Beguiled Again: A Romantic Comedy (12 page)

“My date thought I did it.”

“As a joke?”

“As a proposal.”

“You’re kidding!”

Jeff shoved the bags aside with his foot. “Do you remember driving into the dead end where I was necking with Janice Youngblood, and you with flashing red lights on top of your father’s car?”

“Really, Jeff, do we have to rehash all this ancient history?”

“Janice got a black eye when she banged into the steering wheel, and I slammed the car door on my foot trying to get out of there”

“Jeff, what exactly were you doing in that car?” she asked, fascinated in spite of herself.

“None of your business.” Slowly, deliberately, he locked the front door. “I’ve just been thinking. You chased me so hard, so long.” He smiled his lazy grin. “I think that it’s time you caught me.”

CHAPTER SIX

CECILIA BACKED AWAY from him until her heels bumped the bottom stair. “I don’t like the look in your eye.”

She took the stairs blindly, refusing to consider whether she was stepping back to put more distance between them or stepping higher to close that distance.

She accomplished the latter. WHAT?

“Really, Cecilia?” He moved closer, leaned closer, and didn’t have so far to lean, so far to reach, as he lowered his head to tease her tense lips. “You don’t like it?”

“I...er...no,” she lied weakly. And then, inhaling deeply, she whispered, “Yes.”

His arms closed around her and she felt herself melting, sliding backward, downward, until her hips settled on the stairs. Slowly she and Jeff leaned backward until they reclined, side by side, on the musty carpeted stairs. But along with the scent of dust, she breathed in the cool, outdoor fragrance of his skin, the sweet, clean scent of his sun-warmed cheek as he nuzzled her neck.

“Jeff…

“I know,” he murmured. “Hush, I know...” His mouth caressed hers as his hands moved gently over her body.

“This is crazy. We hardly know each other... really,” she whispered, her fingers playing down the rippling muscles of his back as he moved over her.

“If half a lifetime isn’t enough for you, it’ll be a long time before you find someone you know any better, Cecil.”

“That’s not what I mean.”

His face clouded. “This really is crazy, isn’t it? I’m trying to talk you into something I don’t even want myself.”

“You don’t?” She tried to keep the stab of disappointment from registering in her expression, her tone.

“I have no business being here in the first place. I have a stack of accounts I should be working on. And yet, here I am. You explain it.”

Cecilia opened her mouth to speak.

He added, “Better yet, don’t.”

His lips captured hers.

Just as well, she thought languidly as his hands slipped beneath her T-shirt. How could she explain his dilemma, when she was drowning in her own? She felt a quaking response to his touch that was the most intimate, dangerous of threats. All thoughts of “shouldn’t” drained from her body. She sighed, that quietest of assents, and met the stroke of his tongue with the tip of her own, felt him react with a shudder, then felt the last barriers fall from between them as her breasts swelled into his palms. The movements of his hard body demanded, and she responded, past questioning.

The roar of the Mercedes motor rumbled into her consciousness.

She groaned in frustration. “They’re back.”

Angry voices, children’s voices, sliced between them, and he pulled away, his eyes dark with confusion and frustration.

A car door slammed, then another, and the voices came nearer. Cecilia pulled down her shirt as Jeff sat up straight on the stairs, his face flushed.

“Smooth your hair,” she hissed, trying to fluff her own into place.

The doorbell rang, and rang again, as the kids pounded on the door. “I’m coming,” she called, gesturing wildly at Jeff until he got up and crossed into the living room, where he fell back onto the love seat in a semblance of nonchalance.

“That was a short trip,” she said brightly, but her attempted smile vanished when she saw Peter’s strained expression and Brad and Anne-Elizabeth’s tearstained faces.

Robert loomed behind them, obviously enraged.

“What’s wrong?” Cecilia demanded.

“Is this the way they behave when I’m not around to handle things?” he demanded. “Can’t you control these kids?”

The hairs on the back of her neck bristled with anger. “What do you mean? You were the one who was with them,” she snapped. “What happened?”

