A Little Bit of Déjà Vu (3 page)

In that case, Alex could consider his name crossed off the woman’s Christmas list. Jake knew this for a certainty because he’d had personal experience telling a girl’s mother he’d impregnated her daughter.

He’d never told Alex how preventing teen pregnancies had become such a crusade for him. He’d attained dual-certification to teach family and consumer science classes in addition to psychology, hoping to spare his son and other kids this misfortune.

After hanging up his cleats, he’d received dozens of job offers for assistant coach positions in the pros and as a sportscaster for numerous cable networks. He’d socked enough away during his football career to be more than just comfortable, so he’d chosen to teach, hoping to save his marriage and the futures of impressionable teens.

Jake nodded a greeting to their waitress, Brandy Harris, as she rushed up wearing a mini skirt and a blouse that left nothing to a man’s imagination, drenched in enough perfume to obliterate the mouthwatering aromas wafting from the nearby tables. She was one of Jake’s students—not that a stranger would ever guess. She had the body of a porn-queen and dressed more like a streetwalker than a high school cheerleader. Not surprising after being raised by a single a mom who worked as an exotic dancer to support her family.

Brandy had been shaking her pom-poms at his son for the last four years. So in reality, things could be worse. Alex could’ve knocked up the class tramp instead of shy, sweet Emma.

The fatherless Pamela Anderson wannabe flashed her dazzling smile at Jake’s son and purred, “Hi, Alex,” before turning to Jake, her pen poised to jot down their order. “Hey, Coach, what can I get for you?”

“Sorry, Brandy, we need a few minutes. We’re expecting two more.”

“Sure. Take your time.” She sashayed away from the table and tossed Alex an enticing smile over her shoulder, leaving a cloud of her scent hovering around them. Alex ignored her, but as soon as she turned her blonde head, he joined every other heterosexual male under forty watching her wiggle her shapely ass back to the kitchen.

Jake snorted inwardly. There wasn’t enough money in the world to tempt him to go back to being eighteen and having his hormones raging twenty-four/seven. One of the few benefits of growing older was his forty-two-year-old mind no longer lived in his shorts.

His kid just couldn’t see that the Almighty had dealt him a royal flush. Besides being brilliant and having the entire female population of the high school panting over him, Alex’s grades and athletic ability had given him his choice of any university.

Jake had teetered on a tightrope for years, both as a father and coach, trying to give his son just enough praise to encourage him without destroying Alex’s greatest strength—his humility. Unfortunately, now the kid believed he was the most highly recruited senior in the country simply because he was
Rocket Manion’s
progeny.

