Читать книгу Irresistible Greeks Collection - Кэрол Мортимер, Кэрол Мортимер - Страница 44

IT was like waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Daisy half expected to find Alex standing on the stoop when she got up. But a peek out the curtains as soon as she got up proved that no one was there.

He didn’t call, either, though she jumped every time the phone rang.

Charlie, pushing his scrambled eggs around his plate, wanted to know what the matter was with her. “You’re all jumpy,” he remarked when a sound on the sidewalk made her flinch.

“Nothing’s the matter.” Daisy turned away, busying herself putting the dishes in the dishwasher. “Izzy said she and the boys were coming by.”

Izzy’s had been the first phone call she’d got this morning.

“How is he?” her friend had demanded even before Daisy had dragged herself out of bed.

“Still asleep,” Daisy reported. In fact he was asleep on the other side of her bed. She’d got him back to sleep after Alex had finally left, but he’d awakened and come into her room again at five-thirty. Barely able to pry her eyes open, Daisy had taken the easy way out and let him clamber into bed with her. Fortunately he’d gone straight back to sleep, and when Izzy had rung at eight, he was still dead to the world.

“Sorry. We’ve been up for hours thinking about him.”

“He’s going to be fine,” Daisy assured her. At least his arm was. How his life was going to change now that Alex was going to be part of it, she didn’t know. But at least Alex had been kind last night. He’d actually behaved—toward Charlie—very well. Maybe, given that, he would be fine. And kids were resilient.

It was her own resilience Daisy was worried about.

How was she going to deal with Alexandros Antonides in her life?

She didn’t want to think about it. So when Izzy asked if they could come and see Charlie in the afternoon, Daisy said yes without hesitation. The distraction would do them both good.

By midafternoon with no Rip and no Crash, Charlie was getting restless. Daisy had watched a Disney DVD with him, then read him a couple of dozen picture books. She tried unsuccessfully to talk him into a nap.

“I’m too big for naps,” he told her. “An’ I’m not tired.”

No, just cranky. She had a photo shoot to finish editing before tomorrow afternoon. So she brought her laptop down to the living room and worked on it there while Charlie played with his cars and his Legos on the floor.

“Maybe that Alex will come back,” he said hopefully, looking up from his cars.

“Mmm.” Daisy didn’t encourage that line of thinking. A man who had been as adamant as Alex had been about not wanting children might have had a brief change of heart when faced with a little boy who looked very much like his beloved deceased brother.

But having a son was a huge responsibility. And it wasn’t one that you could just pick up and put down as the whim struck you. Alex wasn’t a fool. He had to realize that. It was possible that Alex had gone home in the early hours of the morning, thought about the implications of having a son, and come to the conclusion that he’d made the right decision five years ago. Whatever he decided, Daisy was determined that she wouldn’t let him upset Charlie’s life to suit himself.

She didn’t have time to think about it more because finally the doorbell rang.

“They’re here!” Charlie scrambled up from the floor and raced to open the door.

Daisy unlocked the door, and Charlie tugged it open.

Rip MacCauley took one look at Charlie’s cast and said, “Oh, wow. Your cast is blue? That’s cool.”

The first smile of the day flickered across Charlie’s face.

“You think?”

“Oh, yeah,” Rip said, coming in and taking off his jacket. “I only ever had a white one.”

“Mine was purple when I broke my ankle,” Crash announced. “Here. This is for you.” He thrust a package wrapped in newspaper comics into Charlie’s hand.

“A little something to keep him busy,” Izzy told Daisy as the boys headed instinctively for the cars and the Legos on the floor and she followed Daisy into the kitchen. “Rip and Crash have been really worried. They seem to think they’re indestructible, but when Charlie got hurt, they were, like, ‘Oh, no! What if he dies?’ They felt very responsible. As well they should, Finn says.”

“Finn being such a pattern card of model behavior.” Daisy grinned.

Izzy laughed. “That’s what I said.” She perched on a bar stool while Daisy made them coffee. “I was amazed when Finn got home so quickly last night. Why didn’t you let him stay for a bit and help you with Charlie?”

“No point. We were fine.” And she was very glad he hadn’t been there to witness the meeting of Alex and his son.

