“Carol?” He moved toward her. The walls of the van seemed to close in around her. She could smell the scent of his after-shave and the not unpleasant effects of the day’s labor. She could feel the heat coming off his body.
Emotion thickened the air, and the need that washed through her was primitive.
She backed as far as she could against the orderly rows of tools and supplies stacked on the shelves. Alex towered above her, studying her with such tenderness and concern that she had to repress the urge to weep.
“Are you claustrophobic?”
She shook her head.
His eyes settled on her mouth, and Carol felt her body’s reaction. She unconsciously held her breath so long that when she released it, it burned her chest. If she hadn’t been so frightened, she would have marveled at what was happening between them, enjoyed the sensations.
Gently Alex whisked back a strand of hair from her face. At his touch, Carol took a deep breath, but he seemed to gain confidence when she didn’t flinch away from him. He cupped her cheek.
Her eyes momentarily drifted shut, and she laid her own hand over his.
“I’m going to kiss you.”
She knew it and was unwilling to dredge up the determination to stop him.
His hands slipped to her shoulders as he slowly drew her forward. She considered ending this now. At the least amount of resistance, he would have released her; she didn’t doubt that for a second. But it was as if this moment had been preordained.
At first all he did was press his lips to hers. That was enough, more than enough. Her fingers curled into his shirt as he swept his mouth over hers.
She whimpered when he paused.
He sighed.
Her breathing was shallow.
His was harsh.
He hesitated and lifted his head, eyes wide and shocked, his brow creased with a frown. Whatever he’d decided, he didn’t share, letting her draw her own conclusions.
Her hands were braced against his chest when he sought her mouth again. This time, the force of his kiss tilted back her head as he fused their lips together, giving her no choice but to respond. The heat, hot enough to scorch them both, intensified.
He kissed and held her, and her lungs forgot it was necessary to breathe. Her heart forgot to beat. Her soul refused to remember the lonely, barren years.
From somewhere far, far away, Carol heard voices. Her ears shut out the sound, not wanting anything or anyone to destroy this precious time.
Alex groaned, not to communicate pleasure but frustration. Carol didn’t understand. Nor did she comprehend what was happening when he released her gradually, pushing himself away. He turned and called, “The door’s locked.”
“The door?” she echoed. It wasn’t until then that she realized Alex was talking to the boys. Peter and Jim were standing outside the van, wanting in. She’d been so involved with Alex that she hadn’t even heard her own son calling her name.
“Please open that door,” she said, astonished by how composed she sounded. The trembling hadn’t started yet, but it would soon, and the faster she made her escape, the better.
“I will in just a minute.” He turned back to her and placed his hands on her shoulders. “You’re going with me on Friday night. Okay?”
“No…”
He cradled her face with his hands and kissed her once more, forcefully.
She gasped with shock and pleasure.
“I’m not going to argue with you, Carol. We’ve got something good between us, and I’m not about to let you run away from it.”
Standing stock-still, all she could do was nod.
He kissed the tip of her nose, then turned again and slid open the van door.
“What are you doing with Mrs. Sommars?” Jim demanded. “I’ve been standing out here for the past five minutes.”
“Hi, Mom,” Peter said, studying her through narrowed eyes. “Everyone else has gone home. Did you know you left your keys in the ignition?”
“I…Mr. Preston was showing me his…van.” She was sure her face was as red as a fire truck, and she dared not meet her son’s eyes for fear he’d know she’d just been kissed. Good heavens, he probably already did.
“Are you all right?” Peter asked her.
“Sure. Why?” Stepping down onto the pavement she felt as graceful as a hippo. James climbed in when she’d climbed out; she and Peter walked over to her car.
“I think you might be coming down with something,” Peter said as he automatically sat in the driver’s seat, assuming he’d be doing the honors. He snapped the seat belt into place. “There were three cookies in my lunch, and no sandwich.”
“There were?” Carol distinctly remembered spreading peanut butter on the bologna slices—Peter’s favorite sandwich. She must have left it on the kitchen countertop.
“Not to worry, I traded off two of the cookies.” He adjusted the rearview mirror and turned the key. He was about to pull out of the parking space when a huge smile erupted on his face. “I’m glad you and Mr. Preston are getting along so well,” he said.
Alex sat at his cluttered desk with his hands clasped behind his head, staring aimlessly into space. He’d finally kissed her. He felt like a kid again. A slow, easy smile spread across his face, a smile so full, his cheeks ached. What a kiss it had been. Seductive enough to satisfy him until he could see her again. He was going to kiss her then, too. He could hardly wait.
The intercom buzzed. “Mr. Powers is here.”
Alex’s smile brightened. “Send him in.” He stood and held out his hand to Barney, his best friend. They’d been in college together, roommates their senior year, and had been close ever since. Barney was a rare kind of friend, one who’d seen him through the bad times and the good times and been there for both in equal measure.
“Alex, great to see you.” He helped himself to a butterscotch candy from the bowl on the edge of the desk and sat down. “How you doing?”
“Fine.” It was on the tip of his tongue to tell Barney about Carol, but everything was so new, he didn’t know if he could find the words to explain what he was feeling.
