Dancer in the Shadows (8 page)

"Mommy can't leave our car here because we walked here," Michael piped up. "The car makes funny noises." Valerie flushed under Sean's sharp gaze.

"Can I have chocolate ice cream?" Michael looked up at his father, his dark green eyes shining. "Two scoops?"

"Two scoops it is, pal." Sean laughed, lifting the small boy in his arms. "And if we ask her nicely, your mom just may have some, too."

Valerie did have ice cream—dark chocolate with coconut cream.

"You've got chocolate on your face." Sean grinned, picking up a napkin. "It seems you're as bad as your son."

She tensed in shock as he gently wiped away the sticky substance from her upper lip. She raised pained eyes to his gold-flecked ones, which darkened as they rested on her slightly parted lips. Valerie was oblivious of the people around them. As far as she was concerned, they were the only ones in the world...a private and intimate world she hadn't felt in a long time. Inconsequently, she thought that someone had sprinkled gold flakes in his eyes that glittered only when his emotions were aroused. But what emotion caused it this time? Passion? Certainly not love; maybe it was hate. Involuntarily, she shuddered, fearing the latter. Quickly, she turned to her son. "We have to get you home for a nap, young man."

"I don't need a nap! I'm not tired."

"You will be by the time we get home."

"Aw, Dad, do I have to take a nap?" Michael pleaded, looking at his father.

Valerie felt a pang at seeing how easily Michael had adapted to having a father.

"I think your mother's right about that," Sean said to her relief. "Besides, that will give me more time to talk with her."

Valerie opened her mouth to protest at the casual way he was taking control of her life, then closed it again as she saw his eyes slide down to Michael. She realized anything she wanted to say would have to be said away from Michael.

"I have a lot of things to do today," she said stiffly as Sean unlocked the passenger's door of the car.

"Such as?" he asked casually.

"Washing Michael's school clothes, my things, cleaning the house, and doing some mending," Valerie said triumphantly.

Sean eyed her skeptically as he slid behind the steering wheel. Michael chattered throughout the ride, climbing from side to side of the large back seat.

"Don't put your feet on the upholstery, Michael. You'll get it all dirty," Val scolded, her tone sharper than usual.

"It can be cleaned, Val," Sean said calmly. "He can't hurt anything."

"He still has to learn to be careful with other people's possessions." She bristled at Sean's high-handed way of letting Michael do whatever he wanted.

"Do you have horses at your house?" Michael's question brought Sean's edict back into her mind. "Can I ride one? Can I have a tricycle?"

"Michael!" she reprimanded sharply. "You do not go around asking other people for things."

Michael, unused to his mother's anger, sat back in his seat, his lower lip trembling.

"I'm not 'other people,' Val. I happen to be his father." Sean's icy voice brought a flush to her cheeks. "Which happens to make a great difference."

She was grateful when the car pulled into the apartment parking lot and hurriedly flung herself out of the car without a backward glance, leaving Sean to see Michael to the door.

As soon as she had put Michael to bed, Val turned to Sean, her eyes blazing. "It's all your fault! I was doing just fine until you came around. I made a good life for myself and Michael. We don't need you."

"That's what you think," Sean ground out, pulling her against his hard body. His hard mouth punished her soft one and Valerie's head whirled until she thought she would faint from lack of air. When he abruptly released her, she swayed toward him until his words hit her like a shower of cold water.

"That's to remind you who's in charge now. I'll see you next Saturday at ten. And try to look a little more presentable." He spun on his heel, leaving the apartment.

Her anger dissolved any other emotions she might have felt earlier. She picked up a gold velour pillow and threw it against the door. Her first thought was to pack her belongings, and Michael's, and run away. But she knew Sean would be after them like a shot, or rather, after Michael. It was painfully obvious that he cared only for his son and not at all for her.

Val knew that she would have to tell Craig about Sean, but she would put it off as long as possible. Knowing him as well as she did, she doubted she would be able to make him understand, especially when she still couldn't understand Sean's motives for this reconciliation.

