Meeting at Midnight (5 page)

I fastened the straps myself. “I need to call Manny. He's good, but he's not used to overseeing everything.”

She studied my face a moment. “Sure. As long as you call him from bed.”

I scowled. “The couch in the living room—”

The doorbell rang. It must have woken Doofus; I heard his excited yips and the scrabble of his claws on the floor outside the bathroom as he skidded around the corner, heading for the entry hall.

Seely glanced over her shoulder, then back at me. “Stay put. I'll be back to help you in a minute.” She left the bathroom.

I considered the ethics of my situation. I was supposed to
do what she said, but there was that “within reason” clause I'd stuck on. She hadn't stayed around to hear my reasons for not staying put.

One, I wasn't dizzy anymore. Two, the foyer was just the other side of the bathroom. Three, I wanted to see who was here.

I reached for the walking stick.

It was slow and awkward, but the cane did help. Seely was just shutting the front door when I got there, holding Doofus back with her foot so the little idiot didn't scamper out and get into the street. She turned around, tossing a set of keys up and catching them one-handed. Temper sparked in her eyes.

I had a good guess who'd been at the door.

All of a sudden she said, “Here!” And tossed the keys at me.

To catch them, I'd have to drop the walking stick. I let them sail on past. They landed with a rattle on the hardwood floor. Doofus trotted over to investigate them. “Did you miss me on purpose, or was that a happy accident?”

She looked at me like I was something the cat had hacked up on the rug. “The mechanic I took my car to just left.”

I nodded, having figured out that much. “All fixed, I take it.”

“Against my explicit instructions—yes!” Those sparks turned into big, blazing fires. “That man—that weaselly, low-life scum I'd
thought
was an honest mechanic—he wouldn't even tell me what the repairs had cost. Just winked at me, handed me the keys and said it was all taken care of. He practically patted my hand and told me not to worry my pretty little head!”

“Well, then. Looks like you can stop worrying.”

She growled. Honest to God, that's what it sounded like. “This is not worry. This is
fury.
” She stalked closer, tilting her face to snarl up at me, “You paid for it. You went behind my back and paid for the whole thing.”

“I wasn't going to let you lose your car. You saved my life.”

“You had no right! No right at all! You didn't even ask me!”

“If I'd asked,” I pointed out, “you probably would have argued. I'm sure that wouldn't be good for me, weak as I am right now.”

“It wouldn't be good for you if I were to trip you, either. Or poison your coffee. Or—or—dammit, if you don't stop grinning at me in that obnoxious way, I'm going to do something we'll both regret!”

I was grinning, wasn't I? Once she'd called attention to that, my grin widened. I was enjoying myself. A lot. Seely in a temper was something to see—eyes hot, cheeks flushed, those volatile eyebrows drawn down in a scowl. So, like the daredevil I'd never been, I plunged off the next cliff. “You are cute as hell when you're mad, you know that?”

Her mouth dropped open. It closed and opened a couple more times before she got some words out. “That knock on the head did more damage than the doctor realized.”

“A lot like a kitten—hissing, scratching, growling. Cute.”

“I am five feet, ten and a half inches tall in my stocking feet. I am not
cute.
And you are obviously mentally as well as physically handicapped, so I suppose I shouldn't hit you too hard.”

“Well, if you're already planning on hitting me…” I said that, so on some level I must have known what I was about to do. But the thought never got up to the top of my brain where I could squash it. Something else was pulling my strings, as if some part of me I'd never known existed was suddenly in charge.

I let the walking stick clatter to the floor, cupped the back of her head and kissed her.

Her lips were soft. That wasn't a surprise. She went rigid the
second my mouth touched hers. No surprise there, either. But the kick of pleasure went deeper than I'd expected. The taste of her shot straight to the primitive part of my brain the way smells do, bypassing reason. I couldn't have known that would happen. And there's no way I could have predicted the funny little sound she made just before she melted up against me.