“I’m sorry we interrupted your evening. How was the Plaza? Tell all.” Izzy leaned forward eagerly.

It took Daisy a moment to even begin to remember the details, so much had happened in the meantime. “It was … fine,” she said vaguely. “The Plaza is elegant, of course. The dinner was wonderful,” she added dutifully, because “fine” wasn’t going to satisfy Izzy.

“And the dress?”

“It was fantastic.”

“Knocked his socks off?” Izzy’s eyes were bright.

“It wasn’t supposed to knock his socks off,” Daisy reminded her. “He’s got a girlfriend.”

Izzy looked disappointed. But then she shrugged philosophically. “So you had a good time.”

Daisy did her best to sound bright and enthusiastic about the evening. She didn’t tell Izzy that Alex had turned up at the hospital. She didn’t mention anything that happened after that. Until she had some idea of what Alex intended, she wasn’t borrowing trouble—or discussing him with anyone.

She was glad Izzy and the boys came because it took the edge off Charlie’s boredom and irritability. The matchbox cars that Rip and Crash brought him were a big hit. But Daisy was, honestly, glad when they left again because it was hard to give the impression of cheerful equanimity when she felt edgy and stressed and as if her world was splintering into a million pieces. She left Charlie playing with his cars on the floor in the living room and retreated to the kitchen to wash up the cups and plates from the MacCauleys’ visit.

And then the doorbell rang.

“It’s Alex!” Charlie yelled, jumping up and running to the door.

Wiping nervous hands on the sides of her jeans, Daisy followed him to answer it. She dragged the door open a few inches and, as always, felt her heart do a somersault in her chest at the mere sight of him.

Gone, of course, was the formal wear of last evening. This afternoon Alex was in jeans and a hunter-green down jacket, his dark hair windblown and dusted with snowflakes, his jaw stubbled. His eyes were bloodshot, but they met hers squarely.

“Daisy.” His voice was soft but firm, and gravelly as if he hadn’t slept.

“Alex,” she replied, holding herself rigid, trying to relax, but unable to. Still she swallowed and tried to sound cordial and polite.

“Hi, Alex.” Charlie poked his head around to beam up at the man on the doorstep. “Come ‘n’ see my new cars.”

“Cars?” Alex grinned and stepped across the threshold.

Daisy backed up hastily. “Charlie’s much better,” she said as he brushed past. “You didn’t have to come.”

He gave her a look so intense it could have leveled buildings. “I wanted to come.” Then he turned his attention to Charlie. “You’re better, are you?” he said, his tone far lighter. “Good. I thought maybe we could go to the park.”

“The park?” Daisy echoed doubtfully.

But Charlie cheered. Obviously no one had told him he was an invalid.

“But let’s see your new cars first.” Alex was already shedding his jacket, dropping down onto the floor next to Charlie, making himself at home.

Charlie was clearly delighted to have the attention. He showed Alex the new set of Matchbox cars that Rip and Crash had given him. “Sports cars,” he told Alex eagerly. “They go really fast. See?” He raced them around on the floor, making car noises.

Alex stretched out his long legs and leaned back on an elbow, watching, not just indulgently, but with real interest. He picked up the cars by turn, examining them, commenting knowledgeably because, of course, he knew all about cars. It must come standard issue with the Y chromosome.

Daisy stood there, watching, unable to pull herself away. Seeing the two of them together—father and son—was something she’d barely ever dreamed of. Hearing Charlie’s eager chatter and Alex’s low baritone in reply set something deep inside her quivering, aching.

Wanting. Far too much.

Abruptly she wheeled away. “I’ll be upstairs,” she said. “I have work to do.”

He had come to see Charlie, not her. And while it was hardly an honest introduction to the demands of fatherhood, if he came looking for reinforcements in fifteen minutes, she’d know it wasn’t going to last.

Charlie came in half an hour later. “Alex an’ me want to go to the park. He says to ask if you want to go along.”

Annoyed that he would presume to decide what he and Charlie were going to do without consulting her, Daisy hurried downstairs.

The Legos and Matchbox cars had been neatly put away and Alex was zipping up his jacket. “Good,” he said. “You’re coming, too.”

“You don’t presume. You should have asked!”

“Charlie did ask.”

