Friday's Child (12 page)

She moistened her lips nervously. “I…”

“Needed time,” he finished for her, raising her hand to his lips and pressing a kiss to her palm. “So I gave you time. The question is, was it enough time to change your mind about us?”

She couldn't form an answer. He moved closer, and she knew she should move away. The way he'd manipulated her should have filled her with anger. And anger would be easy to feel if the light in his eyes wasn't fueling the desire humming through her veins. If he didn't look so sinfully sexy and
ruggedly male… If the fierce light of masculine desire wasn't so plain on his face…

And then his lips were on hers and reason swirled away. His mouth was hard, hungry and a little desperate. There was no patience, no gentle wooing. Perhaps that would have been easier to withstand. But his desperation fueled her own, his hunger fed hers. Her arms went to his shoulders and clung, and she was barely aware as he lay back on the couch, pulling her on top of him. His hands were on her face, keeping her lips above his. He pressed her mouth open and his tongue swept inside, and she welcomed it with her own.

His heart was hammering beneath her hand, and his heat was searing her everywhere they touched. Her hair draped around them, curtaining them from the rest of the world. Her hands came up to cup his jaw, slightly scratchy with the beginning of an evening beard, and she reveled in the friction beneath her palms. He released her mouth, spreading kisses across her eyelids, her cheeks, her throat. One large hand dropped to her hips and he pressed her close against his insistent hardness.

Her gasp mingled with his tortured groan. Her eyes flew open. His were slitted, the flush of desire stamped on his face, arousal apparent in the taut skin across his cheekbones.

Mouth trembling, Kate struggled to return to an upright position, her attempt bringing another groan to his lips. He followed her up, his lips catching hers again in another deep, openmouthed kiss, his hand tangling in her hair. They devoured each other for a long moment…two…three…before Michael tore his mouth from hers.

He caught her hands in his, stilling their unconscious caressing movements across his chest. He leaned his head back, taking big, gulping breaths.

“Kate,” he rasped. His body shuddered against hers. She could feel every tremor that shook him, every breath he drew.

“Believe it or not, I didn't come here to seduce you tonight.”

“I know,” she whispered. And she did. He'd come because he'd allowed her so much time and no more. She was to consider whether she wanted to see him again. Whether she
wanted a relationship with him. Her breath hitched in her chest. “I still haven't answered your question.”

His hand came up to rub her vertebrae, sending her arching into him. She sensed his smile before she saw it. “Yes, sweetheart, I think you have.”

 

The waiting room of Dr. Sachar's office was pleasantly decorated in primary colors, with a wealth of toys designed to keep busy young hands occupied. Chloe wove a path around the room, trying all of them out, engaging the other children in conversation along the way.

Michael watched his daughter with a slight smile on his face, but his mind was occupied. Neither Kate nor Deanna had made an appearance yet, but he wasn't really worried. Kate had promised she would be there, although she had been resolute about driving herself. She was, he was discovering, an extremely determined woman.

An idiotic grin spread across his face as he considered the way last evening had ended. She hadn't liked his certainty about the result of her decision. But she hadn't made it difficult to guess. Her mouth had been just as demanding as his, her breathing just as ragged. The most difficult thing he'd ever done was to say good-night to her after allowing himself one more hard, quick kiss at her door.

She wasn't the kind of woman to leave alone too long; she thought too damn much. And she had a cautious streak running through her that he hadn't completely figured out yet. But he had time. Time was going to be his secret weapon with her; time to let her get to know him, to drop that cautious veneer and to allow him closer. He'd give her the time she needed, but not the space. He had a feeling that the more space between them, the more walls she'd throw up. And though she was worth scaling a few walls for he was alarmingly low on patience. Last night had proved that.

The office door opened then and Kate walked in. Chloe looked up and shrieked in delight, running over to give her an exuberant hug. As Michael watched, Kate bent gracefully and returned it. Watching them together had his throat clog
ging inexplicably. Kate's reserve was never present with Chloe. The warm smile was open, the caring in her eyes immediate.

“Come sit down,” he invited, his gaze feasting on the sight of her in a sky blue suit. It was a color that matched her eyes perfectly and provided a stunning foil to her hair. All in all she looked good enough for him to start howling in another minute. He contented himself with draping his arm across the back of her chair when she sat next to him, his fingers cupping her shoulder.

