Читать книгу The Daddy Dilemma - Kate Denton, Kate Denton - Страница 8

CHAPTER TWO

GORDON’S pronouncement caused Mackie to throw her hands in the air. “So stay! But just so you know...I own one bed, which I have no intention of giving up. Or sharing. That leaves the couch for you and, as you can see, it’s sixty inches at best.” She gave a smirking assessment of his six foot plus frame. “I’m sure you’ll get lots of sleep.”

“Probably more than I was going to get before, worrying about Ashley with Beth. At least I’ll be able to ensure Ash is OK.”

“Well now that everything’s resolved to your satisfaction, I’m going upstairs to change into something more comfort—” Mackie stopped. All she’d meant to convey was that she was getting out of her work clothes, but the words were classic innuendo.

“Into something else,” she corrected. “Then I plan to have a sandwich. I haven’t eaten since lunch.” Without waiting for a response, she started up the stairs. Gordon remained behind in silence, yet with every step, she could feel his eyes following her ascent.

Minutes later, when Mackie returned to her living room dressed in an old pair of gray sweats, Gordon wasn’t there. She went to the kitchen and found him hunched over her refrigerator, pulling out packages of deli ham and cheese. Lettuce and a ripe red tomato were already draining on a paper towel by the sink.

“Making yourself right at home I see.”

“I haven’t eaten much today, either. Hope you don’t mind my helping myself. If you do, just bill me.”

Mackie rolled her eyes and handed him a loaf of seven-grain bread from the pantry. “Feel free... and while you’re at it, you can fix me a sandwich, too. Mustard, no mayonnaise.

“What do you want to drink?” she asked, replacing him at the refrigerator. “Milk? Beer? Water?”

“Whatever you’re having.”

“I hate that,” Mackie said. “Just pick what you prefer.” She set a Michelob on the counter along with a half gallon of milk.

“Milk. OK?”

Gordon had finished assembling the sandwiches and placed one in front of her, watching as Mackie poured milk into their glasses. “And what else do you hate?”

“Blue eye shadow, party cocktail wieners drenched in messy barbecue sauce, smokers puffing away at the next table in a restaurant,” she answered nonchalantly, carrying her food to the glass-topped table.

“Strange, isn’t it,” Gordon said, grabbing a napkin and joining her.

“What’s strange?”

“Us sitting here eating together like a couple of old friends.”

Her expression was one of incredulity. “Oh, I hardly think anyone would mistake us for friends.”

“Disgruntled married couple then.”

“Bad image, but closer.”

“Too close. I’d say we’re experts on bad marriages and the fallout that goes with them.”

“What do you know about me and my marriage?” Mackie said warily. He was right, but the details of her miserable four years with Bruce weren’t common knowledge.

“Nothing. Actually I was referring to your profession, not you personally. However, few people get into their thirties without taking the plunge at least once. Have you had a bad experience?”

A disastrous one. But the scars of her marriage—a bruised heart and pummeled psyche—were none of Galloway’s business. “It’s no secret I’ve been married,” she admitted, “but it’s not a subject I care to talk about.”

“Well, if we’re going to spend the night together, I think I should know something more about you than your name and marital status, don’t you?”

“If we were ‘spending the night together,’ as you put it, that might be true, but you’re only bunking on the couch. There’s no need for a round of true confessions.”

“Any children?” he persisted.

“As I said, I don’t want to talk about my past.”

“No, no children,” Gordon said. “Silly question anyway. It’s obvious your experience with kids is nil.” He leaned back in his chair. “So...what about brothers, sisters?”

“Mr. Galloway, you’re slow to catch on. There’s no reason for us to make small talk or to try to get better acquainted.”

“No, I suppose there isn’t Besides, I wouldn’t want you to accuse me of taking advantage of your hospitality. It’s obvious you’re tired and sleepy.” He took a last bite from his sandwich and drained the glass of milk. “Go on up to bed and I’ll rinse the dishes and wrap up the food.”

Mackie was past caring whether the dishes got rinsed or the food wrapped. She was fading fast and relieved that Galloway understood that much. Maybe he wasn’t willing to leave, but at least he wasn’t going to be a demanding guest. “Whatever,” she said. “I’m going to bed.”

“By the way...” Gordon’s voice stopped Mackie just as she reached the door of the kitchen. “Do you happen to have a spare toothbrush?”

