Читать книгу Someone Like You - Сьюзен Мэллери, Susan Mallery - Страница 7

JILL WOKE in darkness to the sound of the grandfather clock in the hall. She counted ten chimes, then shoved back the blanket and gingerly pushed into a sitting position.

Her memory blurred as she tried to figure out where she was and why she’d fallen asleep on a sofa. Bits and pieces returned as she recalled arriving at Aunt Bev’s place and the liberal consumption of brandy.

The quiet of the house told her that her aunt had already headed upstairs. Not a surprise—those who liked to be awake and perky for the sunrise usually had to go to bed fairly early. Jill was more of a sunset kind of gal, although she’d missed it today, what with sleeping off her stupor.

“There’ll be another sunset tomorrow,” she reminded herself as she stood and tensed in anticipation of a blinding headache or double vision. Neither occurred. Actually, she felt pretty good.

“That’s a plus.”

She made her way to the guest room and smiled when she saw the folded-back covers and fluffed pillows. Her aunt had even left a tray with water, a glass and a package of Alka-Seltzer.

“An amazing woman.”

Jill ignored the bed and walked to her suitcase. After collecting toiletries, she hit the bathroom and turned on the shower.

Twenty minutes, one shampoo and an application of sweet-pea-scented body lotion later, she felt practically normal. She debated between PJs and sweats before settling on the latter. With her hair still in a towel and a wide-tooth comb in her hand, she walked downstairs and out onto the back porch.

The wooden structure was nearly as wide as the front porch and just as furnished. There was an old swing, a rattan table and chair set along with a bench, a few bug-zapper lamps and a trellis covered with bougainvillea.

Jill ignored it all and sat on the rear steps leading down to the grass. The night was cool and pleasant. A clear sky twinkled with a thousand stars she couldn’t see when she was in the city. She supposed there were those who thought small-town life was made perfect by things like stars and unlocked doors. They were, of course, hideously wrong.

She pulled off the towel and reached for the comb. Just then the back door of the house on the left opened and someone stepped out.

Jill froze, her arm raised, the comb barely touching her hair. Even in the dim light of the porch she recognized the tall, broad-shouldered man. Mac.

She figured the odds of him visiting a neighbor at this hour were slim, which meant he probably lived next door to her aunt. Wasn’t that just how her life was going? No doubt he’d moved in with his wife and…

Hazy memories clicked into place. Something about a child. A daughter maybe? But no wife. Or at least not the kid’s mother. Or had that been wishful thinking on her part? Horror swept through her as she thought she remembered passing out in his presence.

She shifted to stand and creep back inside, but a board creaked, Mac turned, then started toward her. Jill glanced down at the T-shirt she’d pulled on over sweatpants. Oh, yeah, a fabulous “aren’t I sexy” look. She supposed her lack of bra could be considered provocative, if she had actual breasts larger than fried eggs.

“How are you feeling?” he asked as he approached.

His voice rumbled into the quiet of the night. The sound seemed to rub against her skin like velvet on silk. Her insides clenched and her mind emptied of all rational thought.

“Ah, better,” she managed. “I needed that.”

“The nap, the brandy or passing out?”

“Maybe all three.”

He paused in front of her and leaned against the railing. One corner of his mouth curved up.

“Do you remember anything that happened this afternoon?”

She had a feeling that he wasn’t talking about the drive from San Francisco. The question made her uneasy.

“Why? Did I do anything memorable before, um, passing out?” Had she thrown up, or worse? Was there worse than throwing up?

“Nope. You got very quiet, spilled your milk and passed out.”

Inwardly she winced. “Sounds charming.” She recalled waking up. “So how did I get to the sofa?”

Mac’s half smile widened into a full grin. “You’re welcome.”

He’d carried her? She’d actually been in Mac’s arms and she hadn’t been conscious for the moment? Could her life get any more unfair?

“Ah, thanks. That was really nice of you.”

What she wanted to know was had he enjoyed the experience? Had he thought of it as anything more than a chore? Had she even once crossed his mind in the past ten years?

He moved to the foot of the stairs and sat down. His thigh was amazingly close to her bare toes. If she moved her foot a scant inch, they would be touching. Jill jerked the comb through her still-wet hair and swallowed a sigh of frustration. One would think she would be more grown-up and mature by now, but one would be wrong.