“You look fantastic,” he murmured close to her ear. He watched with fascination as the delicate hue of her cheeks deepened. “Is it too much to hope that you've sacrificed all your jumpers to an after-school bonfire?”

Her eyebrow arched. “
You're
going to get snotty about
my
wardrobe? Careful, Friday. If I start with yours, the possibilities are endless.”

He chuckled. “You're welcome to change whatever you want of mine. I'm open to suggestion.”

“Chloe Friday?”

Michael's head jerked up. He followed his daughter as she sped to the nurse standing in the open doorway. The woman smiled and stepped aside, indicating that they should precede her into the inner offices. He turned and held out a hand.

“Come on, Kate.”

He drew her after him even as she protested quietly, “Michael, I think I should wait outside until the doctor wants to speak to all of us together.”

“Don't be ridiculous,” he said. He didn't release her hand as he followed the nurse and Chloe down a long hallway.

“Why shouldn't you be there the whole time?”

“Because usually the parents meet with the doctor, some tests are run, medical history is given, and then the school personnel is invited in. You and your—that is—Chloe's mother…”

“Deanna will be here soon,” he said easily. “She would have called otherwise. But in the meantime you're going to be needed for emotional support and major hand-holding.”

Kate looked immediately at Chloe, who was examining the thermometer the nurse was explaining to her. “Oh, I think Chloe will be fine.”

“I was talking about me,” he said in an undertone, and grinned when she suddenly tugged at the hand still clasped in his. He let her go but turned casually toward the nurse, making sure his position blocked any possible escape Kate might have made.

Chloe was weighed and her height measured. Michael didn't know how the nurse could get an accurate reading the way Chloe was fidgeting, but she seemed to be used to the challenge. In fact, he noted as he watched the woman carefully, she went to great lengths to put Chloe at ease. She explained the function of each utensil before she tried to use it with the little girl. Her patience with Chloe eased his own trepidation somewhat. At least until she took out a needle and some test tubes.

Michael interrupted the explanation the nurse was giving Chloe. “Wait a minute,” he demanded. “Is that really necessary?”

“It is important that we have complete information about Chloe's medical condition. We have to be sure, first of all, that there isn't a preexisting physical ailment that we're unaware of.”

“There isn't. She goes in for a routine checkup yearly, as well as any time she isn't feeling well. I don't see the need to put her through this.”

“Is this like a shot?” Chloe wanted to know.

“Sort of.” Both the nurse and Michael turned to look at Kate as she addressed Chloe. “The nurse will attach a little tube to the needle and she'll put the needle in your arm, right about here.” She touched the inside of her arm. “You'll feel a little prick. That would be like a shot. The needle will stay in your arm a bit longer, though, because she'll be filling up some different little tubes with your blood. Then she'll take the needle out and mark all the little tubes with your name so they can run tests on them.”

“What kind of tests?”

“They just want to see if your blood is healthy,” Kate responded. She looked at Michael. She had obviously learned how to converse with Chloe. Answers with too many details only elicited more questions. However, he was the one who remained unconvinced.

The nurse continued quietly, “The tests are necessary before the doctor can make a diagnosis, Mr. Friday. Would you like to postpone this until you talk to Dr. Sachar?”

Michael looked at Kate. After sharing a long, steady gaze, he capitulated. “No, that's fine. We'll do it now.”

“I don't like shots,” Chloe informed them.

Michael sank to his knees in front of her. “I know you don't, honey. But sometimes you have to get one, just like you did before they could stitch up your hand last summer. Remember? And you know, Rosy has to get shots, too. The vet is coming out this week to give her some.”

Chloe remained visibly uneasy. Kate bent down, next to Michael. “I'll tell you a trick we can do. You hold my hand and close your eyes. The nurse will tell you when she's going to prick you a little with the needle. That's when you'll squeeze my hand really, really tight.”

“What's the trick?” Chloe wanted to know.

“Well, the trick is, as soon as you close your eyes, you have to start telling me every single thing you've taught Rosy to do since the last time I saw her. If you stop talking, even for a second, then you can't tell me any more about her.”

“That's easy,” Chloe boasted. “I can do that. And there's a whole bunch of stuff, too, because Rosy's been working real hard.”

Kate took the little girl's hand. “That's good, but I don't think you're going to have time to tell me everything, because this isn't going to last very long. Can you talk really, really fast?”

“Yes!”

“Close your eyes, then.”

