The Surprise of His Life (13 page)

Lindsey
saw Walker's confusion and could only pray that she knew its source. Surely she
could not be imagining the longing look in his eyes. Surely she couldn't have
imagined the perfect way their bodies had fit. Surely he had felt that perfect
union, too. For the first time since coming home, Lindsey allowed herself to be
encouraged. That encouragement bubbled like vintage champagne in her veins. God
willing, she'd find a way to make him love her. She had to, because her heart
would allow no less.

The
following week proved interesting. At least as far as Lindsey was concerned.
Her father, for unknown reasons, actually chose to spend some time with her.
They went to lunch twice and dinner once. He still refused to talk to her about
the divorce or, rather, cleverly avoided even letting the topic come up. It was
almost—almost-amusing how he headed the subject off at the pass. Perhaps fueled
by her father's reticence, Lindsey remained convinced that a good
discussion—for that matter, any discussion—between her mother and father would
end their ridiculous separation.

If
the week saw Lindsey spending more time with her father, it saw her spending
less with Walker. In the beginning, she didn't think much about it, but as day
after day passed with Walker finding more and more flimsy reasons to be out of
the office, Lindsey started to wonder if he wasn't manufacturing them. At first
the thought dismayed her. Maybe she'd misinterpreted his reaction. Maybe he
hadn't been attracted to her. Furthermore, maybe he'd sensed her feelings,
which in no way matched his, and he was trying to spare her as best he could.

On
a miserably sleepless Thursday night, however, it occurred to her that maybe
the opposite was true. Maybe she had been right about his reaction. Maybe for
one unguarded second he had seen her as a woman and not merely his godchild,
and maybe that vision had scared the living daylights out of him. Hadn't she
been frightened in the beginning? And, if he was frightened, wouldn't his
behavior, his refusal to be near her, make sense?

It
was that same Thursday night that an idea regarding her parents came to her.
She didn't kid herself; she knew that the idea wasn't exactly fair, that is,
that it would be based on a lie—a white lie, to be sure, but a lie nonetheless.
Did the circumstances warrant such a breach of honesty? She'd always believed
that there was such a thing as situational ethics. Did she believe it strongly
enough to justify her actions in this case?

Bright
and early Friday morning she called Walker, who sounded as sexy as sin being
awakened from a dead sleep. Forcing herself to concentrate on her parents, and
not on his gravelly voice or the image of him naked to the waist with the sheet
pleated about him, she informed him that she wouldn't be able to come in to the
office until the afternoon. She took a secret delight in knowing that her
absence would force him to spend some time in the office. She wondered, though,
what excuse he'd drum up for leaving the minute she got there. After she hung
up, she went down to breakfast.

"Hi,
Mom," she said, suspecting that her mother hadn't slept well again. Once
more it broke Lindsey's heart to see her mother, usually a typically vain woman,
with no makeup and her hair in need of some loving attention.

Bunny
smiled, or gave a facsimile thereof, as she automatically picked up the
coffeepot and poured her daughter a cup. "Good morning, darling. What do
you want for breakfast?"

"Just
toast."

"No,
let me make you pancakes," she said, reaching for a mixing bowl. "A
working girl needs a hearty breakfast."

"Toast
is fine, Mom. Besides, I'm not a working girl this morning."

Bunny
Ellison looked up, her tired eyes connecting with Lindsey's. "Why not?"

"Because
I'm taking the morning off. We're—that's you and I—are going to pamper and pet
ourselves. We're getting a facial, getting a massage and getting our hair done.
Oh, and I think we'll toss in a pedicure and a manicure."

"Lindsey,
I'm not in the mood."

"That's
all the more the reason to do it, isn't it?"

"Lindsey—"

"My
treat, and I won't take no for an answer."

"Lindsey—"
Bunny tried again.

"It's
not negotiable, Mom. You're going to return to the land of the living whether
you like it or not. That's it, final, over and done with."