“So you’re back in town,” she said when no wittier bit of conversation occurred to her.

He pointed to the house on the left. The one she’d seen him walk out of. “Right next door.”

“With your daughter?” she asked, hoping her wisps of memory were accurate.

The humor fled his face, leaving behind only tightness and something that might have been pain.

“Emily.”

“I’m sure she’ll enjoy Los Lobos. It’s a great place for kids. Especially in the summer.” Jill hadn’t started to chafe at the restrictions of small-town life until she’d entered college.

“I hope so. I haven’t seen her in a while. After the divorce…” He shrugged, which didn’t explain much.

“Was her mother difficult about things?” she asked.

“No. Carly was great. It was my fault. I wasn’t around for a while. That hurt Emily. She’s just a kid, I should have realized. I want joint custody, but I need to earn the privilege. That’s what this summer is about.”

His words left her with more questions than answers, but she decided not to push.

“I hope things work out,” she said.

“Me, too. Em means the world to me.” The smile returned. “Your aunt agreed to help me with day care. Should I be rethinking that?”

“Because of what I said about her not liking children?”

He nodded.

Jill shook her head. “She didn’t like teaching very much, but she was always great when I was growing up.” There was the whole psychic gift thing, but maybe it was better to let Mac find out about that on his own.

“Good to know,” he said.

“Your daughter arrived earlier, right? Did everything go okay?”

He glanced toward the house. “It was fine. Carly drove her up from L.A. and stayed through bedtime. All I had to do was hang around in the background. The real test will be in the morning.”

“You love her,” Jill told him. “That counts for a lot.”

“I hope so.”

She was about to expand on the point when she remembered she had absolutely zero experience in the kid department. Not that she hadn’t wanted them. But the lying weasel rat bastard had thought they should wait and, for reasons not clear to her, they had. Of course now she was glad—children would have complicated the divorce.

“So what are you doing back in town?” Mac asked. “Vacation? Last I heard you were practicing corporate law in San Francisco.”

Jill felt her eyes widen. He knew about her life? Had he been asking? Had he thought about her? Was there—

She quickly slammed a mental door on those thoughts. No doubt Mac had simply picked up small-town gossip. Nothing worth getting excited about.

“I was, until recently,” she said. “I worked for a corporate law firm in San Francisco. I was about to make junior partner.” She resumed combing her damp hair.

“Past tense?”

“Yup. My soon-to-be ex-husband managed to get me fired. He also got my promotion, my window office and our condo.” She tugged through a knotted strand. “Not that he’ll get to keep the condo. It’s community property. He cheated on me, too. I saw him, and let me tell you, there’s a visual I want erased from my brain.”

“That’s a lot for one day. How’d he get you fired?”

“I’m still working on that one. I brought a lot of business into the firm. More than any other associate. But when they fired me, I wasn’t allowed to speak to any of the senior partners to find out what was going on. I sent a couple of e-mails and letters, so we’ll see. In the meantime, I’m temporarily back in Los Lobos to take over the law practice of Dixon and Son.”

“And you’re not happy about it.”

“Not even a little.” She tried to tell herself at least she was still practicing law, but she didn’t actually believe herself.

“I take it Mr. Dixon didn’t have a son.”

“Apparently not. Or he wasn’t interested in taking over the family firm. So that’s me.” She set down the comb and forced herself to smile. “I’m a small-time litigator. In my free time I’ll be planning revenge on Lyle.”

“The ex?”

“Uh-huh.”

“If the revenge involves breaking the law, I don’t want to know.”

“Fair enough. I probably won’t do anything illegal, though. I don’t want to be disbarred.” Which cut into the possibilities. Not a problem, though. She could rise to the occasion by being more creative.

“Have the summer softball leagues started yet?” she asked.

Mac nodded. “Sure. Games every weekend.”

“Good. I think I’ll park the car by the practice fields. There should be plenty of fly balls zipping around.”

He winced. “Is that 545 Lyle’s car?”

“Technically it’s community property. He bought it with joint assets.”

“If I were you, I’d make a note of that to tell the judge.”

“I will.”