Charlie bobbed his head. “I said we wanted to go, and did you want to come.”

Daisy opened her mouth, then closed it again. “Fine,” she said shortly. “I’ll come.”

It was torture, seeing him with Charlie, being with him herself, acting as though they were some lovely happy family, all the while knowing it was a sham.

“Take it easy,” Alex said in an undertone as she jerkily shoved her arms into her jacket. “I’m not going to steal my son.”

My son, she wanted to correct him. And no, you’re damned well not!

But Alex had turned and was helping Charlie with his jacket. Daisy wanted to push him away and do it herself. But one look told her that Charlie was more patient with Alex helping than he would have been with her. And Alex did take the time to show him how to do it himself—except for the zipping up part.

“Guess we’ll have to help with that,” he said easily, then zipped the jacket up to Charlie’s chin. Then rising again, he reached down to ruffle the little boy’s hair.

It was a casual movement, but it already spoke of a connection that made Daisy’s insides clench, especially when Charlie flashed him a happy grin.

Turning abruptly, she called Murphy and snapped on his leash. Then the four of them went out the door and headed to the park—just like a family.

She shouldn’t have come. She should have stayed back in her office and got more work done. But the temptation of watching Alex with Charlie was too great. It was terrifying, too. But Charlie was having such a good time.

There was still lots of snow on the ground. Once they got to the park, they built a snowman. And they had a snowball fight. Then Charlie made snow angels.

“A snow devil more like,” Daisy said, laughing as she watched him, then taking photos with the small pocket-size camera she always carried. She got quite a few of Charlie and Alex rolling balls to make the snowman, then more of Alex lifting Charlie onto his shoulders so he could put an old hat on the snowman’s head.

They were laughing as they did it, Alex lurching around in the snow while Charlie gripped Alex’s hair with his free hand and laughed madly. Then Alex tipped his head back to grin up at his son, and the look they shared made Daisy feel as if she’d caught a snowball square in the heart.

Later she nearly did as she helped Charlie pelt Alex with snowballs. She got several shots of Charlie and Alex throwing them at each other. Then Alex took the camera out of her hand.

“What are you doing?” She tried to grab it back.

But Alex held it out of her reach, his green eyes mischievous. “Go play with your son.”

Self-consciously at first, Daisy did. But then she got caught up in Charlie’s enthusiasm. And while she pushed Charlie on a swing and helped him build a little snow dog to go with the snowman, Alex took pictures. Finally, when Daisy said it was time to leave, he set the camera’s timer and hauled them all into a picture together, scooping Charlie up into one arm while he flung the other around Daisy.

And once more when his arm pulled her close, Daisy felt the hum of electricity between them. She felt desire all over again, and knew it for the hopeless feeling it was. It was a relief when the timer went off, the shutter clicked, and he let her go, slung Charlie onto his shoulders and they all walked home.

On the doorstep, when Alex set him down, Daisy smiled politely. “Thank you. He enjoyed that.”

“Did you?” Alex asked.

She heard the pointedness of his tone and chose to ignore it. “Of course.” She fumbled to get the key in the lock. He was wearing sunglasses and before she’d turned away she couldn’t read his expression, but she could still feel the intensity of his gaze.

“Good.” He took the key out of her hand and opened the door himself. Then he pushed it open, let them go in, then followed and shut it behind him.

“I need to get dinner started. Don’t let us keep you. I’m sure you have things to do.” Daisy said briskly and, slipping off her jacket, started toward the kitchen.

“We can get takeout. What do you like?”

“I’m making stew. Charlie likes it.”

“So do I.” Alex smiled guilelessly.

“Alex can stay, can’t he?” Charlie asked.

What was a mother to do? Of course she had to be polite. She was teaching Charlie to be polite.

The evening was interminable. Dinner. Then Charlie’s bath. Then bedtime stories. And awareness of Alex at every single moment. Watching him with Charlie, catching him looking at her when he thought she wasn’t noticing. Charlie’s stories took forever, even though Alex read several of them. Prayers were longer, too, because Alex, of course, was added to them.

“No singing tonight,” Daisy decreed before Charlie could even suggest it. “You need to go to sleep. Remember, your class is going to the zoo tomorrow.” The preschool trip to the Bronx Zoo—and a program about animals in winter—had been much anticipated.

