Blame It on Paris (28 page)

“Okay,” he said. “This was the plan. Remember when we were on the boat, and you wanted to seduce me in broad daylight?”

“It wasn't
quite
like that,” she defended.

“Close enough. And because I thought it was such an excellent idea, I thought I should enable you. I mean, if you want to get into this sin and fantasy thing, you should have a willing accomplice. It's the guy's job in a relationship to help the woman achieve her dreams. My sisters read that to me from a woman's magazine, so I know it must be true.” In the middle of that nonsense, he suddenly sighed and turned serious. “Only damn, Kel. The forecast was for overcast skies, not
rain
.”

The stadium was…well, all theirs. The only times she'd been inside, the place had been packed for football games. The inner corridor was ghostly cool and dim, and once Will led her out to the stands—to the fifty-yard line, to be precise—the wide empty space seemed to hold all the echoes of exuberant yelling and happy screams and devoted fans. Will, however, looked more and more distraught.

“I checked the forecast an hour ago, and it was supposed to be cloudy this morning. Just cloudy. No rain.
No rain
. You know what?”

“What?”

“Maguire's has a box. But I didn't bring
that
key because I didn't think we'd need it. The whole point was to be out in the open air.”

Holy smokes times ten. While she held up the umbrella, he opened the massive box he'd been carting around. First he withdrew a navy-and-gold blanket, then French crepes packed in a heated container. Out came more treasures. A carafe of French coffee with gold-rimmed demitasses. A blue-and-gold flag. Sterling forks and white linen napkins. A vase with blue and gold carnations. The water had spilled out, but the flowers were still fresh, and certainly happy enough to sit in the rain.

She looked at Will as he withdrew all this stuff, all these details that he'd planned for her, the whole Notre Dame theme, all the French foods, all the elegant little touches…and felt her heart melt like chocolate in heat.

The rain sluiced down harder, no longer light, but pelting in a harsh, beating assault. The umbrella covered some parts of their bodies. Not all. Will looked more and more miserable, and Kelly kept thinking that she needed to say something to make him feel better, but her throat felt so thick, so full of emotion that she couldn't seem to say anything at all.

Will seemed to interpret her silence as agreeing with his responsibility for this major screwup. “Okay, okay, I admit the plan was flawed and on the impulsive side. But neither of us can seem to scare up an ounce of free time—at least not for each other. I know we're seeing each other Sunday, but that's about my mom's birthday, it's not
us
time. And yeah, I admit I thought you'd get a charge out of having breakfast at Notre Dame. And I wanted you to remember Paris. I wanted a chance for both of us to
be
like Paris again, even if we could only catch an hour before real life—”

He looked up, as if hoping she'd interrupt him. She didn't.

He started again. “I guess the chances of your seducing me on the fifty-yard line are pretty slim, huh? On the other hand, it's a thought that'll hold. There'll be other chances. There could be some terrific warm morning sometime next week. You could just forget that this particular morning turned into a complete and total fiasco.”

“Will?”

His shoulders relaxed. She was willing to speak to him.

“I love you,” she said, softer than a whisper.

His grin started to show up again. Just a rise of the corners of his mouth, but it was coming back.

“If you want to make love, right now, in the pouring rain—it's okay by me.”

There now. His eyes brightened right up.

“But it looks as if a maintenance guy just showed up. At the top of the stairs? So it'd seem to be kind of iffy to pull that off right at this minute.”

Will's head shot toward the uniformed man—then two men—and he swore. “They're not supposed to be here until seven. Could anything more go wrong this morning?”

“Well,” she said as she finished the last crepe and rather hastily started gathering their gear together. “We could get arrested. That'd be pretty awkward. But I have to tell you this.”

“What?”
he demanded, shooting to his feet as he saw the two maintenance men had suddenly noticed them and were walking in their direction.

But she didn't tell him her thought—they had to move too quickly to get everything together, to peel out of there, hopefully without the maintenance men calling the cops on them, hopefully without both of them getting completely soaked in the downpour.

