Authors: Mary Campisi
Tags: #Fiction, #Romance, #Contemporary, #General, #Family & Relationships, #Death; Grief; Bereavement, #Parenting, #Single Parent, #Dating
The Way They Were (21 page)
Chapter 24
“
What happens if you spread caviar on fish sticks?”—Rourke Flannigan
“The papers are ready for Mrs. Maden to sign.” Miles Gregory sighed and added, “You can say good-bye to four million dollars.”
Rourke glanced up from his paperwork. “I take it you don’t think this is a wise decision.”
Miles adjusted his perfect bow tie. “You know my feelings, but it’s your company, and your choice.”
“I pay you a hell of a lot of money for your advice.”
“All right then. You don’t owe that woman a penny.”
“I couldn’t even have a decent meal on what she’s going to receive from social security and worker’s comp.”
Miles glanced at him over the top of his glasses. “Rourke. This woman is not a Dom Perignon, caviar connoisseur. She’ll do fine.”
Rourke fiddled with his pen, flipping it end over end between his fingers. “I want to do right by her and the child.”
“You owe them nothing. Do you want to read the insurance commission report again? Or OSHA’s findings? It was an accident.”
“Maybe I pushed them too hard.”
Miles pressed his fingertips against his right temple. “Are you trying to throw your money away? Or looking to make a charitable donation somewhere? If it’s the latter, I’ll be happy to provide you with a list of needy causes.”
“It’s not that.”
“What then? It isn’t like you to turn to mush in the heat of battle. Usually, you’re aiming your sword at the jugular.”
Damn. Miles was not going to let this go.
“You’re giving them full asking price. What happened to the art of negotiation? I almost hate to take my paycheck this week.” Rourke shot him a look which made Miles smile. “I said almost.”
“It’s a touchy thing, I guess.”
“Oh. Please don’t tell me you’ve fallen for the woman. That’s it, isn’t it? You’re interested in the widow.” He fiddled with his bow tie again. “What you’re doing is admirable, but I must advise you that more than one man has lost his shirt and his fortune at the hands of a woman.”
You have no idea.
“I imagine she’s enamored with your attention. Who wouldn’t be? You are one of the city’s most eligible bachelors.”
“Miles, you don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“That’s what you said in the Wentzler deal.”
“How was I to know the old man was paying off the chief engineer to get to the planning commission?”
“You couldn’t know. That’s why you pay me.” Miles paced the room, hands clasped behind his back in typical closing argument form. “Kate Maden is a country girl. I doubt she knows what a Rolex is let alone owns one.”
“When did you turn into such a pretentious ass?”
“I’m being realistic. You don’t live in the same universe. She’s fish sticks. You’re caviar.”
“What happens if you spread caviar on fish sticks?”
“Simple. Spontaneous combustion.”
Rourke nodded. “But it would be one hell of a ride, wouldn’t it?”
A smile slipped over Miles’ face. “Yes, I imagine it would.”
Rourke closed his briefcase and stood. “One more thing. I’ll need a trust set up for Julia Maden.”
“You
are
joking, aren’t you? What else do you want to do for those people? Give them your name?”
“Now there’s a thought.” The man would lose the crease in his pants when Rourke told him Julia was his daughter. Soon.
***
Rourke knocked on his aunt’s door and poked his head inside. “Sorry I’m late.”
She glanced up from her paperwork and pierced him with one of her ‘How dare you’ looks. “You don’t appear sorry. Not in the least,” she said in a tone meant to intimidate.
Diana’s tactics might work on the rest of the staff and a good half of the company’s business associates, but they didn’t work on him. Beneath his aunt’s starched and fearsome demeanor lay a woman with a heart, even if she preferred to keep it in a freezer.
“Well come in and sit.” She gestured toward the chair opposite her massive cherry desk. “Need I remind you I detest lateness?”
Rourke slid into the chair and crossed a leg over his knee. “I’m sorry. It couldn’t be helped.”
Her lips flattened and she studied him with keen eyes that had a way of unearthing exactly what people didn’t want uncovered. “Why were you detained?”
“Extenuating circumstances.”
“Indeed?” She arched a brow and waited.
“Yes.” He played with the tassel on his loafer, debating how to break the news about Julia to a woman who took issue with Bic pens and incorrect punctuation. There really was no good way to prepare for a shocker. Sometimes it was best to just thrust it out there. Rourke took a breath and said, “I have some rather startling news for you.”
She grew still. “How startling?”
Here goes. “You’re an aunt. Again. I’m a father.”
There.
Now it was out.
She flinched as though the news had physically assaulted her, but the movement was so quick and faint, if he hadn’t been studying her, he’d have missed it. When she spoke, her voice contained a matter-of-factness about it that perplexed him. “I see. Is that why you’re late?”
“That’s all you have to say?”
“No.” She toyed with her Mont Blanc pen. “I never pictured you with a baby.”
“She’s not a baby. Julia’s thirteen.”
Diana’s expression remained blank. “Thirteen? Who’s the mother?”
“Kate Maden.”
“Ah.”
“I never knew.”
“That’s the first good piece of news I’ve heard since you entered the room. Had you known, you might have felt honor bound to marry the girl, and then what? Good-bye Princeton, good-bye opportunity.” She jabbed the tip of the pen into a notepad. “Good-bye life.”
“I don’t see it that way,” he said quietly.
“What other way is there to see it?” she asked, her voice sharp and determined. “Raging hormones don’t make for compatible partners. It would have been a disaster.” When he didn’t respond, she pressed, “One-sided love is even worse. She married someone else. Don’t forget that.”
His heart closed up but the pain still seeped through. “Not likely.”
***
“Rourke, why are they in Chicago?” Janice perched on the arm of his recliner and crossed her legs. They were long and sexy and supple. And he wasn’t interested.