One of us was still thinking, I guess, because she was careful of my shoulder, sliding one arm around me and letting her other hand rest on my waist. I hummed my approval against those soft lips, threaded my fingers through her hair and tilted her head so I could deepen the kiss. And she opened for me.

Automatically I widened my stance so I could snug her up closer. The stupid sling was in the way and my knee protested, but the way her fingers kneaded my waist mattered a lot more.

So did the warm, living feel of her beneath my hand. I loved the fact that I didn't have to bend over much to explore the flavors inside her mouth, and the way she stroked her tongue along mine. The long muscles of her back invited me to sample the dip at her waist, the smooth curve of her bottom.

She liked my body, too. Her hand left my waist to range up beneath my shirt and over my chest. Delight slid into need without a bump to mark the change.

I slid my right leg between hers and pressed up. She shivered. I needed more, needed her skin, her sighs, the little bud of her nipple in my mouth…where? Where could I take her? The living room was close, and the couch there was long and roomy. I started easing us both that way without taking my mouth from hers.

My foot slid out from under me.

I yelled. Doofus yipped. Seely's arm tightened around me, and somehow I managed not to fall on my stupid ass.

Not literally, anyway. Appalled by my behavior, I yanked
my hand away and stepped back. My heartbeat was doing the hundred-yard dash, my knee hurt, my shoulder hurt, and my foot was…wet. I glanced down.

“Oh,” Seely said, one hand rising to her mouth to smother a giggle. She crouched to pet the droopy-eared puppy. “Oh, Doofus. You did
try
to go out, didn't you, boy?”

Saved from my own worst self by a puppy's bladder. Mortified, I said stiffly, “I apologize. I said you wouldn't have to deal with, uh, grabby hands, and then…all I can do is apologize, and promise it won't happen again.”

Her gaze took a lazy trip up me while she fondled the puppy's ears. She made a tch-ing sound, shook her head and stood. “Didn't your sister ever tell you? Never apologize to a woman for kissing her—not if she kissed you back.”

My ears felt hot. The rest of me was sore, aroused, exhausted and bewildered. “The last employer who made a pass at you ended up wearing someone else's dinner.”

“Ben.” Her smile started in her eyes and glowed its way down to her mouth. She patted my cheek. “You're not Vic, are you?”

She turned away, picked up my walking stick and handed it to me. “What you should be apologizing for is interfering in my arrangements with the mechanic. I suppose your intentions were good, but it was intolerably high-handed. How much did the repairs cost?”

“I don't know yet, and it doesn't matter.”

“Probably not,” she agreed easily, turning away. “Since I doubt I'd be able to repay you. I'd better get something to clean up that puddle.”

“You don't have to repay me. I don't want you to.”

She headed for the kitchen. “As far as I'm concerned, the car is yours now. I'll get the title switched over as soon as possible.”

I frowned. Her threat about the car was annoying, but not
a real problem. If she put it in my name, I'd just put it back in hers. A much bigger worry was my own behavior.

My sister, Annie, has accused me of seeing everything in black-and-white. Maybe I do. But right and wrong have never seemed all that complicated, and if a man knows what's right, that's what he should do. Even when it's hard. Maybe especially then.

Kissing Seely was wrong. I knew that, even if she didn't. She was an employee. She was also a warm, giving sort of woman who deserved better than hand-me-downs from a man in love with another woman.

I knew that. So why had I kissed her?

No answers floated up. I stood there, aware of a number of places that hurt, and the lingering hum of arousal that defied the pain. After a moment I sighed and limped for the bathroom.

There was one bright spot. I'd stepped in the blasted puddle with my right foot, not my left. At least I could wash it myself.

“D
oes it hurt a lot?” Zach asked.

“Not anymore.”

“How much does it hurt? This much?” He used his thumb and forefinger to take a tiny pinch of air. “Or this much?” He held out both hands broadly.

“About like this.” I measured a couple of inches between my finger and thumb. “More at bedtime, because I'm tired.”