Now Charlie looked up from his pillow and asked, “Can Alex come?”

“No,” Daisy said without giving Alex a chance to reply.

“But—”

“I have to work,” Alex said, sounding regretful. “But we had fun today. We’ll do this again.”

Charlie popped up. “When?”

“That depends on how well and how fast you go to sleep now,” Daisy said, no stranger to manipulative children. She gave him a speaking look.

Charlie sighed, sank back against the pillow and shut his eyes. “I’m sleepin’.”

“So I see,” Daisy said drily, bending to kiss him. “Good night, Mr. Sleepyhead.”

“Night,” Charlie murmured, not opening his eyes.

She stepped back, and found that Alex had taken her place at Charlie’s bedside. He brushed a hand over Charlie’s head, then dropped to one knee and pressed a light kiss on Charlie’s forehead.

The boy’s eyes popped open and small hard arms and one very hard blue cast wrapped themselves around Alex’s neck.

Alex stiffened. And Daisy held her breath.

Then slowly his posture eased, and his arms went around Charlie, too. He scooped the boy up for a fierce hug, burying his face in the crook of Charlie’s neck. Then slowly he drew back and lowered the boy to the pillows again. “G’night, sport.” His voice was rough. He straightened and stood looking down at the little boy for a long moment.

Then his gaze turned to Daisy. Their eyes met. She shut off the light and headed down to the kitchen.

If he wanted to talk, he could do it while she washed the dinner dishes. But frankly, she didn’t know what else there was to say. She began to run water in the sink, all the while aware of exactly where he was, hip propped against the counter beside the refrigerator, watching her.

“Sorry I didn’t get here earlier,” he said over the running water.

“You didn’t need to come at all.” Daisy set the plates in the soapy water.

“Of course I needed to come. But I had to get hold of Caroline. I needed to tell her first.”

Daisy did turn then. “That you had a son? How did she take that after your ‘no children ever’ edict?”

Alex’s mouth twisted wryly. “She was … surprised.”

“I’ll bet.” Daisy turned away again, picking up a mug and scrubbing it so furiously that the tiny sprays of yellow primroses on it threatened to disappear.

“But she understands.”

Daisy’s teeth came together as she swallowed half a dozen remarks that were far snarkier than the previous one. “I don’t want her understanding. If she’s like you, she doesn’t want kids around!”

“She won’t have them. We’ve broken it off.”

Daisy stared at him. “What?”

Alex lifted his shoulders. “Circumstances changed. I called Amalie, too. Told her I was cancelling the rest of our agreement. My matchmaker,” Alex said when Daisy stared at him blankly.

She was still processing Caroline’s departure. “Why?”

“Because I don’t need one now. Obviously. She gets her money anyway, so she doesn’t care. She wished me all the best.” He paused, then exhaled slowly and said, “So, the decks are clear.”

There was a moment’s stark silence as the implication of his words set in. Daisy felt a sudden chill but it started inside her, not out.

“Clear,” she echoed. “Clear for what?”

But as soon as she asked, she knew she couldn’t let him answer. She already knew—and she didn’t want to hear it. “For you to be noble? For you to do something stupid like ask me to marry you?”

Alex stared at her, taken aback. “Damned right I want to marry you. Why the hell not? It makes perfect sense.”

Exactly what she wanted to hear. Daisy wasn’t cold any longer, she was burning up. She wouldn’t have been surprised if steam was coming out of her ears.

“You’re just like Cal! What is it with men, anyway? Why do you always think you can make the world act the way you want it to?”

“Daisy—”

“It’s all control with you, isn’t it?”

“Daisy, stop it! Stop being stupid. And this has nothing to do with your ex or anyone else.” He shoved away from where he was leaning against the countertop and came toward her. “Be sensible, Daisy. I want to—”

“No. Don’t do it, Alex,” she said fiercely. “Don’t say it. I don’t want to hear it.” She flung the sponge away and put her hands over her ears. “I won’t!”

Of all the bloody-minded females!

Alex couldn’t believe it! But Daisy was glaring at him, her cheeks flushed, her eyes flashing. She’d flung the sponge into the sink and put her hands over her ears, defying him to … what?

