Risk (It's Complicated Book 2) (13 page)

Yeah. This was just what she needed right now.

Angela ignored the chill, breathed deeply, tipped her face up to the sun, and closed her eyes.

“Hey,” said Justus.

“Hey,” she said without bothering to open her eyes.

She smiled because she’d somehow known he would come.

Just as she was somehow beginning to know she could count on him.

Just as she was somehow beginning to know that things would be okay.

Notwithstanding Ronnie’s intrusion, the funeral had been everything she could’ve hoped and more. She’d received a powerful comfort from being surrounded by distant relatives, mothers from the playgroup at school, church members, neighbors, and others—all of whom had known and loved Carolyn. All of them repeatedly insisted that she call for help with Maya, who seemed to be universally well liked.

What was the saying? It takes a village to raise a child?

Angela was beginning to see the outline of Maya’s village. And for that, she was profoundly grateful.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Yeah. You?”

Taking another deep breath, she opened her eyes to discover Justus staring at her, his dark eyes intense and mysterious. Then he blinked once, and whatever thoughts he’d had disappeared from view, not that she’d have ever managed to read them anyway.

“I think we did pretty good, don’t you?” he asked.

“Yeah. It’s a beautiful day for them to be remembered. Carolyn would have liked it.”

He nodded. “Yeah. V.J. too.”

The cold air finally penetrated her clothes. She shivered.

“Here.” Justus whipped off his expensive jacket and threw it around her shoulders, where it hung like some huge tent and smelled spicy, like him.

She shivered again, absorbing some of his lingering body heat from the fine wool.

He noticed, of course. His speculative gaze skimmed her from head to toe. “Still cold?”

He had to know she wasn’t, especially when she couldn’t meet his eye.

“No,” she said.

“Good.”

The amusement in his voice threatened to make her squirm. She was on the verge of making up some excuse to go inside when the door creaked and Vincent came out.

“Well, that’s everyone.” Still looking gaunt and exhausted, he sat on the walled edge of the koi pond. “The caterers are cleaning up.”

“Mr. Robinson, I can’t begin to thank you enough for all you’ve done,” Angela said. “Carolyn would have loved the service.”

“V.J. too,” Justus added.

Vincent nodded, his smile hollow. “I’m glad.”

He paused before giving her his
let’s-get-down-to-business
look.

“Angela, dear, we’ve got a lot to discuss: Maya, the finances, the house—”

“I know.” Of course he and Justus would want to make sure they’d have visitation rights when she adopted Maya, Angela thought, and she’d be only too happy to work out some reasonable schedule. “Maybe I can come back tomorrow and we can discuss everything? I’ve had about enough for today. Haven’t you?”

Vincent waved a hand. “Fine, fine. Why don’t you come by around four?”

“That’s fine with me.” She turned to Justus, who looked grim. “Can you make that?”

“Oh, I’m sure we can fill Justus in later,” Vincent said before Justus could answer.

“I’ll be there,” Justus said.

“Fine,” Vincent said sharply.

“Mr. Robinson?” One of the white-jacketed caterers stuck his head out the door. “What did you want us to do about the lamb chops?”

Sighing, Vincent rose heavily to his feet. “I’ll be right there.” He turned to wink at Angela. “I don’t think this day will ever be over with, do you?”

He disappeared inside.

“I better go.” Angela stood and checked her watch. “I want to pick Maya up before it gets too much later.”

“Wait.” Justus stood and touched her arm. “I thought maybe...” He hesitated, smiling sheepishly. “I’m a pretty good cook. I thought maybe you and Maya might want to have dinner at my place tonight. Just so you don’t have to cook, I mean.”

“Really?”

“Come at six,” he told her.

“
U
ncle Justus
!” Maya streaked past the second he opened the door, pausing only long enough to kick her shoes into the hall basket and give him a quick hug around the knees. Then she raced into his bedroom, shedding hat, mittens and jacket to form a trail they could follow if they needed to find her. The door slammed shut behind her.

“What just happened?” Angela asked, wide-eyed, as she slowly stepped over the threshold and into the small foyer. She stared down the hall at his bedroom door. “What’ve you got in there? Disneyland?”

“Better,” he said, laughing. “Cable, a king-sized bed, and a big-screen, high-def TV.”

“Ah. I made some sourdough bread.” She handed it to him.

“Sourdough? This is my lucky night. Have you been taking more cooking classes at Cincinnati State?”

“Wow. You have a good memory, don’t you?”

Where
she
was concerned? You bet your ass he did.

He stepped behind her to help with her jacket, unable to stop himself from skimming his fingers along the bottom of the gleaming satin of her hair as he did. He figured the movement of the jacket over her shoulders would disguise his touch, and if it didn’t, well, it was about time she realized his intentions anyway.

Unfortunately, the brief contact was only enough to torture him a little and make him want her more.

Served him right, he supposed, putting the bread on the console for now.

She stepped away, smiling her thanks, and he took the opportunity to stare at her as she did a slow turn around the foyer before heading into the living room.

God.

She was
beautiful
.

