A Dad for Billie (15 page)

“You will,” Charlene said, patting her head. “Learn to be a lady and control the world.”

“I’d rather learn a curve ball.” Billie thrust out her lower lip. “Do I have to help with the dishes?”

Charlene nodded. “Think of it as repaying me for that rose you killed.” She followed Billie inside, then turned back. “You two just sit here and talk. We’ll take care of everything else.”

“What do you think of Charlene’s theory?” Adam asked.

“I think she’s right about the rules. I tell my students that in my English classes. You have to know how to construct a sentence before you can start switching things around. As for the power—” She shrugged, then laughed. “I’ve never felt especially powerful. Maybe that’s saved for the true Southern belles.”

He leaned forward and rested his forearms on the round glass-covered table. They sat across from each other. If she leaned forward and rested
her
forearms on the table, their hands would touch. The thought tempted her. Tonight, while Adam was warm and friendly, she found herself needing to play a dangerous game. She wanted to push a little, perhaps find out if he wanted to kiss her as much as she wanted to be kissed. His compassion made him approachable. The night made her bold. That and the knowledge that his friendliness would be gone as soon as he found out the truth.

“Why don’t you see yourself as a Southern belle?” he asked. “You grew up here. And if I remember correctly, you went to charm school.”

“And dance classes. Yes, everything appropriate.”

He grinned at her word choice. Those dark eyes flashed amusement and something else that might have been caring. Lies, she thought. This fragile peace was built on lies. Just tonight, she swore, sending a promise out into the cosmos. Just this one evening when the cold stranger had disappeared and in his place sat the handsome lover she had always adored.

“And?” he prompted.

She placed her hands on the table and held on to the curved edge. Rubbing her thumb against the wicker, she stared at the glass surface. And what? “You have to be pretty to be a Southern belle,” she blurted out, then died a little inside.

She didn’t dare look up.

“You were always pretty,” he said quietly, from the other side of the table. “Sweet and soft-spoken.”

“Adam, don’t. There’s no need to make up things just to make me feel better. I lived my life. I know how much I did, or rather didn’t, date in high school. Until you asked me out—” She shrugged again. “Let’s just say I wasn’t Miss Popularity.”

“Boys can be stupid, going after the obvious and common, instead of what’s rare and precious.”

She raised her head and looked at him. Rare and precious? Her? She half expected to see a teasing light in his brown eyes. Instead he radiated sincerity. The handsome lines of his face, familiar and strong, made her heart beat faster. One corner of his mouth tilted up.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” he asked.

“Like what?”

“As if you’ve never seen me before. Did you think I would have asked you out if I thought you were unattractive?”

“No. It’s just…” She folded her arms on the table. “That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

“I’m not a complete jerk.”

“That’s not what I meant.” The night closed around them, making her feel that it was safe to expose bits of her soul. “I never understood why you did ask me out. I always felt so inadequate.”

“Inadequate? In God’s name why?”

His genuine surprise made her laugh. “Thank you for that.”

“For what?”

“Acting shocked.”

“I am shocked.” He leaned back in his chair. “I knew you felt young and inexperienced, but I had no idea you felt…” He paused, searching for the right word.

“How about completely out of my element?”

One dark brow raised slightly. “I can’t believe that.”

“Think about it, Adam. You were the heir to all the Barrington wealth. Too damn good-looking, charming, funny. You always knew what to say and do. Everyone liked and admired you. I was nobody.”

He gave her a slow smile that sent heat coursing all the way to her feet. Her toes curled inside her white pumps.

“I had no idea I was looked upon so favorably.”

“Oh, stop. You knew it then and you still know it. You were the catch of the decade. How could I not feel inadequate? I kept waiting for you to figure out I was just some gawky teenager who’d had a crush on you since she was twelve.”

As soon as the words came out, she wanted to call them back. In all the time they’d dated, even after they’d become lovers, even after he’d proposed, she’d never confessed that to him. A heated blush climbed up her chest and throat, then flared across her cheeks. She started to stand up, but he shot his hands out and grabbed hers, holding her in place.

