The Surprise of His Life (15 page)

"Coffee?"

He
glanced up, realizing belatedly that his son had spoken to him. Both Adam and
Lindsey wore expectant looks.

"What?"

"You
want to go down to the cafeteria for coffee?"

"Uh...
no... I mean, ya'll go ahead. I'll visit with Grace."

"You
want us to bring you back a cup?" Lindsey asked.

"No,"
Walker managed to say, thinking that what he needed was Scotch. Straight up and
long. Real long. Like the length of a whole damned bottle!

"The
baby's beautiful," Lindsey said minutes later. Cups of coffee sat before
her and Adam, sending up slender spirals of steam. Around them rose the muted
chatter of cafeteria conversation.

"Yeah,
he is, isn't he?" the proud new father said without a trace of apology.

Lindsey
smiled, causing slight dimples to form. "You bet he is. And Grace looks
wonderful. She looks more as though she's been on vacation than in the delivery
room. She's radiant, she's gorgeous, she's... beautiful."

"Yeah,
she is, but then so are you. You look wonderful. Even Dad said so."

Lindsey's
heart went pitter-pat. "Did he?" she asked, nonchalantly uncapping
her dispenser of cream and dribbling a few drops into her coffee.

"He
did. And you are. It would take a blind man not to see it. You've... I don't
know... you've grown up. Not that you weren't grown-up before—you were—but
now... wow!"

Lindsey
laughed. "You're good for my ego, Adam Carr."

"And
it's good to see you," Adam said. "God, it's good to see you,"
he said, suddenly turning serious. He reached for Lindsey's hand and squeezed.

She
squeezed back. "It's good to see you, too. I've missed you."

"I've
missed you. Dammit, Lin, you left without even a word to me."

Lindsey
could hear the hurt in Adam's voice. Under the same circumstances, should their
roles have been reversed, she would have been hurt if he'd left without giving
her some clue as to why he was going. They were— had always been—best friends.
Best friends shared. But how could she have shared what was in her heart a year
and a half ago? How could she have told Adam that she was calling off her
wedding because she'd discovered that she was feeling something for his father?
Even now, what would Adam's reaction be? Approval? Disapproval? Disgust?

Lindsey
pulled her hand from Adam's and encircled her cup. The heat felt comforting,
reassuring. "I know I left without a word," she said. "I just had
to get away. I had some feelings that I had to sort through."

"You
couldn't have told me about them? I couldn't have helped you sort through
them?"

Lindsey
smiled faintly. "I didn't know what I was feeling. How could I have made
you understand what I didn't understand myself?"

"I
could have listened."

"Not
this time, Adam. This time I had to go it alone. This time I had to find my own
answers."

"And
did you?"

"Yes,"
Lindsey said emphatically.

She'd
come home knowing that she was in love with Walker. Every act, every word since
had only confirmed that fact. And unless she were really losing her mind, she'd
seen a spark of interest in Walker. Something had happened on the dance floor.
He'd been aware of her as a woman. Not as a child, not as his godchild, but as
a woman.

"I,
uh, I realized that I wasn't in love with Ken," Lindsey said, feeling that
she owed some explanation to Adam. Moreover, she now wanted to share with him.
At least up to a point. "Let me rephrase that. I loved him, but not the
way I should have. Not the way a woman should love the man she's about to
marry." She glanced down at the coffee, then up at her friend. "The
truth is that I was, am, in love with someone else."

Lindsey
could tell that the news took Adam completely by surprise, though, to his
credit, he recovered quickly. "I had no idea that there was even anyone
else in contention. You'd gone with Ken for so long. I just assumed that
there'd been no opportunity for anyone else." He shrugged. "I know
you weren't dating anyone else. At least, I assumed you weren't. I mean, I
know
you weren't. You wouldn't have dated someone else while you were going with
Ken. I mean... Ah, hell, you know what I'm trying to say!"

Lindsey
took Adam's hand. "I know. The truth is that I didn't know there was
anyone else in contention, either. I've known this man for a long time. My
feelings for him just sort of slipped up on me."

"And?"

"And
what?"

"That
was eighteen months ago. What's happened since?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing?
Doesn't this guy have any sense? Why aren't you two married?"

Lindsey's
heart skipped at the very thought of being married to Walker. "There's,
uh, there's a complication."

Adam's
face fell. "He's married?"

Lindsey
couldn't help but laugh. "No, silly, he isn't married."

"Then
what?"

Lindsey
hesitated. Was she saying too much? Maybe, and yet she did need to talk to
someone. "He's older than I am."

"So?"

"Considerably
older. As in twenty-some years older."

"So?"
Adam repeated. "Is he in love with you?"

Lindsey's
heart went pitter-pat again. "Who knows what he's feeling? I'm not even
sure he knows."

Adam
gave a suspicious frown. "Does he know you're in love with him?"

"No,"
Lindsey said, "I haven't had the courage to tell him."

Adam's
answer was soft and sage. "You've never been a coward, Lin. Why start
now?"

Adam's
words whispered in Lindsey's ear as she and Walker began the drive back to
Galveston. Adam was right, she concluded. She wasn't a coward. Now was the time
to play her hand. Now was the time to find out if she was holding aces or jokers.
But what if she ruined everything? What if she destroyed the beautiful
relationship that she and Walker had? What if she had only imagined his
reaction to her?

Fear
swept through her—a cold, gnawing beast eating at her hurting heart.

What
would she do with the rest of her life if he rebuffed her? One thing she was
certain of. There would be no going back to what they'd had. Once she revealed
her feelings, she was taking a step that could never be retraced. But then,
there was one other thing of which she was certain. Things couldn't go on as
they were, either. Not if she were to remain sane. Besides, wasn't it true that
if one were to succeed, one had to be willing to fail?