For once she’d freed her hair, letting it fall softly around her face and shoulders. The vee of her black sweater drew his gaze down to a pair of truly amazing titties. Her faded jeans molded so perfectly to her thighs and ass it was hard for him to look anywhere else.

Still, he gave it his best shot as he trailed after her into the living room, seeing it through her eyes.

When she’d said yes to dinner, he’d raced home to clean up a little, and now, seeing her approving smile, he was glad he had. He liked natural stuff: nature photos; leather furniture; ferns; Navaho prints for the pillows; a simple Shaker dining set. On the other side of that was the kitchen.

“I
love
your apartment,” she announced.

“Thanks.” He pointed, trying to rein in his ear-to-ear grin. “Note the coffee table. Feel free to put your feet on it anytime.”

To his astonishment, she reached up and patted his cheek with her warm, soft hand. “Poor Justus,” she said condescendingly. “You’re so tragically misguided.”

His belly swooped with excitement but, too soon, she moved away and sat on one of the chairs.

“This apartment is the opposite of your father’s house. It feels like a home.”

“Damn straight it does. I’m not trying to recreate Casa Vincent over here.”

“Casa Vincent.” She laughed. “That says it all, doesn’t it?”

“Hell yeah.”

He sat on the corner of the sofa nearest her and they smiled at each other for a minute in complete understanding.

Until he began to feel the flush building in his cheeks and decided to keep things moving before he lapsed into open staring again.

“How’d Maya do at school today?” he asked.

“Pretty good. I was thinking I’d call this child psychologist Maya’s teacher recommended. He specializes in grief counseling for children. I thought it couldn’t hurt.”

He nodded. “I agree. Good idea.”

She looked to the closed bedroom door, from which no sound escaped. “She’s not in there watching the Playboy Channel or something, is she? I’ve never heard her so quiet.”

“Don’t worry. I’ve got all her little kiddie channels programmed. She likes to surf.”

Her mouth twisted. “A surfing three-year-old.
Wonderful
.”

“I’m not willing to fight and die on that hill,” he said. “A little TV is fine for kids.”

“Hmm.” She lifted her chin in the air, sniffing. “Something smells fantastic. What’s for dinner?”

“Just spaghetti.”

“Yeah? Can I see?”

She made a beeline for the kitchen, where she washed her hands, lifted the lid on one of the steaming pots, and breathed deeply, her eyes drifting closed. “
Wow
.” Opening her eyes, she grabbed the wooden spoon from the counter and stirred. “Hang on. There’s fresh sausage in here.” She made a show of looking around the kitchen. “No empty spaghetti sauce jars anywhere? This is homemade! You can really cook!”

“I strive.”

“Did you roast these tomatoes first?”

“Is there any other way?”

“This sauce may well be
almost
as good as mine. Well done!”

“Yeah, I got your
almost
,” he said, laughing.

Spying the bottle of Burgundy he’d opened and left to breathe, she replaced the lid and spoon. “My favorite! You remembered.”

Yeah, he remembered, all right. He remembered the type of wine she liked, how many slices of pizza she’d eaten the other night, where she kept her plates, how she smelled, and how she felt in his arms.

“Oh, is that the kind you like?” he asked offhandedly.

“I have to serve myself, huh?” she said, finding the goblets.

“Can you pour me a glass while you’re at it?”

“You got it.”

After handing him his wine, she roamed over to the table, where he’d laid out the salads—romaine with grated purple cabbage, carrots, grape tomatoes, and mukimame.

“And look at these
beautiful
salads! I haven’t been this healthy all week.”

He frowned. “Try not to sound so surprised. I’m a personal trainer. I know a
little
bit about nutrition.”

“Ah, but not enough to keep the sausage out of the spaghetti.”

“Dry noodles for you.”

“Don’t even try it. I’m a guest. You have to feed me,” she said as she wandered back to her chair and sat. “So tell me about your studio. I’d heard about it opening.”

She was a good listener, rapt and wide-eyed as she sipped her wine. He lapped up her attention, excited to tell her about his baby.

“It’s got all the basic classes—aerobics, spinning, yoga, Pilates. We’ve got treadmills, ellipticals, bikes, and weights in the main room. I do personal training, and we’d like to add another trainer and maybe a massage therapist.”

“So is this the royal ‘we
’
you’re using, or do you have a partner?”

“Brian’s my partner—you remember him. Luckily he’s got deep pockets, what with his inheritance and all.”

“It pays to know people.”

“You got that right.” His sipped his wine and watched her over the rim of his glass, happier than he could recall being since...well, since...he couldn’t recall. “You should stop by.”

“Will you give me a free thirty-day membership?” she asked hopefully.

At the moment he couldn’t think of anything he wouldn’t give her if she kept smiling at him like that. But it didn’t pay to be too easy.

“We’ll see.”

She glanced toward the bedroom door again. “Maybe I should just check—”

“She’s
fine
,” he said, a little more sharply than he’d intended. He’d spend more time with Maya later, of course, but right now he wanted Angela all to himself. “In a minute she’ll come out, wanting to know about dinner. Tell me about your job. Are you a partner yet?”

