Heartfire (17 page)

This time Ryan didn't get a chair.

Max said at her ear, "Pizza's here.  If we're going to roast hot dogs in the fireplace, we'd better get them started."

His breath was a hot slash along her neck.  His cologne, freshly applied after his shower, wove around her.  If she leaned back, his hard chest would be a sturdy bulwark, the place where she'd most like to lay her head.  The thought startled her.  Since when had she progressed to that fantasy?

As Ryan ran over to the CD player, his mouth turned downward into a frown because he hadn't won the game.  Max slung an arm around each of the boys.  "You can help me put the hot dogs on the skewers."  He winked at Tessa.  "As they lose their chairs, send them out to me."

Tessa smiled.  Max was wonderful with kids—there was no doubt about it.

After Thursday had turned into such a disaster, she'd thought about doing the party "her" way.  Talking with Ryan about possibilities for costumes, she'd fashioned a robot costume out of cardboard boxes and tinfoil.  He'd seemed pleased, wearing it around the house for most of today.  Then, of course, like the other boys, he'd discarded it a half hour after his friends had arrived.  Costumes got in the way of serious play.

Tessa had found a piñata in a specialty store in New Haven and it had been a terrific ice breaker.  Max had attached it to a rafter in the basement and each boy took a turn swinging and finally scrambling to fill his Halloween bag with the treats that had scattered over the floor.  From that they'd progressed to spritzing silly string across the living room then Musical Chairs.  Tessa had decided kids would rather have pizza than a fancy pumpkin cake.  Ryan had asked if they could roast hot dogs in the fireplace.

Tessa watched the boys push another chair from the circle.  One of Ryan's classmates claimed the last chair and she presented him with a miniature car for his prize.

Ryan and his classmates enjoyed cooking the hot dogs more than eating them.  They devoured the pizza and the cookies with equal enthusiasm.  Max had helped her with a batch of icing that had finally turned out the appropriate consistency.

The party almost over, the boys curled on the floor in front of the fireplace, finishing cookies and soda.  Max sat on the sofa, his legs stretched out in front of him, the flames leaping in the fireplace casting shadows across his face.  Tessa felt warm, cozy...and strangely content, not something she felt often.

When the phone rang, Max picked it up and answered, listened, then above the boys' chattering said to Tessa, "You'd better take it in the kitchen so you can hear."

Setting her plate on the hearth, she went to the phone in the kitchen.  She was used to getting calls any place, any time.  But Max's brows were raised as if he were wondering who could be calling her now.

When she clicked on the handset and heard Linc Granger’s voice, she smiled. 

He said, "You didn't answer your cell.  So I called the back-up number you e-mailed me."

In the living room, Max heard her, "Hi!  How are you?" and he replaced the receiver on its stand.

It had been a man's voice asking for Tessa.

After a few minutes of foot tapping, he suggested to Ryan, "Why don't you show your friends your room?"

"And all my cars?" Ryan asked.

"Sure.  The boys' parents will be here soon to pick them up."

All six boys scrambled to their feet, and with Ryan leading, clomped up the stairs.

Max figured they'd be occupied for at least five minutes so he could find out what was happening with Tessa.

When Max entered the kitchen, Tessa had the phone cradled against her cheek and she was smiling.  "Oh, Linc.  I’d love to do the interview for you with the governor and his wife. "   She quickly glanced at Max, then away.  "But I can't."

Max suspected this man on the other end of the line was giving her all the reasons she should do the interview.

"I know his situation is getting more press and rumors are rampant," she responded.  "But this time I have to pass.  You’re the best, though, for asking me first.  Thank you."

Max didn't like the eagerness in her tone or the degree of friendliness.  He wished he could hear the other end of the conversation because she said, "I'll be in New York for a meeting with Williamson  next weekend.  Sure, we can get together.  I'll be checking in sometime Friday.  Give me a call at the Bennington if you have time."

Max watched her as she listened intently to the speaker on the other end.  Her smile disappeared and she frowned.  "I know it's a great opportunity.  You’ve handed me a few of those."  She laughed at some comment he made and joked, "I know you’ll simply call the next journalist on your list.  You
always
have a list."

Max's stomach tightened at her easy laugh, her warmth to another man.

After a few more moments, she said good-bye, hung up and pensively put the phone on its cradle.  Remembering he was there, she asked him, "You left those whirlwinds alone?"

"For a few minutes.  Ryan has enough cars to keep them all occupied for a short while."  Max motioned toward the phone.  "It sounds as if you turned down an opportunity."

She shrugged, a Tessa shrug, sort of a half lift of her shoulders.  "There are lots of opportunities.  I can't take them all."

Max had to ask, "It's not a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity?"

"No.  The Summit is.  This isn't."

