Slightly Imperfect (11 page)

However, Christian's obvious absence in the little welcoming party represented ambiguous lines.

Cutting the engine back, he gave himself time to re-think how Christian had suffered in the scandal involving Victoria and Tomas Cordera. He took time to reiterate how he had trashed the sanctity of his own marriage by failing to keep his priorities in line. Mistakes of that vein didn't bear repeating.

He watched Marcus wrench his hand from Victoria's, edge dangerously near the edge of the old wooden dock in his eagerness. Zac waved reassuringly to him. Propriety could easily be maintained by remembering Marcus was the priority in this situation.

Nevertheless, the circumstances took on an enigmatic shape.

"Hello," Victoria called the moment they were in hearing range. "We
thought
this was your slip."

Wondering how she had known, he killed the engine, hoping to drift straight in, hoping not to miss anything else she might have to say. Caught off guard, Josh leaped around, hustling bumpers into place.

Just as the
Ramona Tres
whacked solidly into the dock. She exclaimed, "Your boat is wonderful."

For sure, she knew nothing about shrimp boats.

Zac reached for a nearby T-shirt, jerked it over his head and looked around for his clogs, coming up void. He hopped over the side, wrapped a mooring line around a steel cleat and approached them.
CONTRAST
flashed in his mind like a garish neon sign, when he observed Victoria, Ariana and Alexander. Seeing Marcus aligned with them was like gazing into a cracked mirror.

"Don't you have anything better to do with your Sunday afternoons, Victoria?" He tempered his chastisement with a smile.

The hot, humid dock and the smell of fish had never been so prevalent in his consciousness. He glanced down the way to where the
Irish Lady
tossed gently in the shrimper's wake. Today's reception party was definitely more suited to the yacht.

He spoke to Marcus. "
Qué pasa, hombre
."

Marcus seized his proffered hand and pumped it, looking anxiously to Victoria who nodded encouragement. "
Buenos tardes, señor
." His accent hadn't improved. He paused before stumbling over, "Cómo está usted?"

"
Muy bién! Fantástico!
"

"We've been watching the educational channel," Victoria offered. "He wanted to surprise you."

"He succeeded." Zac sank to his bare knees in front of Ariana. Alexander's hand was clasped tightly in that of the black teen-aged girl. Taking off his gloves, Zac touched the back of his fingers to Ariana's velvety, honey-hued cheek. "Ariana," he rolled the name softly off his tongue with Spanish inflection. "I'm glad to see you."

She broke into a smile, blue eyes crinkling.

After meeting Christian, Zac knew the origin of the crystal blue eyes. He swiveled, still on his knees and held his hand out to Alex. "I'll watch him," he said quietly to the black girl. "Alex. Come say hi."

With exaggerated care, the girl delivered Alex into Zac's waiting hands, then stepped back. He concluded there was always one child in any crowd who bore watching.

"Do you like boats, Alex?"

His pale head bobbed.

Zac glanced up at Victoria. "Is it all right if they go on board?" >

"I'd rather—" She checked herself, smiling.

"Josh," Zac called to the busy figure at the back of the craft. Josh started toward them. Zac addressed the girl. "I'm Zac. Let me help you on, and I'll hand them to you."

She, too, got her cue from Victoria. Evidently, Victoria ran her own tight ship.

Zac lifted the girl over the side to capable waiting hands. "This is Josh," he said to the little gathering.

"This is Lizbett," Victoria supplied.

Lizbett's smile flashed a row of perfect teeth. A head full of intricate cornrows bounced jauntily.

"Watch them closely," Victoria cautioned Lizbett as Zac lifted Marcus first and then the twins.

"Show them the boat. Don't let them get dirty or jump in," Zac instructed Josh, who had broken out in a sudden rash of grins. Zac faced Victoria as the group moved out of hearing. "Your turn. How'd you find us?"

"I remembered the name of your boat. We were out for a ferry ride last night, so we drove by the dock and spotted it."

Memory of Carron wafted tenderly through his mind, of her standing in almost this same spot that first time. Of all the hell that came after.

