Читать книгу New Year's Wife - Linda Varner - Страница 10

A glass-domed anniversary clock on the mantel chimed the time—3:00 a.m. Tyler Jordan, a volunteer member of the clean-up crew, worked his way through the living room, picking up abandoned paper plates and disposable plastic cups to toss into a trash bag. He battled with his conscience, knowing full well that Julie wanted him to leave, but reluctant to do so until he explained his behavior all those years ago.

So what if she’d already told him she didn’t care why he ran away? Her body language said she lied, and even if she spoke the truth, he needed to say his piece. Tyler hated unfinished business. This was definitely that— and the only reason he’d abandoned his ski plans so abruptly when he’d run into Don at the gas station.

Don’s news that Julie was now widowed had nothing to do with anything. It was the birthday party and the fact that Julie lived with her dad again that cinched the impulsive decision to drop by. When presented with the perfect opportunity to right old wrongs, Tyler had made the most of it. Any man with scruples would, and heaven knew he could claim more than his share of those—the very reason he’d landed himself in this mess.

“I’m on my way out to the trash barrel. Want me to take that for you?” Don reached for the bag Tyler held. “This was the last bag in the box, but I think there are more in the pantry. Go ask Julie.”

With a glance around the still-littered room, Tyler nodded and made a beeline to the kitchen, hoping to catch Don’s sister alone. If they could talk now, he wouldn’t have to sleep over. Contrary to what he’d told her brother, Tyler did have accommodations for tonight—a motel room he’d already put on his credit card and would have to pay for whether or not he utilized it. Fairly certain he wasn’t welcome at the Newman house—at least by Julie—Tyler preferred utilizing it.

Worse, he’d paid a hefty entrance fee for a downhill skiing competition on a slope the locals had dubbed GR—Grim Reaper. Tyler planned to win the race and add another trophy to his growing collection.

A push on the swing door later, Tyler stepped into the kitchen, painted bright yellow and trimmed in blue gingham. Julie stood alone with the dishwasher she loaded. Since she didn’t look up when he entered, he paused for a moment to study her, just as he’d done eight years ago.

The years had been kind. She was almost the same size as when a teen, though a little more filled out, as mature women usually are. Her brunette hair hung to just below her shoulders, slightly curled on the ends and gleaming reddish in the light. And though she had her back to him, he knew feathery bangs framed her oval face.

For just a second Tyler closed his eyes and pictured that girl-next-door face. He saw wide brown eyes with thick lashes. He saw an uptilted nose and dimples. He saw a friendly smile.

Encouraged by his vision, Tyler stepped closer, something she hadn’t allowed all evening. Whistling, busy, Julie didn’t seem to notice his soundless approach until he stood mere inches away. Then she stiffened, whirled and stepped back, crimson-glossed lips still pursed for the tune. Tyler’s gaze focused first on those full, kissable lips, which had once touched his, then dropped to her breasts, which rose and fell with every agitated breath. He remembered how silky her skin felt to the touch—how incredibly responsive she was. His heart skipped a beat.

“Don’t you ever give up?” Julie snapped, self-consciously brushing off her bulky maroon sweater at the exact spot where he’d been staring.

“I didn’t come in here to talk,” Tyler retorted, a half truth. “I came to get another trash bag.”

“Oh.” She looked flustered, embarrassed. “I thought…well, it doesn’t matter.” Pushing up her sleeves, she crossed the room to the walk-in pantry, opened the door and disappeared from view.

Tyler sagged against the counter and struggled to get a grip on his emotions—not an easy thing to do. There was something about this woman—had been from the moment he’d met her—that kept him off balance. She was a magnet to his steel.

She drew his gaze. She annihilated his composure.

She turned him on.

Tyler couldn’t explain it and didn’t like it, but the fact remained: Julie Newman McCrae had power over him, power she didn’t even know she possessed…thank God. Just thinking about it made Tyler’s forehead bead with cold sweat because this time, this time, she was legal.

“Julie?” He sort of croaked the word.

At once, she stuck her head out from behind the pantry door and frowned at him. “What?”

“I lied. I did come in here to talk.”

She huffed her opinion of that and stepped from the pantry, new box of trash bags in hand. “For crying out loud, Tyler! Can’t we just forget about what happened? It’s old news. Very old news. And doesn’t even matter.”

“Then why are you still angry with me?”

“I’m not.” They stood toe-to-toe now, separated only by the width of the box she thrust at him.

“The hell you aren’t,” he retorted. “Your face is red. Your hands are trembling, and for two cents I’ll bet you’d throw that box at me.”

