Harlequin Superromance February 2014 - Bundle 1 of 2: His Forever Girl\Moonlight in Paris\Wife by Design (13 page)

It's not personal....

But it felt that way.

“Tess,” his voice followed her, pricking at her resolve. It was business between her and Graham, too. She shouldn't have asked him back into her world, shouldn't have showed weakness in front of him.

“We should head back to the car,” she said, moving in the direction they'd trod minutes before, not bothering to look over her shoulder.

He spun her around. She jerked her arm away, but he didn't release his grasp. “Tess.”

Armor in place she looked up at him, at the softness in his blue eyes. “What?

“What's wrong with you?”

“You know what's wrong with me. The same thing that has been wrong with me since the day I walked into an ambush in my father's office. Life has been bitch-slapping me, serving me up shit sandwich after shit sandwich. I'm pretty full on what life's been giving me. Look, you were nice to come and get me, to play the knight on a white horse, but I shouldn't have asked it of you.”

He dropped his hand. “So nothing between us has changed?”

“How can it? You're still you. I'm still me. And between us is a gap full of hurt, anger and betrayal. Nothing has changed.”

Graham's mouth formed a line and gone was the softness he'd lent her when she'd needed it. “I'll take you back.”

“I'd appreciate it.”

* * *

G
RAHAM
LOOKED
DOWN
at Tess as she stood in front of him, chest heaving with emotion, green eyes resolute, and his heart ached.

He should take her home and be done with her. After all, she'd made everything so damn difficult in his life. Things were supposed to be good—he had a decent job and a steady paycheck. Emily had fallen back into the same easy relationship they'd shared that summer. Monique had taken the high road...for a little while at least. Life smelled like a summer rose.

Yet Tess was the thorn pricking him.

He thought about her constantly. The way her skin felt beneath his fingertips, the scent of her hair, the way she'd made love to him, fierce and tender at the same time. He wanted her desperately. Wanted to sink inside her, brand her, make her his.

But he was so far away from having Tess in his bed, he might as well be standing on the other side of the world.

And her leaving Ullo had made his workplace a living hell. Not only was he juggling more than what he'd signed on for, but the staff resented the hell out of him. The coffee Billie brought him was old, papers were misplaced and a cold shoulder would have been welcome compared to the icy reception he'd received. It was a wonder he didn't have frostbite.

Everything would be so good if Tess would come back.

Damn her stubborn pride.

“Don't shut the door, Tess,” he said, giving a last-ditch effort to bring her to him...even if it was begrudging.

“The door is already shut.” Her delicious lips pressed into a line and she crossed her arms.

“No, it's not,” he murmured, brushing her hair back from her face.

She batted his hand, even as something hummed between them. He felt the buzz of desire and knew she felt it, too. “I can't, Graham. Things are too complicated. We made our beds, and now we'll lie in them whether they're lumpy or not.”

“Somehow I don't think lumps would bother me a bit as long as you were in that bed with me. I still think about you tangled in those soft sheets.”

“That's all we can ever be—a memory,” she said, her glance dropping to his mouth before shooting back up to his eyes. “We can't go backward.”

“You can tell yourself all kinds of things, Tess, but convincing yourself you don't feel something and actually feeling something... Those are two different things, baby.” He clasped her elbows and brought her to him.

Tess let him.

More than anything he wanted to kiss her, but after the afternoon she'd had, he knew it would be manipulating her emotions for his gain, so he merely wrapped his arms around her and held her with tender resolve.

Tess was angry and hurt, but she needed him. This he knew. For a few seconds she held herself stiff, refusing to relax, but suddenly, as if someone had cut an invisible string, she sagged against him, wrapping her arms around him, her face tucked against his chest.

For a full minute, he held her, dropping the occasional kiss atop her head, begging his body to remember this wasn't about sex. It was about proving to Tess there was a connection beyond their bodies.

She inhaled deeply and then exhaled.

“You do what you need to do, Tess, but remember this,” he murmured, loosening his grasp and looking down at her. “We have something between us. It's not going to go away because either of us
want
it to.”

Her green eyes, soft as the grass lining the path, lifted to his, and in that moment he saw the truth. Her lips were parted and he couldn't resist the invitation.

Lowering his head, he kissed her softly, tasting the sweetness briefly before stepping away. “I'll take you home now.”

