About That Man (11 page)

“Can he stay for dinner, too?”

“Of course.” She wanted to spend a little more time with the older boy, anyway. He was new in town, and she knew barely anything about him or his family.

His good mood restored, Tommy pumped his fist in the air. “All right!”

Daisy waited until Tommy had dashed from the kitchen before she spoke into the phone.

“I was beginning to wonder if you'd forgotten I was on here,” Walker said.

“Well, some of us were beginning to wonder if you'd forgotten all about your promise.”

“Is that so?”

His amused reaction wasn't at all what she'd expected. “Boys depend on adults keeping their word,” she said, fully aware that she sounded exactly like some prissy old maid schoolteacher. Which, of course, was what she was. Except around Walker she didn't feel so much like that anymore.

“I know they do,” Walker said. “What about you? Were you depending on me, too?”

“Well, of course I was.”

“Is that so?”

She heard that same disconcerting mirth in his voice again. “For Tommy's sake,” she snapped.

“Of course.”

“You are a very maddening man, Walker Ames.”

“If I'd been able to convince your friend Frances of that, maybe we wouldn't be in this predicament.”

Dismayed, Daisy sucked in her breath. “Are you saying the only reason you're coming back here is because Frances pressed you to do it?”

Walker sighed. “She wasn't the only one,” he admitted. “I didn't want to see that look of disappointment in Tommy's eyes.”

“That's good, then. Apparently you do have a conscience.”

“And if I didn't, I suppose you'd try to reform me.”

“I'm not sure that would be a good use of my time. I think I'd be better advised to see that Tommy has a loving home right here in Trinity Harbor.”

“With you?”

“Of course with me. Who else?”

“Some would say he needs two parents.”

“Well, certainly,” she said at once. “I'm not denying that. All children deserve two parents who love them and each other, but that's not always possible. Tommy would certainly have male role models if he were with me. Bobby and Tucker would be here for him. So would my father, once he accepts that he's not going to change my mind.”

She suddenly realized she was trying to sell Walker on her qualifications to raise Tommy. “I'm sorry. I'm not trying to persuade you to stay away. I just want you to know that Tommy would have a good life with me, if that's the way things work out.”

“Daisy, I never doubted that your heart's in the right place,” he said quietly. “And you could be right about what's best for Tommy. It's just too soon for me to know.”
This time she was the one who sighed. “I know that.”

“Isn't this something we can talk about and decide together when the time comes?” Walker asked.

She was surprised he was willing to take her opinion into account. “Absolutely,” she said at once.

“I'll see you in the morning, then.”

“Yes,” she said. “In the morning.” As she hung up, she realized her own expression was very likely every bit as excited as Tommy's had been.

“You're pitiful, Daisy Spencer. Totally pitiful.”

That said, she still decided the house could use a thorough cleaning before Walker's arrival on Saturday. As soon as they'd had dinner and Tommy's too-reticent friend had left, she went to work with a vengeance. She would worry another day about Tommy's friendship with the thirteen-year-old who gave off signals that made Daisy a bit uneasy.

She reassured herself that any woman would want the house to sparkle when guests were anticipated. Dusted furniture and polished floors were nothing more than what was expected in a gracious home. It was just good manners, a demonstration of Southern hospitality. Dusting and polishing certainly weren't the way to a man's heart.

Which was probably why she was up till midnight baking two pecan pies, a double batch of oatmeal raisin cookies and a chocolate cake with fudge frosting.

 

King decided that this nonsense about his daughter taking in a stray boy had gone on long enough. He'd been up half the night thinking about it, worrying himself sick about what was to become of Daisy when this thing ended badly. If nobody else could talk sense into her, it was up
to him. He'd obviously left the task to a bunch of incompetents. If a man wanted something done right, he had to do it himself.

Besides, he was worn out from trying to explain her actions to all the busybodies in town. The men were as bad as the women, pestering him about this latest news that Daisy intended to let the boy's uncle move in with her. That had been the last straw. King wasn't going to hear of some damn Yankee ruining his girl's reputation.