He chuckled.

Jill pulled her knees to her chest and sighed. This was nice—fun. If she’d been sixteen, talking to Mac in the dark would have been the answer to her prayers. At twenty-eight, it wasn’t half-bad, either.

“Why here?” he asked. “You could have gotten a job anywhere.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence. This gig is temporary. Actually it was my father’s idea.”

Mac stared at her. “He suggested it?”

“Oh, yeah. When I told him what had happened, he told me about the vacant practice here. You’d think that moving clear to the other side of the country would make him less of a meddler in town affairs, but no. It’s as if he’s still around the corner instead of in Florida.”

“He does keep a hand in,” Mac said. “Judge Strath-ern told me about the vacancy in the sheriff’s office.”

Jill didn’t know which surprised her more—that her father kept in contact with Mac or that Mac referred to him so formally. They’d known each other for years. Mac had practically grown up in her father’s house. Of course Mac being the housekeeper’s son probably put their relationship on a different level. Not that she’d cared about things like that. When she’d been a teenager all she’d cared about was how gorgeous Mac had been and how her heart had beat like hummingbird wings every time he smiled at her.

“So my dad’s to blame for both of us being here,” she said. “Although you like it.”

“Maybe the town will grow on you.”

“Like a wart? No thanks.”

She fingered her hair and realized it had started to dry. In a matter of minutes it would be a wild and wooly mess. She reached up and began to weave it into a loose braid.

“I don’t remember your hair being that curly,” he said as he watched.

Jill thought about how she’d looked earlier that day—a stained, drunk, frizzy mess. “It has a mind of its own. I tame it with a combination of iron will and hair products. Blow dryer, flatiron and an assortment of bottles and jars. Give me electricity, my tools and an hour and you’ll see sleek, perfect hair.”

“Why go to all that trouble?”

Spoken like a true man. “To keep it controlled and borderline normal.”

“Curly hair is sexy.”

Four simple words that made her stomach clench and her mouth go dry. She wanted to shake her head and flaunt her curls. She wanted to dance on the lawn and announce to the heavens that Mac thought she had sexy hair.

“Especially when it’s long, like yours.”

The world just got better and better.

“Thanks.”

Ooh, she sounded so cool and casual. Good thing he couldn’t see the chorus line of hormones doing the happy dance.

Mac stood. “This has been nice, Jill, but I need to get back and check on Emily. I wouldn’t want her to wake up and find the house empty.”

“Good point.”

She held in the regretful sigh and managed not to say how she wished they could talk about her sexy hair a little bit longer. Maybe next time.

She waved as Mac walked toward his house, then turned toward her own back door. Just as her fingers touched the door handle, she froze.

Maybe next time? Had she really thought that? No, no, no, no, no. There was no this time or next time or anytime. Mac was here—small-town sheriff makes good with kid. She was there—big-city corporate law shark. That was her—swimming for freedom. She did not want to get trapped here in Los Lobos. She wanted big bucks and bigger revenge on the rat fink lying weasel dog. Hunky guys next door were not part of her plan. And in case she was tempted, she needed to remember what had happened the last time she’d thrown herself at the guy in question.

He’d taken one look at her naked body and vomited. There was a lesson there—one she would do well to remember.

EMILY KENDRICK SQUEEZED her eyes as tightly closed as she could. She squeezed until her whole face hurt and she thought she might squish her eyeballs. She clenched her teeth, raised her shoulders and held her breath until the burning went away. Then she relaxed.

Okay. Better. She wasn’t going to cry. Not here. She wasn’t sure why she thought she shouldn’t give in to tears. It wasn’t as if someone had told her not to cry. The message came from inside her—that scary dark place that got bigger when she thought about the summer with her dad and her mom going away and how nothing had been right for a long, long time.

She could hear noises from downstairs. Something clanged onto the stove. Before, she would have giggled at the thought of her dad cooking. He’d done it sometimes, on Sunday morning or when she’d been sick and he’d stayed home with her. Then he’d made fun stuff, like grilled-cheese sandwiches cut up into the shape of a boat, or caramel corn they’d baked in the oven. He’d always let her help. He’d—

The burning came back. Emily sucked in a breath and willed it away. She wouldn’t think about before. About when things had been good and her dad had tossed her in the air and told her he loved her and her mom had laughed all the time. She wouldn’t think about that, or how one day she and her mom had gone away and her dad had never, ever found them.