Mackie eyed him skeptically as if the question was loaded. Then she said. “Medicine cabinet. Guest bathroom.”

Gordon watched her leave and pondered her reaction to him. Mackie Smith was one skittish lady. Was it the attorney or the unhappy divorcée showing through? Mackie was hard to read. She’d reacted to the marriage question and the innocuous family question as if she were a prisoner of war required to give only name, rank and serial number. Then he remembered—this was war. She and Beth on one side, he and Ashley on the other. Mackie Smith wasn’t forgetting that and neither should he. He shouldn’t be letting his guard down or getting too chummy.

Mackie slept until nine the next morning, waking with a start when she realized how late it was. Shrugging quickly into her robe, she tore downstairs, fearful she’d find the Galloways long gone.

Once in the kitchen, her anxiety subsided as she came upon the two having breakfast together. Ashley, sitting on the cabinet, was eating slices of banana. Gordon, standing in front of her, was drinking coffee and coaxing the baby to take spoonfuls of cereal.

“I...uh, I overslept,” Mackie said, flustered and searching for something to say. She was glad the chenille robe was strictly of the utilitarian variety. Galloway’s peep show was enough. He was dressed, but his shirt was unbuttoned and hanging loose, revealing an expanse of furry chest. Maybe it was because she wasn’t used to bare chests in the morning, but the view of male flesh was disconcerting. She averted her gaze. “I need coffee—bad.”

“Coffee’s made,” he said hostlike, gesturing toward the nearly full carafe as if they were in his kitchen rather than hers.

Mackie poured a cupful, holding the mug with both hands as she watched the interaction between the Galloways. “You found something for her to eat.”

“Yeah, been rummaging again. I’m grateful you’re not the type of woman who stocks only tofu and sprouts.”

“A compliment? That’s almost too much to handle first thing in the morning.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll make up for it later.”

“I’m sure you will.”

The baby, tiring of the cereal and the adult conversation, pushed away the spoon in her father’s hand and centered her attention on Mackie.

“Hi,” Mackie said tentatively.

The little girl didn’t answer, but did respond with a grin of tiny teeth.

The grin was irresistible and Mackie could only smile back. “Is she feeling OK this morning?” she asked Gordon.

“She’s great.”

“That’s good.” At least there wasn’t a pediatric health crisis facing her, Mackie thought. So what do I do now? Beth would be arriving before long and it might be dicey if Gordon was still around when she did. Addressing that was priority number one. “Don’t mean to rush you along,” she said, “but since everything’s under control, why don’t you run on home? Beth should be here soon.”

“You don’t get it, do you? For a sharp legal eagle...” He shook his head as if unable to believe anyone capable of such naivete. “First, I’m staying till Beth shows. Second, don’t hold your breath waiting for that to happen. God only knows when it’ll be. Experience says she’ll come when she’s good and ready. My money’s on tomorrow. About a half hour before her visitation’s due to end.”

Mackie encountered enough strife in court appearances during the week and wanted only peace and quiet on the weekends. Today that appeared about as likely as Galloway turning into a nice human being. She was mentally composing a nifty retort when the telephone rang.

“Mackie?”

“Good morning, Beth.” Smugly Mackie cast her eyes at Galloway who was monitoring, her conversation. “How’s the car thing going?”

Big sigh from Beth. “You know mechanics. I’m sitting here at the garage cooling my heels and now he tells me it’s going to be midafternoon before it’s fixed. A part has to be sent over. There’s no way I. can get to your place before three. Go ahead and tell me I’m the worst client ever, but I need to beg for another favor. Can you keep Ashley a bit longer?”

A bit? Three o’clock was almost six hours from now. But what choice did she have? “I suppose I can hold down the fort until three.”

“You’re a dear, Mackie. I’ll be there as soon as I can. Promise.”

“Car trouble...that was the emergency? She used to be more original than that,” Gordon taunted as Mackie hung up the phone.

“Give it a rest,” Mackie snapped. “Beth’s doing the best she can. Not everyone can afford cars that don’t break down at the most inconvenient times. Shiny new Infiniti vans like you’ve got parked out front don’t fit most budgets.”

“Would Beth go away if I bought her a new car? She can have an Infiniti, too, if she wants. Or a Mercedes. Her choice. You can tell her that if she ever arrives. As for me and Ash, we’re going home.”