Wiping her lips, Tess straightened and turned from him. Like a soldier she marched forward, spine straight. Part of him withered, but another part deep inside knew her. Knew she'd thrown up defenses, protecting herself because she needed to survive the day.

In his bones, in his very gut, Graham knew he and Tess belonged together...or at least deserved the chance to see if they did.

But how?

It was the question he'd mulled over night after lonely night. He'd tried to tell himself he didn't want her. He'd convinced himself things were
too complicated.
But still his mind and heart nudged him away from being logical toward the one thing he'd always clung to—hope.

Where there's a will...

Tess disappeared around a curve before ducking back. “You know the way back, don't you?”

Graham smiled. “Put one foot in front of the other.”

She made a face. “I'll meet you at the car.” And then she spun and disappeared again.

Graham stood a second longer and started after her, the hope inside him uncurling and stretching in the small crack she'd opened in her resolve.

CHAPTER TWELVE

F
RANK
WATCHED
AS
the nurse slid the needle into the vein in his arm. A quick sting and it was over. A turn of a ring and the liquid started flowing into his body into his bloodstream.

Go forth and conquer, he silently beseeched the drug.

Leaning back in the hospital bed, Frank closed his eyes and wished for the umpteenth time that day that he was mulling over figures at the office, calling James to tell him to order more primer, arguing with Tess over using paper too expensive for the floats.

“Frank?” Maggie's voice worried him.

He cracked open an eye. “Still breathing.”

“Stop making those jokes.” Maggie, with her hair in a topknot and the cut of her jacket, looked as if she'd skidded back in time to when he'd first met her. 1962. Pretty as a magnolia, sitting on an iron bench in the Quarter, eating an ice cream with one of her coworkers from Henry's department store. She didn't look all that different to him now. The years had been kind to his Maggie.

“You tell Jack Baumgartner to keep his hands off your can, Mags. I've seen the way he looks at you.”

“What?”

“He's always had his eye on you, and he'll move in before I'm cold in the ground.”

“I can't believe you,” she said, rising, crossing her arms and giving him her best evil Maggie glare. “As if I would even consider going out with Jack Baumgartner. Maybe Perry Underhill, but never Jack.”

“Perry? Meh, he probably has herpes or something. He's slept with half your bridge club.” Frank eyed Maggie, trying to see if she was serious or not. He didn't like Perry with his overly white smile, golfer's tan and cheap shoes. The man acted as if he were the George Clooney of the country club, swilling around the card room, plying the ladies with vodka collinses and a thick layer of charm.

“Lydia Babin said he was totally clean. She made him present her with a clean bill of health before she would climb on for a ride,” Maggie said, smooth as velvet...even though a wicked smile hovered at her lips.

The nurse writing down crap on a little clipboard snickered.

“Lydia slept with Perry? What? She hard up or something?”

Maggie laughed. “Well, yeah, she was married to a man who raised crickets and sold them for bait for five years...a man who had sex with her only twenty-four times. She's so hard up she'd likely sleep with Jack Baumgartner, too.”

“The woman only had sex twenty-four times?” the nurse said, spinning around and looking horrified.

“She kept a journal,” Maggie said gravely. “Very little sex because her husband had erectile dysfunction. The woman is due some fun.”

Frank snorted as the nurse saluted. “Okay, Mr. Ullo, I'll be back in a bit. Try to rest.” She winked at him and shot Maggie an encouraging smile. Nothing about chemo was much fun, but the employees in the cancer center worked hard to make the environment as welcoming as possible.

Silence descended like a cold blanket. Maggie looked down at her nail, pushing at a cuticle, trying to pretend everything was normal.

“You talk to Tess?” he asked.

“Yeah, she came back while you were asleep. Oddly enough Graham dropped her off. Couldn't get a word out of her about that, though.”

“Graham?”

“You know, the man you hired over her.”

“I didn't hire him over her. I hired him for her.”

Maggie frowned. “That makes no sense and you know it. But I can't figure out how she came to be with him that afternoon. After your ill-timed announcement, she disappeared for hours. Her car stayed, so she had to have run into him or something.”

Frank nodded, not quite understanding how his daughter had ended up with Graham, but understanding why. Something had happened between Graham and Tess—he'd seen that firsthand in his office. They'd both been shocked to see the other...and then there was guilt and anger. He wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed, but he could put one and one together to get a solution. Tess and Graham had something going on long before Frank had hired Graham. “I don't know why Graham brought her home. I don't even feel like I know Tess anymore.”

