It was just one big bag of confusion. Maybe he should just bed the girl and get it over with. They were two consenting adults who wanted each other. That was as plain as daybreak. So why were they pussyfooting around the inevitable?
“Erik. Erik. Are you still there?”
He removed his hand from the mouthpiece. “Yes, Bridget. I’m still here.”
“Goodness, I thought I lost you for a moment.”
You did
.
“As I was saying, have you given any more thought to my suggestion about the upcoming gala in Boston?”
“You mean the one where you want to be my date?”
She laughed. “Yes, that one. We’re both unattached, so I don’t see why we can’t go as a couple. We can spend the night.”
Erik ruffled his lips, ruefully. Now here was a woman in his own league and social class openly offering herself to him on a silver platter. One night of sex with Bridget would probably take care of his need—no strings attached, at least for him.
But he knew it wouldn’t be enough. Sex for him was something special, only to be shared between two people who really cared about each other. He knew Bridget was in love with him, but he didn’t think about her in that way. It would be wrong to toy with her heart.
It has been two plus years since he’d touched a woman’s body for the purpose of pleasure. And the only one he wanted to pleasure was the woman upstairs in his guest bedroom.
“Precious has a new nanny now,” Bridget argued her point. “So you can’t use that as an excuse anymore.”
He groaned. If she only knew that the new nanny wasn’t an older Bengay-scented matriarch, as he’d requested, but a young, alluring,
Moonligh
t-scented temptress who was driving him out of his mind, she’d probably want to move into his house to fight the competition—when there wasn’t really one. “Oh, Bridge, I might bore you to tears.”
She found that amusing. “Like you could.”
It would bore him
. He rotated his neck, rubbing the back and sides to ease the tension in his muscles. “I have to go, Bridget,” he said abruptly.
He needed an ice-cold shower to ease the tension in his groin.
“Do you promise to think about staying the night in Boston?”
She was a brilliant doctor, and he enjoyed working with her. She was also a good friend who had helped him through the first few months after Cassie died, but that was as far as it went for him. He had to find a way to stop her shameless advances once and for all, but not right now. Michelle was the only woman on his mind tonight, and since he couldn’t have her in reality, he’d have to take her in his fantasy.
“Okay, Bridget. I’ll think about it,” he said to get her off the phone.
“Excellent. Good night, Erik.”
“Good night, Bridget.”
Erik began unbuttoning his shirt as he climbed the stairs.
***
Michelle parked the Jaguar on the far end of the lot, away from heavy traffic, and walked the short distance to the old building that currently served as a youth center in downtown Manchester. She’d seen the skepticism in Erik’s eyes when he had handed her the keys, weeks ago. He was like all men. Their cars were their babies.
What she would really like to be driving was that red Porsche in his garage. But without having to be told, Michelle knew that car was off limits. That belonged to his dead wife.
“Michelle!” A mob of children flocked her the minute she hit the door. They’d been expecting her.
“Hi, guys.” She dropped two shopping bags on a table near the door. “Uh-uh,” she cautioned as they made a dash for the bags of goodies. “Those are for later.”
“Oh…” they uttered in disappointment.
She smiled. It was so good to see them again after three weeks. She had some free time today because Erik and Precious were at an elite annual father-daughter function at the Conference Center across town. They would be dining at some fancy restaurant and would be out for the rest of the night, which would give her time to visit her brother in Cambridge once she left the center.
Precious had been so excited as Michelle had helped her into in a pretty little blue dress with ruffles and satin bows—a dress Michelle had helped her pick from the dozens that had been delivered from an exclusive children’s store in Boston. It had cost hundreds of dollars. That was the LaCrosse’s world.
As Michelle gazed at the children before her, she wondered when was the last time one of them saw a movie or ate out, or if they’d ever wear an outfit that somebody else hadn’t worn before.
These kids were poverty-stricken and in need of a lot of things. Most of them hadn’t seen their deadbeat fathers in years. Three hundred dollars would buy them a lot of necessities—like warm coats, shoes that fit, school supplies—things that people like Dr. LaCrosse took for granted. This was her world.