“I’ll talk to you later. I need to go to Monica—she’s very upset.”

“She’s not the only one who’s upset. Haven’t you taken a good look at your children?” She motioned them into the house.

“Look,” Jeff interceded smoothly, sauntering up behind her. “This isn’t the time or place for this, Cecil. Why don’t you two talk this over when you’ve calmed down a little?”

“That’s an excellent idea, though it really doesn’t concern you, Smith,” Robert snapped. “When you quit being so defensive, Cecilia, maybe we can discuss this like adults.”

“Discuss what?” She clenched her fists at her sides, but Jeff’s hand on her elbow gave her the strength to control her fury. “Go take care of Monica. I’ll take care of the children.”

After she shoved the door shut, she collapsed against it and faced the kids.

“Let’s get to the bottom of this right now,” Cecilia commanded, pointing them toward the living room. Her temples throbbing, she lined up the children in front of her. Jeff retreated to the love seat again.

They looked at her from large, frightened eyes. Belatedly, she realized that they must think her rage was directed at them. “What happened?” she asked in a softer tone of voice.

“Anne-Elizabeth bit Monica,” Peter answered without hesitation.

“She did what?’ She stared at the three of them incredulously.

“She bit her—she really did,” Brad offered helpfully.

“Annie,” she gasped softly, “did you bite Monica?” Please let this be some kind of mistake, she begged silently.

“She called me names, Mommy.” Her eyes pleaded for understanding, but her tiny body didn’t move.

“Before or after you bit her?”

“Mostly after,” Peter conceded when Anne-Elizabeth refused to answer.

“I see,” Cecilia said, though she really didn’t. Deciding that her daughter wasn’t going to be much help, she turned to Brad and Peter. “Okay, why did she bite her?”

“Monica was kissin’ Daddy,” Brad answered, his eyes downcast. “Daddy stopped at a red light, and she leaned over and kissed him, and the next thing we knew, Anne-Elizabeth had bitten a hunk out of her arm.”

“My God,” Jeff muttered.

“A hunk?” Cecilia asked, feeling a little sick to her stomach.

“No,” Peter corrected impatiently. “She just bled a little, that’s all.”

Cecilia stared mutely at her children, who were all visibly shaken by the episode. “Okay, kids. This is pretty awful. Give me time to think about it.”

They nodded, relieved.

“There are a lot of hamburgers and French fries in the hall. Brad, Peter, why don’t you take them outside and feed Ralph?” The two older boys beat a hasty retreat.

“Sweetheart, I know this is hard for you to understand,” Cecilia said to Anne-Elizabeth, measuring and stressing each word, “but Monica can kiss Daddy if she wants to.”

“She’s not my mommy.” Her full lower lip extended into a tremulous pout.

“I know she’s not, honey.” Cecilia grasped for an explanation she’d understand. “But she is Daddy’s wife. And she can kiss him, and he can kiss her because they’re married to each other. Do you understand?”

“They mawwied to each other,” Anne-Elizabeth muttered, not meeting Cecilia’s eyes.

“And they can kiss each other,” Cecilia coached.

“And they can kiss each other,” Anne-Elizabeth repeated through trembling lips.

“You didn’t understand that, and that’s why you bit her, right?”

“Yeah.”

“And you’re sorry you bit her, aren’t you?”

Silence.

Cecilia decided to change tactics. “You love Daddy, don’t you?”

The small, tousled head nodded hesitantly.

“Well, Daddy loves Monica. And if you love Daddy, you’ll be nice to Monica.”

More silence.

“Anne-Elizabeth, are you going to bite Monica again?” Cecilia asked, a trace of threat in her voice.

The child struggled valiantly with her emotions, but then fell sobbing into Cecilia’s arms. “I’m sowwy, Mommy. I’m sowwy.”

“I know you are,” she said, dropping to her knees and cradling the little girl in her arms. “I know you are.” Tears clogged her throat and burned her eyes as she lifted her daughter and carried her to the rocker in the corner.