For a second Julie said nothing, then she heaved a lusty sigh. “To be honest, I’d do it for free, which means I am still upset. Unfortunately I can’t begin to tell you why, since I didn’t even know it until tonight.” She shook her head in disbelief. “What happened between us all those years ago is nothing compared to what I’ve been through since, yet for some reason I’m still irritated about it.”

“Then let me explain…please. And we’ll put it to rest once and for good.”

“Oh, all right,” she said after another hesitation. “Explain if you must, but I can’t promise I’ll like you any better. If I’ve held a grudge this long, I’ll probably take it to the grave.” She set the box on the counter and crossed her arms over her chest, clearly waiting for him to speak.

At once Tyler’s wits took a leave of absence, taking along his tongue. He felt his face heat, a sure sign he, too, blushed.

“I…uh…well…uh…” Damn it. Tyler took a deep breath and tried again. “Do you think we could step out to the porch? Your brother will probably burst in here the moment I—”

As if on cue, Don pushed through the swing door. “What’s the holdup?” His gaze leapt from the box of bags to Tyler to Julie. “So are you two going to talk all night or get on with the show? It’s 3:00 a.m. I’ve had several beers too many, and I’d like to get a couple of hours shut-eye before I have to get up again…”

Wordlessly Julie extracted two bags from the box. She gave both men one and then turned her back on them, busy once more with the dishwasher.

Don glanced around the room. “Where are Kit and Dad?”

“Kit has to work tomorrow, er, today, so I sent her to bed an hour ago,” Julie told him without glancing up from her work. “As for Dad, since he’ll be up again at dawn with Timbo, I waived his KP duties altogether.”

“My brother’s three-year-old stepson,” Don said to Tyler by way of explanation. “He also has a step-daughter named Carly, and a baby of his own, Josh. ‘Gramps’ volunteered to baby-sit.” Don explained the situation as he led the way to the door, which he held open for Tyler. “You do remember that Dad manufactures gourmet pots and pans?”

“I remember.” Short of looking as if he didn’t want to help out, Tyler had no choice but to step back into the formal living room. Though a bit frustrated at first, he soon decided to make use of Don’s presence to fill in a few blanks. “Um…Julie’s a widow, right?” he asked as he continued clean up.

“Uh-huh. Her late husband, Cord, was an Alaskan Smoke Jumper—ever heard of them?”

“Sure I have,” Tyler murmured, shocked by a stab of what felt suspiciously like jealousy. Alaskan Smoke Jumpers were men’s men, noted for their courage and skill. Tyler couldn’t begin to compete with one of them.

Compete? With a dead man? At once ashamed of his misguided envy, not to mention his lack of sympathy for Julie, Tyler sharply corralled his emotions. “How long were they married?”

“Just under four years. Though Julie has never said anything, I’ve always suspected the marriage was not a happy one. They were a mismatch, in my opinion. She’s the kind of gal who wants the traditional stone cottage, complete with white picket fence and a yard full of kids. He preferred a log cabin in the woods, big enough for two, but not for three. He also had this thing about physical challenges—” Don chuckled “—something you can relate to, I guess. Why, it was nothing for him to skip Christmas with the family so he could climb a mountain somewhere.”

“And Julie moved home right after the funeral?”

“Well, back to Idaho, anyway. That was about a year ago, I guess. She’s been working for Dad half of that time and living here in the house since a few months after my mom passed away.”

“I heard about your mom. I’m sorry.”

Don nodded, and the men worked in silence for a moment.

“Does Kit work for your dad, too?”

“Kit’s a nurse,” Don said. “She was the wild child— the rebel who didn’t want any part of the family business.” He shook his head and grinned. “You’d be surprised how many people assume she’s the baby of the family.”

“Actually…I wouldn’t.” Tyler cleared his throat, a self-conscious sound to his own ear, though Don didn’t react to it. “Kit’s married?” At the party he’d noticed that she wore a wide gold band.

Don explained his sister’s circumstances, adding, “Her husband, Monty, has another five months on the carrier, then he’ll be out for good. I’m assuming they’ll find a place of their own, though not if Dad has any say in the matter. He invented the always-room-for-one-more concept, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

“I had,” Tyler admitted.

“You’re still with Sky Flight, I guess?” Don asked, referring to the commercial airline for which Tyler had piloted the last five years.

“No. I left them about this time last year.”

Don straightened, a look of surprise on his face. “I thought you loved your job there.”