By mid-morning Monday, Valerie was exhausted. Craig noticed her darkly circled eyes and pale face as she sat across from him, taking dictation. "You look awful. Are you coming down with something? Why don't you and I go out for a long drive this Saturday? Do you good to be away from the kid for a while. Where would you like to go?"

She realized that she had to tell him now.

"I-I can't go anywhere, Craig." Valerie swallowed hard, her eyes on her neatly written steno pad. "You see, my husband is in town."

"Val, that's wonderful!" he said happily, rising from his desk and moving around to take her hands in his. "How did he find you?"

"I don't know. I-I guess he's always lived here, but I didn't know it. He had been out of the country for a long time and just came back a few weeks ago," she said faintly. "I guess he's back here for good now."

"Why didn't you tell me sooner?" he reproved. "We can get the separation papers in the works and you'll soon be a free woman."

"I'm afraid we can't do that, Craig." Valerie's voice was husky. "We—uh—we're getting back together again."

Craig abruptly released her hands and leaned against his desk, a chilling expression on his face. "So you're going back to this man after what he's done to you?" he asked finally.

"I left him, Craig." She felt uneasy under his dark gaze. "We need to make a home for Michael."

"I offered you a home—and much more." He gripped her forearms as she rose from her chair and drew her against him.

"Craig, please don't spoil it," Valerie begged, struggling in his embrace, trying to evade his descending mouth.

"If the two of you will excuse me, I came to take my wife to lunch." A cold masculine voice halted Craig's kiss.

Sean stood in the doorway, a grim expression on his face. His gray suit, maroon silk shirt, and striped tie accented his dark good looks.

"So, you're the wandering husband." Craig smiled crookedly at his friend as he released Valerie's arms. "And to think of the two of you, cool as cucumbers at the dance when you 'met.' Or was it all planned?" There was a trace of a sneer in his voice.

"Val didn't know I was anywhere near here," Sean told him in a hard voice, his eyes cold as glass as they rested on Val's flushed face. "And it's obvious that she still intends to play her little games."

Tossing her steno pad on the chair, Valerie pressed her lips tightly together to still their angry trembling. "If you 'gentlemen' will excuse me, I'm going to lunch." Her voice revealed her shaky inner self as she headed toward the doorway, which Sean was still blocking. "Alone." She looked up at his granite features and, surprisingly, he stepped aside to let her pass.

Without turning around, Valerie willed her shaky legs to carry her to her desk, where she retrieved her shoulder bag from a bottom drawer. Moments later, her car was roaring out of the parking lot.

Her appetite gone after the turbulent scene at the office, Valerie finally parked the car at a fast-food restaurant and ordered a soda to wash away the bitter taste in her mouth. Soon, she knew, she would have to return to the office and face Craig. When she finally got back, she was relieved to find him gone, with a note on her desk leaving instructions about the dictation he had given her that morning. Blanking out her mind, she sat down at her typewriter, busily working on the correspondence.

That evening, Valerie began to pack her clothing and sort through Michael's clothes.

"You don't have to look as if you'll be entering Dracula's castle, Val." Shelly sat cross-legged on her bed, her long legs tanned in contrast to her white shorts and T-shirt. "You and Michael will be well cared for."

"Michael does fine now," Val replied curtly, carefully folding her sheer lingerie and placing it in a pile on the bed.

"What about his tonsils? He's been sick a lot lately, and you know they'll have to come out," Shelly gently reminded. "And you don't have enough insurance to pay for it."

"I still have money from that legacy." Valerie referred to money she had received after the death of a distant relative several years before.

Shelly sighed at her friend's stubbornness. "I'm going to get us a couple of sodas." She uncoiled herself from the bed and left the room.

Opening various dresser drawers, unthinking, Valerie opened one of Shelly's. She had started to close it when an envelope shoved in a corner and bearing foreign stamps, caught her eye. Curious, she picked it up, seeing a military post box as a return address. The color drained from her face as she hastily scanned the boldly written contents.

I have arranged for a lawyer to contact Val stating that she will be receiving a legacy from a distant relative since you've said she's been too ill to work.