Bunny
seized the mixing bowl, as though it were the only way she knew to cope with
this new crisis. "Then we'll need a hearty breakfast," she said,
proving that her daughter wasn't the only stubborn member of the family.

Lindsey
moaned.

It
was nearing two o'clock when Lindsey sashayed into the office of Gal-Tex. She
had been pounded and pumiced, powdered and polished—all in the name of beauty.
Refreshed, she felt optimistic about both her parents and about Walker. She had
only to believe that she could make something happen in both quarters and she
could. For her parents, she had a plan for that very evening, a plan she'd set
into motion with a call to her father following breakfast.

Though
Walker had no idea how Lindsey had spent the morning, he knew that his breath
fled the second he saw her. From her rosy skin to her gleaming blond hair,
which coiled in riotous curls down her back, to the shell-pink nail polish that
covered both her fingernails and her toenails—the latter peeking out from
strappy high-heeled sandals—she looked gorgeous. Positively, absolutely
come-on-give-my-pounding-heart-a-break gorgeous.

"Hi,"
she said, sounding as perky and sassy as the brassy sun beating down on the
island. "Sorry I'm late."

"H-hi,"
he managed to get out after he'd cleared his froggy throat. He tried to ignore
the way her white slacks molded her derriere, but couldn't. Some things, some
perfect things, a man couldn't disregard however much he tried. "What have
you been up to?" Good, he thought, he sounded normal. Or close enough.

"Mom
and I had a make -over. What do you think?" she asked, slowly pirouetting.

At
the sight of soft curls and sweet curves, the frog jumped back into Walker's
throat. What he thought was that he needed to get away from her. Now. Or
possibly sooner. "N-nice," he stammered. "Look, I'm glad you're
here. I need to check on something outside the office. I'll be gone—"

"All
afternoon?" Lindsey ventured knowingly. She fought a smile.

"I,
uh, I don't know about all afternoon. I'll, uh, I'll probably be back. I don't
know. It, uh, it depends."

On
whether it's five o'clock and I'm gone,
Lindsey thought. "Well, before you
go, do you know where Dad is?" As she said this, she picked up the phone
and started to dial her mother's number.

"He's
checking on some part."

"Here
in town?"

"Yeah."

"Then
I can reach his beeper?"

"You
should be able to." For a reason he couldn't explain, Walker hung around
to see what Lindsey was up to. There was a suspicious glimmer in her eyes.

"Hi,
Mom," she said. "Look, I've just had a marvelous idea. I don't know
why I didn't think of it earlier." She hoped the idea sounded spontaneous.
She hadn't mentioned the plan earlier because phone-to-phone deception was
easier than face-to-face deception. "Since we're all dolled up, why don't
we go out to dinner tonight...? No, Mom, we can eat in anytime. Let's eat
out." She mentioned the name of a restaurant. "I'll meet you there at
seven o'clock, okay? I'm going to work a little late here.... No, I've got a
couple of things to catch up on… No, we'll have the pork chops tomorrow night. Mom,
just meet me at the restaurant, okay?"

She
hung up before her mother could offer any more resistance. Without hesitation,
she dialed her father's beeper and left a message.

"Hi,
Dad. Don't forget about dinner tonight." She confirmed the restaurant.
"And be there at seven o'clock. Not a minute later."

Frowning,
Walker asked as she replaced the receiver, "And just what are you up
to?"

"Matchmaking,"
Lindsey answered without apology. "If they'll just sit down and talk, they
can work this out."

"Lindsey—"

She
held up her newly manicured hand. "I don't want to hear how this is none
of my business. I don't want to hear how underhanded and deceitful this is.
Trust me, when they're back together, you'll see that I was right."

"Lindsey—"
Walker tried again.

"Please,"
she whispered so plaintively that Walker would have done anything she asked.
What she was doing was not only foolhardy, but also potentially explosive, but
he supposed he had to let her find that out for herself.

