A Mother's Heart (12 page)

“I know.” Clara stopped opposite a particularly full forsythia bush. “So pretty. I’d love to grow these, but I don’t get enough sun. I can’t bear to cut down my trees, though.”

“No, they protect the house.”

“They do, don’t they. He’s still in love with you now.”

She actually gasped, the shock and thrill were that heady. “That’s crazy. We haven’t seen each other in—”

“Oh, but true love never dies. Didn’t you know that?”

“I…well, I mean…” True love? Did people really think that existed anywhere except in fairy tales and people’s fevered imaginations? “I don’t think…He broke up with me. Poof, his feelings changed.”

“Look, a robin. They’re so cheering, aren’t they?”

Used to Clara careening around subjects by now, Maggie watched it hop across a lawn, cock its head and dart to snag a worm. Life must be so blessedly uncomplicated when your brain was the size of a grape. “Did…Grant talk about me with you?”

Clara picked up a stick and threw it for Wobbles, who dashed off in ecstasy and brought it back, dropping it hopefully at her feet. “No, of course not.”

“Ah.” Maggie murmured a short prayer of relief. Clara was just painting an overly romantic picture of her own.

“But I have eyes. And he only has them for you.”

“Well, we haven’t seen each other in…it’s natural that he…we have some history that…”

Clara chuckled and put her hand on Maggie’s arm. “Don’t fight it so hard. Just let it be what it is.”

“Let what be what
what
is?”

“He’s still in love with you. Accept it.”

“How can you—”

“And no one’s forcing you.”

She was becoming truly exasperated. “To what?”

“Admit you still love him, too.”

Maggie’s mouth opened and she sputtered several times before she could get any words out. “Clara, I saw him for a total of what, two hours? After ten years?”

“If you insist. Oh look.” Clara pointed off down the street.

Maggie didn’t even look. She was really very close to done with this woman. Whatever connection she thought they’d established over their similar weaknesses years and years ago for a certain type of man had been thoroughly ruptured over this latest silliness. Grant in love with her? She in love with him? They didn’t even know each other anymore. How could Clara possibly—

“It
is
Grant.” Clara’s happy voice broke into Maggie’s internal rant. “I thought I recognized his car, didn’t you?”

“Not really.” Since she’d never seen it before.

Grant’s arm waved out of the window of his green Prius, and his handsome head and shoulders leaned out as he slowed to a stop next to them. Maggie’s heart went for a world-record tap dance, and a blush burned up her cheeks.

Great. Clara would notice with her sharp artist’s eye and have a field day. And yes, in fact, she’d just glanced at Maggie and was now smiling smugly. Even Wobbles had on a told-you-so smirk.

Honestly.

“Hello there.” Grant’s eyes were only on Maggie’s, and hers didn’t seem to want to move away, either. “I left work early and thought I’d swing by, see if you were ready to go now.”

“I—”

“She’s ready. We were just finishing a nice walk.”

Maggie sighed. Apparently she was not going to be allowed to answer the question herself.

“I’ll turn the car around. Clara, do you want to join us?”

“Oh, no, no. Wobbles and I have some painting to do, don’t we, Wobbles?”

Wobbles barked his agreement.

“Have fun!” Clara turned back toward the house, but not before she sent Grant a conspiratorial wink that had Maggie instantly suspicious. What were the two of them plotting?

“Ready?” Grant leaned over and shoved open the passenger side door, a gesture so familiar she got a lump in her throat. In high school he’d gotten out to open the door of his beaten-up, adored 1974 Dodge Dart until she’d told him she was perfectly capable of opening it herself. They’d compromised this way.

Did he get out and open the door for other women now? The idea hit her strangely, and she scoffed at herself. She’d moved on to other relationships; of course it was natural he would, too.

“I’m ready.” She got in and buckled her seat belt. It felt strangely intimate to be in a car with him again. How often had they driven around Princeton, mostly at night after parties or dates? It seemed hard to imagine now that there had been any part of PDS that hadn’t involved him, though he hadn’t come until junior year. Everyone had wanted to know him, one of the few new kids in a school whose student body was small and mostly static year after year. She’d been so thrilled when he singled her out.