Anne-Elizabeth’s wracking sobs abated slowly as the chair’s steady motion calmed her, until even her childish whimpers silenced and her breathing became even. Her red hair pressed damply to her forehead, she appeared almost angelic in Cecilia’s arms, incapable of the rage and confusion and hurt that had driven her to such an act.

“It’s not fair,” Cecilia whispered softly, her eyes meeting Jeff’s in silent entreaty.

A few minutes later she carried Anne-Elizabeth upstairs and laid her gently on her eyelet-covered bed, then tucked her favorite purple blanket around her. When Cecilia straightened, she saw Jeff standing in the doorway.

“You’ve gotta admit we were pretty lucky,” Jeff whispered as they retraced their steps down the stairs.

“How?” she asked, pausing.

“If she bit Monica just for kissing Robert, can you imagine what she would have done if she’d seen us?”

A giggle bubbled up from her throat. “How could you bring that up at a time like this?” she demanded, popping him on the shoulder with her clenched fist. “You’re just as obnoxious as you always were.”

“Not really,” he disagreed. He pulled her close to his side and wrapped an arm around her as they descended the remaining stairs.

“What next?” she asked, sitting down on the bottom step.

“Around this house? There ain’t much telling, kid.” He dropped down beside her, casting a cautious glance around. “What happened to the others?”

Cecilia shrugged wearily. “They’re out playing, I guess.”
 

Jeff took one of her hands in his, his thumb rubbing gentle circles in her palm. “I guess I ought to go.” His tone was wistful.

Cecilia longed to sink against him, to draw from his strength. But this time the strength had to be hers.

Jeff raised her hand to his lips and pressed a gentle kiss on her fingers. “All right, kid, I’m leaving.” He smiled sadly, sensing her reluctance. “When can I see you again?”

“I’ve got a heavy schedule next week,” she hedged.

“You always have a heavy schedule,” he repeated, his dark brows lowered in concern. “Seems to me you ought to be able to get away from your responsibilities at least occasionally.”

She just shook her head. “It’s not as easy as that.”

“I’ll call you.” He bent over and brushed his lips against her temple. “Don’t get up. I’ll let myself out.”

Cecilia remained still, buffeted by conflicting emotions, until he was gone.

The clattering of footsteps gave her advance warning of Brad’s and Peter’s approach. Brad squeezed in beside her on the stairs, and Peter sat at her feet.

“I think Jeff’s nice, Mom. Don’t you?” Brad asked, his face turned expectantly up to hers.

“I still say he’s a jerk.” Peter’s tone was adamant.

Cecilia looked from one son to the other.

Oh, boy.
 

~o0o~

Cecilia spread the photographs in front of her on the breakfast bar. After two soccer games, their number was increasing steadily. There were several of Peter, one of which was quite good. He had leaped into the air to head the ball, and Jeff had caught him precisely at the moment of contact—ball sailing, hair flying, feet inches above the ground and arms outthrust as if he were attempting to fly.

Both photos of Anne-Elizabeth captured her playing in the dirt on the sidelines, totally oblivious to the action behind her on the field.

But the stack of pictures with Brad in them was thick. One caught him arguing a call with a referee. His red hair was mussed and damp with perspiration, and his chin jutted forward pugnaciously as he waved his hands in the air to make a point. Cecilia had been appalled, and had threatened to pull him off the field if he ever behaved that way again. But the photograph so aptly captured the eight-year-old’s spirit, she knew it would always hold a special place in her album.

She also knew she was having a difficult time keeping the photographer from stealing a special place in her heart.

Damn you, Jefferson Smith. You show up when I desperately need a friend, and you try to be more. Then when I think I might be ready for more, you start acting like a friend.

She glanced at the calendar on the wall beside her. The last week of March. And this weekend Robert had custody of the kids. Robert and Monica would take them to their games on Saturday, and Robert had dropped a few hints about a special treat on Sunday.