“I’ve decided to forgive you.”
Alex arched his eyebrows. “For what?”
“Bambi. She said you dumped her at the restaurant.”
“Oh, that. It wouldn’t have worked, anyway.”
“Why not?” Barney said, unwrapping the candy and popping it in his mouth.
“I don’t have a hot tub.”
“She claimed you left with another woman. A bag lady?”
Alex chuckled. “Not exactly.”
“Well, you needn’t worry, because ol’ Barn has met Ms. Right and is willing to share the spoils.”
“Barn, listen…”
Barney raised his hand, stopping him. “She’s perfect. I swear to you she’s bright, beautiful and buxom. The three b’s—who could ask for anything more?”
“As I recall, that’s what you told me about Bambi,” Alex countered, amused by his friend’s attempts to find him a wife. It wouldn’t be quite as humorous if Barney could stay married himself. In the past fifteen years, his friend had gone through three wives. Each of them bright, beautiful and buxom.
They might’ve been the best of friends, but when it came to women, their tastes were as dissimilar as could be. Barney went for breasts, whereas Alex was far more interested in brains.
“You’re going to let me introduce her, aren’t you? I mean, the least you can do is meet Babette.”
“No, thanks.” The guy had an obsession with B-words, Alex thought. The next woman would probably be named Brandy. Or Barbie.
“You won’t even have a drink with her?”
“Sorry, not interested.”
Barney leaned back and crossed his legs, sucking on the butterscotch candy for a few seconds before he spoke. “She was first runner-up for Miss Oregon several years back. Does that tell you anything?”
“Sure,” Alex said, reaching for a candy himself. “S
he looks terrific in a swimsuit and is interested in world peace.”
Barney slowly shook his head. “I don’t understand it. I thought you were ready to get back into dating.”
“I am.”
“Listen, buddy, take a tip from me. Play the field, sample the riches available, then settle down. I’m happier when I’m married, and you will be, too. Frankly, with your looks and money, I don’t think you’ll have much of a problem. There are plenty of willing prospects out there. Only I notice you aren’t doing anything to meet one.”
“I don’t have to, with you around. You’re worse than a matchmaker.”
Barney ignored that. “It’s time, Alex. You said so yourself. Just how long are you going to wait? Gloria’s been gone two years now. She wouldn’t have wanted this.”
“I know.” At the mention of his late wife, Alex felt a twinge of pain. Time had healed the worst of it, but he’d always remember the agony of watching the woman he loved die.
“You want me to give you Babette’s phone number?” his friend asked gently.
Alex shook his head. “Don’t bother to introduce me to any more of your women friends.”
Barney’s mouth sagged open. “But you just admitted I was right, that it’s time to get out there and—”
“Remember the bag lady Bambi was telling you about?” Alex asked, interrupting his friend before he could deliver the entire five-minute lecture.
“Yeah, what about her?”
“I’m going to marry her.”
Five
“You know, Mom, I like Mr. Preston,” Peter announced over dinner as though this was a secret he’d been waiting to share.
“He seems very nice,” Carol agreed, reaching for a slice of tomato. She didn’t want to say anything more to encourage this topic, so she changed it. “How was school?”
“Fine. James was telling me about all the neat things him and his dad do together, like camping and fishing and stuff like that.”
“Your uncle Tony takes you with him.”
“Not camping or fishing and besides, it’s not the same,” Peter murmured. “Uncle Tony’s my uncle.”
Carol paused, her fork over the plump red tomato. “Now, that was profound.”
“You don’t know what I mean, do you?”
“I guess not,” Carol said.
“Going camping with Mr. Preston would be like having a dad.”
“How’s that?” She took a bite of her roast, then braced her elbows on the tabletop.
“You know.”
“No, I don’t.”
Peter lapsed into silence as he mulled over his thoughts. “I guess what I’m trying to say is that James and I talked it over and we decided we’d like it if the two of you got married.”
Carol was so shocked by her son’s statement that she stopped eating. Peter was staring at her intently, waiting for some sign or reaction.
“Well?” he pressed. “Is it going to happen? I can tell you like each other.”
Chewing furiously, Carol waved her fork at her son, letting it speak for her. The meat, which had been so tender a moment before, took on the quality of leather. The faster she chewed, the more there seemed to be.
“You may think I’m still a kid and I don’t know much,” Peter continued, “but it didn’t take James and me long to figure out what was going on inside his dad’s van.”
The piece of meat finally slid down Carol’s throat. She blinked, uncertain if she could speak normally.
Peter was grinning from ear to ear. “I wish you could’ve seen your face when Mr. Preston opened the door of the van.” Peter didn’t bother to disguise his amusement. “If I hadn’t been arguing with James, I would’ve started laughing right then.”
“Arguing with James?” Those three words were all she could force past her lips. From the moment the two boys had met on the first day of high school, they’d been the best of friends. In all the months since September, Carol couldn’t remember them disagreeing even once.
“We had an argument when we couldn’t get his dad to open the van,” Peter admitted, his mouth twitching. “Your face was so red, and you had this stunned look, like an alien had hauled you inside his spaceship.” Peter’s deepening voice vibrated with humor.