"The children
do
love boats. They miss the
Andrea Elena
, I'm afraid." Her jade eyes kept straying to the deck activity, making Zac think of a mother bear and cubs. "We hoped you might be free for an early dinner," she said.

Mental unrest persisted. "What did you have in mind?"

"The Oyster House?" The exclusive restaurant on the water's edge, just across the parking lot.

Looking down at his faded shirt, frayed cut-offs and bare feet, he smiled apologetically.

Her smile was soft. "Taco Bell, maybe—or the twins love Long John Silver's."

"Where's Christian?" His need to know asserted itself above subtlety.

Her smile died, making him wish he had been more tactful. "On his way to Baku. Maybe he's there now."

Zac struggled to quiet a reaction he couldn't label.

"We're divorced. He was only here to see the children... and to sign the divorce agreement."

"I'm sorry." He wanted to be. The decent part of him was. The selfish part, that portion

of his intellect that wanted access to Marcus, sprang into shameful, but pure, exhilaration.

She looked away, seeking the children who had gone below, leaving her nowhere to look but back to him. "Can you come to dinner with us?" She sounded resolved.

"You have to come home with me."

She looked surprised.

He pictured the normally lonely house, hope soaring. "We'll swim in the bay. Josh can take the kids sailing on the
Sunfish
."

She definitely appeared dubious.

"We'll hook the slip to the pier with a twenty foot rope. How's that?" When she looked relieved, he said, "After all that, I'll grill the redfish we caught." He waited, then coerced, "I have a cat named Samson, with Ari's eyes."

The corners of Victoria's mouth twitched.

"And a Doberman named Delilah for Alex to maul."

Her smile broke loose. "I think we're dressed for dinner at the Oyster House."

They looked like a Ralph Lauren ad. All navy and white, leather and pearls. Even Lizbett was dressed to the teeth. Zac stalled his agreement, however.

"We'd need life preservers for sailing," she hedged and when he nodded, urged, "Do you have any that small? And they'll need suits."

"They're only babies," he offered, kindly derisive.

"They swim in suits," she said flatly. "And then there's Lizbett... considering... She considered. "Considering... Josh?"

And there was Victoria, considering Zac.

"Visit the marine store down by the yachts," he suggested. "I'll lend you T-shirts if the store doesn't have what you want."

She looked unconvinced.

"If
Town and Country Magazine
shows up for a feature interview, we'll ignore them. Lighten up, Victoria."

That made her smile. "I'll try."

Zac and Josh watched her lead her crew in the direction of the marine store. Something about the vulnerability in her stride, the curve of her shoulders, seemed to underline the subtle significance of her being here.

"Who is that, Mr. Z?"

"Your new mistress, boy." Zac raised his brows, his smile teasing. "If she likes the plantation."

Josh laughed. "She sure is pretty. And look at those cute kids. All colors. Some for you and some for her."

Zac's gaze traced Josh's real target. "And one for you."

They both laughed.

* * *

Zac hoisted himself out of the water onto the swim dock, offered Victoria his hand and drew her from the bay to a sitting position beside him. They dangled their feet and watched Lizbett, Ari and Alex bob about in their life preservers. Further out, Josh and Marcus made wide, lazy circles in the diminutive sailboat.

Only Lizbett had found an acceptable swimsuit at the marine store. Victoria had bought pull-up shorts for the twins and Marcus and added an oversized RAMONA YACHT CLUB T-shirt to complete Ari's ensemble. At the house, Zac gave Victoria the heaviest cotton T-shirt he could find, frayed cut-offs that matched his, and a big safety pin to secure the waist. She accepted them in good humor, but now that she sat beside him, soaking wet, he could see she had opted not to remove her bra.

Very proper. And refreshing.

Silk and cream and honey kept coming to mind. Even her voice, when she issued soft instructions to the children—he noted they were always called children, never kids—was satin smooth, perfectly pitched to soothe and cajole. Her laugh proved capable of carrying him to a surreal plane somewhere. He wondered how today's impact of her delicate beauty, her fine, carefully chiseled features had escaped him in Portofino. No coarseness touched her. The silkiness of her ashy-beige hair and flaxen lashes, the narrow bridge of her perfectly tilted nose, her long, slender neck, all served to play out her fragile image and feed his nagging attraction to Anglo women.