“Julia wanted to visit Abbie. Her mother wouldn’t let her come alone.”
“But why do they have to stay at
your
house?”
Had he really never noticed her petulance? Of course he had, but he’d let other attributes make up for it. But a DD cup and dancer’s legs only carried a man so far.
“I suppose I can’t stay over, not that I’ve been doing much of that lately, anyway.” She leaned toward him and her cleavage spilled out of her Lycra top an inch from his face. “You can always stay here.”
Was she cooing? He turned away and shifted in the recliner. Kate would never stoop to cooing. “I don’t think so.”
She slid her hand along his thigh, red nails glistening against his dark slacks. He thought of Kate’s hands, small, efficient, her nails naked and blunt cut. Rourke closed his eyes and imagined Kate’s hands gliding near his crotch, cupping him, stroking…
“That’s my boy.”
He jerked his eyes open and grabbed Janice’s hand. “Stop. I’m not in the mood.”
A wide smile slithered over her red lips. “That’s not what it looks like to me.”
Disgusted with her antics and his own roaming thoughts of Kate, he pushed out of the recliner and stood. “I’ve got to go.”
“What about dinner?”
She stood and smoothed her short skirt over tanned, Pilates-toned legs and lifted the hem just enough to give him a peek of black lace. Half the men in Chicago would give a month’s salary for a romp with Janice. He just wasn’t one of them anymore. Maybe he never had been.
“Rourke? I already made reservations at Mon Ami’s. We are going to go, aren’t we?”
He checked his watch, a guise to buy time for his next excuse. “I’m sorry. I can’t tonight. I promised Abbie and Julia I’d take them to Red Robin for burgers.”
Janice tossed back her luxurious mane and said, “You’re turning into a real Mr. Rogers.”
“I’m just trying to show a little consideration to my niece and her friend.”
“Right. You don’t even like kids.”
“They’re growing on me.” Odd but true.
Her eyes glittered. “I suppose
she’s
going.”
He feigned ignorance. “Who?”
“The mother.”
“Kate?” Janice knew her name but she liked to play this game.
“Right. Kate.” She mouthed the name like a vinegar mouthwash.
He shrugged and pulled out his keys. “I don’t know if she’s going or not. I didn’t invite her.”
“She’ll be there.” She slithered her tight body against his. “And I’ll be here.” She licked his lower lip, sucked on it, softly, slowly, with extreme intent. Then she stepped back and ran her hands over her breasts and thighs. “I’ll be here. Waiting for you.” Her hands drifted to her crotch. “In case you want dessert.”
Of course he wanted dessert. A sugar filled, adrenaline rush confection named Kate.
When Rourke swung by the house to pick up the girls, he casually mentioned Kate’s name but Julia told him her mother had gone for a walk. Again. Since they’d arrived yesterday afternoon, he’d only seen Kate once. He’d watched her from the bedroom window as she stood on the stone path leading to the garden, surrounded by bursts of red and pink and lavender, her expression filled with misery and pain.
Twenty walks a day wouldn’t erase the garden they’d once designed together.
He’d wanted to get out of the house and Maxine joined them at Red Robin dressed in a button-down shirt and tailored jeans. She almost called him ‘Rourke’ before she caught herself and reverted to Mr. Flannigan. No tweeds. First names. Maxine was loosening up. When she offered to take Abbie and Julia to see
Hairspray
after dinner, they giggled and begged with such gusto, Rourke could have sworn they’d just set him up. But for what?
He drove home alone after Abbie rejected his third attempt to get an invitation to the movies, telling him it was a chick flick. Right now, seeing a chick flick was more desirable than heading home where he might have to face Kate. Why had he ever agreed to let her come? He’d need three bourbons before he tackled that question. For now, he’d settle on exhausting his body by swimming laps. Then he’d have his bourbon and contemplate his love-hate obsession with Kate.
Chapter 25
“
Kate. What are we doing?”—Rourke Flannigan
She sensed someone watching as she gripped the edge of the pool to catch her breath. It had taken ten laps to relax, another five to feel the exhilarating pull of muscle against water, and three more to forget whose pool she was swimming in. Kate dipped her head back in the water, smoothed her hair, and turned around. Rourke stood at the opposite end, his broad chest bare, his lower half covered in dark trunks. From his tense stance it was obvious he hadn’t expected her.
“I was just getting out,” she said, making her way to the pool steps.
“No need to leave on my account. This pool’s big enough for both of us.”
Who are we kidding, Rourke? This continent isn’t big enough for both of us.
“That’s okay. I was done.”
Before she could move, Rourke tossed his towel on the ground and dove in, his powerful body slicing the water as he swam toward her. When he was within arm’s reach, he sprung from the water and slicked his dark hair from his face. The glittering silver of his gaze scared her. Or was it the way that look churned her insides that scared her?
“Stay,” he said.
“I’m tired.” She started to back away. “I should go.”
“Kate. What are we doing?”
She opened her mouth to throw out a flip response but the tone in his voice spoke of confusion and desperation, two feelings she knew well. “I don’t know.”
“I should despise you for keeping Julia from me, and yet, I find myself thinking about you constantly. That afternoon at the Manor, I thought it was the start of something new between us and then it all blew to hell.”
Careful
.
You’re risking your heart here.
“Fate has a way of doing that.”
“Don’t be coy.” He brushed a strand of hair from her cheek and settled his fingers on the base of her neck.
Could he feel her pulse pounding like a frightened bird? “I don’t know what to say.”
“The truth?” He leaned toward her, lifted her chin so she could meet his gaze. “Was that journal really just a fantasy? Was there even a paragraph, a few sentences maybe that were true?”
“Does it matter?”
“Very much.”