“Leave with my blessings; only Ashley stays here.”

“No way. When Beth comes, I’ll zip right over here and hand Ashley over... just like the judge ordered. But in the meantime, I need a shower and she needs a chance to wander around somewhere safe.”

Mackie bristled. “You act like my home is seeded with land mines.”

“Almost. You’re damn sure not equipped for a fifteen-month-old. Those steep stairs are a hazard to grown-ups much less kids and I have yet to spot a plug protector or cabinet guard.

“Besides, how long do you think that white upholstery and those oriental rugs will hold up to a toddler’s abuse?”

“That’s my problem.”

“No, it’s Beth’s problem and she’s not here to handle it. I don’t think the judge gave Ashley’s mother temporary custody for the weekend only for her to turn around and transfer it to her lawyer.”

“There are extenuating circumstances here, Mr. Galloway,” she protested. “And most reasonable people would extend some leeway to Beth. After all, car problems can be overwhelming.”

Gordon took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. “Be that as it may, if it weren’t the car, then Beth would find something else to be overwhelmed about. She always does. She was overwhelmed when she got pregnant, when she delivered, when she came home with the baby. Do you realize that she ignored her daughter from the very beginning? Didn’t want to hold her, cuddle her, feed her?”

“Symptoms of postpartum depression at its most severe,” Mackie defended.

“A lot of women suffer depression after giving birth but they don’t abandon a month-old infant like Beth did.”

“How can you blame her for something she had no control over? Her behavior was the result of a medical condition.”

Gordon poured more coffee into his cup, then turned to face her. “I blame her because I think she latched on to the handy label of postpartum depression to get sympathy. She’s got a medical condition all right—she was born without a heart. And there’s no cure for that.”

“Why are you so hostile, so unforgiving? You don’t give your former wife an inch.”

Gordon, agitated, almost sloshed the coffee out of his cup. “Lady, my concern is for my daughter. If you were in my shoes, you’d act just like me. Only you’re not, and you don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I know a lot more than you think.”

“I’m aware you’re a family rights advocate, a do-gooder who volunteers a lot of hours to help women who are down and out—”

“Been checking up on me?” she broke in.

“Through my attorneys. It pays to know a little about your adversaries. The point I’m trying to get to is that with your background, surely you’ve come across one or two rotten apples who need a boot to the behind more than a pat on the head.”

“Yes, but that’s not the case here—”

Before she could speak further, they were interrupted by Ashley’s tearing up.

“Look at that. We’re upsetting her,” Gordon scolded. “She isn’t used to hearing adults’ squabbling.”

“The last thing I want to do is make Ashley cry. But don’t expect me to simply remain mum while you attack my client.”

“Forever loyal. You’re probably...” Gordon shook his head. “You’re probably even representing Beth pro bono. That’s it, isn’t it? You’re busting your rear, providing her legal representation, even taking care of her child, and Beth’s not even paying you a fee.”

Mackie grimaced. From Gordon’s lips, her humanitarian deed sounded like the height of stupidity. What was it to him, anyway? “My being paid or not paid is immaterial. I’ll have you know—”

In the midst of being read the riot act, Galloway flashed her a disarming smile. “Actually it is material,” he said. “Clues me in to the fact that you and I have something in common.”

“We do? I can hardly imagine what.”

“Being totally taken in by a con artist, that’s what. Welcome to the club.”

Her eyes flashed. “Don’t patronize me. You can take your club and stuff it.”

Surprisingly Gordon laughed and in spite of herself, Mackie did, too.

He put his hands on her arms. “How about a compromise?”

She eyed him suspiciously, stepping back. “What kind of compromise?”

“If I leave, you’re going to have the same situation as last night—Ashley in a strange place with a strange person. Most likely being pretty vocal about not liking the situation. Since Beth won’t be here for hours, come home with me so I can shower and shave and Ashley can have some time in familiar surroundings. Then we’ll get back over here by midafternoon. Deal?” He stuck out his hand for a shake.

Mackie thought for a moment, then accepted his offer. His touch was warm, his long fingers wrapping around her own. This was not at all like a business handshake, more of a caress. Uncomfortable, she pulled free, then excused herself. “OK, Mr. Galloway, I’ll be ready to leave in a half hour.”