“No,” she said, smile fading. “I’m up this year, though. In fact, my friend Carmen—you met her at the funeral—said they’re starting the evaluation process. Just in case I needed one more stressful thing to deal with right now.”

“Definitely bad timing.”

“I noticed Janet didn’t stay very long today,” she said, picking lint off the nearest pillow. “Did she go home to try to find the rest of her dress?”

He laughed. “You didn’t like Janet?”

“I liked her fine.” She took a delicate sip from her wine. “She didn’t like me, though. I can tell by the way she was looking at me. Did you tell her Maya and I were coming tonight?”

“Nah. I don’t need to check in with Janet.”

“Really?” she said sourly, her fine brows inching toward her hairline.

“Well, since you’re so interested—”

“
What?
”

“—I might as well tell you that Janet and I, such as we were, are over.”

Her jaw dropped. “
Over?
”

“Yeah.”

Angela blinked and thought about this for a second, and then her brows came together. “You fired her at the
funeral
?”

“
Fire
is such an ugly word.”

“I’m sure Janet doesn’t think so.”

He could see her gearing up to defend Janet and give him an outraged rant on behalf of all womankind, so he raised a hand to stop her.

“Look. Janet and I are both adults and we both knew what we were getting—and not getting. She tried to change the rules mid-game. I had to set her straight.”

Angela looked as though she’d swallowed a live frog. “Yeah, well, you’ll have to forgive me if I’m a little touchy these days about men dumping women in public.”

This insinuation that he belonged in the same jackass category as Ron pissed him off.

“Yeah, well, at least I didn’t lead her on for three years, tell her I loved her and
then
dump her,” he said flatly.

“Thanks for
that
unwelcome reminder,” she snapped.

“I’m nothing like Ron,” he said, irritated. Angela needed to start getting used to the idea that the only thing he, the next man in her life, and Ron, the former man in her life, had in common was excellent taste in women. “The sooner you realize that, the better.”

“Oh, I’ve got it,” she said, and drained her glass. “Trust me, I’ve got it.”

“Besides.” He softened his tone and stared pointedly at her mouth. “Janet isn’t the one I want.”

He looked back into her shocked eyes in time to see the comprehension dawn.

A flare of alarm came close behind.

She tensed.

He stared defiantly, letting her see his absolute determination.

She saw it.

She
had
to see it.

And then she looked away.

“Well,” she said on a derisive laugh sharp enough to gut him clean through the middle and spill his innards on the floor. Springing to her feet as though she’d been launched from a catapult, she beelined for the kitchen. “I’m sure your next target will be thrilled to hear she’s been selected for your flavor-of-the-month club. Along with every other woman under fifty in the tri-state area. More wine?”

* * *

“
C
heck
, Uncle Justus! Look! You’re in check!”

Justus stared down at the blue-and-white chessboard on the kitchen table and acted surprised. “What?” Captured pieces—flying monkeys and Munchkins, among others—stood idly on the sidelines. As he’d planned, Maya’s Wicked Witch of the West queen had trapped his Cowardly Lion king in the corner. There were a couple of ways he could escape, of course—for one thing, his Scarecrow bishops were still in play, but she’d stuck to the game for fifteen minutes this time—a record—and he wanted her to win.

He looked back at her and grinned.

She waited breathlessly for his pronouncement, her braids quivering with excitement.

He surveyed the board one last time, just to make it look good, then smiled again, soberly now. “Congratulations on a fine game, Maya,” he solemnly told her, extending his hand. “You win.”

Maya shrieked, leapt from her chair, and performed a victory dance that consisted mainly of shaking her butt in the air.

“I won! I won! I wo-on!” She whirled to face Angela, who watched absently from the sofa. “I won, Aunt Ang-la!”

Angela stirred, making sure she didn’t look Justus directly in the face, something she’d avoided doing all through dinner. He’d thrown her completely off-kilter with his veiled revelation, apparently. On top of that, she seemed never to have recovered from the shock of learning he’d taught Maya to play chess with a set of Wizard of Oz pieces.

Still, she smiled gamely and clapped her hands.

“Wonderful! High five!” Angela held her hand out, high enough that Maya had to jump up to smack it. She let Maya dance around for another few seconds, then checked her watch. “Time to go, sweetie.”

After the usual protests, Angela quickly bundled Maya, who had started to yawn, back into her coat, mittens, and hat, then slipped into her own coat. They all walked to the foyer and Angela reluctantly faced Justus, keeping Maya in front of her like a little shield.

“Thank you for dinner, Justus.” Angela looked up from adjusting Maya’s hat long enough to shoot him a quick look and an uncomfortable smile. “I think that was the best spaghetti I’ve ever had.”

“I didn’t think you liked it,” he said softly. “You hardly ate any.”

She shifted restlessly. “Oh, you know. Long day and all.” She looked down at Maya and frowned. “Where’s your scarf, sweetie?”

Justus knew how to seize an opportunity when one appeared. “Maybe it’s in the bedroom, Maya,” he said, giving her a nudge in that direction.

Whereupon Angela had no choice but to unclamp her hands from the girl’s shoulders and let her go.