“Oh, no you don’t,” he said. “Not after that bombshell. You had a crush? On me?”

“Don’t sound so surprised,” she said, daring only to stare at their joined hands. His, broad and tanned, next to her paler skin. He turned his wrists so that her fingers rested on his palms. He brushed against the sensitive skin on the inside of her wrists. Electric sparks flew between them. She half expected to see little flashes of light bouncing over the table.

“I
am
surprised. I never knew. You didn’t say a word.”

She risked glancing up at him. “Why would I have gone out with you if I hadn’t liked you?”

“I knew you liked me, but a crush is different. From the time you were twelve.” He drew his eyebrows together in concentration. “Did something special happen, or did you just wake up one morning and realize you lived next door to someone wonderful?”

“Stop!” She pulled one of her hands free and hit him on the forearm. Before she could retreat, he grabbed her hand back. His thumbs began to trace slow circles on her palms. “You taught me to swim that summer.”

“I remember. You were always so serious. All legs and eyes.”

She grimaced. “Skinny and flat-chested.”

“You were only twelve.”

“Some things never change.”

The slow movement of his thumb continued. Jane found herself
thinking more and more about his touch and less about what was being said. It felt good to have a man hold her hands. This man, especially. It felt good to be in his company, talking about each other and the past.

“You’re not skinny anymore,” he said.

“Thanks.”

“And I’ve never understood the importance you placed on breast size. Yours are perfect.”

“Mmm.” She continued to stare at his hands cradling hers. The circling of his thumb hypnotized her until all she could think about was—

She snapped her head up and stared at him. “What did you say?”

Humor flashed in his eyes. “I said that there is nothing wrong with your breasts. In fact I’ve always—”

“Never mind.” She jerked her hands free and crossed her arms over her chest. “I get the gist of it. Thanks for the share.”

“You want to change the subject,” he said kindly, his gaze never once flickering below her face. Still she kept her arms in place.

“How’d you guess?”

“Body language.”

“Oh.” She glanced at her arms. “Pretty obvious.”

“Would you feel better if we talked about your crush?”

“No.”

“So it was my teaching you how to swim. My sculptured body. The devil-may-care gleam in my eyes.”

He was laughing at her, but she didn’t care. “Actually, you took the time to be nice.”

Now it was his turn to look uncomfortable. He leaned back in his chair and shrugged. “I was just being neighborly.”

“I know, but it meant a lot to me. You always had time to smile and say hello. That goes a long way with a twelve-year-old girl.” She bit her lower lip. Could she ask him the same sort of questions? Did it matter anymore? A slight breeze whispered against her bare arms, bringing with it the scent of night-blooming jasmine and rich earth. “When did you first notice me?”

“When you were about six months old and screaming loud enough to wake me up at four in the morning.”

“Adam! You know what I meant.”

“Yeah, I know.” He raised his arms and laced his fingers behind his head. The lights from the house highlighted the right side of his face and outlined his profile. “Charlene gave me a party for my twenty-first birthday. She went all out, hiring a band and a caterer. There must have been a couple hundred people here.”

“I remember.” It had been her first grown-up event. The first time her mother had taken her into Atlanta to buy a formal dress. The white confection of ribbons and lace had made her feel special.

“You danced with Ty,” he said. “I watched my brother lead you around the floor, but you couldn’t dance in your shoes.”

“Oh, God.” She buried her face in her hands. “It’s not fair that all my embarrassing memories are public knowledge. I’ll never live them down. I must have looked like a geek.”

“It was very charming.”

She shook her head. “Geek.”

“I found you out by the garden, walking barefoot, like a nymph from a storybook.”

She straightened, smiling at the memory. “You told me I looked pretty.”

“You did.”

“And that was it?” she asked, surprised that one of her favorite memories might have influenced him.

“You were a little young, but yes, that was it. I kept my eye on you until you were old enough for me to date.”

“I fell in love with you that night,” she said, daring to look at him. “Out there, under the stars. It was terribly romantic and I was quite young, but I fell all the same.”

