Redemption (22 page)

“Let’s see,” she said, glancing up at the wood-framed photos of Tripper. She pointed to the one on the end. “That one was from his fifth birthday. He learned to ride his bike the very day he got it,” she said, a soft note of pride in her voice. “And this one I took when he was just three months old. I used to dress him in Felts Brothers bubble suits I’d buy at the department store where I worked.”

Matt stifled a grin. In his opinion, the dainty smocking didn’t suit Tripper as well as the Lakers’ sweatshirts he currently favored, but the thought of Claire dressing her son with such maternal pride touched him.

“I don’t know why I didn’t think of it before,” she said, bending down and removing a set of photo albums from the bookshelf that flanked the fireplace. “They’re just snapshots, but you might enjoy looking at them.”

They sat side by side on the couch while Claire shared with him the early years of Tripper’s life. Most of the photos had been taken by Claire, but Matt was startled to see her in one of the earlier shots, holding her infant son, her dark hair cut short against her nape.

“You cut all your hair off,” he said, surprised.

“Yes,” she murmured, one hand reaching unconsciously toward her hair. “I never liked it long anyway. It’s only lately I let it grow longer.”

Matt studied the photo critically. The short cut emphasized her delicately rounded cheeks and huge eyes. She had cut her hair in an effort to disguise herself, he realized, shaken by the telling evidence of her humiliation.

Then, on the last page of the book, another photo of her holding Tripper and looking over her shoulder gave him an even greater jolt. This one was obviously professionally done, a black-and-white soft focus that gave her a dreamy Madonna look. He sucked in a breath, stunned by the sight. The woman in the photograph was hauntingly beautiful. Part woman, part angel, completely female.

“Claire.” His voice was rough as he spoke, “I think you missed your calling. You should be in front of a camera. With a face like this—”

She snatched the book from him and snapped it shut. “Don’t be silly,” she said. “Make-up and retouching can perform magic. Now, have you seen enough, or would you like to see the other book? Oh, and there’s also a few years’ worth of video, if you’re really in the mood for nostalgia.”

He gave her a measuring look. It would take him approximately two minutes, he figured, to convince her she was the most beautiful woman on earth. But right now wasn’t the time.

Instead, he insisted on seeing the video recordings, even though she warned him they tended to get rather boring. “We can fast forward over the boring parts,” he promised. “I want to see how well you’ve captured your subject on video,” he said with a wink at Tripper, who had just joined them.

Claire popped the first video in the DVD player, explaining that it had been made on Tripper’s first birthday.

The action needed little narration. It featured a one-year-old baby, with solemn green eyes alternately looking into the camera and back to the gaily decorated cake before him.

Then the image on the screen cut to the same toddler, totally bemused by the giant caterpillar his mother had given him to ride on.

Matt swallowed a lump of regret. He’d missed too much of his son’s life, missed too many birthdays. He wouldn’t miss any more, he vowed.

Sitting on the sofa beside Matt, Claire smiled at the memory, glancing at Matt to see if he was enjoying the humor. He was gazing at the screen, a poignant expression on his face, his green eyes moist in the corners.

She jumped up. “This is awfully long. We should spare Matt the rest of this, Tripper.” Punching the pause button, she continued. “It’s getting late anyway. You need to finish your homework and get into bed. Tomorrow’s a school day, remember?”

“Mom,” he started to protest, but she insisted, and her son knew better than to argue with her when it came to homework and bedtime.

When Tripper was gone, Claire gathered the glasses that littered the coffee table. She glanced at Matt and found him staring at her with a chagrined look on his face. “You didn’t have to stop the video,” he said. “I could have handled it.”

“I’m sure you could have, but…it was starting to get boring. I’ve seen it a dozen times, and believe me, there’s only so much messy birthday cake a mother can take.” She attempted a smile, but inside, she ached for him. All the years he had missed…

“Can I borrow the recording? I’ll make a copy of it and return it to you.”