“How are you getting along with Clara?”

“Oh, fine. Fine. She’s great.” In spite of her effort to put enthusiasm in the words, she caught his glance. “Apparently we were both once attracted to wild men. I guess my father was like you as a teenager.”

“Hmm.” He looked over at her again; she kept her eyes on the road. “How about after me? What type did you date?”

“No one like you.”

“Learned your lesson?”

“Guess so.” She didn’t add that she’d been attracted to pretty much every guy who reminded her of Grant, but few of them stayed around long enough to count as “dating” and none of them had his brains nor his hidden sweetness. “How about you? A string of ‘good girls?’”

“Not a string. A few. Apparently I have a taste for them. You set the bar.” He stopped at a light and took her hand, squeezing her fingers. She wanted to pull away, at the same time couldn’t bear to lose the contact. And then she made the mistake of turning to look at him, and her cooled-off blush went hot enough to cook eggs on her face. His eyes were so damn intense; she hadn’t forgotten, but she’d underestimated how vulnerable she’d still be. “Since we’re early for lunch I thought I’d drive you around and see some favorite haunts. Sound good?”

“I’d love it.”

He took her first to her old house on Cleveland Lane, and they sat parked across the street while she marveled she’d ever lived in anything so enormous. Until you became a citizen of a larger world, you knew only the world around you. Hers had been a six-bedroom, thousands-of-square-feet house with a pool and tennis court.

“Hey, Maggie.” His warm voice made her dangerously fuzzy. “Remember when you snuck out at midnight and we went skinny dipping?”

“How could I forget?” She unbuckled her belt to face the house more fully.

They’d been having an erotically charged swim, tangled together kissing, when a huge—well it seemed huge at the time—frog had taken a leap toward the water
and landed on Maggie’s shoulder. She’d been so startled she’d screamed. Her parents had heard and charged out for the big rescue. “I thought my father was going to shoot you.”

“Not as much as I did.” He leaned close behind her to see out her window. “I think I broke laws of physics getting out of that pool.”

Maggie giggled madly. “I’ve never seen anyone move that fast. It took me hours to convince them I wasn’t screaming because of anything you did.”

“They hated me anyway.”

“No.” She turned to him, minding and not minding that he was so close. “They didn’t.”

“Come on, Maggie…” He gave her a be-serious look.

“They liked you, Grant. They just…” She gestured toward the house. “They wanted someone for me who was exactly like them. It’s their world, it’s all they know. They didn’t understand. I don’t blame them, not really. They never forbid me to see you. And when you broke my heart, they were actually—”

“Relieved.”

She smacked his shoulder playfully. “Not relieved.”

“Come on, Maggie.” The be-serious look got a comic repeat.

“Okay, okay, maybe on some level. But they were careful not to let me see it. They were very sweet to me. I remember Mom bringing me hot milk one night when I couldn’t sleep. She sat with me, stroking my hair, got me tissues and told me men weren’t worth it. It was actually one of my best memories of growing up with her.”

“Well, see? You have me to thank.”

She laughed, then sobered, staring back at the house, white and stately, guarded by ancient oaks, one of which still bore the inscription Maggie and Grant
Forever, and softened by bushes glowing green in the morning sun.

“I wonder how life would have been different if I’d grown up on Mount Lucas with Clara.”

“Hard to say.”

“If I grew up the way I am now, we would have driven each other crazy.”

“Maybe. Or maybe you would have complemented each other.” He grinned and touched her cheek, let his fingers rest there. “Like we did. You kept me relatively sane and out of jail and I tried to shake you out of your perfect tidy world and into some messy fun.”

She whistled silently, trying for comic effect and to deny the effect his touch was having on her. “You certainly did that.”

“It was great, Maggie.” His hand cupped the back of her neck. He leaned closer, pulling her toward him. “It was the best.”