He arrived on her doorstep at the crack of dawn on Saturday, figuring he could get a decent breakfast while he was at it. Daisy's pancakes were a whole lot better than his housekeeper's.

Before he could knock, the sound of hammering drew his attention. He walked around the side of the house, then stopped stock-still at the sight of his daughter and a towheaded kid bent over what presumably had once been a boat. Now it was a disaster waiting to happen.

“What the dickens are you doing, woman?” he demanded before he could stop himself. He knew better than to get her dander up first thing.

Daisy's head shot up. She stared at him in dismay. “Daddy, I wasn't expecting you.”

“No, I imagine not.” His gaze shifted to Tommy. “This is the boy?”

She shot him a warning look. “Yes. This is Tommy Flanagan. Tommy, this grouchy old man is my father, King Spencer. Don't pay a bit of attention to his temper. I've learned not to.”

King frowned at her. “Is that anything to say to a child?”

“It's the truth. Haven't you always been a big proponent of the truth?”

King's gaze narrowed. “What's happened to you? You never used to be this contrary.”

“I've grown up,” she suggested. “You don't scare me anymore.”

King regarded her indignantly. “When did I ever scare you?”

She shrugged. “Okay, maybe that's the wrong word. Maybe I just allowed you to intimidate me, just the way you try to do with everybody else in this town.”

“I never did any such thing,” he retorted.

Daisy chuckled. “Oh, for goodness' sakes, Daddy, be honest. You know you did, and you loved every minute of it. Of course, your best friends are the ones who don't let you get away with it.”

He chuckled despite himself. “Okay, maybe I did. Somebody has to keep this town on track. The fool politicians certainly aren't going to do it.”

“And this family?” she suggested.

“That, too,” he conceded. “What's a man have to do to get some breakfast around here?”

“Go in the kitchen and fix it,” she responded, then grinned at him. “Never mind. I was about to fix ours anyway. You can join us.”

“What a gracious invitation,” he grumbled. “You sure it won't be any trouble to set an extra place?”

She came over and gave him a fierce hug then. “No trouble, but I think you'd better come inside with me while I cook.”

King hadn't intended to do any such thing. He'd planned to stay right here and talk to this boy she was making such a fuss over. He was about to voice his intentions, when she tucked her arm through his and started to the house.

“You afraid of something?” he demanded, when she'd successfully steered him inside.

“Just cautious,” she said. “I don't want you hounding Tommy with a lot of questions that might make him feel unwelcome.”

“Getting to know the boy is not hounding him, as you put it.”

“I'd say that depends on how it's done,” she said. “Let's face it—you're not known for your tact. How about a cup of coffee?”

King resigned himself to staying put. He settled down at the kitchen table. “Don't mind if I do.”

She poured the coffee and set it in front of him.

“Surprised you have a pot made,” he said. “You usually prefer tea.”

“Walker likes coffee,” she said, then looked away hurriedly.

“Walker? That's the Yankee? That boy's uncle?”

“Exactly.”

“So, you're expecting him again?” he asked in a gloomy tone.

“I am,” she said.

She faced him with a defiant tilt to her chin that reminded King of her mama, God rest her soul. There were times when his heart still ached for Mary Margaret. Seeing signs of her in Daisy usually gave him comfort.

“Where's he staying this time?” he asked, hoping that the rumors had been wrong for once.

“Here.”

King lost his struggle with his temper. He thumped his fist on the table. “No way, young lady. You will not have that man living under your roof.”

“Of course I will.”

“You'll ruin your reputation.”

“I think maybe you've forgotten what century we're living in.”

“Dammit, a woman's reputation is a delicate thing. People will talk, and you know it.”

“Let them. I'm sure you will be the first to set them straight.” She regarded him with a level look. “Won't you?”

“Well, of…of course I will,” he sputtered, indignant at the suggestion that he would ever do less than defend his daughter's honor. “When is the boy's uncle due?”

“Sometime this morning. I'm sure you'll be long gone by the time he gets here.”

King regarded her stubbornly. “Wishful thinking,” he muttered.

