Ready for Marriage? (5 page)

She’d promised herself she wasn’t going to sit around and moon over Derek. And so she’d said yes to Rusty, and yes to a real date on Friday night with the electrician who’d come by the shelter to repair the wiring. He was young, handsome and single, and she’d be a fool to wait around, hoping Derek would love her someday. This could be her last chance at a relationship!

A knock at the back door of the office startled her, and she quickly minimized the program she had open. Then she went to the door with a pleasant smile fixed firmly in place although the hours posted at the entry clearly stated the sanctuary was closed for the evening. But when she glanced through the window, she recognized Derek’s SUV parked beside her little compact car. Her heart rate doubled and her mouth went dry. Good heavens. Had her wishful thinking somehow communicated itself to him?

Ridiculous
, she told herself.
You’re being ridiculous
. But she couldn’t prevent her body’s response any more than she could hide the smile that lit her
face when she saw Derek and Mollie on the other side of the screen door.
Friendly. Be friendly but not
too familiar
.

‘‘What a nice surprise!’’ she said. ‘‘What brings you two my way?’’

‘‘I wanted to talk to you,’’ Derek said, ‘‘and Mollie wants to see you, too.’’

Just then, Mollie spotted Hobby, the good-natured retriever mix who was the office mascot. With a squeal, she went racing toward the dog, who obligingly flopped down and exposed his belly for her to rub.

‘‘Well,’’ said Derek wryly, ‘‘she
did
want to see you. Looks like you’ve been upstaged by a dog.’’

‘‘It wouldn’t be the first time that’s happened.’’ It was the first time she’d seen him since the night he’d kissed her, and that kiss stood squarely in the middle of her attempt at normalcy. Then she realized she was standing there smiling foolishly. ‘‘Come on in. I was still working.’’

He frowned as he followed her into the inner office, leaning against a file cabinet while she propped herself on the edge of her desk. ‘‘This job doesn’t pay enough for you to be putting in extra hours.’’

‘‘I won’t once I’m accustomed to everything.’’ She lowered her voice even though she knew no one else was around. ‘‘I’ve been going through the expense entries, trying to find out where that money went.’’

Understanding crept into his eyes. ‘‘And you don’t want to do it when anyone’s around.’’

‘‘Right.’’ Her spirits, buoyed by his visit, fell as
she recalled her concerns. ‘‘I can’t find a thing that points to anyone other than Cathie being the culprit.’’

‘‘Have you told the board?’’

She shook her head. ‘‘Not yet.’’

‘‘You’re going to have to tell them soon.’’

‘‘I know.’’ She sighed. ‘‘I just want to check a few more things before I do.’’

There was a small silence. Derek stuck his head out the door and when he looked back at her, he was grinning. ‘‘Mollie’s lying on top of the dog.’’

‘‘Hobby’s a patient fellow with children,’’ she said. ‘‘How’s she doing?’’

‘‘Pretty good. Day care is going fine now, thanks to your hair.’’

She smiled, reaching up a hand to flip a lock forward absently. She’d been wearing it down much of the time since her talk with Faye and she was getting used to the weight of it. ‘‘That’s good.’’

‘‘Yeah, except that I’m not going to be able to keep her there.’’

‘‘What?’’ She straightened, her voice displaying her concern. ‘‘Why not?’’

‘‘It’s a great place,’’ he said, ‘‘but the hours are too confining. I’m going to look for a baby-sitter who can be more flexible when I have to stay late, and who can keep her longer on clinic nights.’’

‘‘Oh. I never thought about that. Maybe I could—’’

But Derek held up a finger. ‘‘No. You couldn’t. But if you’d be willing to help me interview prospects, I’d be grateful for the additional opinion.’’

‘‘Of course.’’ He was right. And she should be glad that it had finally sunk into his thick skull that she wasn’t going to be Mollie’s baby-sitter for the rest of their lives. But…

Another silence fell, this one less comfortable than the one before. Talking about baby-sitting invariably led her to thoughts of the reason Derek needed a sitter, which led to guilt, which in turn made her annoyed with herself because there was absolutely no reason in the world for her to feel guilty for wanting a life of her own.

‘‘So how was your date on the fourth?’’

