Just One Week (4 page)

Michelle forced her fingers to loosen their grip on her teacup and set her hands on the table in front of her. No one spoke, as if Alex had frozen the moment in time. Finally, Chase broke the silence by slapping Kyle on the shoulder. “Come help me set up the tables on the patio.”

“The party’s days away,” Kyle answered. “And I’m hungry now.”

“Dinner won’t be for a while,” Emma said. “I’ll call you when it’s ready.”

Kyle got up, grumbling that it still might rain in June and followed Chase from the room. They had to pass Alex on the way out, and the two brothers exchanged a look. Lord only knew what they’d been discussing about her.

Finally, Emma went back to the stove, and Alex took her place at the table, right across from Michelle.

She groped for a safe topic of conversation with Alex sitting so close. No nearer than he’d been in the car, but that had felt like torture. She’d ached so much to touch him that her mind had played tricks on her, imagining that she already had. The scar at his temple mocked her—reminding her of the day he’d gotten it. Alex bleeding and her hysterical. Him putting his arm around her to soothe her.

“So,” she blurted finally. “Have things changed much in town? Everything looks pretty much the same.”

“Wheeler’s Mill Preservation Society,” Jim said. “We’re maintaining the history of the place.”

“Jim started it five years ago,” Emma said as she opened the vegetable bin of the refrigerator and pulled out greens for a salad.

“Are you sure I can’t do that for you?” Michelle asked.

“Sit.” Emma waved a hand at her. “Visit.”

“I hope to play a more active role in the Society when I retire in a year or two,” Jim said.

“You, retire?” Michelle said.

Jim leaned back in his chair and ruffled his fingers through his gray hair. “About time I turned the publishing company over to someone younger.”

“Chase will take over,” Alex said. He crossed his arms over his broad chest in an obvious defensive gesture.

It was usually expected for the older son to take over the family business, but it wasn’t written in stone anywhere. So Alex wouldn’t become a publisher of fine fiction and non-fiction books. What was the big deal?

“Alex has more important things to do than sit behind a desk.” Jim clapped his son on the shoulder.

“Yeah. Tackle a guy carrying a ball,” Alex said. “Mom, are you sure you don’t need help?”

Interesting. A subject he wanted to avoid. Why would he be ashamed of being one of the country’s most elite athletes?

“I’m fine,” Emma said. “I didn’t turn frail overnight, you know.”

Jim gave her one of his world-class smiles. He’d passed that on to his sons, too. “The feed store’s still open, although they do more dog grooming than anything else these days.”

“And you’ll remember Betty Swift,” Emma said, now peeling a cucumber.

“The beauty parlor. Of course,” Michelle answered.

“Her daughter runs the shop now. She’s turned it into a spa.” Emma set aside the peeler and wiped her hands on a dishtowel. “I made reservations for us on Saturday. The full treatment.”

“That sounds wonderful,” Michelle said. “I can’t wait.”

“I always wanted a daughter to do girl things with. Now I have you back,” Emma said.

“Girl stuff sounds great.” In fact, she’d wanted a pedicure to accompany the open-toed shoes with the impossible heels. She’d be almost as tall as Alex in them, her nose grazing his chin if they danced.

Casual, remember?
She’d have to find some way to act nonchalant if he put his arms around her. She’d planned everything so carefully to show him she wasn’t Mickey any longer but a woman. She’d grown up and moved on, and he couldn’t hurt her again. Maybe she’d even make him want her—just a little—and then walk away from him. If she could accomplish all that, this trip would end up worth the anxiety.

Emma went to the window and put her hand on the sill to call to Kyle and Chase. “Dinner in two minutes.”

“I’ll set the table.” Michelle started to rise, but Alex’s hand came down on her arm. The first time they’d actually touched since she’d arrived. The contact had the same reassuring gentleness as ever, but a jolt of excitement shot through her as well.