Tyler hesitated, not for the first time at a loss for words to verbalize the restlessness that had prompted his leaving the best job he’d ever had. “I needed a change, a challenge.”

“So what are you doing now?”

“Nothing until spring. Then I’ll probably do what I did last year—charter work, some crop dusting.”

“Are you still into stuff like mountain climbing, white-water rafting, motorcycle racing, bungee jumping…?”

“I didn’t do any bungee jumping at all last summer.”

“Came to your senses?”

“Nah. I just didn’t have time for it. I was too busy with the county fairs.”

Don frowned. “County fairs?”

“I do a little stunt flying for a friend who manages an air acrobatics show. We follow the fairs.” He grinned. “You should see me in my getup. Charles Lindbergh all the way.”

When Don arched an eyebrow, Tyler shrugged. “There’s good money in it.”

“Yeah, well, it’d have to be better than just ‘good’ before you’d catch me doing nosedives over a gawking crowd.” Shaking his head in obvious bemusement, Don picked up one last paper plate, which he tossed into his bag. He then perused the room. “Guess that does it. Let me get rid of these bags, and then I’ll show you where you’re going to sleep.”

“Are you sure it’s okay if I stay here? I mean, I can find a motel downtown if it’s any trouble at all.”

“Dad was so thrilled to have you that he’s sleeping in one of the spare rooms so you can have the good bed.” Don waved away the protest Tyler opened his mouth to make. “Trust me, you’ll pay for the comfort. By the time you leave here Dad’s going to know every detail of every adventure you’ve had for the past eight years and then some. He’s nosier than an old woman.”

“My ex would clobber you if she heard a sexist remark like that,” Tyler murmured with a laugh.

Don’s jaw dropped. “I didn’t know you got married,” he murmured, just as Julie exited the kitchen into the living room.

Very aware of her presence, Tyler shrugged. “I used the term loosely. Actually, we just lived together for a while.”

“What happened?” Julie asked, crossing the room to set yet another bulging trash bag at her brother’s feet.

Tyler gave her a long look. “She started talking weddings,” he replied. “We had an agreement, a no-strings setup that worked well, then all at once—” he shook his head, as always mystified by female logic that turned pros into cons. “I’ll never figure out what the hell I did to make her think I was ready to tie the knot.”

“Of course you won’t,” Julie interjected rather sharply. “Men and women aren’t on the same wave-length.”

“What are you talking about?” Tyler asked, a thoughtless question that earned him a what-did-I-tell-you smile from Julie and a wry laugh from Don.

“I’m talking about sexual differences,” she replied, rocking back on the heels of her black leather scrunch boots, “and I don’t mean the obvious physical ones.”

“I kind of like the obvious physical ones,” Don interjected, ducking when Julie swatted at him.

“What I’m saying is that women place different meanings on certain things than men do.” When Don and Tyler exchanged a baffled glance, Julie sighed. “For example, take your basic, everyday kiss.”

Tyler tensed.

“Why do you kiss a woman, Don?” Julie asked.

Her brother grinned. “Several reasons, but mainly because it’s a good way to get close enough to explore those obvious physical differences you mentioned.”

Julie nodded. “Exactly. To you—and most other men—” she looked pointedly at Tyler “—kisses are nothing more than a lead-in to sex, which, as we all know, is the ultimate male goal.”

“And what are kisses to you, er, to women, if I may ask?” Tyler frowned slightly as he waited for her reply.

“A woman considers physical intimacy to be a stepping stone to the ultimate female goal, which is commitment.”

Tyler winced at her use of the C word—a word thrown at him before, a word he’d come to dread.

Julie, obviously not missing his reaction, lifted her chin and looked down her nose at him. “That’s why we take it so personally when someone we consider a possible mate kisses and runs. Now if you two will excuse me, I’m going to bed.” That said, she sashayed past the men, leaving in her wake an icy chill that made Tyler shiver.

When they were alone again, Don shook his head. “Don’t mind her, Ty. She’s always been like that-poking her nose where it doesn’t belong, analyzing everyone’s motives, handing out free advice.” He flashed a grin of mock exasperation. “It drives me nuts some-times, but what can I do? I’m stuck with her.”

Well, I’m not, Tyler thought, renewing his determination to have his say and bring their conflict to closure. Come tomorrow—er, today—they’d talk. He’d finally clear the air once and for all and get on with his life, unhampered by the guilt of old sins and the hard feelings of foolish misunderstandings.

Tyler woke with a start and lay in confusion, heart pounding, unsure of where he was. Something had wakened him…a sound that didn’t belong in his apartment.