‘‘Fine.’’ If she were honest, it had been a pain in the butt. The man seemed to have more arms than an octopus and all of them had been determined to touch her. She’d never been so glad to get home in her life. She’d practically had to shut the door on him—definitely the best part of the evening.

‘‘Did you enjoy the fireworks?’’

‘‘Yes. Did you?’’

‘‘Yes, although Mollie missed you. She kept asking when you were coming.’’

‘‘I’m sorry.’’ And she was. She would much rather have been with Derek and Mollie. But they’d been estranged after that disastrous kiss and she hadn’t imagined that he would want her company.

‘‘What did you think of the new rockets they added this year?’’

‘‘They were interesting. I like the sounds they make.’’

‘‘Yeah. We walked around and looked for you, but we didn’t see you anywhere.’’

She stared at him, a suspicion forming in her head as his disconnected statements began to mesh. ‘‘Are you trying to find out if I really went to the fireworks?’’

To her surprise, a deep flush spread up his neck and he avoided her eyes. ‘‘It was kind of odd that we didn’t see you.’’

‘‘Well, I was there.’’ What was going on here? He’d made it plain that he wasn’t ready for a relationship, that he wasn’t even sure he had liked kissing her enough to want to repeat the experience. He’d said he needed time to figure out what to do about her, as if she were some bothersome task he had to schedule and complete.

‘‘Are you going to see him again?’’ There was a distinctly challenging note in his voice, one that took her even further aback.

‘‘Why?’’ Had he always been this tenacious? She was starting to wish she had the nerve to tell him she was sleeping with Craig on a regular basis, but she couldn’t bring herself to lie.

‘‘If he’s going to be appearing in your life frequently, I want to meet him.’’

‘‘You know,’’ she said conversationally, holding onto her temper by a thread, ‘‘I’m well over the age of consent and you’re not my father.’’

‘‘Are you going to see him again?’’ He was inflexible. Impossible.

She hesitated, then realized he wasn’t going to
back off until she answered him. ‘‘Probably not.’’ She narrowed her eyes. ‘‘My dating life is none of your business.’’

He shoved off the file cabinet abruptly and headed out of her office. She followed, completely bewildered and more than a little annoyed, as he bent and swung Mollie into his arms.

‘‘Give Kristin a kiss,’’ he said to his daughter. And as Kristin reached out and caught the little girl, Derek sent her an enigmatic smile over the child’s head. ‘‘Everything you do is my business, Kris.’’

On Thursday night, Faye got fast food for Mollie and him, although he had to snatch bites of his burger between patients. By the time he finished examining the last animal of the evening and got to the fries they were stone-cold and unappealing, so he pitched them into the trash. The food was a far cry from the usual tasty meals he’d enjoyed when Kristin was in his life.

God, he missed her. He’d stopped by the sanctuary Monday night hoping to catch her there. But their encounter had left him dissatisfied and somewhat alarmed by her evasiveness.

Was she serious about dating other people? He’d expected to have more time.
More time for what?

More time to procrastinate, he finally told himself. More time to tell himself they weren’t right for each other. More time to pretend he wasn’t interested, didn’t want her, wasn’t going to care if she got in
volved with some other man. More time to pedal backward every time she came near.

He was, he realized, exactly the same as a woman who said no when she meant yes. He wanted Kristin, he just hadn’t wanted to admit it. She’d been right when she accused him of keeping her around for convenience sake, only it wasn’t jobs he wanted her for. If she was tied up with him, she was too busy to be going out with anyone else.

Only trouble with that strategy was, she wasn’t around anymore. The Fourth of July had been a prime example. As he and Mollie had sat on their solitary blanket at the fireworks, his mind had been a jumble, mixed emotions clouding his brain.

He’d looked for Kris. He’d taken Mollie for a walk through the crowds to buy some caramel corn although his real mission, he could finally allow himself to see, had been to find Kris. But they hadn’t seen Kristin and her date, and later, as his daughter dozed off on the blanket beside him and the sky exploded into bright shards of light, all he could think of was Kris. Why hadn’t he seen her? It was possible he’d simply missed her, but surely she’d have called out to Mollie, even if she didn’t want to talk to him.