Michael watched in bemusement as Chloe's eyes squeezed shut. The nurse quickly went to work. As she wrapped a piece of tubing around the small arm and swabbed it with alcohol,
he swallowed hard and looked away. As if from a distance he could hear Kate say, “Ready. Set. Go.”

Chloe's exuberant stream of words started as she tried to fill her teacher in on every single snippet of information about her beloved pony. Her voice faltered only once, when she interjected a loud “Ouch!” and then continued with her litany of praise for her pony's intelligence.

Michael's attention snapped to his child when he heard her cry. Her eyes were still closed, and her small hand was clenched tightly in Kate's. Her exclamation of pain had barely interrupted her monologue. His eyes remained glued in morbid fascination on the nurse. As he watched, she removed a small tube of blood,
his daughter's blood,
and smoothly put another in its place to be filled. All the while, the long, wicked-looking needle remained in Chloe's arm. Nausea twisted in his stomach, and he moved to lean against the wall weakly, closing his eyes.

Several moments later Chloe bounded out of the chair after the nurse had placed a dinosaur bandage on her arm. As the nurse led them to a conference room, Michael lagged behind. Kate shot him a concerned look.

“Are you all right?”

“I will be,” he muttered. His throat felt parched, and he'd have given his Jag for a glass of water.

“Which was it?” she asked in an undertone as they walked into the room together. “The needle or the blood?”

“I don't mind
my
blood,” he defended himself. “But the sight of Chloe's…” His voice trailed off and he swallowed again. “And I have to admit to an opinion similar to Chloe's when it comes to shots.”

The smirk on her face was an open invitation, but he wasn't given any time to respond to it. As they walked into the conference room, a middle-aged woman in a brightly patterned dress approached them.

“Please come in,” she invited them, shaking Kate's hand and then turning to Michael. “It's nice to meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Friday.”

M
ichael still couldn't decide whether to be amused or offended by the speed with which Kate had explained her identity. Confusion had reigned for a minute as Deanna had chosen that moment to enter the room, as well. After speaking to the three of them for several minutes, Kate had slipped back into the waiting room while the doctor examined Chloe.

He thought his daughter had held up pretty well, but sitting still had never been her favorite indoor sport. By the time the examination was over and Kate had rejoined them in the conference room, Chloe was showing noticeable signs of agitation. The third time she fell out of her chair, Deanna said, “For heaven's sake, Chloe, stop fidgeting.”

“Would you like to put some puzzles together?” Dr. Sachar asked. “We have several of them in the next room.”

“I want to go home,” she said, swinging from the edge of the table. “I want to ride Rosy.”

“Maybe if she had some paper and markers, she would be occupied for a while,” Kate suggested hesitantly.

“You like to draw,” Michael said with relief. “How about it, squirt?”

Dr. Sachar rummaged through some desk drawers. “Here we go,” she said at last, finding a large white tablet and some pens. “You should be able to make some great pictures with these.”

Once the child was settled, Deanna said, “That's exactly the sort of behavior I'm concerned about. She's a very bright little girl, interested in everything. But nothing seems to keep her attention for long. Just when I think I have her occupied with something, she's into something else. She makes me tired just keeping up with her.”

Michael defended Chloe immediately. “She's active. She doesn't like being cooped up. At our place she's used to having the run of the house, the grounds and the stables.”

“A high activity level isn't abnormal in and of itself at Chloe's age,” said Dr. Sachar. “It's only when it's coupled with other symptoms that we start to look at a medical implication. Based on my observation of Chloe this afternoon, as well as the information provided by parents and school, I think it's likely that Chloe suffers from ADHD. That's the current term used to describe children with Attention Deficit Disorder, with hyperactivity as a component.”

The words hit Michael with the force of a left jab. The room and its occupants faded as the doctor's opinion echoed and reechoed across his mind. He'd thought to cover his bases by setting up this appointment. He'd never knowingly ignore even the remotest possibility that Chloe needed any kind of help. But now he realized how unprepared he'd been for this moment. He hadn't believed the doctor would agree with Kate's concerns. He hadn't let himself consider it.

He hadn't felt this helpless since he was a kid, vainly loathing his father for abandoning his family. His childhood had helped shape him into the man he was today—one who would do anything to protect those he cared about. But how did he protect his little girl from a disorder whose name he'd never even heard of a month ago?