Not only did his son have more natural talent than Jake ever thought of having on the football field, evidently, Alex was just as gifted as his old man at finding ways to screw up his life.

~~~

The breaks squealed as Margie swung her light blue Camry into the nearest parking space in front of her condo. Emma would be furious with her for getting home so late.

Regrettably, it couldn’t be helped. Discussing Simon’s reading problems with his mother ranked a lot higher on Margie’s to-do list than being introduced to Alex’s father. In fact, the only thing she dreaded more than seeing Jake again was getting
reacquainted
with him.

She just wished Mrs. Newberry had made an appointment instead of cornering her in the supermarket. Margie really needed to be more assertive when parents waylaid her.

Using her shoulder as a battering ram, she opened the stubborn front door and dumped her leather satchel on the entryway table before continuing into the kitchen with her groceries. “Emma,” she called down the hall, “I’m sorry I’m late, Sweetie. Come on, let’s go.”

As she plopped the shopping bag on the center work island, she frowned at the absence of the stereo’s blare. Was her daughter even home?

Emma had been nagging Margie for three days about finally meeting Jake. Since her daughter began dating Alex, Emma had spent even more time around his father and raved about Jake incessantly as if he were Albert Einstein, Jesse Owens, and Sigmund Freud rolled up in one. Margie knew differently.

She’d hoped Alex and Emma would break up before this. No such luck. She’d run out of excuses to avoid Jake and had no choice now, unless she confessed to Emma why it was a problem for her. She was sick of living in fear of running into the jerk. She might as well endure the nightmare of seeing him again and be done with it.

Margie transferred the perishables from the shopping bag into the refrigerator and sighed. She’d lost count of the number of teachers and parents she’d heard rhapsodize about Jake as if they thought he should be given a platinum halo for the way he went above and beyond the call of duty for his students.

Even Simon had spent the entire school year extolling Rocket Manion’s NFL football career and talking about what an awesome coach all his friends said Jake was. The boy couldn’t wait to play on Jake’s team next year. Except Margie wasn’t sure she could, in good conscience, give a recommendation to promote Simon to the senior high school. She didn’t know what to do with him. The eighth grader still hadn’t progressed much further in his reading than when she’d started teaching him nine months ago. It wasn’t as if he were actually failing his classes now, but if he advanced to higher-level courses, he soon would be.

While washing her hands, she noticed bits of egg in the sink and peered into the drain. The toast and omelet she’d fixed Emma for breakfast lay at the bottom of the disposal. She frowned and flipped the switch. “God, please don’t let her be turning anorexic.”

Margie glanced at her watch and hurried down the hall to check Emma’s room. She’d planned to change into something that didn’t emphasize how much weight she’d gained in the last two decades. Regrettably, as late as it was, the cotton candy pink shell and white skirt she’d worn to school would have to do. At least it was her best color. She tapped on the bedroom door and pushed it open. “Em, are you in here?”

Her daughter lay fast asleep on top of her white eyelet comforter, wearing the new sundress Margie had bought for her a few days ago. Sleeping had been her daughter’s preferred method of coping after Dan died. Was something new bothering her? This wasn’t the first time in the last few weeks she’d discovered Emma napping again.

Margie sank onto the edge of the twin bed and felt her child’s head. Emma’s eyes fluttered open.

“Don’t you feel well, Sweetie?”

“Sure.” She yawned. “I’m fine.”

“Oh, really? I caught you throwing out your favorite dinner the other night, your breakfast is at the bottom of the disposal again, and now you’re conked out before you’ve even had supper.”

“I’m just a little tired.” Emma stretched and sat up. “I didn’t sleep well last night.”

“You didn’t?” Margie wrinkled her brow. “That’s funny. I didn’t, either. Lately, have you noticed a strange scraping noise about midnight and again a little after five each morning?”

“N-No.” Emma gnawed on her lip. “I just couldn’t sleep.” Her gaze darted around the room as if she feared some sort of goblin would jump out of her closet at any moment.

What was her daughter’s problem? Margie was the one who had to face her past in just a few minutes. She drew in a deep breath to steady her nerves and patted her daughter’s leg. “Well, let’s go. You’ve been badgering me for days to meet this paragon, and we were supposed to be there ten minutes ago.”

“Mom, Mr. Manion is just as nice as Alex.”

On meeting Jake’s son the first time, she’d felt as if she’d had a visit from the Ghost of Past Mistakes. He looked just like Jake dipped in peroxide. But, in his defense, the boy fit every mother’s idea of the perfect date for her daughter. He got straight As while taking mostly AP courses and had impeccable manners. In fact, after getting to know Alex, she’d begun to wonder if maybe the glowing reports about Saint Jake might just be true.

Nevertheless, Margie couldn’t warm up to the kid. All Alex had to do was smile, and she found herself fighting an unreasonable animosity. Naturally, she felt terrible about her prejudice. The boy hadn’t done a thing. It was his old man she wanted to kick.

On the way out of the bedroom, she inspected her make-up in Emma’s mirror and smoothed her highlighted, chin-length hair.

“Would you relax, Mom? You look beautiful. If anyone should be nervo—” Emma bit her lower lip.

“What’re you nervous about?”

“Uhh....nothing really.” Emma dragged Margie out the door, her face as pale as if it were January instead of June. “I—uhh—I just want you to give Alex’s dad a chance. You act as if you’ve already decided not to like him.”

Once they were in the car, Margie squeezed her daughter’s hand and smiled. “I don’t care what you say. I’m making you an appointment with Doc Foster. I can’t remember the last time you ate a decent meal. And I don’t like your color at all.”

“I’m fine.” Emma’s eyes rolled. “I just haven’t been hungry. I think maybe I have a stomach bug or something.”

As they pulled into the Redemption Diner’s parking lot fifteen minutes later, Margie checked her watch again. Did she dare hope he’d given up on them and left?

“I really don’t see what the urgency is to meet this guy is all about. You’ve been dating Alex for over eight months. Now, all of a sudden, you can’t wait to introduce me to his father.”

Emma huffed as she shoved the passenger door open. “I just thought the two of you should finally get to know each other. You’ve probably passed each other in your cars a gazillion times this year on the way to school. You act as if you think Mr. Manion’s got herpes or something.”

No, something much worse. Sex appeal.

Margie climbed out of the car and shot a sideways look at her daughter over the Camry’s roof. “I hope you and Alex aren’t doing anything weird like trying to set us up.”

“
Ewww
.” Emma wrinkled her nose. “Now I really wanna puke. Why would I want you to date my boyfriend’s father? Besides,”—she shrugged—“don’t you still love Daddy?”

Margie slid her arm around her daughter as they crossed the parking lot. “I’ll always love your dad, Em. He gave me you.”

Now was not the time to mention, as soon as Emma moved out to transfer to a four-year school, Margie had every intention of pursuing a social life that included men. She had no desire to spend the rest of her life alone or to share her sexual peak with some battery-operated lover.

And, hoo-boy, had she been
peaking
since losing Dan. Every night her empty bed mocked her.

She clenched her fists to stop the trembling in her hands. Why was she so nervous? Jake was just a man. What happened between them had been nearly two decades ago.

Except nineteen years hadn’t seemed to diminish her visceral reaction to the big jerk. Every time she spoke to him on the phone, his deep velvety voice and sexy laugh never failed to make her stomach quiver, and she ended up blathering like an idiot.

Maybe she was simply afraid that, when she faced him and gazed into those magnetic silver eyes, she would have trouble remembering the word
no
.