“I’ll do it.” His face gave nothing away, although a slight widening of his eyes might have suggested he felt the connection. But then, she could so easily have imagined that.

“You’re a guest,” he said.

“Mickey’s not a guest,” Jim said.

“She’s not Mickey anymore, Dad.” Alex didn’t explain that remark but rose and went to the silverware drawer—the same one she’d put spoons and forks away in when she’d been a kid. In a moment, the other two appeared and helped Emma serve, while Michelle and Jim sat like potentates.

The food was everything she’d remembered. Pork roast with a crisp skin and succulent meat, with a side of applesauce for spice. Creamy cheese sauce on the macaroni, topped off with buttered breadcrumbs. Garlic green beans with salad on the side. She stuffed herself shamelessly, but then, so did everyone else. For a moment, no one spoke while Emma ate delicately and smiled at their obvious enjoyment of her cooking.

Finally, Kyle groaned and leaned back against his chair. “Marry me, Mrs. Stafford.”

They all laughed, Jim the loudest. Kyle had made that request since the age of ten. He still did it the same way, even calling Emma Mrs. Stafford.

“Maybe she’ll say yes this time if you pour us some of your wine,” Jim said.

Kyle slapped himself on the forehead. “How could I forget?”

“You were busy stuffing your face,” Chase said.

Kyle got up and went to the sideboard where he’d left a pair of bottles open to air the wine before dinner. After grabbing them, he went around the table filling glasses. “Old vine zinfandel. I bought the grapes from a crazy coot in the Sierra foothills who’s been in business longer than I’ve been alive.”

Chase lifted his glass to the light so he could study the wine’s color. “
Cuvée
crazy coot.”

“Don’t mock until you’ve tasted it,” Kyle said as he resumed his seat.

Michelle took a sip, and the flavors of fruit and herbs exploded on her tongue. “My brother made
this
?”

“This is really good,” Chase said with no hint of irony in his voice, just honest admiration. “I had no idea red would go so well with pork?”

“Zin goes with everything,” Kyle proclaimed as he lifted his glass in a toast. They clinked glasses, and Alex’s gaze held hers over the rims. She took a gulp of her wine and set it down a bit too fast. Damn, but the man could rattle her.

Jim took another bite of his pork and chewed, studying Kyle. “The winery going well?”

“You know what they say about my business—the best way to make a small fortune is to start with a large one.” Kyle twirled his glass by the stem and smiled at his handiwork. “It’s good.”

“Then, both you kids turned out well.” Jim’s gaze went the length of the table, and his eyes softened as it fell on his wife of thirty-five years. The two of them had had a big role in how Kyle and Michelle had grown up. Oh how it had hurt to stay away all this time. Phone calls only went so far to keeping in touch with the only real parents she’d ever had. No matter what happened now, she’d be back, even if she’d have to coordinate her visits to when Alex was on the road.

With the main course done, Emma got up to clear the dishes. Chase and Kyle helped her, and then Kyle got the pie from the freezer and set it on the table.

Michelle stared at the confection and did some mental math on the calorie count. After all she’d already eaten, she was entering forbidden territory. On the other hand, she hadn’t had Emma’s pie for so long. How much harm could a few bites do?

“Just a tiny slice,” she said.

Alex glanced at her face and then seemed to make a silent assessment of her figure. Maybe he was just noticing she’d limited her intake of her favorite dessert. But maybe not. Whichever, her pulse seemed to skip a beat and then settled into a rapid rhythm. He immediately returned his gaze to his plate, and a slight blush covered his cheekbones. At least he wasn’t finding her presence neutral. That
was
part of her plan.

“I’ll eat the rest of Michelle’s,” Kyle declared, and the resulting laughter broke the tension between her and Alex.

She ate her pie slowly, savoring each bite. Alex watched when the others weren’t looking, and a light entered his eyes, almost like hunger. She had to make herself breathe and stare back at him.