She hesitated, then nodded. “Of course. And I’ll be happy to give you some of the photos if you’d like.” She had plenty of extras, as there had never been anyone to give them to before.

“That would be great. There’s a real family resemblance in a lot of those. He’s got my dad’s ears, you know. They stick out.”

“They do not!” she protested. “I had them surgically pinned when he was five!”

Matt groaned. “Poor kid!” He shook his head regretfully. “Good thing Dumbo’s mother never thought of that—or Mickey’s. Just think where Disney would be.”

“The other kids were starting to laugh at him!” Though it seemed a minor thing, she had sworn her son would never face ridicule from his classmates.

Matt followed her to the sink and began handing her the clean dishes from the dishwasher. They worked in silence for a while, though Claire could feel Matt looking at her occasionally with a thoughtful expression.

Reaching over her head to place the last glass in the cabinet, he mused aloud, “Ever wonder what would have happened? If we had stayed together?”

“I don’t believe in playing ‘What If.’” She turned off the tap, wanting to stop his words as easily.

“But sometimes it’s fun,” he insisted, turning to face her. “For instance, what if Hayley had gotten help instead of killing herself? What if you had come to me when you found out you were pregnant?”

“And what if baby elephants could fly? There’s no point in speculating what might have happened. Besides, I don’t have any regrets.” But that wasn’t true, she realized. She did regret that Matt had never known his son, that Tripper had never had a father he could respect, love…

Afraid Matt would read her confusion, she turned away, but he reached out and untucked her hair from behind her ears, watching it fall against her face. “No regrets, huh? Not even for your long-lost hair?”

She tucked her hair back in place.

He chuckled. “Not exactly wild abandon, but sexy just the same. I like it like this, but you shouldn’t have had to cut it all off.”

She kept her gaze pinned to his chest. “I liked it short,” she said stiffly. “Matt, we had an agreement—”

“I seem to be in the mood for nostalgia. You wouldn’t care to indulge me?”

“Certainly—there’s a vintage video store on your way home. They have a whole section labeled ‘nostalgia.’”

“Our video won’t be there. It would have been too hot for an R rating anyway,” he said, allowing his wayward finger to trail lower, dangerously near her throbbing heartbeat. “We were good together, Claire. Proof of that’s upstairs right now. Wouldn’t you care to give it another shot?”

She batted his hand away. “I’ve told you, I’m not available.” Then she added nastily, “Surely there’s no shortage of women who are?”

He lifted a lazy eyebrow. “As a matter of fact, I canceled a weekend in Atlantic City with a hot redhead so I could come here.” Then he grinned wickedly. “And it’s a sure bet we wouldn’t have spent the whole time at the blackjack table.”

She frowned. “Well, you’ve come to the wrong place to recoup your losses. I’ve told you, I’m not interested in a relationship with you. We’ve been there, done that, so to speak.” She sighed. “How can I make that any clearer?”

His gaze narrowed. “I’m beginning to think I’m not the one you’re trying to convince.”

She refused to look at him. But her feet also refused to move her out of the line of fire. And she did feel as if she were under attack, by his nearness, by the clean smell of him…by his tenderness when he looked at the pictures of their son…by the little traces of fire that ignited along her nerve endings whenever he touched her…

He was right. It was her body that was betraying her, and until she got it under control, he would take full advantage. She stepped back, just a little movement, but he checked it by putting an arm around her waist.

“Convince me you feel nothing for me. I’ll bet anything you can’t…”

Then he lowered his mouth to hers, slowly, giving her plenty of time to pull away, but she stood her ground, determined to prove him wrong. Telling herself she could resist this one time, she held herself stiffly, letting his lips touch hers—the memory of last time fresh in her mind, preparing her for the incredible longing that surged through her, sharp and sweet, just at the moment his lips made contact.

