Their Child? Page 6

  “I’m still here.” He sounded like he kind of wished he wasn’t. She didn’t blame him in the least.

  Get on with it, she thought. “I need an appointment. At your office. I need it for a week from Monday. Do you think you could fit me in then?”

  A gaping moment of silence ensued. Then, at last, “Is this about a legal matter?”

  “Uh. Yeah. That’s right.” Well, it was. Kind of. “Could you see me then? A week from Monday?”

  “Lori, I have to tell you, this is pretty damn strange.”

  She couldn’t have agreed with him more. “Will you see me? At your office?”

  Another silence and then, finally, “Sure. Call my secretary and make an appointment.”

  “Thank you, I…Tucker?” He didn’t answer. “Tucker?” About then, she realized she was talking to air.

  Tucker had hung up.

  “But you like him,” argued Lena, when Lori returned to the kitchen and told them she wouldn’t be going out with Tucker.

  “And, honey,” said her mother. “He’s really settled down. Why, half the single women in town would be thrilled to go out with him.”

  “Then he should ask one of them—now, could we just not talk about this anymore? Please?”

  “I don’t understand you,” said Lena. “I just never have…”

  Tucker didn’t understand it.

  He’d thought, judging by Thursday night, that he and Lori were on the same page. That at least she was attracted to him, that she’d be willing to see where things might go between them.

  Guess not.

  She wouldn’t go out with him—but she wanted to discuss some damn legal issue with him. It made zero sense.

  He ought to forget her.

  But he didn’t. Somehow, he couldn’t. As Sunday faded into Monday and Monday into Tuesday, he thought about her constantly. More than once he found himself with the phone in his hand, about to dial her parents’ number.

  But he never did it.

  What was the point? She’d made it painfully clear she didn’t want to see him.

  Until next Monday. In his office.

  His assistant, Anna, had told him she’d called to set up the appointment, as per his instructions. He had her on his calendar in the 10:00 a.m. slot: Lori Taylor, consultation.

  Consultation about what?

  He didn’t know. And that was damned unprofessional. He never scheduled appointments unless he had at least a general grasp of the potential client’s problem and thought the case was one he might want to take on.

  He ought to call her and tell her he needed to know what the meeting was about or he would have to cancel. But he didn’t call her. He had the sinking feeling that if he called her, she would cancel. He’d never see her again.

  Which shouldn’t be such a big damn deal. It wasn’t as if he’d be seeing much of her anyway. Right?

  Thursday, he spotted her in the hardware store. She gave him a quick wave and turned away. Brody wasn’t with her, so he didn’t even get a chance to say hi to the kid.

  It shouldn’t mean this much, he kept thinking. He shouldn’t care this much. Yeah, he’d had a powerful feeling that she was the woman for him. But clearly, she had no such feeling and it took two to get something going. Even Tucker, with his limited experience in longterm relationships, could figure that much out.

  He considered talking to Tate about it. Or even Molly.

  But what was there to talk about? Except for throwing him a pity party, what could Tate or Molly do for him now?

  The answer was zip.

  As Friday came around, he tried to tell himself he was being a complete sucker, an idiot, a hopeless yearning fool—which he was.

  But even knowing that he was dragging around like a motherless calf didn’t make him stop. He still wanted Lori, whether she wanted him or not, and that was a plain fact. He wanted Lori and the life he had dared to imagine he might have with her.

  And if she wouldn’t go out with him, well, he’d better get to work on finding a way to change her mind.

  So she wouldn’t date him. Yet.

  Did that mean he had to give up and go away mad?

  Hell, no.

  He had to be more…understanding. He had to keep in mind that she was a widow, that she’d lost a husband.

  And not only that. He had to consider how tough it must have been on her, to have had Brody all on her own at barely eighteen.

  He had to accept that her trust must be gained. She’d had a rough time and she’d been hurt—by some rotten fly-by-night bastard who’d left her pregnant to fend for herself, and by the recent death of her husband.

  The man who would win her would have to be patient with her.