Well, well. Interesting. She wasn’t exactly any kind of
femme fatale
, but she had dated a few men, and even she couldn’t fail to recognize that look. Definite male-female connection. Alex Stafford, most popular guy in high school, college football star, and now the heartthrob of the NFL found her attractive. She’d planned for him to notice her, but if she’d read him right, they’d already gone past that.

Still, if he had any inkling of something between them, he’d sure as hell better not let her brother see it. Though Kyle had never wormed the story of what had happened between Alex and her out of her before she’d left town, he’d guessed her leaving had something to do with Alex. He would definitely
not
approve of Alex hurting her again.

When the skin of her cheeks heated, she picked up her plate and rose. “I’ll load the dishwasher.”

“No, sweetie, you just got here,” Emma said. “The boys and I will do it.”

“But you haven’t let me lift a finger.”

“Emma has plenty planned for you,” Jim said. “You need your rest. Jet lag and all.”

“He’s right.” Alex grabbed a couple of plates and got up. Now her skin could go back to its regular color.

Emma directed “the boys” as Kyle cleared things away, Chase rinsed plates, and Alex loaded them into the dishwasher. Emma took a moment to turn toward Michelle. “We got the bed in the cottage a new mattress a few months back. You should be comfortable.”

“The cottage?” she repeated. Across the room, Alex’s back stiffened, but otherwise, he didn’t move a muscle.

“Obviously you and Kyle won’t share the guest room any longer,” Emma said.

“But…” Michelle’s mind screeched to a stop as all the permutations and combinations of how she’d arrived at this situation and how awful it could become sank in. Thoughts of how she’d manage her lingering feelings for Alex and how she’d explain eight years of absence, combined with how she could avoid discussing that disastrous afternoon, had crowded her mind with enough worry that the possibility of awkward sleeping arrangements hadn’t had room to put down roots. She’d planned on staying at the B&B. The possibility she’d have to occupy the space where Alex had humiliated her and then rejected her had never entered her mind.

“Surely you’ll need the cottage for family or friends,” she said. “You can put two people in there.”

“Everyone else is taken care of,” Emma said with a wave of her hand. “We’ve filled the B&B in town.”

Of course, damn it all. Her reservation had gone to someone else coming to the party. She glared at Alex’s back. If her eyes could shoot laser beams, he’d be missing a few ribs by now. He still hadn’t moved, just stared at the wall in front of him.

“Alex doesn’t have twin beds anymore.” Chase nudged his brother with his elbow and handed him a plate. “Or you could room with him.”

Alex gave Chase his patented Blue Stare of Death. Unimpressed, his brother chuckled and went back to rinsing dishes.

“Very funny.” Emma swatted at Chase’s shoulder. “Seriously, the cottage is yours, Michelle. You don’t want to share a bathroom with these three.”

“No, I wouldn’t want to do that.” Well, crap. She’d have to think of something else. Maybe stay up until the wee hours and only go in there to sleep. With any luck, the ghost of her teenage self wasn’t lurking in there to torment her with her own stupidity and the consequences it had brought down on her head.

“That’s settled,” Jim said. “One of the boys will take your luggage out there.”

“Already done,” Alex said, and he finally turned and rested his hip against the counter. His expression dared her to make an issue of the fact that he’d put her things in there without asking her first. Of course, she couldn’t do that in front of his parents. Or their brothers, for that matter. What happened in that cottage eight years ago was bad enough merely to remember. Repeat the story to anyone else? No. Not going to happen unless Alex wanted her back on a plane to Boston the next morning.

Chapter Three

And, of course, despite the late hour and all the rubbers of bridge Michelle played to postpone the inevitable, Alex still followed her out to the cottage. Before he could put his hand on the knob to open the door for her, she turned to block any hope he might have had of entering with her.

“It’s been a long day,” she said. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

His jaw settled into a stubborn line. “It’s been eight long years. You can give me a few minutes now.”

“Wrong on so many counts, I’m not even going to try to lay it out for you.” She hugged her ribs and glared up at him. “Good night, Alex.”