Propose?

Of course he was damned well going to propose. It was the right thing to do. If he had fathered a child—and he quite obviously had—it was his duty to marry his child’s mother, be her husband, a father to their child and … and then what?

Live happily ever after?

He wouldn’t let himself think about that.

Because in his experience, people didn’t get to. Well, maybe some did. But how did you know? How could you ever be sure?

You couldn’t. But the decision was no longer his. He’d made it five years ago when he’d made love to Daisy. He’d spent all night coming to terms with what that meant, and he was ready to do it. Determined to do it.

And now …

Now he didn’t have to.

Just like that, Daisy had popped his balloon of self-righteous nobility before he’d even had a chance to let it fly.

He should be relieved, Alex told himself. Somewhere deep down, he supposed he was relieved. But at the same time, he was madder than hell. He didn’t like being dismissed, being told his presence wasn’t needed, wasn’t valued.

And if she expected he would just turn around and walk away, she was bloody well out of her mind. At least she’d taken her hands off her ears now and had turned back to the pots and pans with which she was making an almighty racket.

Alex scowled at her back. “I seem to recall,” he pointed out, “that you wanted marriage.”

The pots continued to clatter. She shot him a quick furious glance over her shoulder. “Five years ago, yes. When I was besotted, yes. When I thought you loved me, too. Not now! I don’t want you now!”

It surprised him that her words actually hurt. They made him stiffen as if he could defend himself against them, against her. His jaw felt as tight as a steel trap. “Fine,” he said tersely. “You don’t have to ‘have’ me.”

Daisy turned, a look of consternation flicked across her features, followed by a faint sheepish smile of relief. “Well, um, good. Thank you,” she said gruffly.

“But that doesn’t mean you’re getting rid of me.”

She blinked. “But—”

“For God’s sake, Daisy. You have my son! You might not have seen fit to tell me, but I know it now. And I’m not going to walk out of his life. I want to be part of it. I want him to be part of mine.”

“For how long? Are you going to be buddies like you were today? For as long as it suits you? Are you going to be here when he needs you or are you going to walk when the going gets tough? Do you imagine you can be here and not care, Alex? You said—you told me plainly—brutally—that you didn’t want to care—about anyone!” Her eyes flashed with accusation.

“You never let me care,” he pointed out, trying to sound calmer than he felt. “You didn’t even tell me he existed!”

“To protect him! To protect him from the knowledge that for you love is a one-way street!”

Stung, for a moment Alex didn’t reply. Deliberately he swallowed his discomfort at the truth of her words. But at the same time, he lashed back. “Is that what it is?” he challenged her. “Or maybe—” he flung at her because, damn it, he wasn’t the only one in the wrong “—it’s all about protecting yourself!”

“I don’t need to protect myself from you anymore. I know the score now. But Charlie doesn’t. He’ll give his love, wholly and completely, to you! To a man who can’t let himself care—to a man who thinks love is worth nothing! And how do you think that’s going to make him feel? I know what that’s like, remember? And I wasn’t four! I know what’s right for my son!”

“And you’re the arbiter of all things ‘right’ in Charlie’s life?”

“I know him better than anyone. I love him more than anyone. I want the best for him.”

“The best thing would be if he had a family,” Alex told her flatly. “And you know it.”

Daisy didn’t reply. She just stared at him stonily. Then she reached for a towel, dried her hands on it, and marched past him, heading straight into the living room where she twisted the locks and yanked open the door. “I think it’s time you left now.”

Alex followed her into the living room, but he stopped there, staring at her, trying to fathom what was going on in her head. She wasn’t being sensible, wasn’t being rational.

“You know I’m right, Daisy.”

She just looked at him, then at the door. When he still didn’t move, she yanked his jacket off the hook where he’d hung it and thrust it at him. “Goodbye, Alex.”

Wordlessly he reached out and took it, shrugged it on and zipped it up. “Fine. I’ll go. But this isn’t over. I’ll be back. And while I’m gone, don’t just think about Charlie. Think about what you want, too.”

And he pulled her into his arms and took her mouth with his.

He’d been wanting to do this all day, all yesterday, every minute, it seemed, since he’d kissed her last. The hunger was so fierce he ached with it.