I appreciate your keeping in touch with me and letting me know how she is. As per your suggestion, I'll write to you at your school.

Thanks, Sean

"Val, I—"

Valerie turned, facing her friend with an accusing expression on her face. "Oh, Shelly, how could you?" Her strangled whisper could barely be heard. "And to think he claimed no knowledge of Michael!"

"He didn't know. Really. I wrote to Sean and told him you were very sick," she explained. "If you look at the date on that letter, you can see it was written after you had come here, when you couldn't find work."

"But you kept on writing him!" Valerie accused.

"He cares for you, Val," Shelly said quietly. "Remember that. If he didn't, he wouldn't have bothered to find out how you were doing."

Those words haunted her for the balance of the week and all through Saturday morning as she was helping Michael get dressed. She was surprised to see how few belongings they really had, and the majority were Michael's toys. She left her furniture behind for Shelly, knowing she and Greg could use it in their new apartment when they married. Sean's only comment as he loaded their few suitcases in the car was an arching of the eyebrows.

Valerie remained silent during the ride, content to look out the window at the far hills painted gold and purple against the brilliant blue sky. Sean shot her a sideways glance but said nothing, addressing his remarks only to Michael, questioning him about his school and playmates. She felt a stab of jealousy that her son could talk so easily to a man he had known for only a week.

"We'll be at the house soon," Sean commented to Valerie.

"That's nice." She appeared disinterested as she concentrated on the view through the window.

"I can see you're excited over your new life." His low voice held a trace of mockery.

"I had a new life, thank you." She also kept her voice low so Michael couldn't overhear their tense conversation. "And I was doing quite well at it."

Sean's mocking gaze took in the shabby jeans and T-shirt she had donned that morning. "Is that why our son is wearing shoes that should have been thrown out months ago?" he asked tightly.

Valerie's head snapped around, her eyes fired with anger. "For your information, those shoes are the ones he plays in," she hissed. "It's the only way I can keep his school shoes looking nice. As it was, I didn't realize that my 'legacy' was from you, or I never would have used it."

"I suggest we continue this discussion later, away from half-pint's sharp ears." Sean's deceptively soft voice held a strong thread of steel.

Several minutes after he had pulled off the main road, passing through open white-painted gates, he slowed the car in the curving driveway in front of a large house.

Chapter Five

Valerie's eyes widened in surprise at the sight of the large, sprawling H-styled ranch house. The outside was adobe and it had the traditional Spanish red-tiled roof with a covered archway above the oversized double front doors of carved dark wood. The larger windows, with black wrought-iron grilles over them, had window-boxes in front, adding splashes of brilliant color against the off-white background.

"This is your house?" Her tone was accusing as she faced him.

"That's right," he replied briefly, stopping the car and getting out to open the back door for Michael. "You're home, pal."

While the small boy eyed the house with undisguised interest, Valerie slowly climbed out of the car, feeling as if she had been transported to another world. Her uneasiness increased as she eyed the impeccably landscaped area and the cement driveway winding toward the back of the house.

"How could a mere army major afford a house like this?" she asked sarcastically, her arm outstretched toward the sprawling house.

"It's been in the family for years," he explained impersonally. "I'll show you the inside."

"It really doesn't matter." She shrugged her shoulders, trying to appear indifferent. "After all, I won't be here for very long."

Sean shot her a sharp glance before walking toward the front door. "I suggest you watch your words," he murmured, a warning in his voice as he led the way inside. Valerie ignored him, looking around the cool interior of the entryway.

"Sara, we're here," Sean called out toward the back of the house.

"I can hear you all right. I'm not deaf." A cheerful voice sounded from down the hallway. The owner of the voice soon appeared and a pair of shrewd blue eyes examined the new arrivals.

"Val, Michael, this is Sara, my housekeeper." Sean smiled warmly at the older woman. "No matter what, she seems to keep everything running smoothly. Sara, as you can guess, this is Valerie, and this is Michael."

"And about time, too," she said briskly. "The rooms are ready. I suppose you'd better show them around, because I have apple dumplings ready for the oven and I want to get back to my kitchen."