For a moment, he seemed uncertain about what to do. The back porch light caught the blue of his eyes and the strong planes of his face. His body stood in silhouette, but she’d have to be blind to miss the breadth of his shoulders and the muscles of his upper arms. Where this man was concerned, she had always seen every detail. She could draw him in her sleep if she had any talent in that direction.

“It was Mom’s idea to put you in the cottage,” he said after a moment. “I didn’t have anything to do with it.”

“Thank you. Now, if you don’t mind…”

“We have several days together, Michelle, then I have to get to camp and you’ll go back to work,” he said.

He didn’t mention that they were an easy Amtrak Acela ride away from each other on the East Coast. If he wasn’t going to bring that up, she might as well leave it alone, too. Instead, she’d go for casual.

“Look, Alex, it’s nice to see you again,” she said. “But I really only came back for your parents’ party.”

“
Nice
?” He leaned close enough that she could see a muscle jump at the corner of his jaw. “That isn’t the word I’d use.”

“Use any word you want. I’m going to bed.” She turned the knob and eased the door open, but he put his hand over hers and held her where she was.

“You never gave me a chance to apologize,” he said, his mouth only inches from her ear, sending an electric charge from there to her heart.

Apologize for what?
almost slipped from her lips, but that would just start the exact discussion she’d hoped to avoid. She scrambled for something to say…anything that would remove his hand from hers, even though the heat of it still felt so freaking good after all this time.

“There’s nothing to apologize for. I got over it ages ago.”
Liar
. Maybe the darkness would hide the flush that whopper must have put on her cheeks.

“Got over it, huh?” He put his big hands on her shoulders and turned her to him. Now the warmth of his body washed all over her, and she could so easily lose herself in it. She’d found comfort in his arms so many times…the night her father had declared her recital tedious and dragged her mother home in the middle, the lone B-plus on her report card, when kids teased her for being bright and shy. They’d been young then. Innocent. Until the feelings grew into something else that had confused the hell out of her.

“Mickey, I’m sorry,” he said. “I never meant to say those things.”

“Okay, that’s enough.” Way more than enough, actually. She took his hands in hers and put them away from her. “Good night, Alex.”

Before he could pull any more stunts, she pushed the door open, stepped inside the cottage, and flicked on the light. The sight that greeted her stopped her in her tracks.

Emma must have preserved the place like a museum. The same iron bed stood against the far wall, the same nicked washstand held the same china ewer and basin, even though the cottage had its own full bathroom. The low chest of drawers sat beneath the window, and she could bring up in her memory the exact view of the pasture she’d have from there in the morning.

But what had her feet glued to the spot was a Mason jar on the sill, full of wild lupines. She’d trooped along one spring day, following after Alex and Kyle, as usual, when they’d found a hillside full of the silvery plants, each topped by dozens of sprays of the purple flowers. The place had felt magical, and though she hadn’t told the guys, she’d felt like a princess, protected by two strong knights instead of the gangly kid her parents barely tolerated.

“I remembered how much you liked them.” Alex had walked right up behind her. Inside the cottage with her—exactly the worst thing that could have happened.

“It’s late in the season for lupines.” Thank heaven that came out more or less normally.

“I had to search to find that many.”

“I hope the plants’ll be okay if you took all their flowers,” she said.

“Let’s not talk botany.”

She walked away from him. Unfortunately, that took her right to the bed. It had a different comforter and a different mattress, but it still brought back memories of the springs creaking and the sounds of a boy’s heavy breathing. A boy who hadn’t been Alex, no matter how hard she’d tried pretending.

He didn’t creep up behind her again, thank God, but when she turned, she found him staring at the bed just as she must have been. No doubt replaying what he’d seen there that day.

“I want you to understand—”

She held up a hand to stop him. “I don’t need to understand anything.”

“I know you’re here for Mom and Dad,” he said. “But I want to clear things between us, too.”