“So we were heading in the same direction.” His features hardened slightly, as if he remembered something more. Like the fact that she left him at the altar.

“I did love you,” she insisted, as if her words could keep reality at bay.

“It wasn’t enough.”

“Adam—”

“No.” He rose and walked over to the porch railing. The shadows swallowed him until only a vague outline remained visible. “It’s true. You were too young. I see that now. The blame—” He drew in a breath and released it. “You weren’t ready.”

“No, I wasn’t.”

“And I pushed you.”

“I wanted to be pushed. Sort of.” It was so complicated, she thought, standing up as well and walking toward him. “So many things confused me. I wanted to believe that you cared about me, but I was never sure I measured up. You were so perfect, and I was just this dumb kid.”

“Hardly that.” He shifted until he sat on the railing and looked out into the yard.

When she reached him, she leaned against one of the pillars supporting the covering. They were nearly at eye-level. The darkness made it easier to confess almost everything.

“I wanted to please you,” she said. “More than anything, I wanted to be everything
you
wanted. But there was so much that scared me.”

“Like me?” He asked the question bitterly.

“Yes,” she whispered.

“You could have told me.”

“I was afraid of what you’d think and say. I was afraid you’d finally figure out that I wasn’t enough.”

He looked at her then, regret tightening his mouth. “I wanted to marry you, Jane. No one else. You were exactly right for me.”

“We were compatible?” she asked.

“I thought so.”

“The perfect banker’s wife?”

“You could have been.”

Convenience, she thought. While she spoke of love and need, he remembered that she was malleable. Had he loved her? She wanted to ask the question. Had he cared?

“I always thought—” He offered her a quick smile. “I had plans for us. Changes in the house. Trips. A future. I supposed I could have talked more about that. Times were hard for me then. What with the bank, and Dani and Ty needing things.” He turned
back to face the yard. “I know that I could have been there more for you. We were so suitable, I assumed that you’d know all that. I should have realized your youth would be a problem as well as an asset.”

It was as close to a confession of responsibility as she was going to get. Suitable. He thought they were suitable. What about passion? she wanted to cry out. Tell me that you used to lie awake nights and dream about making love with me. Tell me that you ached for my touch. Explain to me how we would grow old together, loving each other more and more each day.

He did none of those. And she didn’t ask him to. It didn’t matter anymore.

“I’m sorry, too, Adam,” she said at last, because there was nothing else to say. It was as she’d suspected. She’d loved with her whole being, while he’d followed a logical course of action. Running had been wrong; not marrying Adam had, however, been the correct decision.

He looked at her. “I feel as if this is a significant moment. A truce of sorts. Maybe we should commemorate it.”

“In case it doesn’t last?”

She meant the question as a joke but he didn’t smile. Instead, he stood up and took the single step that separated them. Before she could move away, he trapped her between the pillar, the railing and himself.

“Adam?”

He reached up and cupped her cheek, then drew his hand to the side, slipping his fingers through her curls. “I never expected to get over the anger. I never expected not to hate you.” He gave her a slight smile. “I never expected to see you again.”

He took her breath away. His gentleness, the scent of his body, his warmth surrounding her. Except where he wove his fingers through her hair, they didn’t touch. She wanted him with a fierceness that threatened to overwhelm her. This was more than a woman’s need for man. This was a lethal combination of past and present. She hated that it didn’t matter that he’d never loved her. She hated herself for being so weak where he was concerned. But she understood the phenomenon. He was her first love, her
only love. He could, with just a look, tap into a lifetime of memories. How could she resist him?

He placed his other hand on her shoulder. His skin felt warm against hers. His pinky slipped under the strap of her dress, his thumb traced a line from her jaw to the hollow of her throat. Slowly, he twisted his fingers in her hair, until she was forced to lean her head back, exposing more of herself to him.

Anger, disappointment, regret, guilt all faded under his sensual assault. She swayed toward him. Tomorrow, she thought vaguely. She’d tell him tomorrow. Please, God, let her have tonight with the man she had once loved with her entire being. Just one perfect night to remember.