“I made you something, Michelle.” A little ten year-old boy with new braces pushed ahead of the crowd and held up a yellow paper bracelet.
“Thanks, Malcolm.” Michelle took the bracelet and read the inscription.
I’ll love you forever. Malcolm
. It was decorated with little red hearts. She slipped it on her wrist and gave him a gentle hug.
“I made it in Sunday School yesterday. I told the teacher that it was for the most beautiful woman in the world, and she asked if that was her. I told her no way. This is for Michelle.”
“Ha, ha, ha,” the other children roared. “Malcolm has a crush on Michelle,” they sang in unison.
Michelle smiled at Malcolm, happy she’d talked Robert into giving him free braces. She wished she had the money to do a lot of things for all of them, for just like her, they had dreams. But right now, she was just as destitute as all of them. One day, she’d change their worlds.
Malcolm wanted to be a dentist like Robert. Twelve-year-old Angela wanted to be an astronaut. Nine year-old Clive, who was scarred from burns he suffered in a fire three years ago, wanted to be a firefighter like the brave one who saved his life.
There were about fifty kids who frequented the center on a regular, after-school basis while their parents and guardians worked. The center was also opened in the summer for parents who could not afford a sitter for the littler ones.
They all had their own little tales of hardship and neglect, and they had their dreams—dreams Michelle encouraged them to talk about so they wouldn’t forget them. These were the stories she wanted the world to hear. These were
The Littlest Dreamers
she wrote about.
She clapped her hands to silence them. “Did you do your homework?” she asked of those who were in summer school.
“No. Yes. Almost.”
“I need help with my apostrophe worksheet,” Clive said.
“I came in just in time, didn’t I?”
Michelle turned as a teenage girl burst through the door. “Hey, Amanda.”
“Hey, Michelle. Sorry I’m late, but I had to stop at the bank and drop off a deposit for my boss.”
Michelle smiled at the young girl. She was one of the volunteers who came into the center to help out the kids. As a matter of fact, she was a graduate of the center. Michelle had helped her out with her essays during her senior high school years. Amanda was giving back to the community. That’s the way life should be—give and take.
Back when she did have a job, Michelle used her own money to pay for tutors when funds were low. She didn’t mind spending her money as long as the kids were learning something. Since their parents were too busy, too lazy, or too negligent to help develop their curious little minds, Michelle had assumed the responsibility.
“Okay, guys, Amanda is here, so get cracking. Later we’ll have some snacks.”
They scrambled around the long table in the room while Amanda began giving them instructions.
Michelle headed for the office where Rose, a seventh-grade science teacher and co-founder of the youth center, waited for her.
“It’s about time you got here,” Rose said, glancing up from her task of stuffing envelopes. “I thought we’d never see you again since you’ve living in a ritzy town, driving fancy cars—”
“It’s nice to see you, too, Rose.” Michelle winced as a wave of heat hit her in the face. The room was next to the boiler room and that made it as hot as a sauna. The air-conditioned car had kept her cool and comfortable, but now... She pulled a tissue from the box on the desk and mopped her forehead. When the sweat kept pouring she crouched down in front of the box fan and rotated her head to get the cool air on every inch of her skin.
“I guess you don’t have that trouble anymore?” Rose declared, giving her that ‘have you slept with him yet?’ look.
“No, I don’t. They have central air in those parts.”
“Still sleeping naked?”
“Rose!”
“Just asking because...” Rose unlocked a drawer, pulled out an envelope and gave it to Michelle. “This was hand-delivered today.”
Michelle opened the envelope and pulled out a check. “Whoa!” She exploded with disbelief at the generous amount made out to the center from Dr. Erik LaCrosse, Jr., OB/GYN.
“You had anything to do with that?” Rose asked.
Still in a sense of shock, she stared at Rose. “I mentioned that I volunteer here sometimes. Had to since it was on my resume. But I haven’t spoken to him about the place since...” She did mention it last night on the patio.