Maggie harrumphed.

“What?”

“Who's to blame for that? You've handled things wrong at every turn, Frank. I tried to tell Tess you didn't mean to make her feel unappreciated, but she's like a damn billy goat. Won't be budged.”

Frank said nothing. Part of him harbored deep anger at his daughter for being so irrational, for putting Frank Ullo Float Builders in jeopardy. But another part of him admired her courage and conviction. His daughter refused to be a victim, refused to take the easy way. She
was
his daughter. “She has that right.”

“How can you say that? You're sick. Everything has changed, Frank. She's being intentionally stubborn.”

“Only because she believes in herself. I like that about our girl.”

“She's hurting. You're hurting. And both of you are too bullheaded to make it right. Doesn't make sense at a time like this to be so set against each other. You need her, and she needs to be there for you.”

“It makes sense to me, Maggie. I know Tess loves me, but I also know she's had me wrapped around her little finger ever since she gave me that first gummy smile. I've given her the world—the best schools, a new car on her 16th birthday, a job after she finished that expensive college. We made our boys walk a tougher road than Tess.”

Maggie frowned. “So you're trying to teach her to stand on her own two feet now?”

“It's not the best time, and I never intended it to be this way. But when I saw how she reacted to not being given control of the company, I knew I'd made a mistake in raising her. I'm not saying she ain't a good girl, Mags. But she's never been tested. Tess has leaped and now she must deal with where she's landed. We all have to deal with where she's landed.”

His wife of forty-nine years shook her head. “I don't understand you.”

He gave her his boyish crooked smile, the one he'd used to get in her pants all those years ago. “Yeah, you do. Deep down you know Tess needs space and some growing room.”

“But you don't have much tim—” Maggie clamped her mouth closed and blinked away sudden tears.

“Come here,” he said, motioning her to him.

She moved toward him, reaching out to clasp the fingers he wiggled her way. Her touch warmed him, comforting him, giving him strength the way it always had. “Oh, Frank, this is terrible.”

He nodded because she was right—it was. Clasping her hand, he tugged her to him, around the confounded machines. Maggie bent down and pressed her lips to his. “I love you, Maggie, my Irish lass.”

Her fingers lightly caressed the side of his face, which was scruffy because he hadn't bothered to shave that morning. “I love you, too.”

“Say it,” he begged, grinning up at her.

“My Italian stallion.” She laughed and his heart lightened.

“Hell, yeah.” He gave a fist pump with his free hand. “I'll give you a ride, too, princess. Just as soon as I stop vomiting every hour.”

She sighed and rested her forehead against his, smelling like spring and spearmint. She favored mint gum and expensive perfume, and she smelled like home.

“I'll take you up on it, Frank, but until then, I'll focus on your being sick meaning the medicine is doing its job.”

Frank closed his eyes and prayed her words were true. Please let it be true.

* * *

T
ESS
WATCHED
AS
Emily bounced on a scrap piece of metal, the thwump, thwump, thwump of the assault echoing in the large warehouse. The child was dressed in a pair of athletic shorts and a too small T-shirt that hugged her little tummy. Long red-and-black polka-dotted socks covered her legs and a pair of new cleats contributed to the incessant noise.

Monique was nowhere to be seen.

“Hey, Emily,” Tess said, shouldering her new messenger bag containing the drawings she needed to tweak by hand that evening. It had been a long Tuesday of meetings with potential and long-standing Upstart clients—all after a Monday evening meeting with the captain of Prometheus and his partner. And two nights of crying over her father and the argument she'd had with her mother. All Tess wanted was an hour at the gym, a protein shake and the comfort of her bed. She didn't want to think. Didn't want to feel. Just wanted to pretend everything was peachy keen. But she wasn't going to ignore the chubby seven-year-old bouncing and thwunking her way along the tin.

Emily's face lit up. “Hey, Tess!”

“What are you doing out here? You could get hurt on that.”

The child hopped off the scrap metal. “I'm waiting on Mom to take me to guess where?”

“Where?”

“Soccer! I'm going to play this summer. Isn't that so cool?”

“The coolest.”