  Yeah. He had to take it slow and easy. Because he was ready. He, Tucker Bravo, was willing at last to put in the time and effort and tender care to get close to the right woman.

  So she wouldn’t date him. Well, then, he’d just have to find other ways to get close to her.

  For instance, Lena’s wedding.

  He had an invitation. Lena, in her ongoing effort to show him she’d let bygones be bygones, had made sure he received one. Since half the town would be there, it was one of those events that an up-and-coming local attorney shouldn’t miss.

  And Tucker didn’t plan to miss it.

  Uh-uh. He wouldn’t miss it for the world.

  Chapter Five

  Lena’s wedding day dawned bright and sunny. The weather report called for thunderstorms later in the day. But Lena, blue eyes shining, declared that no icky bad weather would dare come and ruin the most beautiful, important day of her life.

  The ceremony took place at the Billingsworth family church—the Church of the Way of Our Lord, to be specific—with Pastor Partridge presiding. The guests oohed and ahhed at the sight of the sanctuary, where lilies and roses, festooned with ivy and white satin ribbon, dripped from every available surface. More flowers stood in tall vases along the aisles and at the altar.

  The place was packed. By the time the first familiar chords of the wedding march filled the air, it was standing room only.

  Lena’s three flower girls, in green satin dresses, hair braided with ribbons and rosebuds, strolled down the white satin carpet that had been rolled out by two of the groomsmen before the wedding march began. All three little girls wore adorable shy smiles and carried ribbonbedecked baskets full of pink and green silk petals. They cast the petals out along the satin aisle as they went.

  Next were Lena’s lifelong girlfriends, her bridesmaids and matrons, all eight of them in shimmering celery-green silk, each with a bouquet of pale pink roses and Peruvian lilies.

  Lori, as matron of honor, followed the bridesmaids. Her gown was blush-pink, her flowers white roses tipped with green, threaded with green ribbon and ivy, rimmed in green lace. About five slow steps toward the groomsmen waiting at the altar, she made the mistake of glancing slightly to the right.

  And there he was. Tucker. In the sixth row, with Tate and Molly.

  Tucker caught Lori’s eye and held it. She almost stumbled.

  But she recovered just in time. She pulled her shoulders back, set her gaze firmly front where it belonged and continued her slow, stately progress toward the altar.

  The best man took her hand and guided her to her spot at his side and then, with all the bridal attendants in place, the music swelled louder and Lena appeared in a long-waisted snow-white gown sewn all over with seed pearls. She carried a cascade of white Casablanca lilies, gardenias, freesias and roses twined with faux pearls and heart-shaped ivy. At the sight of her, a long, admiring sigh seemed to rise from every throat.

  It was Lena’s shining moment and she knew what to do with it. Through the white froth of her veil, she had eyes only for Dirk as she proceeded along the satin-carpeted, petal-strewn aisle. When she reached her groom at last, she handed her huge, trailing bouquet to Lori and she and Dirk turned to face Pastor Partridge.

  The sacred exchange of vows began. Di
rk faltered once or twice. A fast talker as a rule, he seemed struck speechless by the moment. Lena’s voice was strong and clear and never wavered.

  Lori’s thoughts, there at the altar with her sister’s wedding flowers in her hands, were not easy ones.

  All her life, Lori had judged her twin and found Lena lacking. Deep down, Lori had considered herself superior to Lena in the ways that really mattered. To Lori’s eyes, Lena, with her bright smiles and charming ways, only skimmed the surface of life. Lori, the quiet one, the straight-A student, had seen herself as thoughtful, as the one with real depth.

  Now, today, standing there at the altar, Lori faced a hard truth: Lena was the better woman. Lena had waited for just the right guy. And when she found him, she never hesitated. She set about proudly and joyfully binding her life with his. Lena might have a selfish side, but she was also open and aboveboard about what she wanted and where she was headed.

  Lori, on the other hand, had yet to even manage to tell her child’s father that he was a dad.