They reached his car, gasping for breath, both of them hopelessly laughing. Will didn't want to, but even he had to give in to the humor of the situation. And that was the first time she had a chance to say what she'd wanted to earlier.

She kissed him in the damp car, on the cheek, both of them shivering like crazy. “You're going to do it, aren't you?”

“What?”

“You're going to find a way for us to be together. Because your dad's going to be well soon. And that means you'll need to be making decisions about what you want to do.”

“I know what I want. I want you with me, Kel. That's all that matters. The rest of it—I just don't care.”

“Oh, yes you do,” she whispered. “You care terribly, Will Maguire.” And she felt her heart thud like a dropped ball bearing. It had taken her all this time to figure out what she needed and wanted in her life—who she was, and who she wasn't.

She was the one who had started out confused.

But it was Will, she understood now, who didn't know himself. And she couldn't make an overwhelming life choice for him.

No one could live a fantasy forever.

“Q
UIT LOOKING
so grumpy,” Kelly scolded him as they marched up the church steps. “You're not going to die if you spend an hour in mass.”

“I could.”

She patted his behind—discreetly—just as they reached the holy water, which she used and he didn't. He got another scolding look when he failed to genuflect. His family was already there—his dad and mom in a pew up front, his sisters and various other family members filling the next couple aisles. Will figured if he got to sit by Ralph, the little squirt would act up, and he'd get to take him out of church. They could play on the lawn or something.

As if Kelly suspected he had nonreligious intentions, he got another pat—this one close to a pinch—as she herded him into an aisle behind the family.

“Unka
Will!
” Ralphie shrieked, making Martha turn around and roll her eyes for attracting the baby's attention.

“I'll take him anytime,” Will mouthed back to her. The rest of the family, alerted to his presence, turned around like a practiced choir and sent Kelly smiles. Kelly, not him. Kelly was getting all the credit for his attending mass.

Kelly, who was pinching and patting and prodding him every time he looked sideways.

“What?” he demanded when the service was finally over and they could escape back to the car.

“You and I are going to get this religious business out in the open. Get in, buster.”

He did, although getting into her car was like a bull trying to fit into a thimble. She drove, looking damned gorgeous in an ivory top and a skirt that swished around her bare knees. She was wearing the scent he'd gotten her in Paris, and she'd put a couple clips in her hair and pearls in her ears. It was a good-girl pure-lady look, and just made him want to strip her right there and then.

Instead, she picked up take-out coffee and drove him to a spot on the river, where she parked and handed him his cup.

“This whole church thing,” she told him. “You're being downright dumb about it.”

“Excuse me?”

“You stood there in church like a lump. You know perfectly well what to do. If you don't believe in the religion, that would be one thing—”

“I don't.”

“What a fib. The truth is that your dad pushed religion down your throat, so you took off in the other direction. He wanted you to be devout, so that's the last thing you were willing to be.”

“Kel. Try waking up. I'm not the devout type.”

“Horse spit.” She slipped out of her sandals, lifted her legs over the gearshift and plunked them in his lap.

She seemed to think she could yell at him and get her bare feet rubbed at the same time. The woman had no end to her illusions. It was downright astonishing.

“You're not preachy and churchy, Will. But you have a lot of spirituality in you. You stand up for people. For what's right. You have endless kindness and compassion for those more vulnerable than you. You don't take crap from anyone, but you're not a bully or mean about it.”

“You're calling that spirituality?” he asked.

She took another sip of coffee and started in again. “You walk at night for the joy of it, take the time to smell the flowers, get down on the floor to play with your nephew. You're first in line when someone needs help. You try to avoid directly hurting people. I see examples of that everywhere. No matter how much your dad infuriates you, you don't attack him. Or your sisters.”

“And you think that's spirituality?” he asked again.

“Yeah, actually. It's just colored in prettier words when you sing it in a hymn.”