“Peter,” she demanded, furiously spearing another piece of meat. “What did you argue about?”
“We argued over what his father was doing with you in that van. What kind of son would I be if I didn’t defend your…honor?”
“What did James say?”
Peter shrugged. “That his dad wouldn’t do anything you didn’t want him to.”
“Those were fighting words?”
Peter shrugged again. “It was the way he said them.”
“I see.”
Peter scooped himself a second helping of the scalloped potatoes. “Getting back to the marriage part. What do you think?”
“That you need to finish your peas and carrots.”
Peter’s eyes rushed to hers, but only for a moment. Then he grinned. “Oh, I get it—you want me to mind my own business. Right?”
“Exactly.”
“But think about it, Mom. Promise me you’ll at least do that much. Meeting Mr. Preston could be the greatest thing that’s ever happened to us.”
“And when you’re finished with your dinner, I want you to stack the dirty dishes in the dishwasher,” Carol said without a pause. She ate the last bite of her roast, although it tasted more like rubber.
“Every time I mention Mr. Preston, are you going to give me another job to do?”
Her son was a quick study, Carol would grant him that.
“But you are going to see him again, aren’t you?” he asked hopefully.
“The garbage should be taken out, and I noticed that the front flower beds should be weeded. I know you worked out there last Saturday, but—”
“All right, all right,” Peter cried, throwing his hands in the air. “Enough—I get the message.”
“I certainly hope so,” she said and got up to carry her plate to the sink.
Carol waited until Peter was busy with his homework and the dishes were done before she snuck into the kitchen and turned off the light. Then she called Alex. She wasn’t sure what she’d do if James answered.
“Hello.”
“Alex?” She cupped her hand over the receiver and kept her eye on the doorway in case Peter strolled past.
“I can’t talk long. Listen, did James happen to have a heart-to-heart discussion with you about…us?”
“Not exactly. He said something about the two of them having a talk about you and me. Why?”
“That’s what I’m talking about,” she whispered, ignoring his question. “Over dinner Peter threw a grenade at my feet.”
“He did what?”
“It’s a figure of speech—don’t interrupt me. He said the two of them argued when you didn’t open the van door and afterward decided it would be just great if the two of us…that’s you and me…got married.” She could barely get the words past the growing lump in her throat.
“Now that you mention it, James did say something along those lines.”
Carol pressed her back to the kitchen wall, suddenly needing its support. “How can you be so casual about this?” she burst out.
“Casual?”
“My son announced that he knew what was going on inside the van and that I should’ve seen my face and that fishing and camping with you would be like having a father.” She paused long enough to draw in a breath.
“Carol?”
“And then when I try to calmly warn you what these two are plotting, you make it sound like…I don’t know…like we’re discussing basketball or something.”
“Carol, slow down, I can barely understand you.”
“Of course you can’t understand me—I’m upset!”
“Listen, this is clearly disturbing you. We need to talk about it. Can you meet me for lunch tomorrow?”
“I can’t go ou
t for lunch, for heaven’s sake—I’m a nurse.”
“Okay, I’ll meet you in the hospital cafeteria at noon.”
Just then Peter strolled nonchalantly into the kitchen. He stood in the doorway, turned on the light and stared curiously at his mother.
“Sure, Mama, whatever you say,” Carol said brightly—too brightly.
“Mama?” Alex echoed chuckling. “Okay, I get the picture. I’ll see you tomorrow at noon.”
Agreeing to meet Alex at the hospital was a mistake. Carol should have realized it immediately, but she’d been so concerned with the shocking news Peter had delivered over dinner that she didn’t stop to consider what could happen once she was spotted with Alex in the gossip-rich cafeteria at Ford Memorial.
“Sorry I’m late,” Carol murmured as she joined him at a table for two, sliding her orange tray across from his. A couple of nurses from surgery walked past, glanced at Alex, then at Carol, and then back at Alex. Carol offered her peers a weak smile. Once she returned to the obstetrics ward, she was in for an inquisition that could teach the Spaniards a lesson.
“I haven’t been here long.” Alex grinned and reached for his ham sandwich. “How much time do you have?”
Carol checked her watch. “Forty-five minutes.”
He opened a carton of milk. “All right. Do you want to tell me what upset you so much about last night?”
“I already did.”
“Refresh my memory.”
Carol released a slow sigh. Several more of her friends had seen her and Alex, including Janice Mandle, her partner in the birthing classes. By this time, the probing stares being sent their way were rattling Carol’s shaky composure. “Apparently James and Peter have come to some sort of agreement…about you and me.”
“I see.” Humor flashed through his eyes like a distant light.
“Alex,” she cried. “This is serious. We’ve gone out to dinner once, and our sons are talking about where the four of us are going to spend our honeymoon.”
“And that bothers you?”
“Of course it does! And it should bother you, too. They already have expectations about how our relationship’s going to develop. I don’t think it’s a healthy situation, and furthermore, they know about Friday night.” She took a bite of her turkey sandwich and picked up her coffee.