  In spite of her determination not to look in his direction, her gaze shifted again to Tucker in the sixth row. His eyes were waiting. Full of heat and hope.

  And promises, too.

  Dear God. The way he looked at her…

  Like Dirk looked at Lena. Like Tate looked at Molly. As if she, Lori, was the only woman in the world.

  Incredible. Her dream of all those years ago had somehow become reality: Tucker Bravo was looking only at her.

  He saw her now. He’d told her so, that night out by the pool. He saw her now and he was interested.

  More than interested.

  And, Lori admitted to herself as her sister said, “I do,” she was more than interested, too.

  It was like some fairy tale come true.

  Or it might have been, if not for the secret and the tangled, suffocating web of her lies.

  Black clouds boiled up to the southwest as the bride and groom ducked into the long, white limo for the ride to the Throckleford County Country Club. The promised rain was on the way.

  But folks weren’t all that worried about the weather. The gala reception would be held at the club, a big sit-down dinner in the main dining room and then dancing in the adjacent ballroom late into the night. A little thunderstorm or two wouldn’t matter, with the festivities being held indoors.

  Tucker, who had slipped out of the church ahead of everyone else, reached the clubhouse well before the other guests. He tossed his keys to the parking attendant and went straight up the wide front staircase, through the main foyer to the dining room, with its eggplant-purple walls, white woodwork and ornately framed paintings of misty country scenes.

  Sometimes, looking back, Tucker felt as if he’d grown up at the club. Ol’ Tuck was always dragging them out there for family dinners—dinners they shared in that very dining room—or for any number of gala events put together by his grandmother and her women friends. Tucker knew every nook and cranny of the clubhouse. He and Tate and their friends used to sneak away from the adult festivities to hide in the housekeeping closets and run up and down the main staircase in the foyer.

  Lena’s wedding dinner was going to be one hell of a sit-down. There were at least forty round tables set with blinding-white linen and gold-rimmed crystal and china. Down at the far end, on a raised platform, stood a lone rectangular table set for six. That one had to be for the bride and groom and their two sets of parents. Tucker took a wild guess that, as the matron of honor, Lori would be seated somewhere near that main table.

  He was right. He found her place card—and Brody’s to the right of it—directly in front of the dais. Then he went looking for his own place.

  Ten minutes later he hit pay dirt. His seat was just about dead center among the sea of tables, with Molly and Tate to his right.

  Feeling no shame at all, he snatched up his place card, carried it up front and switched it with the one on Lori’s left.

  If any of the scurrying serving staff noticed he was messing with the seating, they didn’t call him on it. They were too busy straightening silverware and making certain the impressive floral centerpieces wouldn’t block the guests’ views of their dinner companions.

  The switch accomplished, Tucker headed for the Cottonwood Room—the club’s dim, wood-paneled lounge. He took a seat at the bar and enjoyed a Scotch and water while he waited for the arrival of the rest of the wedding party.

  Tucker returned to the dining room twenty minutes later. By then, the tables were filling up fast. The big room hummed with a hundred conversations. The serving staff moved in and out between the tables, setting out bread and butter, serving champagne, Cokes and cold tea on request. From a corner of the room, a sixpiece band played “It Had to Be You,” keeping it low, so folks could chat.

  Lori and Brody were already seated. Tucker stopped near the door from the foyer and drank in the sight of them. As he watched, Lori leaned her bright head toward Brody. Her lips moved. Brody nodded and picked up his napkin, which sat on his plate folded into the shape of a swan. He shook it out and spread it in his lap.

  Tucker grinned. The kid looked cute in a suit, his brown hair all slicked down, a wild little cowlick sticking up at the crown. Tucker knew about cowlicks and what a pain they could be. He had one, too, in just about the same spot as Brody’s. He had to wear his hair long or in a slight spike, as he did now, to keep it in hand.

  And Lori…

  Damn.

  Tucker openly stared, oblivious to everything but the woman in pink, thinking how he’d never seen her look so beautiful as she did that afternoon, her sleek red hair coiled high on her head, wearing that simple, elegant dress that hugged all her curves and made her delicate skin glow.