She walked to the bed she’d made so carefully and picked up Elvis. The worn rhino fit into her arms the way he always had and that made her feel better.

“Mommy left us,” she murmured into the bare spot behind his ear—the place she always whispered her secrets. “She left last night after she tucked me in bed and I’m mad at her.”

Emily didn’t want to be mad at her mom, but mad was safe. She liked being mad right now because when she was mad she didn’t care so much.

“We have to stay the whole summer and be with some lady because my dad has to work. He’s the sheriff.”

She didn’t know what being the sheriff meant. He’d been a policeman before. She’d liked how he looked in his uniform—big and brave and she’d known he would always keep her safe. But then he’d let her go away and daddies weren’t supposed to do that. They were supposed to be with their little girls always.

She didn’t want to be here, Emily thought as she stared at the door to her room. She’d begged her mother to let her stay home. She’d promised to be good and clean her room and not watch too much TV, but it hadn’t mattered. Her mother had brought her here and had left her.

Emily’s stomach growled. She was hungry because she hadn’t eaten much dinner the night before.

Slowly, carefully, she opened the door and stepped into the hallway. The house was old, but nice. Big, with a second floor and lots of big trees. Her mom had told her that the ocean was real close and that her dad would take her to play on the beach. Emily had liked that but hadn’t said anything.

The stairs creaked as she walked downstairs. She could still hear her dad in the kitchen. She smelled bacon and maybe pancakes and her mouth began to water. Her grip on Elvis tightened until she was afraid she would pop him like a balloon. Finally she hovered at the entrance to the kitchen.

The room was big, with lots of windows. Her dad stood by the stove. He looked so tall and strong and just like she remembered him. For a second she almost ran over to be picked up and hugged. She wanted to feel his arms around her, holding her close. She wanted him to tell her that she was his best girl always.

Her throat got all tight and her stomach felt squishy instead of empty. And when he looked up and smiled at her, it was as if her feet had somehow glued themselves to the floor.

“Hey, kiddo, how’d you sleep?”

“Okay,” she whispered.

She waited for the hug, or a wink or something to tell her that he still thought she was his best girl. She leaned forward to hear him tell her that he loved her and he was glad they were together. That he’d missed her and looked for her every day but he hadn’t been able to find her.

But he didn’t. Instead he pulled out a chair at the table in the center of the room.

“Have a seat. I made pancakes. You always liked them, right? Oh, and bacon.”

Emily felt very cold on the inside, as if that dark, scary place inside of her had just frozen over. She didn’t want pancakes, she wanted her dad.

He waited until she was seated, then pushed in the chair. Emily put Elvis on the table next to her place setting and waited while he slid three pancakes onto her plate. Bacon was next. She looked from the food to the glass of orange juice just to her right.

Funny how she didn’t feel hungry at all. She didn’t feel anything.

“Here’s some strawberries,” he said, putting a bowl of the cut-up fruit on her left.

Emily squared her shoulders and carefully pushed the plate away. “No, thank you,” she said in a voice that was so small she wondered if she were starting to disappear.

“What? Aren’t you hungry?”

She wanted to grab Elvis and hold him close, but then her dad might guess she was scared and sad. Instead, she squeezed her hands together so tight that her nails dug into her skin.

“The color’s wrong,” she said, trying to speak a little louder. “I’m wearing purple.”

He looked at her T-shirt and shorts. “So?”

“If I’m wearing purple I can only eat purple.”

His mouth got straight and his eyes narrowed. He didn’t look happy anymore and she was afraid. But she didn’t give in. She couldn’t.

“Since when?” he asked. “How long have you been color-coordinating your food with your wardrobe?”

“A while now.”

“I see.”

It was barely after eight in the morning and Mac already felt tired. Damn it all to hell—he didn’t want to let Emily win this battle. It would set a precedent, forcing him into a corner.

“Wait there,” he told his daughter as he walked out of the kitchen and headed for the small den at the front of the house.