He nodded seriously. “When I'm sick I hurt more at bedtime. How does this thing go on?” He pointed at my sling.

We were sitting on the rear deck, enjoying what was probably one of the last warm afternoons of the year. Zach was perched on my right thigh. My left foot was propped up on a little table to keep the knee elevated. That had been Seely's idea, keeping the knee elevated, and I guess it did help. The swelling had gone down some. Doofus lay nearby, panting hopefully.

I showed Zach how my sling fastened, undoing one of the Velcro tapes and letting him restick it a few times. Velcro was one of Zach's favorite things. He wanted to know if he could have the sling to play with after I was all better.

I smiled. “Sure.” God only knew what he planned to do with it. That didn't matter. The important thing was that he'd accepted I would be “all better” eventually.

He told me Doofus was lonely and clambered down to play with his pup. I handed him his magnifying glass—another of his favorite things—and pup and boy ran off to look for bugs. My throat closed up as I watched them. I'd come so close to never having an afternoon like this again.

On the other side of the sliding glass doors behind me, Seely was chopping things in the kitchen and talking to Gwen. The two of them seemed to have really hit it off. That was undoubtedly a good thing, but it made me uncomfortable. Women tell each other the damnedest things sometimes.

I couldn't stop thinking about that kiss.

Not that I thought about it every second. I had plenty of other things on my mind, like reassuring Zach, trying to set up the remodel job at the resort without leaving the house, and problems on the Pearson site.

But the memory of that kiss kept ambushing me.

I'd been eating lunch—Seely had made cheeseburgers—and all of a sudden I'd noticed her hands, the long fingers and short nails, and I'd remembered how she'd dug those fingers into my back. When Doofus tried to trip me on the way to the bathroom, I thought about how he'd nearly caused another accident.

Shoot, in the middle of a crossword puzzle the word
erupt
made me think of volcanoes, lava and heat, and I was right back with that kiss. All day long, it kept popping out at me like a jack-in-the-box with a broken lid.

I didn't like it. It's not that I expect to control my thoughts a hundred percent of the time, but I don't like being pushed around by them, either.

Maybe hiring Seely hadn't been such a great idea. I was stuck with the decision, though. It wouldn't be fair to change my mind now. I'd just have to get myself up to par as quickly as possible so I could let her go.

And then she wouldn't be off-limits anymore.

That sneaky thought annoyed me. I drummed my fingers on the arm of the chair. Once Seely's employment with me was over, she probably wouldn't be in Highpoint anymore, either. Duncan had found her at the bus station, for God's sake. And I wasn't interested in trying to persuade a reluctant woman to stay. I'd failed miserably the last time.

My chest tightened. That twitchy, brittle feeling climbed over me, the one that had ridden me too often lately, as if I were wearing my skin backward. One wrong move could split it, spilling all sorts of messy, inner bits out on the dirty ground. Yet I craved motion, action.

I was scared.

I'd wanted Gwen, wanted her for keeps. I'd gone at getting her to marry me the way I go after any important goal, giving it everything I had. And I'd flopped, big-time. She'd fallen for my brother.

Plenty of times in the last few months I'd told myself I needed to start looking for a woman to share my life. And hadn't done it. I'd begun to wonder what was wrong with me, if maybe I was too old to marry for the first time. Maybe my standards were too high, or there was something missing in me. Maybe I'd missed my chance for a family of my own.

For a long, still moment, I sat there in my wicker chair on
the deck I'd built and faced a truth I'd been dodging. Deep down, I wasn't sure I could handle failing again.

The late-afternoon sunshine hit the yard at a strong slant, dragging long shadows from the poplars along the back fence that striped the yard in plump diagonals. I hadn't mowed the grass in three weeks. It was still green but had stopped growing. The leaves on the oak showed more gold than green in the autumn sun.

By the back gate, Zach and Doofus were digging industriously. I smiled, wondering what he was digging for. Gold? Diamonds? Or the sheer joy of making a nice, big hole in the ground?