He was prepared to settle in for a long siege, if need be. He intended to meet this Walker Ames and have a thorough, man-to-man talk with him. It seemed to him they had a lot to discuss, beginning with a warning to Walker that if he did anything to hurt Daisy, he was going to have King Spencer to answer to. If his daughter thought he'd been intimidating everyone all these years, she hadn't seen anything yet. King Spencer was going to personally ensure that he left this hotshot Yankee detective quaking in his boots.

W
alker was in a somber mood when he finally got away from Washington on Saturday morning. He'd just been to Keisha's funeral, which had been delayed for the arrival of her paternal grandparents, who'd insisted on driving up from Mississippi.

“Don't know why they want to come now,” Keisha's mother had told him. “Didn't want nothing to do with us when Keisha was alive. They thought I'd used that child to trap their precious son. As if that man would ever let himself be caught in a trap. He took off the day I told him I was having his baby. Hasn't been seen since.”

“Why did you tell them, then?” Walker had asked her.

“Wasn't me who called them. It was Devon's no-good brother, Jermaine. He said his mama and daddy had a right to know. What right, I ask you? Ain't none I can think of. They ain't never even sent that child a birthday card.”

“Maybe they regret that now,” Walker suggested.

“What good is regrets gonna do my baby?”

Walker hadn't had an answer for that. But he had noticed the elderly couple at the funeral, the man's shoulders stooped, the woman's eyes red from crying. He had concluded that they would struggle for a long time with
what their hardhearted attitude had cost them: the chance to know a beautiful grandchild.

He'd also seen Rodney at the church, clutching his mother's hand as she determinedly led him past the tiny open casket. Later at the cemetery she had made it a point to come up to Walker just before he left to say that she was going to get through to her boy.

“You see if I don't,” she said, tears in her eyes.

Walker patted her arm. “Thanks. I know you're trying. And I understand that he's in a tough spot. He doesn't want to betray his friends.”

“What kind of friends would put him in a spot like this in the first place?” she demanded indignantly.

“Now there's the million-dollar question,” Walker told her.

As he drove toward Trinity Harbor, to his surprise he felt his tension beginning to slip away. His shoulders eased. Maybe spending time with Tommy was just what he needed. He needed to be reminded that there were other kids in the world who were growing up in a safe environment. Kids who could laugh and play outside and ride their bikes without worrying about violence snatching away the rest of their lives.

Walker actually caught himself noticing the blooming pink and white dogwood that splashed the landscape with color. It was such a sunny, warm day that he rolled down the windows. The sky was a peaceful shade of blue with pillows of white clouds. The soft spring breeze brought with it the scent of plowed earth, recently cut grass, and salt air the closer he got to Trinity Harbor. Soon there would be pale green cornstalks poking through the ground and an endless green sea of soybeans surrounding the
white farmhouses perched in groves of ancient oaks and cedars. It was hard to believe that such serenity could be had less than two hours away from D.C.

An image of Daisy crept into his mind, as it had repeatedly during the last week, always at the most unexpected moments. He'd enjoyed her acerbic tongue almost as much as that memorable kiss he'd stolen that had left her flustered and him unbearably aroused. Their brief conversation the night before had filled him with an odd sort of anticipation, a sensation he hadn't experienced for a long, long time. Serenity gave way to an edgy, purely male neediness.

That must have been why he was filled with disappointment when he saw another car in the driveway and heard the sound of a man's booming laughter. Probably one of her brothers, he told himself, then wondered why he jumped to such a conclusion. He had no idea if Daisy had a man in her life. Nothing had led him to believe there had been anybody special since her fiancé, but he knew better than to make assumptions. Cops were supposed to rely on hard evidence before reaching conclusions.

Only one way to find out, he told himself as he headed for the backyard.

But the man out back wasn't either Bobby or Tucker. Judging from the gray threaded through his hair, the neatly trimmed moustache, the already tanned skin and the straw hat perched on his head, this was the indomitable King Spencer, gentleman farmer and—if Daisy was to be believed—all-around pain in the neck.

