felt a painful headache beginning to throb.

She glanced down at the pretty border print of bright flowers around the bottom of the white summer dress she wore, then smoothed the full skirt over what she knew were her much-too-broad hips.

She’d considered wearing a long-sleeved dress but that would have been uncomfortably warm for a July evening, she mused. So there she was in a square-cut neckline and no sleeves, chubby arms displayed for all to see. For Mark to see.

“So?” she said, pushing away from the counter. “There’s just more of me to hug, that’s all. Not that there’s a long line of admirers panting to hug me but…oh, Emily, just put a cork in it.”

She glanced at the clock on the kitchen wall and saw at the same moment that the doorbell rang that it was exactly six o’clock.

Typical Mark, she thought, leaving the kitchen. He had a thing about being punctual. She’d learned to be ready to go when he arrived at her house to pick her up for a date because if she kept him sitting in the living room he got antsy and out of sorts.

He’d once stood in the rain on her front porch, getting soaked to the skin, because he thought it would be as rude to be early as it would to be late.

At the door, Emily hesitated, drew a steadying breath, then opened the door.

Oh, cripe, she thought dismally, Mark was just so gorgeous, so blatantly masculine…. Black slacks, a trendy gray shirt with no collar and— Why didn’t he have a cowlick anymore? A person was born with a cowlick, and it was there for life. You couldn’t just decide not to have a cowlick anymore, so…

“What happened to your cowlick?” Emily said, cocking her head slightly to one side.

In the next instant, as she realized she’d spoken her thought aloud, she felt a warm flush of embarrassment stain her cheeks.

“Never mind,” she said quickly. “Come in, Mark. You’re right on time, of course. I mean, you’re…right…on time and— Oh, just come in.”

Mark entered the house and chuckled as he moved past Emily. A funny little frisson of heat slithered down her spine as she heard the sexy, male sound. She gave the door a push and cringed as it slammed too loudly.

“You still blush a pretty pink,” Mark said, turning to look at Emily. “I didn’t think women our age did that. It’s cute.”

“That’s me.” Emily rolled her eyes heavenward. “Just-too-cute-for-words Emily. Cute, Mark, is not used to describe women who weigh what I do. However, I don’t wish to supply you with adjectives that would apply, thank you very much.”

“I think that you look lovely, Emily. I think that that’s a very nice dress and that you’re lovely.”

“Thank…” Emily started, then completely forgot the rest of it as her gaze met Mark’s.

She was lovely, Emily thought dreamily, and Mark was so ruggedly handsome and— Oh, my.

Emily was so beautiful, Mark’s mind hummed. And she still blushed, causing her cheeks to glow like dewy peaches and…

The buzzer on the stove shrilled, and Emily jerked in surprise at the intrusive noise.

“Dinner is ready,” she said, hearing the thread of breathlessness in her voice. “Have a seat on the sofa or something while I get it on the table.

“Trevor will be out in a second. He didn’t think he needed to shower because he was swimming most of the day. I signed him up for the summer program at the community center so I’d know where he was while I’m working, and he’s too old for a baby-sitter, but I wasn’t about to just let him roam around on his own and…I’m babbling, aren’t I?”

Mark nodded. “Just a tad. Yes.”

“Well, I’m nervous, Mark,” she said, throwing up her hands. “If you slip up and say the wrong thing to Trevor and he puts two and two together before we feel he’s ready to know that you’re…”

“I won’t slip up,” Mark interrupted quietly. “I don’t intend to do anything to hurt him, Emily.”

“Oh. Well, good. That’s good.” Emily started toward the kitchen. “Sit.”

“Emily?”

She stopped and turned halfway to look back at Mark questioningly.

“In answer to your question regarding my cowlick,” he said. “As I’m sure you’ve realized by now I was a late bloomer physically. I grew several inches and added pounds after I left Ventura. My hair became thicker, too, and the increased weight of it makes the cowlick lie flat. I believe that Trevor is going to be a late bloomer, too, from the looks of him.”

Emily smiled and patted her ample hips. “I bloomed rather late myself, but I’m in the process of unblooming, or some such thing.” She paused and frowned. “Why am I telling you this? I have no idea.” She shook her head as she spun around and went on into the kitchen.