He’d set up an office in the narrow space, sliding a desk between built-in bookcases. Now he grabbed the phone and punched in Carly’s number. Couldn’t she have warned him what was going on with Emily? They’d had the whole evening. Was it too damn hard to say “Gee, Mac, the kid only eats the color she’s wearing.”?

Still caught up in his temper, he barely noticed when a man answered the phone.

“Hello?”

“What?” Mac started to say he’d dialed the wrong number when he realized that maybe he hadn’t. “Is Carly there?”

“Sure. I’ll get her.”

“It’s Mac,” he added, not sure why.

“Just a second.”

There was the sound of the phone being set down, then a low rumble of voices too quiet for him to hear the words. Obviously Carly was seeing someone and the man in question had spent the night. Mac turned the idea over in his brain, then shook his head. He didn’t care if she slept with the entire NFL as long as she didn’t do it in front of his daughter.

“Mac? What’s wrong?”

“Why didn’t you tell me she won’t eat a color she’s not wearing?”

From a couple hundred miles away, he heard his ex-wife sigh. “Is she doing that? I’m so sorry. I’d hoped she’d let it go. We talked about it.”

“You and she talked about it. You didn’t say squat to me.”

“I should have.”

“How long has she been doing this?”

“About six weeks. I talked to the pediatrician. She thinks it’s a way for Emily to have some control in her life, and maybe a way to get us to do what she wants. She didn’t get a say in the divorce or having you gone. She’s punishing us.”

“Couldn’t she just throw a tantrum and be done with it?”

“Tell me about it.”

He sat on the corner of the desk. “So how does this work? She ate last night.”

“Sure. She wore red. I brought spaghetti, a salad made of red-leaf lettuce and we had strawberry shortcake for dessert. What’s she wearing this morning?”

“Purple. I made pancakes and bacon. So far she’s ignoring it.”

“Blueberries are good on purple days. Although…when I saw the doctor last week, she pointed out that if we were willing to hold out against her and not give her what she wanted, eventually hunger would force her to eat.”

Starve his daughter? He couldn’t imagine it. “Did it work?”

“I was too chicken to try.”

“Great. So I get to be the bad guy?”

“It’s only a suggestion. You have to do what you think is right.”

His gut told him that the doctor was on to something—Emily would eventually get hungry and eat what was served. But was that how he wanted to start their summer together? There was also the matter of the social worker. He could only imagine that interview as Emily complained that her bully of a father hadn’t fed her in two days.

“How the hell am I supposed to know what’s right?” he asked, more to himself than Carly.

“You were always a good father, Mac.”

“Absolutely. Right up until I disappeared from her life. Some kind of hero, huh?”

Carly was silent for a couple of seconds, then she said, “Emily doesn’t know I’m seeing anyone. Brian and I have been dating about two months, but I haven’t introduced them. I want to be sure it’s going to last.”

He didn’t care about his ex-wife seeing a guy, but he hated the thought of his daughter having another father in her life.

“I won’t tell her,” he said.

“Thanks. I wish I could be more helpful on the food thing.”

“I’ll deal with it. I suppose in some courts, the judge would say I earned it.”

“You need to give both of you some time,” Carly told him. “That’s what this summer is about.”

“I know. I’ll send you an e-mail in a couple of days and let you know how things are going.”

“I appreciate that. Take care, Mac.”

“You, too.”

He hung up the phone and returned to the kitchen.

Emily sat where he’d left her. The only change was the stuffed rhino in her arms.

“Elvis have any advice for me?” he asked.

Wariness filled her wide blue eyes as she shook her head.

“Just like a rhino. I can’t get him to shut up when I’m driving. He’s always telling me what lane to be in and where to turn. But now, when I need some instructions, he doesn’t say a word.”

Emily bit down on her lower lip. Mac hoped it was to keep from smiling.

He gave an exaggerated sigh. “Purple, huh?”

She nodded.

“Okay, kiddo. Let’s hit the grocery store and get you some breakfast.”

“Can I have Pop-Tarts?” she asked as she slid off the chair. “They’re purple.”

“Unless I can find some purple bacon, we may end up there.” He made a mental note to get some kid vitamins. The multicolored kind. And wondered what on earth he was going to cook on the days she wore blue.