Tommy spotted Walker before the others. He started to break into a run, then held back as if afraid of how Walker might react. “Hi, Uncle Walker,” he said shyly.

Daisy's head snapped around at his greeting, and something that might have been alarm flared in her eyes. She glanced worriedly at the man who had stilled beside her.

“Hey, kid,” Walker said, trying to gauge the reason for Daisy's suddenly wary mood. “I see you've lured somebody else into supervising the work on your boat.”

Tommy nodded. “This is Daisy's father. He knows lots of stuff about boats.”

“Is that so?” Walker said, not sure why the news left him feeling vaguely disgruntled.

When King Spencer finally turned around, Walker noted blue eyes that snapped with intelligence. They had narrowed with suspicion and unmistakable disapproval.

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Spencer,” Walker said. “I've heard a lot about you.”

“Mr. Ames,” King said, greeting him with a nod and ignoring Walker's outstretched hand.

“Daddy,” Daisy said sharply. “Don't be rude. And you know perfectly well, it's Detective Ames.”

“Walker will do,” Walker told them both.

King's gaze shot to the overnight bag at Walker's feet. “You intending to stay here?”

“If the invitation's still open, yes.”

“Of course it's open,” Daisy said, frowning at her father. “I'll show you to your room, Walker. Maybe by the time we get back, Daddy will recall his manners.”

“That's no way to speak to your father, young lady.”

“Just following your example,” she said tartly and led Walker inside.

In the kitchen she turned to Walker. “I'm really sorry.”

“I gather your father's not happy about me staying here.”

She grinned. “Another damned Yankee invasion to hear him tell it. Don't worry about it.”

“Didn't that particular war end a long time ago?” he asked, amused despite himself that he was being blamed for something he'd had no part in, especially not the part King was attributing to him.

“Long before his time,” Daisy agreed. “The results still grate on him, though.”

He hadn't considered the impact his presence might have on Daisy's reputation in a small town where strangers—especially male Yankee strangers—were regarded with suspicion. “If my staying here is going to cause problems, I can go to the hotel.”

“Absolutely not,” she said fiercely.

Walker studied her flushed cheeks. “Because my being under your roof is best for Tommy, right?” he suggested lightly.

His teasing remark clearly left her more flustered than ever. When was the last time he'd met a woman who blushed so readily?

“Of course,” she said. “Why else would I want you here?”

He deliberately allowed his gaze to lock with hers. “Why else, indeed?” His glance shifted to the kitchen counter, where pies, a cake and clear glass jar filled with cookies sat. “Had a sudden urge to bake, did you?”

“Last night,” she said. “I always bake when I can't sleep.”

Walker found himself stepping closer, crowding her. “And why couldn't you sleep, Daisy?”

She swallowed hard. “I…I had a lot to think about.”

He slowly trailed a finger across her lush, moist lips.
“So did I,” he murmured, filled once more with that strange sense of restless anticipation. “From the minute I hung up the phone after we talked, all I could think about was kissing you again.”

Her eyes widened. Her lips parted. And Walker found the temptation far too powerful to be ignored. He bent down and slanted his mouth over hers. A part of him wanted to discover that memory had failed him, that tasting her wasn't nearly as exciting as he'd recalled.

But that notion was dispelled in an instant as she swayed into him, clinging to his shoulders, tentatively opening her mouth to him. Her reaction was unpracticed but instinctive, and far more enticing than a bolder response might have been. Desire slammed through him. Only the knowledge that her father—her disapproving father—was right outside kept him from taking full advantage of the moment. Of course, the fear of discovery added an undeniable element of excitement, as well.

That was it, he told himself as he pulled away. It was the knowledge that King Spencer disapproved of him that made him want Daisy so badly.

Of course, that didn't explain why he'd wanted her a week ago, before he'd ever met the man and experienced that scowling disapproval firsthand.

Daisy touched her fingers to her lips and regarded him with confusion. “Why did you do that?”

“Just testing my memory.”

Understanding flared in her eyes, and a smile tugged at her lips. “And?”

“Right on target,” he admitted with reluctance.

She nodded. “I thought so, too.”