“Do you think you could call me Gordon? This Mr. stuff is getting pretty tiresome.”

“All right then...Gordon.”

The neighborhood was beautiful with its wide curvy streets and stately old homes. The St. Augustine grass favored in Dallas now lay in a dormant strawlike phase, but the live oaks were vigorously holding on to their rich greens and the hearty pansies added a flash of color to the oversize lawns.

Gordon’s house was a two-story of brick and Austin stone showcased nicely by landscaped grounds and imposing trees. It was charming, warm and inviting.

They parked at the curb and Mackie followed Gordon and Ashley up a brick path to the front door. Still balancing Ashley in his arms, Gordon unlocked the door and motioned Mackie inside.

A tortoiseshell cat came padding down the staircase to check out the group. As Mackie shed her jacket and purse and deposited them on a coat tree, the cat circled her ankles. “And who is this?” Mackie reached down to stroke the animal who responded with a loud purr.

“Cleo. She likes you already because you’re older than fifteen months and haven’t tried to pick her up by the tail. Poor thing is accustomed to being chased, teased and manhandled as only a toddler can do. Half my waking hours are spent protecting her from Ash’s clutches.”

He escorted Mackie into a large family room, with French doors leading to a patio and pool area. Depositing his daughter on the sofa, he took off her coat and bonnet. “Will you watch Ash while I clean myself up?”

“Sure.” Mackie cast a wary glance at the toddler as Gordon left the room. “Go easy on me,” she implored the child who had eased off her perch and was busily ripping pages from a magazine.

He stuck his head back in. “Put on a Barney video and she’ll be putty in your hands.”

Grateful for the hint, Mackie did just that. Ashley got back up beside her on the couch mesmerized by the purple dinosaur on the television. Mackie sat watching Barney for the first time in her life and then, entranced, watched Ashley swaying to the music and clapping her hands enthusiastically.

In a few minutes, Gordon reappeared in jeans and a jacquard-weave sweater, his hair damp from his shower. “Now to get Ash ready,” he announced. “Or would you like to be the one to give her a bath?”

“Funny man,” Mackie answered. “I’ll just wait here for the two of you.”

At Gordon’s suggestion, they agreed to pass the time till Beth’s scheduled appearance tending to weekend errands. First picking up photographs at the camera shop, then a visit to an open-air mall to purchase shoes for Ashley, after that a stop at the pet store to buy cat food for Cleo.

It wasn’t yet one o’clock but Mackie was ready for a break. This routine was daunting. She stretched within the confines of her seat belt.

“Bored?” Gordon asked.

“More awed than bored. And maybe a tiny bit fatigued. I do these same sorts of chores every Saturday, but a child definitely adds a...um...a new dimension.” She glanced at Ashley in her car seat punching the buttons of a toy mobile telephone, causing a racket of beeps and bells.

“‘New dimension.’ That’s a diplomatic turn of phrase. You mean new dimensions like packing the car safari-style with toys, snacks, diapers, what have you... then buckling her in a car seat, arriving at your destination, unbuckling, getting out strollers, putting back strollers...whew, makes me tired just to think of it.” He grinned. “If I didn’t love having her with me so much, I’d give in to exhaustion myself.” Glancing at his watch, he said, “It’s lunchtime. What say we grab a bite somewhere? Preferably a place where we can order something speedy. Ash has a short attention span in restaurants.”

“Sounds good. Do you have a restaurant in mind?”

He thought for a moment. “There’s an Italian place in Highland Park Village where we can dine alfresco. She likes that.”

The day was crisp but not cold, perfect weather for eating outside. After getting a table and a high chair for Ashley, they ordered salads and pizza.

“Who takes care of Ashley while you work?” Mackie asked.

“A part-time nanny. I have an arrangement with a wonderful lady who comes to the house three days a week. She adores Ashley and vice versa.”

“And the other two work days?”

“I don’t have classes then so I take care of her myself.”

“That doesn’t leave much time for a social life, or for going out.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Fishing for some tidbit to use against me? Like my admitting to having a different woman over every night?”

“It was a simple observation,” Mackie said grumpily. “Next you’ll be accusing me of taping our conversations for evidence.”

“Sorry. But it’s hard not to be paranoid. You and I do have conflicting interests.”