He couldn't even drink his coffee, because he had to rub her toes, the balls of her feet. When he traced a thumb down that delicate, sexy arch, she purred just like a cat. “Just for the record, why are we talking about religion?”

“Because we have to be sure we agree about what matters, Will. Is it important to you if we believe exactly the same things?”

“No. Not at all.” That was easy to answer.

“I agree.”

Since she seemed determined to add a complicated, touchy discussion to an already complicated, touchy day, he went along. “Speaking for myself, I think religious and personal beliefs are matters of the heart. They're not up for argument. They're up for discussion, because talking about what matters is interesting and honest. But I don't want to be pushed and I'd never push you.”

“Oh God, Will, you said that so well. And I'm totally on the same page.” She added, “I think everyone has a spiritual side. The only thing wrong is denying it. If you get a great feeling walking in the woods, then I'll walk in the woods with you. But if I need to go to church, I'd like you to occasionally come with me…or at least
be
with me about what I need to do.”

“I am. Okay.” He'd given more attention to her right foot than her left, so now he had to make up to leftie. After getting a good long gulp of coffee, he said gruffly, “I think a couple should protect each other's private stuff. I don't mean sex. I mean the kind of things you're afraid of, when you're all alone or in pain.”

Slowly she swung her bare legs back to her side of the car and put down her coffee. “Will, you are so good at being honest with me. It's one of the things I love about you.”

Like the day at her house, like the failed Notre Dame breakfast fiasco, like this morning in church, Will felt a raw, gut feeling of fear. He sensed that he was a pinch away from losing Kelly, that she wanted something from him and he wasn't coming through.

Only he couldn't seem to pin down exactly what it was. It was as if his whole life could be threatened if he couldn't solve the Rubik's Cube. He had all the colors, all the pieces, but he still had no idea how to put it together.

He grabbed her wrist when she turned the key and started the engine. “If you like it that I'm honest with you, why are you frowning? What was this big conversation about?”

“You're honest with me, Will. But I need you to be honest with yourself.”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

“It means that you think you're low-key and laid-back. And you're not. You think you're happy lazy. And you're not. You think you're an ex-Catholic. But you're just a Catholic who's angry about church issues, which isn't the same thing.”

“And all this interesting insight is going where?”

“It's going toward your dad.” She must have seen a certain expression on his face, because she said swiftly, “I know. We've talked this half to death. But I want you to really hear me this time. I'll follow you anywhere. But you and I can't make it if you've got a raw sore on your heart that you keep pretending doesn't matter.”

Oh, yeah. That old song. Will didn't huff, but it crossed his mind again that he
could
have fallen for a woman who'd settle for diamonds and yachts and traveling around the world free as a bird. Instead, he got Ms. Interfering, Bossy, Poke-Into-Deep-Sores Rochard.

She only said one more thing. “When you deal with your dad, Will, get your mind off what he wants. Get your mind on what
you
want. Think about who you are, not who he is. It'll solve everything. I promise.”

Apart from trying to reason with the most idealistic dreamer who'd ever been born, Will still needed answers that he had yet to find, no matter how hard he tried.

 

B
IG-BAND MUSIC
spilled from the open doors of the country club. Every bush and branch was lit up on the long white patio and steps.

Kelly didn't freeze, though, until she got a good view of the crowd.

She wore a long black dress that she'd thought was downright adorable when she bought it—a clearance $79.99 buy at T.J. Maxx. Now she saw beads and sequins, satins and organza, and the stones dripping from necks were a long way from her rhinestones.

“We just aren't in Kansas anymore, Toto,” she murmured.

Will tugged on her arm. “Say what? What's wrong?”

His voice was still laced with aggravation from this morning. Hell's bells, she was just as aggravated with herself. “Nothing,” she assured him brightly. “Just can't walk very fast in these heels.”

“This'll be boring as hell,” Will warned her, “but we should be able to escape in a couple hours. Not until Mom's cut the cake and opened her presents, though.”