Walker was surprised by her ready acknowledgment.

“You know this is a bad idea, though, don't you? We can't keep kissing.”

A grin spread across her face. “I'm not the one starting it.”

“True, but you need to put an end to it.”

“Why? Because you can't be trusted to ignore your baser instincts?”

“Exactly.”

“Hogwash.”

He stared at her. “You don't believe me?”

“If ever a man had a tight rein on his emotions, it's you. Something tells me you don't do anything you haven't thought over and weighed very carefully.”

She was right, but Walker couldn't imagine how she had pegged him so cleverly. For years he'd honed his ability to reveal nothing of what he was feeling, to do nothing without thinking of the consequences. It wasn't just a professional necessity. He considered it smart self-preservation after the way he'd misjudged everything about his marriage.

Then again, these kisses he'd been stealing from Daisy were pure impulse. He doubted he could have stopped himself if he'd tried. That was something he needed to sit down and think long and hard about, preferably when her innocent lily-of-the-valley scent wasn't wafting around him.

“You were going to show me to my room,” he said, deliberately changing the subject and injecting a flat, even tone into his voice.

“I was,” she agreed, her gaze searching his. “But I think I'll just tell you where it is, instead.” That penetrating look never wavered. “In case I'm wrong and you can't control those baser instincts, after all.”

Walker caught the hint of amusement in her voice and
the flicker of something in her eyes—a dare, maybe? Apparently Daisy intended to be more of a handful than he'd imagined.

She gave him very precise directions to his room, but when she turned to go, he snagged her hand. She froze in place, as if she found that contact more intimate, more disturbing than the kiss.

“What?” she asked in a voice that held a telltale quiver.

“I don't know what's going on here, Daisy, but it can't get in the way of me getting to know my nephew. We have to put Tommy first.”

“Well, of course, we do,” she retorted. Exasperation darkened her eyes to an even deeper, more intriguing shade of violet. “I'm not an idiot, Walker. I know the only reason you're here is because of the debt you feel you owe to your sister and her son.”

“That's right,” he said forcefully.

But he was beginning to wonder.

 

“Foolish man,” Daisy muttered as she went back outside to deal with her father. She had to stop him from trying to make Walker feel unwelcome.

Unfortunately, King had left.

“He said he had business to take care of,” Tommy told her. He regarded her worriedly. “How come he doesn't like Uncle Walker?”

“He doesn't dislike him,” Daisy said. “He doesn't even know him.”

“But he's mad 'cause he's here, isn't he?”

Daisy gave the boy an impulsive hug. “It's nothing for you to worry about, sweetie. He's not going to drive your uncle away, not if I have anything to say about it.”

Tommy, who'd generally held himself aloof when she'd tried to hug him in the past, suddenly hugged her back. The gesture brought tears to her eyes. Naturally Tommy spotted them at once.

“How come you're crying? What did I say?”

“You didn't say anything,” she reassured him. “And these are happy tears.”

Tommy looked perplexed. “I don't get it. You're crying 'cause you're happy, not sad?”

Daisy nodded. “It's something women tend to do. And, trust me, men never get it.”

“You've got that right,” Walker chimed in, joining them.

Daisy wondered how long he'd been standing just inside the screen door eavesdropping.

“Women are an enigma,” he added.

“What's that?” Tommy asked.

“It means men can't figure us out,” Daisy explained. “Their brains can't grasp the workings of a superior mind.”

Walker grinned. “Careful, Daisy. You're outnumbered here.”

“You seem to forget I was raised in a houseful of pig-headed men. You can't intimidate me.”

Tommy looked from Daisy to his uncle and back again. “So, are we gonna work on my boat or what?”

Daisy chuckled. “You two go to it. I'm going for a walk on the beach.” She needed the exercise, but more than that, she needed to put some distance between herself and Walker.

“Want us to tag along?” Walker asked.

She wanted exactly that, more than she should. She forced herself to shake her head. “No. That boat's going
to take a lot of time. You shouldn't waste a second. I'll probably end up in town, though, if you'd like to meet me at Earlene's for lunch around twelve.”