Had they decided not to attend? And if not, where were they and what were they doing? He gritted his teeth against the anger that rose once more at the thought of Kristin in another man’s arms. He had no right to be mad, he told himself. He wasn’t ready to declare himself, wasn’t prepared to begin taking her
out. He should be glad that she was turning her attentions away from him.

But he wasn’t. He felt as if he’d had a bucket of ice water tossed in his face and he recognized that he probably deserved it.
All right
, he told himself.
If
you want her, you’re going to have to let her know
.

He felt as if he’d been wrapped in insulation since Deb had died, as if his feelings had been cushioned, his interest in the other sex muted by his loss. But now his insulation had been stripped away and all he could think of was how much he wanted Kristin.

Without a conscious decision, he found himself steering the car toward her town house. He was so deep in thought that he was a little startled when Mollie realized where they were and squealed with excitement.

As he climbed out of the car he was suddenly struck by a bolt of uncertainty. Should he be here? Should he be considering altering the friendship he and Kristin had shared for so many years? She’d altered it first, he reminded himself. She’d made him think, made him aware of her, made him
need
again. It was too late to turn back.

He unstrapped Mollie from her car seat and went to Kristin’s door. He was just about to ring the bell when he realized the door was open a crack. Cautiously, he poked a finger against it, and when it swung open, he peered into the compact living room beyond.

Kristin lay on the couch, fast asleep.

Good lord. His blood ran cold at the thought of
her lying there, completely defenseless with her front door unlocked to any predator that might come along. Anxiety rose. Was she ill? That wasn’t like her, to leave a door ajar.

Setting Mollie down, he crossed the room and knelt at the side of the couch. He cupped her cheek in his palm, relieved to feel the cool silk of her flesh beneath his touch. She wasn’t feverish and he felt his inner tension level ease fractionally.

‘‘Kris,’’ he murmured. ‘‘Come on, Sleeping Beauty. Time to wake up.’’

‘‘Tristin?’’ Mollie squirmed in between his knees and leaned over to put her tiny palm on Kristin’s other cheek. ‘‘Time to wate up.’’

Kristin stirred beneath their hands. Her eyelids lazily floated open, and she blinked twice. As she focused on their faces, a luminous smile crossed her face. ‘‘I must be dreaming,’’ she said in a soft, husky voice.

She put a hand to Mollie’s cheek, but her eyes held his. ‘‘Hi.’’

‘‘Hi!’ Tan I read a ’tory?’’ Mollie’s attention was already diverted.

‘‘Sure. You know where they are.’’ As Mollie wriggled free and dashed off, she continued to stare up at him.

Derek slid his thumb forward and gently brushed it over the full line of her lips, still holding her gaze. ‘‘Your door was ajar. I thought something was wrong.’’

Her eyes clouded. ‘‘Heavens. I’m sorry. I’m just
exhausted—I must not have closed it properly.’’ As he continued to whisper his thumb over the petal-soft plumpness of her lower lip, she focused on him again. ‘‘Are you sure I’m not dreaming?’’

D
erek leaned over Kristin. ‘‘You’re not dreaming.’’ He cast a glance at Mollie, who was already immersed in one of the books Kristin kept in a basket on the floor for her, then looked back at Kristin, his gaze lingering on her lips. They looked soft and warm and he badly wanted to kiss her, to shape and mold and caress until she returned the pressure of his lips.

But not in front of his daughter. ‘‘Have you eaten anything?’’ he asked as he sat back, his hip bumping hers.

She was staring at him as if he’d grown a second head and her eyes were wide and dazed. ‘‘Wha—?’’

‘‘I’m hungry.’’ He cut her off, not ready to deal
with a discussion of his feelings yet. ‘‘If you haven’t eaten, we can eat together.’’

‘‘I haven’t,’’ she said absently. ‘‘I came home from work and crashed.’’ Then he could see her brain scramble into high gear. ‘‘I bet you just finished work and haven’t eaten anything, either. Derek, you can’t forget to eat. If you get sick you won’t—’’

He shifted his hand across her mouth, shaking his head. ‘‘Do you have any eggs?’’

She nodded behind his hand, her gaze locked on his.