Another reason to freeze in panic. Somehow she was sure she'd bought the wrong thing. Or an inadequate thing. “Will, what did you get her?”

He was carrying a medium-size box, clearly wrapped by a pro, not him. “My dad and sisters always get her bling and girl stuff. But my mom's actually a techno junkie, so I cater to that. Got her a GPS with her own voice recorded for the person giving directions.”

“That's terrific,” Kelly said, panic building further. She'd gotten a coffee-table book on fancy gardening, because the Maguire house had been so exquisitely and uniquely landscaped. But that was before.

The Maguires had all seemed so natural. Before. They all seemed to have the usual family squabbles and idiosyncrasies. Before. They all seemed to—likely—spit in the bowl after brushing their teeth, like she did. Before.

Now she smiled blankly as Will climbed the steps, his hand at the small of her back, and introduced her to a couple. The woman was wearing a designer gown, her shoes costing more than Kelly made in a month.

“Will!” Another couple greeted him, kissed him, teased him about turning into a Frenchman.

He kept her alongside him. Barbara and Aaron greeted both of them—Barbara giving her a giant, warm hug. Ditto for Aaron. The sisters were there, the kids. Kelly understood why his mother had wanted the family to attend mass together that morning. That was the time the occasion would be about family. This fantabulous birthday bash was clearly less about family and more about an excuse to enjoy the bling. The place didn't need to be lit up. There were enough diamonds to illuminate a couple of universes. Chocolate diamonds. Yellow diamonds. One pink diamond.

“Hey.” Will cornered her after they'd filled plates with an array of gourmet delicacies. A chef was sizzling salmon flown in from Alaska. A king crab the size of a small room was displayed on a satin-gold plate. Individual chefs manned numerous tables, offering foods from the islands, South America, the Orient. Kelly could hardly take her eyes off the wonders.

“Kel.”

She glanced up. Will looked as stunning as she'd ever seen him. The white tux was perfect for his regal bones and ruffled blond hair; he looked a mix of bad boy and elegance. But mostly elegance. He could fit in anywhere, anytime, with anyone, she thought, and his long, lean body was just made for that tux.

“Kelly, wake up. What's wrong?”

She looked up
again,
and then shook her head with a laugh. “Nothing. The party, it's just so beautiful.”

“Pretty stiff and formal, if you ask me. But my mom's in her element. She's loving it.”

A woman their own age took one look at Will across the patio and sailed over. “Will!” Apparently Will had gone to school with the brunette, because she acted as if she not only knew him, but had laid claim to him body and soul—especially his body—at some point in the past. She dismissed her husband as if he were a purse on her arm, threw her arms around Will, shot Kelly a hello and then ignored her, and continued to gab for three minutes solid about their shared history.

It hit Kelly like a slam and kept slamming.

His money had never really bothered her, because she'd always felt so natural with him. But this was the first time she'd had it jammed into her face, that this was the life Will was born to, what he was used to. Not just some dumb money, but real wealth. Not ordinary family and friends, but people who'd been all over the world and had power.

And here she'd been telling him what to do from the day she met him. Demanding he figure out who he was, as if she had the intuition to
know
what was wrong with anyone as complex as Will, as if she knew anything about the life he'd grown up in.

“Excuse me,” she murmured to Will, when yet another couple ambled up to greet him. She motioned, a universal signal that she was headed for the ladies' room.

She wasn't, but she needed a moment of silence for a minute. Around the corner of the long patio and lawn, she found a swimming pool—lit up and surrounded by more guests—but past that, she found a little corner of quiet. A nestle of trees provided a privacy border for the pool area, and no lights intruded into the warm shadows. There was a walkway, cement benches, probably leading to a golf course—Kelly didn't know or care; she just sat down for a second, and tried to draw a couple deep cleansing breaths.

She'd never had a panic attack before, but she was pretty sure this was one. Her heart kept pounding as if a sniper threatened her at gunpoint. Her palms were damp and her stomach was twisted like a rope. She couldn't seem to catch her breath.