Maybe it wouldn't be so bad if I never managed to pull off the wife-and-family bit. I had Zach. I didn't have him every day, but lots of fathers were in that position these days. Didn't they say that happiness lay in being content with what you have, instead of yearning for more?

My fingers started drumming again. To hell with that. Sounded like giving up to me.

The doors behind me slid open, and a wonderful aroma drifted out.

“Thought you might like some sweet tea,” Seely said. “It's a Southern tradition.”

“Sure. Thanks.” I accepted the glass she held out, willing to try one of her traditions. “I don't need that jacket, Gwen.”

Seely took the old rocker. Gwen sat in the wicker chair that matched mine, laying my jacket across her knees. “If you say so. You know me—I'm always cold.” She studied my face a moment. “You're right, Seely. He does look better. Hard to believe he's actually been behaving.”

“I don't know why everyone thinks I'm incapable of taking care of myself. I've been doing it for a few years now.” I
took a sip of tea. “This is good. So, I guess the two of you have been, uh, getting acquainted?”

Gwen shook her head, grinning. “The look on your face, Ben! It's easy to see you think the two of us had nothing better to talk about than you. Shame on you.”

“You've been talking for over an hour. In my experience, that's enough time for two women to exchange their life histories and get started on everyone else's.”

Seely laughed. The rocker creaked as she leaned forward to pat my knee. “Don't worry. She didn't spill the beans about your misspent youth.”

Gwen frowned. “I don't think Ben
had
a misspent youth. Or much of a youth at all, with the way he had to give up everything when…” Her voice trailed off. Maybe because of the look on my face.

The rocking chair creaked again as Seely leaned back. “Actually, we talked about your house more than you. I love old houses.”

“Yeah?” I relaxed, pleased. “This one isn't all that old compared to some back east. But around here, homes over fifty years old aren't common.”

“When was it built?”

“In 1935, but my grandfather used salvaged pieces from older houses where he could. That's fashionable now, but not too many people were doing it back then. The wainscoting in the entry and the mantel in the living room are about 120 years old. Came from an old bawdy house.”

She laughed. “Oh, that's wonderful! And the staircase? That looks old.”

“The newel post is over a hundred years old.”

“It's a grand old house.” She rocked gently a moment. “A pity it's neglected, but I suppose that's like the cobbler's chil
dren going barefoot. You're probably too busy building other people's homes to have time for your own.”

I sat up straight. “What the hell are you talking about? Everything's in great shape!”

“I'm sure it is. Maybe
neglected
was the wrong word. It just doesn't look like anything has changed much in twenty years.”

I had my mouth open, ready to blast her, when Zach came running up, chanting his mom-mom-mom mantra.

“Good grief, you're dirty,” Gwen said.

“Yeah. Come see the bug me an' Doofus found. You, too, Seely,” he said, politely including her in the treat. He and she had settled it earlier that he was to use her first name. “It's tre-
men
-duz.”

Lots of things were tre-
men
-duz lately. I reached for my stick.

Seely stood, put her hand on my good shoulder and asked, with one lifted eyebrow, if I was sure I ought to get up. I scowled at her, but stayed put. “The steps from the deck are tricky for me,” I told Zach. “I'll sit this bug out.”

Everyone else headed across the yard. Over by the rear gate, Doofus was barking at the pile of dirt he and Zach had created. I assume the bug was there. Seely grinned at Zach and said something I couldn't make out. Zach giggled. Gwen smiled at him, then tilted her head to speak to Seely.

Seen side by side, the two women couldn't have looked more different. Gwen was a tidy little thing, her short hair pale and shiny in the sunlight. Seely was at least a head taller. More robust. Brighter, somehow.

I frowned. More irritating, too. What was so great about changing stuff around, anyway? Everything worked. And it wasn't as if I hadn't done anything to the place for twenty years. The couch and area rug in the living room were only
five years old. Of course, it was Annie who'd nagged me into replacing them, but so what? And maybe they sat in exactly the same spot as the old ones had, but they looked good there.