That was a subtle warning.  She was telling him Ryan came first now, but come mid-November, she'd be gone.  That's what he expected, wasn't it?

Tessa picked up a cookie from the plate on the counter and took a small bite.  "I got a call yesterday from Mark Thompson at WHBT TV in New Haven.  He wants to interview me on their morning talk show."  Tessa broke off another piece of cookie and popped it into her mouth.

As her lips closed around it, Max remembered the taste of her.  "How did they know you were around?"

"When I was doing research last week, I called someone I know at the station."

"You have connections everywhere."

"I have to in my business."

He willed his blood to cool, his pulse to slow down.  "Are you going to do it?"

"Monday morning.  After I get back from New York.  I wondered if you and Ryan would like to go along to the taping, see the inside of the station and what goes on."

Max's first inclination was to say "No."  But then he realized it could be a valuable experience for Ryan.  "I'll see if I can take a personal day.  I don't think it will be a problem with Mrs. Bartlett because it will be an educational experience for Ryan."

The doorbell rang, and Max glanced at the clock on the wall.  "Parents are arriving.  I'll get it."

Max and Tessa sorted the boys' jackets and helped them bundle up as their parents arrived.  When they'd all left, Ryan sat in front of the fireplace, zooming a car across the coffee table.  Remnants and debris from the party lay scattered from one end of the living room to the other.

Max went to his son and sat on the sofa.  "Did you have fun?"

Ryan stopped the car for a moment.  "Yeah.  I liked Musical Chairs the best."

As Tessa perched on the hearth, she asked him, "Wasn't it nice to have friends over?"

Ryan resumed running the car across the table and shrugged.

Tessa exchanged a worried look with Max.

Max picked up a car turned upside down on the floor.  "Jimmy liked your room."

Ryan's face lit up.  "He says I have ten times the cars he does.  That's a lot!"

Max was sorry there weren't any children Ryan's age on their street.  "You know, Jimmy only lives about four blocks away.  Anytime you want to play with him, I can take you over there or bring Jimmy here.  What do you think?"

Ryan shrugged again.

Max ran his hand through his hair.  He wished he knew what was going on inside Ryan's head.  Maybe he was just tired.  It had been a long, exciting day for him.  "It's time to put the cars away and get ready for bed."

"Do I hafta get a bath?"

"No.  That can wait until tomorrow.  Grab as many cars as you can so they don't get lost when we clean up."

Tessa rose from the hearth and stacked paper plates.

At the foot of the stairs, Ryan asked over his shoulder, "Are you gonna come up and say good night?"

Max wondered at Ryan's question.  Tessa hadn't missed a night yet.  How was his son going to take her leaving?

"I'll be up before you have your pajamas on," she said.

After they tucked Ryan in, Max put the kitchen chairs back where they belonged.  He returned to the living room and watched Tessa pluck the papery string confetti from the sofa.  One of Ryan's friends had sprayed it a few places other than the prize-winning area.

"I think he had a good time," Max concluded.  "He was asleep before we left the room.  I just don't get why he doesn't want to be with other kids more."

Tessa dropped the pieces of confetti into her cupped hand then transferred them to the trash can.  "I think we should push his friendship with Jimmy.  Maybe we can invite him over one day after school."

Max gathered soda cups scattered from one end of the room to the other.  Each boy must have used three.  When Max looked up to see Tessa still working on the sofa, he was struck by the fiery lights of red in her tumbling curls.  The flickering flames cast her in a glow.  She looked like she belonged...in his living room, in his life.

She straightened and caught him staring at her.  Did her cheeks turn a little rosier?  Tessa never blushed, did she?

Grinning at him impishly, she picked up the small can of string confetti.  "Did you have fun tonight?"

"Who had time to think about fun?"

"I bet
I
know how we can have some fun."  The devil danced in her green eyes.

"Uh-oh.  I smell trouble."

She tossed him the small can and picked up another.  "I challenge you to a...duel.  Whoever can empty their can on the other person first wins."

"Tessa, I don't know..."

She pressed the button, and orange string confetti shot across Max's chest.

He couldn't believe she was serious.  Taking a step toward her, he protested, "Tessa, it will be a mess to clean up."

She winked.  "That's why it's fun.  Come on, Winthrop.  Loosen up."  She sprayed the can again, and the string landed on his head and dropped across his face.

"That's it," he growled.  "I'll show you how to have fun."  In a flash, his thumb pressed the nozzle and strings flew across her head and down her arm.  But he didn't let up.  He squirted her sweater, her jeans and a dangling string landed on her nose.

But Tessa was quick.  Darting away from him, she danced around the sofa.  He chased, and she squirted.  She targeted his hand.  "Score another one for me!"