In Portofino, the hope of reuniting with Maggie had consumed him; he'd longed to be with her and Angel bodily, as he was joined to them in spirit. In the same heartbeat, still wounded by death, he had been trapped in the memory of Carron's vibrant, flame-haired beauty, her statuesque frame. He reasoned now that not being acutely aware of Victoria's appeal then probably had something to do with feeling a little used, feeling she couldn't see past her obsession with his resemblance to Marcus's father.

Was the difference he sensed today imaginary? In which of them had the change occurred?

"I thought you would call us." Her words were partially obscured by the twins' shrill laughter bounding up from where they played near Victoria and Zac's dangling feet.

He watched her make a thick rope of her wet, wheat-colored hair, twist it slightly and bring it over one shoulder. "I thought
you
would call."

She didn't speak or look at him.

"I wasn't sure you were back from Europe. Then, after I saw you last week, I decided not to."

"Did you get my note?"

The note had come in the mail, after
Cinco de Mayo
, two polite lines.
She was glad they'd seen one another and she looked forward to their friendship
. "I got it."

She frowned.

"I didn't want to tamper with your marriage, considering what you'd been through before—especially considering what Christian went through." He relived the days of indecision after that Sunday. "I thought it over and decided not to call."

She looked at him, her brow creased. "But Marcus—I thought we... you and I had an understanding."

He tried again. "I wanted to give Christian a chance. I could see last Sunday—or feel maybe—he and Marcus didn't have the best of relationships." He had hit a nerve. The crease in her brow furrowed. "I thought the gentlemanly thing to do was abstain, no matter how taken I am with Marcus." He smiled, attempting lightness. "That's what you and your brood inspire in me. Chivalry."

"I thought you didn't care." "I care."

"Marcus needs you. He doesn't have anyone now."

That sounded like accusation. And it led him to believe either she
did
have someone, or didn't need anyone, which prompted him to ask, "What happened with Christian?" He felt it imperative to get the answer straight in his mind, to know for certain the divorce had nothing to do with him. He watched her stoic profile.

"We tried. Each of us. Very hard." Like a sentinel, she stared hard out to sea. "We had too many obstacles to overcome."

"Name them for me," he encouraged.

"You don't have to do this." She looked at him, petitioning.

"Then name them for you," he said gently. "Go for it."

"I left him—I refused to go to Baku with him for Marcus." She must have reconsidered that. "
Because
of Marcus. Christian could never please me. I thought he discriminated between Marcus and the twins."

"They're different."

"I didn't want them to be. But I couldn't change what—I didn't give Christian a chance really. I suppose. He wanted to adopt Marcus at first, but I wouldn't let him change his name to Michaels. After a while—after the twins were born—he stopped talking about it." She fell quiet. Marcus called to her from the sailboat. She waved, then cringed as Lizbett lifted Alex to her shoulders. "If I had only stayed away from Marcus's father five years ago—"

"Water under the bridge."

"If I had—but then there was Coby—the hurts and scars, my fears after what he did to Tommy and tried to do to Christian. The past built a wall Christian and I couldn't get over. Mostly it was Marcus, though. I put him before Christian. I know it's not supposed to be that way, but Marcus is a child. I thought that as a man Christian should be able to overcome Marcus's... origin. I always expected more than Christian was capable of."

At least she had a healthy lack of blame shifting.

After a short silence she went on. "We married in September and it took only two months for me to realize what I had done. By Thanksgiving I was—" She looked at him and smiled contritely. "Upset? By Christmas I was insane with it and there was Coby, his constant phone calls, begging me to see him. Instead I began seeing—I began sleeping with Tommy again. It destroyed the marriage. We could never rebuild it. Even after Tommy died. Even after the twins were born. All the time in India when we were supposed to be salvaging our marriage—"

It was sketchy but he got most of it. "You've got a handle on it," he said gently. "It will take time, and blaming yourself won't change anything." Although from what he was hearing, he'd say she was right on target with the blame.

"You're very understanding." She smiled. "Could we talk about you? Was that your father in the wheelchair at the party last week?"