He frowned into the dark and only gradually recalled the where and why of his current situation. A quick glance round the room confirmed it: Idaho. Julie’s house. Tyler glanced at his travel alarm, groaning when he saw the time, 4:30 a.m. He’d slept barely an hour and felt like hell.

What on earth had shattered his dreams? he wondered even as he heard the sound again. Crying. A child’s crying. One of brother Sid’s crew, no doubt. Perhaps the early bird.

But no, he decided moments later, frowning again. Something was wrong. This cry was one of pain.

At that moment, someone pounded on his door. “Dad? Are you awake?”

In a flash, Tyler stood beside the bed, tugging sweats over the briefs that were all he’d worn to bed since the house was kept so warm. He reached his door just as it opened.

“Dad, I-” Julie gasped. “You! Oh God, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize there’d been a switch in rooms.” She clutched a pajama-clad toddler against her chest—a boy, Tyler guessed—and jounced him as she spoke. “Where’s Dad sleeping?”

“I’m afraid I don’t know,” Tyler admitted. “Is this Sid’s stepson?”

“This is Sid’s baby, Josh. He fell out of bed and now he’s bleeding from somewhere, but won’t let me look to find out where.”

Tyler fumbled for the overhead light switch for what seemed an eternity before he found it. He then reached out to catch Julie’s elbow and lead her into his room.

“Sit on the bed,” he said, a command Julie obeyed with obvious reluctance. Josh sobbed softly, a sound that wrenched Tyler’s heart and reduced the child’s aunt to near tears, from the look of it.

Tyler dropped to one knee by the bed and touched the boy’s shoulder. “Hey, Josh, whasamatter?”

Without releasing his stranglehold on his aunt Julie, the toddler turned his head just enough to identify the speaker. His eyes, huge and dark, brimmed over with tears. Tyler instantly spotted the blood—on the boy’s face and on his aunt’s filmy pink nightgown—oozing from a jagged cut on the underside of his chin.

“It’s coming from a cut—see?—just under his chin, there. We’re going to have to wash it off so we can see how bad it is.”

“There should be a cloth in the bathroom,” Julie replied, pointing to the door that led to the bath just off Tyler’s room.

Tyler made short work of finding the cloth and wetting it with warm water. A quick search of the medicine cabinet produced Band-Aids, which he hoped were all he’d need. By the time he returned to the bed, Julie had managed to seat Josh in her lap so that Tyler could see his chin.

She reached for the cloth and Tyler gave it to her. The instant she tried to dab Josh’s chin he began to struggle and scream again.

“Let me,” Tyler said, taking the cloth back. “Josh. Hey buddy. Look-a here.”

Josh, still crying, but clearly curious about Tyler, did as requested.

“That’s great. Now be a big boy and let me wash you up, okay?”

To Julie’s obvious astonishment, Josh again did as asked, struggling only when Tyler touched the actual cut to asses its severity.

“It’s not deep,” Tyler was finally able to announce. “Just a scratch, really. No stitches required.” While he talked, he bandaged, then he used the cloth to clean Josh’s hands, Julie’s hands and finally her neck—tender ministrations endured without complaint from child or aunt. Gallantly he kept his gaze above the tips of her breasts, dark shadows under the sheer fabric of her gown. “There, all done. Feeling better?”

The question was directed to Josh, but Julie answered it. “Much, thanks. You’re very good at this. Got any little ones of your own?”

“No, thank God,” Tyler replied, a candid, but thoughtless, reply that earned him a censorious frown from Julie.

At once she placed a noisy kiss on her nephew’s head and hugged him hard—sure indication she valued rug rats much more than Tyler did. She then caught her breath, obviously just realizing that the gown she wore covered everything but hid nothing. Julie raised her gaze to meet Tyler’s, her face and neck flushed from forehead to cleavage.

“I’ve got to leave now…”

Though sorely tempted to argue, Tyler didn’t. Instead, he stood back and let her rise. Holding Josh to her chest as before—this time to hide breasts Tyler had once caressed—Julie backed toward the door. Only when she reached it did she spin around, and then just to dash out. She was quick, but not so quick Tyler didn’t get a glimpse of skimpy black panties, nearly bare bottom and long, shapely legs.

At once his body responded to the sight. With a groan he fell facedown on the bed, overcome with memories of the taste, smell and feel of her. Was this, then, the power she held over him? Sheer sexual thrill? It was a familiar spell, to be sure. One not experienced since the first time they met, eight years ago, but one well remembered all the same. The difference was their ages. She’d been a child then, a hot-to-trot teenager whose kiss had not revealed her innocence, but set him on fire. How did she kiss now that she was grown up and experienced in the ways of love? Tyler dared not try to imagine. If the kiss of a teen could haunt him for eight years, what would the kiss of a woman do?