The deck I was sitting on—I'd added that myself.

Fifteen years ago.

Doofus suddenly tried to catch his tail, and Seely laughed. She had a husky laugh. It made me think of a messy bed, with the sheets dripping to the floor and Seely rising above me, throwing her hair back and laughing just like that…

Whoa. That was weird, fantasizing about Seely with Gwen right next to her. But guilt was stupid. I owed Gwen family loyalty, and that was all. I was allowed to look at other women. In fact, I'd damned well better start looking.

First, though, I had to finish healing. Right now I couldn't even pick a woman up to take her to dinner. I sighed, thinking of my truck. I needed to find out what kind of hoops the insurance company wanted me to jump through before they'd issue a check.

The phone was sitting on the table beside me. I'd brought it out because I'd been talking to Manny earlier. I'd input dozens of numbers into the directory when I bought the phone a few months ago.

Not everything around here was old, dammit.

Bah. I punched up the directory. Time to put my brain to some kind of
productive
use.

 

Gwen slid Zach's arm into a jacket he didn't really need. “Seely, it was a pleasure meeting you. No, Ben, sit down. Don't walk to the car with us.”

I shook my head sadly as I used the walking stick to lever myself upright. “What is it about me being injured that turns everyone into tyrant wannabes?”

Seely chuckled, Gwen grimaced, and Zach wanted to know why he couldn't take his bug home. To prove I could compromise, I limped to the door with them instead of going all the way to the car. “I guess I'll see you Saturday, kid.” I ruffled the top of Zach's head.

He looked puzzled. “Are you goin', too?”

“Oh, Lord.” Gwen rolled her eyes. “I can't believe I forgot to tell you. Duncan was going to when he stopped by yesterday, but you were sleeping.”

“Tell me what?”

“Zach was terribly disappointed about missing out on his camping trip with you. Duncan managed to get some time off so he could take him.”

The knife slid in so fast I couldn't guard against it.
I
was supposed to be the one who took Zach camping and hiking. I was the one who'd taught Duncan, dammit. Not to mention Charlie and Annie. Our parents hadn't much cared about that sort of thing, but I did. I always had.

My brother had everything else—why did he have to grab this, too?

“Dad?” Zach sounded uncertain.

So I smiled. “Just feeling sorry for myself because I have to miss this one. But you can tell me all about it when you get back, right?”

“Right!”

I didn't watch them drive away. I never do. That's a rule. Every time Zach leaves—especially when Gwen picks him up—I get hit with a load of might-have-beens. No point in taking a chance on Zach guessing how I felt. Kids often blame themselves when the adults in their lives are screwing up.

But I did wait to shut the door until they were both in Gwen's car.

Seely was standing behind me. “That was hard,” she said. “You handled it well.”

I grunted, annoyed with her for seeing too much, and hobbled toward the living room. “Not that hard. My knee's doing better.”

“I wasn't talking about your knee. But I think you know that and are trying delicately to hint me away from the subject. Unfortunately,” she said sadly, “I am almost immune to hints.”

A quick snort of laughter snuck out before I could stop it. “That's the first time anyone's ever called me delicate. I hear blunt, rude, pigheaded and tactless from time to time, but not delicate.”

“There you go. We have a lot in common. I figure you'll understand how hard it is for a basically direct person to tiptoe around a subject. Much easier to just say what you're thinking, isn't it?”

“Gets you in trouble sometimes,” I said. I'd reached the couch and sat down, suppressing a sigh of relief. Stupid knee. My shoulder wasn't feeling too great, either.

“Trouble can be interesting. Here, let me help you get that leg up.”

“I can do it.”

“Now how did I know you were going to say that?” She ignored my scowl, putting her hands under my calf and helping me lift the leg onto the couch. “I must be psychic.”