“Believe it or not, I care about Ashley’s welfare, too.”

“If you did, you’d be fighting for me. For a family rights champion, you’re on the wrong side in this one, Mackie. That woman—”

Mackie held up a hand. “—is someone who deserves a second chance. She’s really turning her life around—counseling, college courses, a hostess job at Café Maurice, even joined a church—”

“Gee, a regular saint. Probably be selected Dallas Mother of the Year,” Gordon sniped.

“Why don’t we just focus on our salads instead of on the case?”

Both were silent for a time, then the tension was lifted by Ashley, who began acting like a little coquette. First flirting with the man at the adjoining table, grinning every time he looked her way, then with the waiter whom she cast her eyes at while trying to heist pencils from his apron pocket.

Gordon and Mackie couldn’t help but laugh at his daughter’s outrageous ways. “I pity the boys when she gets older,” Mackie said.

“I pity me.”

The pizza arrived and they ate and talked, both trying to keep the conversation innocuous. The food was delicious and none of the other diners seemed offended by the mess Ashley was creating. A flock of birds could have feasted on the leavings beneath the child’s high chair. Broken saltines, a tomato slice, chunks of pizza crust. A line was crossed, however, when Ashley tossed her cup down and splattered Mackie’s shoes with milk.

“That’s it—time to go,” Gordon said, signaling for a check. “She always starts clearing the table when she’s getting restless.”

Once they were back in the car, Gordon said, “In answer to your question at the restaurant—after being married to Beth, I’ve pretty much cooled it on socializing with the opposite sex.”

Mackie was surprised, and strangely elated, that he’d bothered to explain. So Gordon Galloway was not only single, but available. She tried to squelch the pleasure she felt at that bit of information, deciding it was safer to keep feuding. “Some people would say you’re a cynic.”

“And some people would be right. Since news spread of my inheritance, the number of women lining up to be the next Mrs. Galloway is enough to make any man cynical. I never had to beat off women with a stick before.”

I find that hard to believe. Money wasn’t Gordon Galloway’s main draw. Not with that killer grin and those clear blue eyes that called to mind a mountain lake. Mackie caught herself, appalled by her own thoughts. This was totally unacceptable...engaging in such musings about an opponent. An opponent who was the biological equivalent of pond scum according to his ex-wife. “So why beat them off,” she persisted. “Don’t you think Ashley needs a mother?”

Gordon gave her a chiding, “Tsk, tsk.” “And here you’ve been telling me she already has a mother, a dear loving one, in Beth. Or was your question whether I plan to remarry? Ms. Smith, you’re getting very personal. Are you interested?”

Mackie fought back an embarrassed flush. “Don’t flatter yourself. I couldn’t get interested in you even if I wanted to. Ethically you’re a no-no. Besides, I’m not one of those predatory women who favors a man solely because he happens to have a big bank balance.”

Gordon chuckled. “So a man’s money doesn’t appeal. What would it take to get you to the altar?”

“I’ll pretend you didn’t ask that.”

“Oh I see, your personal questions are acceptable, mine aren’t.”

“OK, if you must know...marriage really isn’t on my agenda.”

“Not concerned about your biological clock?”

“I can’t believe we’re having this conversation. The truth is the only clock which concerns me is the one which wakes me up in the morning. I like my life. Among other advantages, it’s nice to sleep through the night without being awakened to tend to someone else’s needs. Now take your best shot.”

“What’s that?”

“Accuse me of being selfish and self-centered.”

“Actually there’ve been a few nights when I’d probably agree with you. But what about a lover awakening you to cuddle?”

“I thought we were talking about children.”

“You were the one bringing up sleeping undisturbed. Sounds like someone used to sleeping alone.”

“Who I sleep with is—”

“Out! Out!” Ashley shrieked, rescuing Mackie from completing her answer. The baby’s rebellion against the car seat and tearful whining and crying consumed Gordon’s attentions during the rest of the drive.

The crying didn’t abate until they arrived back at Mackie’s. Worn from her tantrum, Ashley settled into her makeshift crib, stuck her thumb into her mouth and fell sound asleep. Mackie stared down at the little girl, amazed this could be the same impossible child of moments ago and thinking how enchanting she looked in sleep, how lovable. For the first time in ages, Mackie fantasized about having a baby of her own, then quickly shook her head, disowning such craziness.