He didn't participate in the discussion Deanna and Dr. Sachar were having about the percentage of youngsters diagnosed with the disorder. What did that matter, anyway? The
only child he was concerned about was the cute little blonde sitting beside him, kicking her legs in beat with the tune she was humming as she drew a darn good likeness of the room they were sitting in. He wanted to yell at the doctor, to demand that she look, really look, at his daughter. How dare she say there was something wrong with her? Anyone could see just how perfect she was. She was funny and sweet and terrifically talented. She was the single most precious thing in his life.

Chloe abandoned her markers and scrambled off her chair to sit under the table. The vise in his chest loosened a little. Regardless of the outcome of this appointment, regardless of whether or not Chloe was afflicted with this ADHD thing, she was still his same little girl; the one who ran recklessly to leap in his arms to welcome him home; the one who loved knock-knock jokes and animals; the one who brightened his life in a million different ways every day. He looked down to where she was crouched under the table, and she waved impishly at him, gesturing for him to join her. For a moment he was tempted to do so.

With effort he tuned in to the educational planning the doctor, Kate and Deanna were discussing. Kate. He fixed on her name gratefully, her form drawing his gaze. He trusted her to make the necessary recommendations to personnel at school. She cared about Chloe; she'd do everything in her power to see that his daughter was successful there.

“How do you recommend we handle this, Doctor?” Deanna asked. “I've heard that children can be put on medication to help with the symptoms of this disorder.”

“Medication with side effects,” Michael put in with a scowl. “Do we really want to chance insomnia, weight loss, headaches and stomachaches with our daughter, just for a quick fix?”

“There are several different medications that have proven effective,” the doctor said. “All of them have good safety records. But the side effects you mention, Mr. Friday, are possibilities for some of them. That's why it's extremely important for Chloe to be monitored regularly by a medical doc
tor. If side effects occur, we would of course adjust her dosage or change medications.” She held up her hand when Michael opened his mouth again.

“We're getting ahead of ourselves here. Whether or not your daughter begins medication is a decision you'll have to make for yourselves. With or without it, there are many, many strategies and techniques you can try until you find workable ways to help Chloe manage her behavior, both at home and at school.”

After setting up another appointment for August, Michael rose. Deanna looked at him and said, “I really must talk to you, Michael. Do you have time now?”

“Sure.” He turned to his daughter and caught her small hand in his.

Deanna hesitated. “This…needs to be just the two of us. Maybe I should come by later.”

“The Smithsonian is right around the corner,” Kate put in quietly. “Would you like me to take Chloe there for a while?”

Michael's eyes cut to hers and he gave a slow nod. “I'll catch up with you there in about an hour.”

 

They found a cafeteria on the bottom floor of the office building, and Michael bought two coffees, which remained untouched between them. As his ex-wife smoothed her hair and adjusted her earrings, it occurred to him that she was nervous. Deanna didn't fidget. She was always calm, always collected and never at a loss for words. Her constant composure had irritated the hell out of him on more than one occasion.

“Look, if this is about the medication, I have to tell you, I'm not ready to make that kind of decision yet,” he said bluntly. “I need time.”

“It's not that,” she denied, folding both hands in front of her. “I wanted to ask to have Chloe tonight.”

He studied her. “Something special going on?”

“No, not really. Actually, we haven't spoken about her summer arrangements, and we need to get that ironed out, as
well.” Her voice tapered off in a very unusual way, and Michael's eyes narrowed. Something was bugging his ex-wife, and it was something big. He'd never known her to be shy about stating her needs. She'd even announced she was leaving him and taking Chloe in that same cool, well-bred voice he'd grown to detest.

“Why don't you spit it out, Deanna?” he said deliberately, knowing she'd hate his plain language and not caring.

“There's something bothering you and you might as well just say it.”

Her chin came up, the only visible sign of her displeasure. “Very well. I'd like to modify the custody agreement for Chloe.”

Michael went absolutely still. Every nerve, every muscle were sheathed in ice. She wanted Chloe back. He'd known it could happen, actually should have been expecting it. She still had primary custody, with him supposed to be sharing a few days a week. A few days weren't enough, especially now that he'd had Chloe for so much more. He hadn't been able to change the judge's mind when his daughter was three, and he doubted he stood a much better chance now, despite Chloe's apparent happiness with the new arrangement. Old bitterness surged up inside him, and his hand on the table was clenched.

“Mind telling me why?” His voice managed to stay soft, revealing none of the rage and fear churning within him.

“Actually, I'm getting married.”