She closed her eyes, trying to concentrate on anything but the nearness of his body. The papers she should look at before tomorrow…the sandwich she needed to make for Tripper’s lunchbox…the weather in Tanzania…

But it felt so good to be touched like this—by an experienced, confident man, not some fumbling business-suited Lothario trying to impress her with his bucket-seat moves.

She should relax and enjoy it. Not every woman is so lucky, she told herself. In all her life, she had only met one man who made her feel this way…

And there was the rub.

For it was this very same man who had awakened her once to passion, who had taught her everything about the incredible closeness that a man and woman could feel, who had touched her—exactly like this—before, and when her body had betrayed her then, the price she had paid was too steep.

With a sharp intake of breath, she pulled away. Before he could protest, they both heard Tripper’s voice.

“Hey, Mom, I forgot to take…Oh.” It was obvious from the confused note in his voice he had caught the tail end of their embrace.

But Matt grinned at him reassuringly. “Hey, don’t worry. I’ll take Sadie out before I go.”

“I don’t mind—”

“Yeah, but your mom mentioned something about a strictly enforced bedtime before she would agree to the whole dog thing,” Matt said with an ironic glance at Claire.

The gently worded admonition seemed to work, and Tripper headed back to bed, after first wishing Matt another good night. True to his promise, Matt slipped out to take Sadie for one last walk.

Fifteen minutes later, he returned to find Claire in the kitchen, two pieces of bread and an open lunchbox on the counter in front of her. He watched as she dabbed a generous portion of peanut butter on a plate, then began swirling honey into it.

He stopped just behind her. Reaching around, he slid a finger into the concoction she had prepared, then stuck it into his mouth. “Mmmm,” he said. “Peanut butter and honey was always my favorite too.”

Ignoring his pilfering, Claire pivoted, facing him squarely. “What happened before was totally out of line,” she said, her eyes hard as concrete. “We’re adults, not adolescents with raging libidos. Now we’ve given Tripper the wrong idea—”

“No, we’ve given him exactly the right idea. What’s wrong with him knowing we have feelings for each other?”

“We don’t! Not the way you mean,” she amended.

“Why are you so eager to deny that we’re sexually attracted to each other? We’re consenting adults; neither one of us is attached at the moment—”

“So you want to fill in with me until you find something more permanent?” She brandished the butter knife, as if defending her space. Matt stepped back, then took the knife from her hand. She continued, weaponless. “Meanwhile, Tripper is getting the impression that you’re about to become a permanent fixture in his life.”

“I
am
about to become a permanent fixture in his life! And in your life, as well.” He gave her an amused look as he licked the remaining peanut butter from the knife. Placing it in the sink, he decided to approach the argument logically. “Why should we ignore a physical attraction just because we happen to share a child? It seems to me that’s the best reason of all to explore the possibilities.”

“The last time I ‘explored the possibilities’ with you,” she countered, her voice low and controlled, “I ended up pregnant and alone. I refuse to have—”

“Oh, come on,” he interrupted. “I would hope we’ve both learned a thing or two about birth control since then. You’ve managed to avoid any more unwanted pregnancies.”

Her face flushed pink, and she turned away. Matt stared at her in silence a moment, then reached out a hand and turned her face toward his. “Haven’t you?” he said, his eyebrows lifted inquiringly. “Surely you’ve had sexual relationships since then.” He searched her face, but her gaze remained locked on his clavicle, her lips pressed firmly shut.

“My God, you haven’t been with anyone in…over ten years?” He released her, then raked a hand through his hair. “Hell, Claire, was it that…painful…an experience? Did it turn you off the idea of sex entirely?”

“My sex life is none of your business.”

“I think it
is
my business if I’m the reason you haven’t been getting any for the last ten years. For God’s sake, that isn’t natural.”

“Don’t flatter yourself. I simply had no time, in between raising a child and working sixty-hour weeks. And besides, who are you to tell me it’s not natural to not jump into bed at every opportunity?” she countered bitterly. “You’ve no doubt got a different woman for very night of the week.”