“You didn’t even ask him for money? You are campaigning, aren’t you? Everybody you come into contact with is a potential donor, Michelle.”
“I know but, I just started working for the man. I don’t want to be hitting him up for money already.” Michelle handed the check back to Rose.
“Well,” Rose said, returning the envelope with the check to the drawer. “He must be quite a man and have a lot of money at his disposal to have written a check this big.”
Apparently
. Michelle didn’t want to discuss her relationship with Erik, especially with Rose, who was known as Gossip Girl. “Have you seen Jessica today?” she asked of an eight-year-old girl who frequented the center—her favorite little one—because she reminded her so much of herself as a child—skinny, feisty, and tough.
Rose nodded. “She’s here. She wanted to be alone, so I sent her to the quiet room.”
“She okay?” Michelle asked, frowning.
“Are any of these kids okay, Michelle? Every day brings a new challenge and a new set of trouble for them. You can relate.”
Michelle walked to an adjoining door that opened up into the quiet room.
She knocked. When she got no response, she opened the door and peeped in. Jessica was sitting on a bench and staring out the window. The room was humid and stuffy, and she wondered how long she’d been in here. She went over and sat next to her. “Hi, Jess.”
Jessica didn’t move a muscle.
“Why the long face, honey?”
Sad, blue eyes stared back at Michelle, and the lower lip hung a little lower. “I can’t go to summer camp.”
“Why not? You told me your mom had been saving up all year to send you to camp.”
“She was, but her car broke down. She has to get it fixed with my camp money. She says if she don’t fix the car, she can’t go to work, and if she can’t go to work, she can’t pay the rent, and if she can’t pay the rent, we’ll be on the streets.” She swiped at the tears on her cheeks. “It’s not fair.”
Michelle sighed with exasperation. It never stopped. Just when you thought you were ahead, you step on a banana peel someone tossed carelessly in your path, and you find yourself flat on your ass. Again. “I’m sorry, Jessie. It isn’t fair. You’ve been waiting for this all year.”
“I feel so stupid. I already told everybody I was going to camp. They’re gonna laugh at me.” Her eyes flashed angrily. “My father is rich and he never gave me anything. He should give me my camp money. I hate rich people. They’re all mean.”
Michelle understood her anger, but not her logic. Jessica was the product of a brief affair her mother Gina had with a local businessman. He’d since married and started a family without ever acknowledging Jessica’s existence. Too scared to fight, Gina let him get away with denying her child support and her daughter’s rightful place in the family estate. If it were up to Michelle, she would have hauled his ass into court a long time ago. But it was not up to her.
Michelle pulled the girl into her arms. “Jessie, honey, you can’t judge all rich people by the actions of one just as you can’t judge people by the color of their skin or the clothes they wear. I work for some rich people and they are pretty nice to me.”
“I don’t care. I don’t care about anything.”
Michelle sighed. “Do you believe in miracles, Jessie?”
“My Sunday School teacher says they happen. But I’ve never seen one.”
Neither have I
. “Let’s pray for one, anyway,” Michelle said, even as she wondered how to go about bringing a miracle in the young girl’s life.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Michelle was on her way from ballet when her cell rang. She pressed the Bluetooth clipped to her ear. “Hello.”
“Hi, Michelle.”
She hesitated for a moment. “Hi, Erik.”
“Where are you now?”
“On our way home from ballet.”
“Just as I thought.”
“Is that my daddy?” Precious yelled from the back seat. “I wanna talk to my daddy.”
“Did you hear that?” she asked Erik.
“I heard that. But before you put her on, I called to ask you to bring her to the hospital.”
“The hospital?”
“Yes, um... There’s something I have to do tonight, and she’ll probably be in bed by the time I get home. I can’t let a day go by without seeing my daughter. You didn’t have any other plans, did you?”
She had planned to leave Precious with Mrs. Hayes and go down to the club for some alone time, maybe go for a swim. But Erik spending time with Precious was far more important. He was making a big effort to bridge the gap between him and his daughter, and she wasn’t going to stand in his way. “No plans. We were just going to hang out at home.”