  Yeah. She did shine in pink. She had that touch of cool rose in her coloring that made it work.

  She reminded him of…

  He blinked.

  And time itself seemed to fall away. He went spinning backward, into that May night eleven years ago.

  Lena had worn pink that night. And she’d outshone every other girl at the prom. They had danced every dance. He wouldn’t let any of the other guys even get near her.

  That night had changed everything—or so he’d thought when it was happening. That night, though he didn’t tell Lena then, he decided that he wasn’t letting her break up with him, after all. That night, he didn’t care in the least that the big, wide world and all the strange, exotic, mysterious places in it, would never be his to know or explore. That night, he only wanted to stay right there, in his hometown, with Lena held close in his arms…

  Lena…

  So strange.

  He could see his younger self, looking down at her as she whirled in his arms. Lena…

  Or was it?

  Right now, as he pictured Lena, smiling softly, gazing up at him on that long-ago night, it wasn’t Lena he saw. He was sure of it. He looked down and…

  He saw Lori in his arms.

  It couldn’t be. It wasn’t. Of course not. His mind was playing weird tricks on him, that was all.

  Still, somewhere deep at the center of himself, he was certain…

  Blazing heat flooded up under the collar of his silk dress shirt. The walls pressed in on him. He couldn’t breathe.

  And then Lori looked up from the table where she sat with Brody. She saw him.

  And she smiled. Sheepishly. Hopefully.

  Damn. She was beautiful.

  And somehow, her smile did the trick. The world righted itself. Everything spun back into place.

  The past wasn’t now.

  Just as Lori wasn’t Lena.

  He almost laughed out loud at his own idiocy. It made a strange kind of sense, he supposed—that now, with the way he felt about Lori, it would seem to him that it must have been her and not her twin he held in his arms that night.

  Funny, how a man’s mind could play tricks on him when his heart got involved.

  And as much as that one night still haunted him now and then
, as much as what had happened then didn’t quite add up—as much as, when he looked back on it, he was troubled by the idea that Lena hadn’t really seemed like Lena…

  It simply didn’t matter. It was years ago. Lena was over it and so was he. They had both moved on.

  What mattered was right now. What mattered was the hopeful smile on Lori Lee’s soft mouth.

  Someone jostled his elbow. “‘Scuse me,” he said automatically, not sparing so much as a glance for whoever had bumped him. He started forward, eyes on the prize, moving swift and sure around the tables, until he reached Lori’s side.

  “Tucker!” Brody’s face lit up in a wide smile of greeting.

  He gave the boy an answering grin. “Hey, Brody. How you doing?”

  “Okay.” Brody stuck his finger under his collar. “‘Cept for this suit.” He made choking noises.

  “Brody,” Lori warned softly. Brody heaved a sigh and took his finger out of his collar.

  Tucker winked at him. “Lookin’ good, though.”

  “You think?” Brody stretched his neck and smoothed his kid-size tie.

  “No doubt about it.” Tucker dared to turn his gaze to the woman in pink. “And you…” There were no words. He said the one that came closest. “Beautiful.”

  Her soft mouth trembled on a radiant smile. “Why, thank you…”

  He reached down and plucked the place card from the empty spot beside her. “Well, what do you know? This is my seat.”

  Her expression said she’d already looked at his place card. Still, she teased, “No way…”

  He turned the card around so she could read his name—just in case she hadn’t already. “Yep. ‘Fraid so.” He pulled back the chair and slid into it, grabbing his swan-shaped napkin and shaking it out to lay it across his lap.

  She leaned close. He got a whiff of her scent, a light scent, as tempting as the sight of her in that pink dress. She asked out of the side of her mouth, “Where did you put Charlie Bowline? He was here a few minutes ago. Apparently, one of the ushers told him he was seated at this table.”

  Tucker turned his head enough to snare her gaze. And smiled. Slowly. He watched her lips soften and part a fraction. Her eyes changed, clear blue going soft and smoky.