She tried for an easy smile. “There’s nothing to clear up.”

“That afternoon—”

“Was eight years ago. I’ve forgotten it, honestly.” She might as well compound one lie with another. She’d probably have to tell half-a-dozen more before she could finally get him to go away.

“You’ve forgotten that afternoon?” One of his eyebrows went up—a sure sign he didn’t believe her.

“Not forgotten, exactly. It was pretty embarrassing at the time.” She shrugged. “We were kids.”

“I was in college, and you were about to be.”

“Semi-adult kids, then,” she said. “Why are you making such a big deal of it?”

“You stayed away for eight years, Michelle. No Christmas visit. No summer vacation.” He took a step toward her, making her aware again that the cottage was small and he was so damned large. “My parents missed you.”

“I kept in touch with them.”

“
I
missed you. You did
not
keep in touch with me.”

Missed her, had he? After calling her the very worst names you could use for a young woman? And after that, instead of comforting her, he rejected her?

Her seventeen-year-old understanding of the world had believed telling him she loved him would fix everything. Stupid, stupid, stupid. She’d offered Alex Stafford her heart once. That was the last time he’d ever have a part of her. He claimed he’d missed her? Tough.

“Oh, Alex, isn’t that sweet. I promise to do better in the future.” She’d remain silent on exactly how she planned to do that, which was no way in hell.

“So now I’m sweet.” His expression turned in the direction of downright sour. “You’ve forgotten about that afternoon, we were kids, and I’m sweet.”

“Well, of course you are. You even have a reputation in the NFL for your work with literacy for underprivileged children.”

The eyebrow went up again. “You’ve followed my career.”

“Anyone who watches football knows about Alex Stafford and his charities.”

“That’s all. You just watch me on TV.”

“I’m proud of you, of course.” She let her fingers roam over the iron at the foot of the bed behind her. They didn’t shake. Not at all.

“You didn’t feel the slightest flutter in your chest when you bumped into me at the airport?” He came even closer.

Casual, casual.
“Not that I can remember.”

“And sitting in the car with me didn’t seem the least bit intimate?”

“Intimate?” She gripped the iron in her fist. “It was a small space, I suppose.”

“Uh-huh. And your heart isn’t hammering right now?” He placed one of his hands over hers and the second around the iron on her other side, trapping her between them. “Like mine is?”

The confession, along with his overwhelming nearness, stole all the air from her lungs. She parted her lips to breathe, but that only made him focus his gaze on her mouth. She raised a hand for…some purpose…and only ended up laying it against his chest, the fingers splayed. “Alex…”

“God, yes,” he whispered, as his mouth came down to brush against hers.

She could have resisted. Though his body blocked her way, she could have pulled back, pushed against him, turned her head and told him to stop. He’d never force her. Her Alex wasn’t made like that. But in the end, her own weakness defeated her, foolish creature that she was. As his lips gently explored hers, she opened to him. With a sigh, she fitted her mouth to his, matching him, movement for movement. And he gave back—sweetness like his mother’s pie. Heady like her brother’s wine.

She shouldn’t be doing this. A huge mistake, it went against everything she’d planned. Deep inside, though, teenage Michelle was vindicated. After all the years of wanting and hoping, she was finally kissing Alex Stafford. He wanted her. She hadn’t imagined the sidelong looks and how he’d glance away when she caught him. He wanted
her
.

Groaning, he took her face between his palms and tilted it for a better angle. They slipped deeper into the kiss, their lips parted while his fingertips dug into her temples. She did what she always had during a storm, slid her arms around him and burrowed into his body. Only this time, she wasn’t seeking safety but courting danger. Her breasts crushed against his chest, the nipples tingling. Heat swirled lower, in her core and at the place between her legs. She grew wet for him.

Some devil inside her had to know if he’d responded the same way. Or maybe the teenager needed the knowledge. Whatever the cause, she pressed herself against him, rubbing her belly against…yes…a very definite hardness. Long and thick and unmistakable.