Now he felt her whole body stiffen. She raised her arms between them, her forearms pressing against his chest as if to hold him off. It didn’t matter. While he would have liked to feel her body melt against him, to have her arms wrap around him, to know her eagerness matched his, he didn’t need it to prove his point.

He had his lips to convince her, to taste her, to tease her. He had his tongue to touch her lips, to part them, to slip between and find her sweetness. God, she made him crazy, made his whole being quiver with need, made the blood sing in his veins.

He wasn’t going to let her pretend that it meant nothing. Kissing Daisy never meant nothing. Kissing Daisy was amazing, wild, always potent, always drugging. Kissing Daisy always made his heart slam against the wall of his chest, made his loins tighten and his body hum with desire.

And damn it, he knew—absolutely knew—it was the same for her.

She fought it. He could feel her resisting. But she was fighting herself, not him. Her lips trembled, pressed together, denied him. But she denied herself, as well.

So he touched them anyway. He drew a line with his tongue, coaxed, teased. And they gave, opened just a fraction. He took advantage, darted within. He heard her whimper, and her fingers opened to clutch his jacket, hanging on. Her lips softened, parted farther. And he felt a jolt as her tongue tangled with his.

Yes, like that. It was always like that between them. Always had been. Alex wanted to cheer, to exult, to press his advantage and take them where they both wanted to go. He wanted to slide his fingers beneath her sweater and stroke her curves, her breasts, her very bones. He wanted to tease beneath the waistband of her jeans, slide his fingers south, touch her—there. Damn she was killing him. His breath came hard and fast. He wanted to taste, to tease, to sample and suckle. He wanted to devour. He wrapped her in his arms, thrust his fingers in her hair, kissed her hard one more time.

Then he pulled back, dragging in lungfuls of air as he looked down into her stunned feverish gaze. “While you’re thinking,” he said roughly, “think about that.”

Her palm connected with his cheek so fast he didn’t even see it coming.

“What the hell was that for?” he demanded. His fingers curled. He jammed his hands in his pockets.

“What was the kiss for?” she countered furiously.

His gaze narrowed. “That’s why you slapped me? For reminding you that we had something good?”

“I don’t need any reminders, thank you very much. And it turns out we didn’t have anything at all.”

“You don’t believe that.”

“I do. And I don’t need you trying to bribe me with sex.”

He gaped at her. “Bribe you?”

Her eyes flashed. “Bribe me, get around me, coerce me, make me do what you want because I’m somehow susceptible to you! Call it what you like. It’s not going to work.”

“For God’s sake, Daisy.” He raked fingers through his hair. “I was trying to show you it isn’t all about Charlie.”

“No, it isn’t. It’s all about you—what you want, when you want it, and not when you don’t. You don’t love Charlie. You don’t love anyone. You don’t want to. You push people away. At least Cal wanted to,” she spat at him furiously.

“Cal?” he retorted. “This is all about Cal? All about your ‘failed’ marriage? Has it really made you that bitter?”

“I’m not bitter at all. Not at Cal. Not at our marriage.” She lifted her chin as if defying him to argue. “We went into it with our eyes open.”

He watched her, saw a host of conflicting expressions cross her face. Then she lifted a shoulder as if shrugging off a burden and said, “Cal is gay.”

Alex stared at her.

“He’s my friend. And he didn’t have a lover. So when he saw what I was going through, he tried to make it easier for me.” She ran her tongue over her lips. “He was convinced that he could will himself to love whoever he wanted to love.” She shrugged. “He believes in the same things I do—commitment, long-term relationships, responsibility. Love.”

Alex’s gaze narrowed.

“He never lied to me. And I didn’t lie to him. He knew I loved you. He knew you didn’t love me. He offered his name, his support, everything he could. And I did the same for him. But—” she lifted her shoulders “—it wasn’t enough. We tried to make it work. It didn’t. In the end we knew that. We’ll always be friends. But there’s more to real love, real marriage than that. And we both wanted … more.”

“I’m offering you more,” Alex pointed out indignantly.

Daisy just looked at him. She took a slow breath, then swallowed and shook her head. “No, Alex. You’re not. You’re offering far, far less.”

She pushed him out the door and closed it after him.