Tyler groaned again, softly, but from the heart, then crawled back under the covers. Surprisingly he slept, but his dreams were crazy and erotic—the dreams of a man beguiled.

“More bacon?”

“Yes, please.”

Standing just outside the kitchen swing door, Tyler listened to the sounds of a family at breakfast. Several emotions washed over him at once, not the least of which was discomfort that surely resulted from the fact that he was the only child of a single parent. Acutely aware of his past experiences with—and subsequent aversion to—large, noisy families, Tyler actually turned to slip back upstairs when the door swung out and hit him in the backside.

“Oomph!” he exclaimed as a small boy charged past him.

“Come on in, Tyler,” called John Newman from the kitchen. “There’s plenty to eat and a place to sit now that Tim’s headed to the den. The Tournament of Roses Parade is on, you know, and he doesn’t intend to miss it.”

Squaring his shoulders, Tyler pushed through the door into the kitchen filled with family members. Only Kit could not be accounted for. Tyler assumed she was already at work.

John gave him a big smile. “Have a seat. Have a seat.”

Tyler skirted the table slowly en route to the proffered chair, nodding an awkward greeting to all who ate and stopping at Josh’s high chair to lean down and peer at his bandaged chin. It looked great, he thought, an opinion reaffirmed when Julie spoke.

“He’s fine today. Thanks again for helping out.”

“No problem,” Tyler murmured as he brushed bread crumbs and bits of egg off the chair just vacated by Tim, then sat.

“I want you to know that I don’t always do that,” Julie said.

“Excuse me?” All Tyler could think of was her sexy nightgown. Did she mean that she sometimes slept naked? he wondered, body stirring at the thought.

“Run to my daddy for help when I get in a tight spot,” Julie replied, unaware of the direction his thoughts had taken, but setting him straight all the same. “I’m a big girl except where the kids are concerned. Then I fall apart at the least sign of trouble.”

Tyler squirmed to ease the sudden bind of his jeans and faked a smile. “The thought never crossed my mind.”

“Here, son,” said John, passing Tyler a blue china bowl filled with scrambled eggs, cooked to perfection.

“My mother has a bowl like this,” Tyler murmured for lack of anything else to say. “She’s a retired nurse, living in Washington state.”

“With your dad?” John asked.

Tyler shook his head. “Alone.”

“Your dad is dead, then?” Apparently John was every bit as nosy as Don had warned.

“A deadbeat. One of those guys who’ll skip out on a woman without marrying her when she tells him he’s going to be a daddy.” Tyler noted the looks of sympathy passed between Don and Julie. He also noted that Julie then frowned at her dad in an obvious attempt to shut him up.

It didn’t work.

“Sorry to hear that,” John said, his tone very matter-of-fact. “His loss, of course.”

Tyler shrugged in reply and set down the bowl, now minus a generous helping of the eggs.

“We have sausage and bacon, biscuits and hash browns, too,” John then said, clearly oblivious to the tension in the room or the fact that for some reason Tyler had just blurted his deepest, darkest secret. “Eat hearty.”

“Thanks,” Tyler murmured, his gaze glued to the table before him. In seconds his plate was filled and, to make further foolish confessions impossible, his mouth.

Tyler’s illegitimate roots obviously didn’t bother John, who appeared bound and determined to discuss them. “Your mother never married anyone else, then?”

Tyler quickly swallowed. “No.”

“So you have no brothers or sisters?”

“None.”

“Then I guess the Newman household is a culture shock for you, huh?”

“Pretty much, yeah.”

“Well, don’t let that put you off. Big families are a lot of fun, son, and if you’re smart, you’ll find yourself a good, fertile woman real soon and get busy making one of your own.”

“Da-ad!” Julie scolded, her eyes shooting daggers at her tactless parent.

John looked at her in surprise, clearly clueless. “He’ll be glad he did, honey. Why, where would I be now if it weren’t for all you kids and grandkids? Alone, that’s where. Alone and lonely.” He pointed a finger at Tyler. “Your father made a poor choice that I’m sure he now regrets. There’s no reason for you to make the same one.”

“No, sir,” Tyler murmured, a lie. In truth, there were several, not the least of which was that big families gave him the willies. No, not even for old-age companion-ship would he endure the interference, inconvenience and irritation of them.