~~~

Jake heaved a disgusted sigh as his son continued watching Brandy out of the corner of his eye, wearing a puzzling expression that leaned more toward loathing than lust. It seemed odd, seeing as the pretty cheerleader had been at the core of his tight circle of friends for the past three years. It was impossible to guess what his kid was thinking.

Shaking his head, Jake muttered under his breath, “The idiot sold out his whole damn future for a quick tumble.”

Alex’s gaze snapped to Jake’s, his face suffused with color. “It wasn’t like that, Dad. I
love
Em.”

Damn. Had that actually come out of his mouth? “Alex.” Jake lifted his hands in apology. “I’m really sorry. I never should’ve said something like that.”
At least not out loud
. “It helps a lot if you love each other.”

“Well, we do.” His son waved his hand over his head, and a moment later, the tiny girl he’d been dating appeared next to their table.

Emma’s long, dark hair and gray eyes made her look very much like what he’d imagined Maggie’s and his daughter might have. Jake had never stopped wondering what sex their baby had been. In fact, he’d been so bitter and devastated over the loss of his child, he’d convinced Roxanne to skip the birth control on their honeymoon.

Alex stood and bent to hug Emma, then stepped back to let her slide into the booth before he sank next to her and slung his arm around her.

She glanced between them, wearing a tremulous smile. “Did you tell him?”

Squeezing her to his side, Alex gently pressed his lips to her forehead and murmured, “I told you I would, didn’t I? Everything’s gonna be okay, Angel. Where’s your mom?”

“She stopped off at the ladies’ room on the way in.” Emma turned to Jake. “I guess you’re really disappointed in us, huh, Mr. M?” she asked, uncertainty quivering in her voice.

Reaching across the table, Jake patted her delicate hand and smiled. “Disappointed is a good word, Emma.”

His nervous jack-in-the-box son sprang out of his seat with a constipated clown’s grin pasted on his face.

Jake rose and turned to greet the petite blonde gliding toward their booth. She was even hotter than the picture her sultry voice had painted in his imagination. The woman couldn’t be much past her early thirties. Way too young to be Emma’s mom.

As Mrs. Bradford approached the table, he stared down into a pair of familiar sky blue eyes. His smile dropped.

This had to be just another one of his dreams.

Nausea churned in his stomach like the ocean’s surf right before a storm as he breathed out almost soundlessly, “Maggie.”

~~~

Margie gawked up at the doused-with-ice-water expression on Jake’s face and grabbed the back of the booth to stop the room from spinning. The grainy pictures in local newspapers hadn’t done him justice. The silver sprinkled through his hair simply intensified his metallic gaze.