He shuddered and stepped back, steadying himself with his hands on her upper arms. Steadying her, too, truth be told. Her legs felt like seaweed.

“Ah, Mickey…Michelle.” His voice came out harsh, as if he’d just run a mile. “Crap, I’m sorry.”

“It’s all right.” Stupid, meaningless words, but the only ones that popped into her head at the moment.

“It’s just that I’ve missed you, you know?”

“Sure, like you kiss everyone you haven’t seen for a few years,” she said. “I’m sorry I wasn’t around to watch what happened when Kyle got here.”

“I didn’t mean it like that.”

“No, I’m sure you didn’t.”

He dug his fingers through his hair. “I got carried away.”

She could call him on that understatement, too, if she hadn’t responded just as hotly to the embrace. None of her fantasies of kissing Alex had come close to the power of the real thing. Her sex still held a dull ache of disappointment. Great. Now she had even more fuel for her daydreams. High octane, no less.

“I had a reason for coming out here with you,” he said. “I got distracted.”

“Is that what they’re calling it now?”

Anger flashed in his eyes. “You’re not going to avoid talking about what happened in this cottage between us, no matter how…”

She crossed her arms over her chest and stared into his face. “How what?”

He blew out a breath and stepped back, putting distance between them. For a moment, he seemed at a loss for words, struggling with himself. Then a bit of the starch seemed to leach out of him, his shoulders softening. “All right, you win. But just for tonight.”

“I didn’t realize this was a contest.”

“Maybe that’s exactly what it is,” he said. “And we both know which one of us is the true competitor.”

He was, of course. She’d made a flippant remark, and now it would bite her in the ass. On the football field, Alex could turn into a maniac, intent on defeating his opponent at any cost to himself. She might have just awoken the linebacker in him—someone she had no weapons against. She’d have to rely on some fancy footwork over the next several days. And she’d better learn some dance steps overnight, because if anyone could swagger standing still, Alex was doing it right this moment.

A lazy smile crossed his face as he studied her. She could almost hear the wheels turning in his mind as he sized her up as his opponent.

“We’re going to work everything out between us, even what happened right now,” he said. “Before you leave, Mickey. I mean it.”

“There’s nothing to work out.”

“We’ll just see about that.” Then he swaggered as he walked to the door and put his hand on the knob. “Sleep well.”

Without waiting for her answer, he left, pulling the door shut behind him. She stood there for long seconds staring at the emptiness where he’d just been.

She stumbled toward the bed and sat, pressing her fingers to her lips. The impression of his mouth still lingered—the texture of it, even the taste. She hadn’t imagined the contact. Neither had she imagined the unmistakable evidence that he wanted her.

She couldn’t suppress a giggle. After all the insecurity, she could laugh. Alex wanted her. He dated actresses and supermodels. Every one of them stunning and dressed to the teeth in the latest fashions. Perfect hair and makeup. The stuff of magazine covers. An All-Pro football player, with a reputation as a player in the bedroom, had followed academic geek Michelle Dennis into this room and kissed her silly, getting an impressive erection for himself in the bargain.

She’d planned to make him want her a little, but in reality, he wanted her a lot. What intriguing possibilities that conjured up. She could reject him right off the bat. Tell him to keep his hands off her, that she’d only fantasized she’d cared about him in the past and thank him for setting her straight eight years ago. Maybe that would cause him a little of the misery he’d given her.

Of course, if she did that, she’d never have more of those kisses. Nor would she explore the sensual heaven they promised.

Sex with Alex. Ohmigod, would she really do that? Idiotic question. Of course she would. No woman with any passion in her would turn down a man who looked like Alex. Felt like Alex. Kissed like Alex.

Yes, she’d become his lover for the time she was here. Then, they’d both go back to their real lives. He had his football season and the latest icon of feminine beauty to grace his arm. She had her own career.