‘‘Good,’’ he said. ‘‘I’ll make us some omelets.’’

‘‘But—’’

‘‘Go get your pajamas on.’’ He stood and headed for the kitchen. ‘‘Come on, Mollie. You want to help Daddy cook?’’

‘‘Uh-
huh!
’’ His daughter scrambled to her feet.

He found a skillet, eggs, butter, milk and cheese and with Mollie’s ‘‘help,’’ started the omelets. He couldn’t cook many things but he was competent with the few he could.

By the time he’d set the small table in her kitchen, the first omelet was done and he put it in the oven on a plate to keep it warm until the rest were finished.

Kristin walked into the kitchen a few minutes later, clad in an oversize T-shirt and jogging shorts.

He frowned. ‘‘I thought you were going to put your pajamas on.’’

She rolled her eyes. ‘‘These are my pajamas.’’ She fingered the edge of the bottoms. ‘‘Minus the shorts.’’

Minus the shorts
. He turned back to the skillet, doing his best not to think about Kristin in nothing but that T-shirt skimming the tops of her thighs. Thighs he could imagine all too well, thanks to those short skirts she’d taken to wearing recently and the trim little shorts that bared a smooth expanse of creamy legs that looked a mile long.

He flipped the last omelet, then withdrew the plate from the oven, slid the omelet atop the others and set it on the trivet he’d placed in the center of the table.

‘‘How about some salad with that?’’ Kristin retrieved a bag of lettuce and assorted salad ingredients from the refrigerator, added several bottles of dressing and salad bowls, and then they took their seats.

As they always had when they ate together, they clasped hands and let Mollie say the little prayer she’d learned in Sunday school. When Kristin would have withdrawn her hand afterward, he held onto her with a light grip, and she stilled. ‘‘I’ve really missed our meals together,’’ he said quietly. ‘‘Thanks for letting us join you.’’

She sent him an almost shy smile from beneath her lashes. ‘‘You’re welcome. I’m glad you stopped by.’’

‘‘Me, too, or your door might have been open all night.’’ He sent her a mock-frown, and when she grinned, he finally began to feel that they were almost back on a normal footing. As normal as it could get, considering.

Derek cut up some egg for Mollie while Kristin dished out salad. It was quiet but comfortable and they listened to Mollie chatter. He allowed Mollie to
leave the table after a short while since she already had eaten one dinner and didn’t seem terribly hungry.

‘‘Any luck tracing your financial problem?’’ he asked Kristin. For some reason, he found himself as reluctant as she to give voice to the ugly accusation of embezzlement.

She shook her head. ‘‘No, but I have a meeting with Rusty tomorrow at lunch and I’m going to show him what I’ve found.’’

‘‘Do you want me to be there?’’ It was an impulsive offer, born of his concern for her.

Her eyebrows rose and a look of surprise flitted across her features. ‘‘I think I can handle it.’’ She smiled at him. ‘‘But I appreciate the thought.’’

He wanted to talk to her about the feelings rolling around inside him, but he wasn’t sure how to start. And in any case, he couldn’t seem to make himself utter a word.

Kristin’s smile faded. She reached over and laid a hand on his arm. ‘‘Derek? Are you all right?’’

No. How can I be all right when all I can think of
is you?
And it wasn’t just the sexual thoughts that were making him crazy, although they sure weren’t helping. He’d always cared about Kristin in a platonic big-brother way. But now there was a more personal element to the way he felt, a tender sweetness that caused his chest to tighten and his heart to pound. It was just friendship, he assured himself. He had cared about her for years.

Aloud, he said, ‘‘I’m fine.’’ He laid his free hand over hers where it rested on his forearm. ‘‘Will you
come over for dinner tomorrow evening? I’m on call, but you know how that goes. It probably will be quiet until about 2:00 a.m.’’ He smiled sheepishly. ‘‘And I have an ulterior motive. I’d like your opinion on some of the applications I’ve received for the nanny position.’’

Her smile faded. ‘‘I already have plans for tomorrow evening. I’m sorry. Could we make it Saturday night?’’