Raking
his hand through his hair, he sighed. Hell, maybe she was right! Maybe all
Bunny and Dean did need was to sit down and sort through their differences. He
wasn't exactly the one to be giving anyone advice these days, since his own
sanity seemed to be sitting on such unstable sand. He was the one who couldn't
sleep at night for thinking thoughts so forbidden, so verboten, that their very
existence shamed him.

It
took Walker and Lindsey a while to realize that they were staring at each
other. And even then, neither seemed inclined to look away. Lindsey was
remembering being warmly tucked against Walker while they danced. She could
remember, vividly, the hard, muscular wall of his chest, the iron strength of
his thighs. Walker was remembering how he'd lost his breath at the sight of her
only minutes before. The way he was still losing his breath, because,
disbelievingly, she seemed to grow more beautiful as the seconds passed.

"I,
uh, I need to go check on that, uh... on that..." Exactly what
was
he
going to check on?

As
though in response to his query, the phone rang. It rang again. And again.
Walker never did seem to notice it. At length, however, Lindsey forced her gaze
from the man before her and down to the telephone. Walker's expression said
that he was surprised to find it ringing.

"Good
afternoon. Gal-Tex. May I help you?" she answered, then said, "Oh,
hi. Yeah, it's me. Fine, thanks." At the question that the caller posed,
she looked back up at Walker. "Yeah, he's right here. Hold on."
Passing the phone to Walker, she added, "It's Adam."

Careful
not to touch Lindsey's hand, Walker took the receiver. "Adam?" He
listened, then grinned. "That's great! Is the baby all right? Good. What
about Grace?" Walker laughed. "Tell her that she'd better get some
rest while she can." There was silence as Adam spoke, then Walker's
answer. "You bet I'm coming to see him." Walker glanced at his watch.
It read a little after two o'clock. "I'll leave here about five. Right.
See you, then. Oh, Adam... congratulations." He replaced the receiver and
glanced back at Lindsey. He'd purposely stared out into the parking lot while
talking to his son. Lindsey looked as beautiful as he was trying to persuade
himself that she didn't.

"A
boy?" she asked with a glowing smile.

God,
yes, she was beautiful! How had he ever hoped to convince himself otherwise?
"Yeah,"
he answered, "a boy. Eight pounds, eight ounces. Born at 1:21."

"Baby
and mother are fine?"

"Yeah."

Lindsey's
smile widened. "One-twenty-one this afternoon?"

Walker
couldn't help but grin. "Okay, so he blew my theory about babies being
born only at night. But," he hastened to add, "that's what kids do
best—blow all your theories."

Once
more they were staring, he at her, she at him. This time, though, they were
smiling. She thought his smile as sexy as moonlight and satin. He thought her
smile wonderfully vibrant. Slowly, however, Walker's smile began to fade as he
realized that he was simply staring.

"I,
uh, I need to go check... something." He was still obviously uncertain
just what he was leaving the office to check. He was certain only that he
should be leaving.

"You're
going to see the baby after work?" Lindsey asked.

"Yeah,"
he answered, telling himself that he'd be fine once he got away from Lindsey.
He'd be able to breathe again then... which was what he needed—a decent,
mind-clearing breath in his lungs.

"Would
you mind if I went with you? I'd love to see Adam, and what better time than
now?"

Walker's
heart turned over in his chest. He searched for a reason to deny her, but
couldn't find one. The truth was that it was natural for Lindsey to suggest
accompanying him to Houston. After all, she and Adam were as close as brother
and sister. What wasn't natural was what he was feeling. On the one hand, being
with Lindsey pleasured him. On the other hand, it pleasured him too much,
leaving him to grapple with feelings he didn't understand.

What
he did patently understand was that she was waiting for an answer. Which he
couldn't avoid much longer. Corner. He felt himself being backed into a corner.
A velvet-lined corner. Oh, God, where was that decent breath of air?

"Sure,"
he heard himself say as the velvet-lined corner closed in around him,
smothering him in its folds. He didn't want her to go. He truly didn't. Even
so, he couldn't help but feel a burst of excitement. The excitement shocked him
and shamed him. Most of all, however, it made him feel alive.