Shock twisted through him, penetrating the haze of resentment. “Married? To whom? Chloe never mentioned anybody from her visits with you.”

That nervousness was back, barely perceptible. “Chloe hasn't met Jeffrey yet. His schedule is unpredictable, and the timing was never right.”

“You're expecting to take Chloe to live with you and a man she's never met?” The anger burst forth now, despite his efforts to control it. “What in God's name are you thinking, Deanna? Did you ever once consider how this would affect her?”

“Yes!” she snapped. “I've done nothing but consider Chloe. That's why I'm suggesting that we modify the arrangement so she can stay here with you, instead of my taking her out of the country.”

Her words acted like a one-two punch on Michael's emotionally charged state, and it took several seconds to assimilate what she was saying. Then comprehension dawned, and his relief was so great it threatened to choke him.

“You…you want to give me primary custody?”

Deanna finally sipped at her coffee. “I don't think ‘want to' is the correct phrase. Suffice it to say, I knew that you would be totally unreasonable about my taking her to Greece to live with me.”

“You had that damned straight,” he muttered. “Mind telling me why you decided to live in Greece?”

A familiar glint was in her eye, the one that told him she was extraordinarily pleased with herself. “My fiancé is Jeffrey Creighton, ambassador to Greece.”

Michael leaned back in his chair and surveyed her amusedly. “Landed yourself a big one, Dee.”

“Don't call me Dee,” she snapped. “Jeffrey and I have a great deal in common. I'm looking forward to our new life together.”

He smiled slowly. He just bet she was. She'd lived for the dinners and entertaining that had gone along with starting his business. She'd wanted money, prestige and power when she'd married him. He'd wanted her. They'd done fairly well until they started spending more time together and discovered they really didn't like each other very much. His only surprise was that it had taken her this long to find someone more suited to her taste.

“I'm going to ask that you be very flexible about scheduling visits. I'd like the freedom to see Chloe anytime we're in D.C., and of course I'll want her to spend part of her summers with us.”

“We can work something out. She'll want to see you as often as possible, too.” He was sincere about that. Chloe was going to miss her mother, and since he had just been given
what he most wanted in the world, he could afford to be generous. “When's the date set for?”

“We'll be married quietly next month. I'll leave almost immediately for Greece afterward.”

A long, awkward silence stretched between them, during which they both looked at each other and didn't say a thing. “About this appointment…” she finally began. “I want to be fully apprised of anything and everything that pertains to Chloe. I'd like her to try medication in the fall.”

“We can discuss it,” he said noncommittally.

She gathered her purse and prepared to leave. Before rising, she said in a low voice, “I really do love her, you know.”

Michael looked at her. She was blinking rapidly to dispel the tears that had gathered. He reached out and took her hand. “I know you do, Dee. I've always known that.”

A few moments later she was walking away. Michael surveyed the foam cup of coffee he didn't intend to drink. For some reason he was reminded of the last time Deanna had walked away from him, the time she'd taken his daughter, his whole world, with her. She'd cataloged his flaws crisply prior to her exit, with no hint of temper. The list of his shortcomings had long ago ceased to sting. There were plenty of women since who had seemed more than willing to overlook the defects in his upbringing. Money and power went a long way toward erasing the stigma of being raised in near poverty. But he didn't want any of those women. There was only one woman he wanted, and right now she was waiting with his daughter at the Smithsonian.

He rose and strode purposefully out the door, toward his future.

 

Kate sighed and stopped her pacing. She laid the textbook she'd been studying on the table. Her brain could only assimilate so much information, and right now it was saturated. There would be plenty more time to study in the remaining time she had before her comprehensive exams.

She glanced at the clock. It wasn't all that late, but the day had been long. She wondered what Michael was doing. He'd
seemed preoccupied when he'd met her and Chloe, and they'd parted without him giving her much of an indication of just what was going on inside him.

To distract herself she tossed a bag of popcorn in the microwave and got a diet soda from the refrigerator. Though she usually wasn't much of a TV watcher, it would distract her from thinking of the events of the day. And of Michael.

The microwave dinged just as the pounding on her door began. She didn't wonder for a second who it was. Other people knocked, but not Michael. She was sure he tried, but those large fists probably weren't capable of anything so restrained. She crossed the room and threw the door open.

Her heart immediately kicked to a faster beat in her chest. He was lounging against her porch railing, his weight probably not doing much good for its sturdiness. His brows were lowered.

“You didn't even check the peephole before you opened the door.”