What plans? Who with?
‘‘Sure,’’ he said. He lifted his hand and moved his arm out from under hers, busying himself picking up dishes while he fought the jealousy that urged him to demand she tell him her plans. Was she going out with the Fourth of July date again? Or someone entirely different?

She silently began helping him clear the table, putting things in the dishwasher and setting salad dressings back in the refrigerator. When he risked a glance at her, her expression was unreadable, and an unaccountable streak of annoyance ran through him. He realized he’d expected her to try to smooth things over, to cajole him into talking to her like she always had before when he’d gotten into what she called ‘‘a mood’’ about something.

But she hadn’t. She acted as if she weren’t even aware of his mood, and that made him feel even worse. She’d cared before. He knew she had. But ever since she’d brought up marriage and he’d flipped out, things hadn’t been right between them. And now…now he was afraid maybe he’d ruined the relationship he had with her.

She’d said she was glad he’d stopped by. Did she mean that? Was it directed at him, or was she simply pleased that he’d brought Mollie to see her?

No, she’d been smiling at him when she’d said it, smiling in a very feminine way that he was certain had been meant for him.

The telephone rang.

‘‘Oh, rats,’’ Kristin said.

He glanced at her. She’d just plunged her hands into soapy dishwater. ‘‘Do you want me to get that?’’

She shrugged. ‘‘Sure. Thanks.’’

He reached for the handset in the cradle on the far counter and turned it on. ‘‘Hello?’’

There was a moment of silence. ‘‘May I speak to Kristin, please?’’ It was a deep, masculine voice.

A wave of sheer, unadulterated jealousy ripped through him. He had to work to keep the satisfaction from his voice as he said, ‘‘I’m sorry, she can’t come to the phone right now. May I take a message?’’

‘‘Sure.’’ The guy sounded ridiculously cheery. ‘‘Is this Kristin’s father?’’

The question caught him flat-footed. Her father? Was the guy kidding? ‘‘No,’’ he said, aware that his voice was more than a little testy. ‘‘It isn’t.’’

‘‘Oh. Sorry.’’ The man sounded less sure of himself now. ‘‘Would you just tell her Rod called to confirm our date tomorrow night? I’ll pick her up at seven.’’

‘‘Sure thing.’’ Derek wanted Rod to come over so he could pound him into the ground.

‘‘Thanks, man.’’

Derek hung up the handset and slowly turned to Kristin. ‘‘That was someone named Rod. He’ll pick you up at seven tomorrow night.’’

‘‘Oh.’’ Her face grew pink. ‘‘Thank you,’’ she said in a small voice.

‘‘You’re welcome.’’ He clipped out the words, then turned and headed for the living room. ‘‘Hey, Miss Mollie, it’s time to go home.’’

‘‘No!’’ Mollie clutched another book to her breast. ‘‘Not done reading!’’

‘‘Okay. One more,’’ he said. ‘‘You have two minutes to finish that one.’’ He didn’t want to have to go back into the kitchen and face Kristin so he leaned against the wall and watched as his daughter became completely engrossed in the pages of the book she was ‘‘reading.’’

‘‘Derek?’’ Kristin’s voice was soft.

He glanced back into the kitchen.

She stood in the middle of the room, one bare foot atop the other, with that glorious out-of-control mane of hair rioting around her and falling over her shoulders. Her hands were absently twisting her T-shirt hem and she’d pulled it so taut that her smooth, flat stomach was exposed. The shirt also outlined the curves of her breasts and he realized she had no idea how she looked to him. How badly he wanted to go to her and smooth a hand down over that delicate skin, to cup her breasts and lower his mouth to them, to see that hair spread over his pillow.

‘‘Are you angry with me?’’ She was frowning.

‘‘No.’’
Not exactly
. He didn’t move.

‘‘Well, then, what’s wrong?’’

He shrugged, determined not to give voice to the little green monsters racing around inside him. ‘‘I’m just not very satisfied with our relationship right now and I don’t know what to do about it.’’ Well, that was honest.

‘‘You don’t have to do anything about it.’’ Her chin lifted a fraction.

He turned completely around to face her without saying a word, merely holding her gaze with his until the belligerence drained out of her expression.

He should leave. He was going to leave. He was leaving right now.