She
willed the cold, gnawing beast back into chains.

Twisting
her head, she peered through the darkness. Walker, his wrist nonchalantly
maneuvering the steering wheel, sat silently staring ahead. He'd said little
since leaving the hospital, and then only when she'd spoken to him.

"If
you'll stop, I'll buy us dinner."

At
the sound of Lindsey's soft-spoken voice, Walker angled his head toward her.
She sat in the corner of the car, her long legs stretched before her, her blond
hair, a mass of defiant curls, fluffed about her. It was all he could do to
look at her after the thoughts he'd had back at the hospital. He didn't deserve
to look at her. That taken into consideration, it was all he could do to keep
from pulling to the side of the road and... And what? The answer was simple.
Touching her.

Dammit,
he wanted to touch her!

In
some way.

In
any way.

Instead,
he answered in a tone that surprised even him in its normalcy, "You
hungry?"

Lindsey
smiled. "Famished. And I know you must be."

Yeah,
he thought, he was hungry. For all the wrong things.

"Is
Mexican food okay?" he asked, more gruffly than the question demanded.

"Fine,"
she answered. She'd heard the roughness in his voice and wondered at its
motivation. She'd give anything to know what was going on in his head. More
important, she'd give anything to know what was going on in his heart.

"I'm
buying, though," Walker said, adding, "and I don't want any argument
about it."

She
didn't argue.

Within
minutes, just on the outskirts of Houston, Walker spotted the restaurant he was
looking for. Gravel crunched beneath the tires as he pulled the car into the
parking lot and brought it to a stop in a slot in the second row. Silently, he
opened his door, got out and crossed around to the passenger side of the car.
He opened the door. He did not reach out his hand to her. Did he usually do so?
Yes. No. She couldn't remember, and she was heartily annoyed with herself for
looking for telling signs in every breath, in every word, in every movement he
made.

Twisting
around, she levered her feet onto the gravel. It crossed her mind that gravel
and sandals didn't mix. In particular, gravel, sandals and a fresh pedicure
didn't mix, because one didn't chip the polish one had just paid good money
for. That in mind, she cautiously picked her way toward the restaurant.

One
step here.

Another
there.

And
then an unsteady step on a large rock.

Her
ankle gave up the struggle to remain upright.

Crying
out, Lindsey reached for anything to balance herself. The something she found
was Walker. Or rather, he found her. Though he wasn't touching her—he wouldn't
allow himself to—he was attuned to her every step. When he sensed her falling,
he reacted instinctively. With one hand, he grabbed her upper arm. With the
other, he reached for her waist, encircling it with his arm. Both her hands
splayed wide against his chest.

It
all happened in seconds. She was looking up at him. He was looking down at her.
She was aware of one of her legs alongside one of his. He was aware of the
slenderness of her waist. She felt the buckle of his belt pressing into her
stomach. He felt the roundness of one breast nestled against his arm. He also
felt the beating of her heart. Just as she felt the beating of his—the battered
beating of his.

Time
slowed to a slumbering pace.

A
heartbeat. His and hers. His gaze, languid and as hot as a sleepy summer sun,
lowered to her mouth. The action had been as instinctive as reaching for her
when she was falling. In an equally instinctive way, her gaze raised to his.

Time
stopped.

Is
he going to kiss me?

Am
I going to kiss her?

Both—each—pondered
the question for what seemed like the passage of eternity. Lindsey prayed that
he
would
kiss her. Walker prayed that he wouldn't. He prayed, too, that
his soul wouldn't burn in hell because of what he was feeling. He could no
longer hide from the naked truth. He desired Lindsey. In every corner, crook
and cranny of his body, he desired his goddaughter! The realization shamed him,
excited him... angered him.

Abruptly
releasing Lindsey, he growled, "Let's eat!"

The
meal was long. As was the rest of the drive home. Lindsey wondered what Walker
was thinking. In turn, he wondered what she was thinking and if she'd known
what had gone through his mind back in the parking lot—and what pond scum she
must think him if she had.

And
yet...

As
once before, he could have sworn she was feeling the same thing. Even now, as
they neared Galveston, a thick tension lay between them. The tension huddled
like a lightning-driven rain cloud.

"I
wonder how the evening went for Mom and Dad," Lindsey said, breaking
through the stifling silence. Despite the fact she'd been preoccupied with
Walker, her parents had never been far from her mind. Nor would they be until
she'd talked some sense into their stubborn heads.

Walker
glanced over at Lindsey. Despite the confusion he was mired in, he could think clearly
enough to know that he didn't want Lindsey hurt. In fact, it was the last thing
he wanted. "Listen, h—" He'd started to call her hon, but that which
had always been so natural suddenly seemed fraught with danger. "Listen,
don't expect a—"

"I
know. I know. Don't expect a miracle."

A
miracle, however, was exactly what Lindsey allowed herself to believe in a few
minutes later. She had left her car at the office since taking it home would
have alerted her mother to the fallacy of the dinner plans. On the drive back,
Lindsey had decided to leave her car at the office overnight. That in mind,
she'd directed Walker to drop her off at her parents' house.

As
they pulled into the driveway, Lindsey noted that her mother's car wasn't
there. Nor was there a light on inside the house. Though almost ten-thirty, it
was clear that Bunny hadn't returned yet. Surely that was a good indication
that the evening had gone well. Wasn't it? Lindsey chose to believe it was. She
even chose to believe that maybe, just maybe, her mother and father were
settling their differences. Maybe even making up in true lover's fashion. Maybe
they were necking on the beach. Maybe they were snuggled up in a hotel room.
Maybe—