The clack of Monique's high heels drew both their attention. The woman advanced like a field general...if a field general wore Jimmy Choo shoes and Chanel. “Let's go, honey.”

“I'm ready, Mom,” Emily said, scrambling over to a pink gym bag and backpack that sat on a stack of wood. “I'm wearing my ladybug socks, see?”

Monique made a face. “Oh, baby, I'm sorry, but I don't have time to take you to soccer today. Mommy has a thing tonight. You can go tomorrow.”

Emily's eyes widened. “No, practice is today. It's the first one. I have to go.”

“Sorry, honey. I absolutely can't take you today. We can try and phone your father, but otherwise, I'm dropping you at Grandy Pete's and then I have to scoot over to Mr. B's Bistro for an important meeting.” Monique shifted her attention to Tess. “It's with Miles Barrow. Nothing I need you for.”

If Tess didn't know how much in love Miles was with his wife, she might think Monique was using some creative bargaining to get the captain of Oedipus's signature on the dotted line, using those assets she was so proud of. Oedipus had always contracted with Ullo for the super krewe's float building needs, but Monique seemed to think next year would be different. Tess had been working on some really good stuff for the krewe, hoping Monique might present her designs over the ones she'd done herself.

But Monique could do what she wished—it was her company. The boss lady had already informed Tess she was expected at the krewe's annual May Madcaps and Cocktails social on Saturday night, so maybe Tess could get an answer from Monique by then.

Up until this point, Tess had done what Monique had asked for when she hired her—bring in new accounts. The men and women of the krewes had been impressed to find Upstart employing an Ullo, even as the question sat in each of their eyes as they pulled out their pens to sign on the dotted lines of the contracts pulled out at the ready.

Still, something felt shady about the “thing” Monique had that evening.

Emily stomped her foot, bringing Tess's attention back to the seven-year-old with a stormy face.

“Mom, I have to go. Have to. Dad signed me up and that's like a promise,” Emily said.

“I didn't say you couldn't play. Just not today.”

“It's supposed to be good for me. Dad said.” Emily crossed her arms, face taking on an expression that teetered between mulish and distraught.

“Emily, I said no. Your father should have checked my schedule.”

“He did. You said yes. Remember?” Emily persisted, edging closer, looking as if she neared fit-pitching stage. “So take me. You promised.”

“Hush,” Monique said, jabbing a finger at her daughter.

“I can take her,” Tess said.

Crap. Why had she just volunteered? Jeeza Louisa. She needed to go to the gym and pound out her frustrations, run the pain of her father's diagnosis away, sweat out the longing for the kid's father. She hadn't been sleeping well. Stress ate away at her, souring her appetite, making her stomach ache. She'd lost a few pounds and had baggage under her eyes so big they needed luggage tags.

Emily tackled her with a hug. “Thank you, Tess. Thank you.”

Tess gave the kid an awkward pat. “I know how much fun soccer is. It was my sport.”

Monique cocked a perfect eyebrow at her. “You don't have to do this. Emily can go next time.”

“No problem,” Tess lied. Because taking a seven-year-old to soccer practice, no doubt across town, meant she'd likely be skipping the gym. “Where do I drop her off?”

“I'll have to look at the flyer her father gave me. He said he'd be there to register her or something like that, and he'll take her home.”

Great. The last person she wanted to see. Actually he
was
a person she wanted to see and that was the problem. She didn't want to think about him, about the way she'd sobbed like a baby in front of him, about the way she'd so easily said, “Come rescue me.” Made her feel weak.

But obviously when it came to Graham, she was weak.

“Okay, I'll make sure Graham is there before I go.”

Monique nodded. “Good. Let me get you his number just in case.”

“I have it,” Tess said.

Monique lifted her gaze from her phone. “Why would you have Graham's number?”

Busted.

“Ah, I think my father gave me all his contact information when I left, you know, so if I needed access to anything I'd left behind...” Lamest excuse ever.

“I thought you weren't talking to your father,” Monique said, sliding her phone back into her designer purse.

“It was in an email. My contacts synced up automatically.” Tess tried to sound like it was no big deal. Like she'd never wrapped her legs around Graham and shattered against him during the best sex she'd had in forever.

“Oh, well, I'll see you tomorrow. Wish me luck,” Monique said with a shrug before giving Emily the eagle eye. “Be good.”