He stepped toward her, reaching for her hands, prying her fingers out of the shirt fabric and intertwining his fingers with hers. ‘‘I’m not trying to hurt you,’’ he said quietly.

‘‘I know.’’ Her throat moved as she swallowed and suddenly there were tears swimming in her eyes.

‘‘Don’t cry,’’ he whispered. ‘‘We’ll work it out.’’

‘‘How?’’ Even though her voice was as quiet as his he recognized the challenge in the single syllable.

A taut, expectant silence hummed between them for a moment.

‘‘I don’t know.’’ He felt his shoulders sag. God, what was he supposed to say? Was she still hoping he’d change his mind about marriage?

Without warning, an image of Kristin languidly reclining in his bed, her mane of hair trailing across his white sheets, assailed him. Marriage would give him unrestricted access to her lithe, subtle curves, to
her sweet, drugging kisses, to the shattering pleasure he
knew
he could find in her arms.

Marriage. That was crazy. He couldn’t marry her. You were supposed to marry someone you loved, not someone for whom you had a critical case of lust overload.

‘‘’Tay, Daddy, I’m ready.’’ Mollie’s book banged shut with a loud snap and he heard her scrambling to her feet.

‘‘I’d better take her home.’’ He knew it was a cop-out, saw the ember of hope in Kris’s eyes flicker and die. But he was too shaken by his thoughts to figure out what to do or say to repair the damage.

She slipped her hands free from his and walked around him to scoop up Mollie for a tickle and a kiss. ‘‘Thanks for making me dinner.’’ But she didn’t look at him again. ‘‘See you, squirt.’’

‘‘Bye, Mommy.’’ His daughter threw her arms around Kristin’s neck when she knelt and threw herself into Kris’s arms so wholeheartedly that Kristin had to put a hand hastily to the floor to keep them both from being pushed right over backward.

Mollie put her hands on either side of Kristin’s face and peered deep into her eyes. ‘‘Tiss.’’

‘‘Okay. A nice big kiss and then Daddy will take you home.’’ Kristin suited the words to the action.

Derek opened his mouth to remind Mollie not to call Kristin ‘‘Mommy.’’ But then he shut it again without speaking. His throat grew tight and he had to swallow the lump that rose as he watched his little
girl hug Kristin. The love in their embrace was undeniable.

Mollie was right. For all practical purposes, Kris
was
her mother, the only one his child had ever known. Kristin had devoted herself to Mollie since her birth, because Deb had been too sick to handle the demands of a healthy infant, and she’d probably spent more time with his daughter than many working mothers did with their own offspring. Already, Mollie had known more of a mother’s love than Kristin had in her entire life.

Funny, he’d never really thought of the parallel before. Kristin’s mother had died of a cerebral hemorrhage hours after a fall on a patch of ice before Kristin was even a year old. Kris, better than anyone, knew what it was like to be motherless, and she’d devoted herself to making sure Mollie had never felt the same lack.

Was he crazy for refusing to consider a marriage between them?

Kristin rose, taking Mollie’s hand. He was prepared for her to avoid eye contact as she had in the past when things had gone wrong between them, so it was a shock to see her smiling at him as she handed off his daughter. An unpleasant shock. The smile was friendly and completely impersonal, as if they’d never kissed, never discussed anything more vital than the weather. And while he was trying to figure out what to say to her in this new mood, she herded them both out her front door. ‘‘See you around.’’

She shut the door and he heard the lock snick into
place before he was even off the stoop. As he strapped Mollie into her car seat, he realized she hadn’t said she would see them Saturday night. Was she going to cancel on him?

She met the treasurer of the board of the sanctuary for lunch again on Friday. Rusty was a few minutes late and they ordered immediately, then he sat back and smiled at her.

‘‘So,’’ he said, ‘‘I guess you’re not keeping Dr. Mahoney’s little girl any more now that you’re working full-time for us.’’

She shook her head and smiled. ‘‘No.’’ She refused the urge to elaborate and waited for him to speak.

He studied her for a moment, and she wondered what he was thinking. ‘‘Kristin,’’ he finally said, ‘‘I’ll be honest. I’d like to ask you out. I just always thought that you and Derek—’’