If she didn’t do something
right now,
then he was going to kiss her again, and if he kissed her again, she was going to want him to convince her to take off her clothes right here in his car, the way he used to be able to in high school. Only it was even more of a bad idea now, because thinking over the good times, being back here at her house where they’d spent so much time together, had her feeling even more vulnerable to him than she had before. And then what? They had a hot and heavy week, then she said hey, bye, went back to her life and had to get over him again?

The problem was that none of that seemed to matter when he was so close and his mouth was in the process of matching hers in that perfect, perfect way it always had.

“Please. Grant.” Somehow she got the strength to pull away. “Let’s keep things platonic this week.”

“That means you’ll kiss me next week?”

“I don’t want to start anything. There’s nowhere it could go.”

His eyebrows went up. “I’ve got a couple of ideas.”

“No.” She’d had to look away before she could make herself sound as if she meant it. “No. It’s not a good idea to get involved.”

“Okay.” He started the engine and pulled slowly away. “If that’s what you want.”

“It is.” She buckled her seat belt, glancing back at the house she grew up in one more time, terribly afraid that she was lying through her teeth.

“D
ESSERT
?” Grant glanced at the unfinished hamburger on Maggie’s plate, the barely picked-at salad. She’d ordered with such enthusiasm, oh, she was starving, oh, she hadn’t had a burger in so long. Then she barely ate enough to keep a squirrel going. No, she didn’t want a beer midday, even though Triumph Brewing Company brewed its excellent beer on-site. Beer made her sleepy.

So what if she got sleepy? What did she have to do?

Oh, she wanted to go back and help Clara clean.
Clean? That’s
what she wanted to do?

He was worried about her.

“No dessert, thank you.” Maggie patted her stomach. “I don’t think I could fit anything more in.”

“Really.” He resisted rolling his eyes. “Well, I could.”

He flagged their waiter, wanting to give Maggie a figurative shake. Where was the daring spontaneous girl he’d been so crazy about? He hated to think her parents’ conditioning had taken over so completely. Had he been the only one who knew her shadow side and could bring it out? Since then, it seemed she’d gone over completely to the light side.

“Yes sir.” The attentive server came right to their booth.

“Dessert?” He was not going to sit here and watch her starve herself, either of food or of life.

“Certainly.” The waiter recited the list while Grant watched Maggie’s face. When Chocolate Mousse Indulgence Cake was mentioned, her lips parted and her eyes went glassy, a distant relation to how she looked when she was aroused, which he better stop thinking about or he’d have to adjust his pants.

“That cake. Is it a large piece?”

“Enough for an army.”

“Perfect. I’ll have that. With vanilla ice cream. Two forks. And two coffee-and-cream stouts.”

“Excellent. Coming right up.”

“Um.” Maggie narrowed her eyes. “Grant.”

He grinned innocently. “Yes, Maggie?”

“Why are you ordering dessert and beer? For two?”

“Because we’re going to toast our past, and doing that with water is depressing.”

“Yes, but I said I didn’t—”

“I know.” He took out his cell and dialed his office, ignoring her annoyance because no serious protests accompanied it. “Hi, Susan. I won’t be back to the office this afternoon. Anything important going on?”

His efficient assistant gave him exactly the answer he hoped for. Nothing they couldn’t handle.

“See you tomorrow.” He put the phone back into his pocket, thinking he hadn’t played hooky in far too long.

“What are you doing?”

“Kidnapping you.”

“Ah.” Her eyebrows rose cynically. “Really.”

“Really.” He leaned forward, wishing there wasn’t a table between them. “First I’m going to get you high on sugar and buzzed on beer.”

Her eyes skittered to one side then back to his. “I see.”

“Then, Maggie…” He focused on the smooth pale skin of her throat. Then the rose shade of her mouth.
Finally the bright, bright blue of her eyes. “I’m going to take you somewhere I bet you haven’t been in far too long.”

“Hmm.” She tried to look cool but a flush was creeping up her cheeks and she started playing with her watch. He was getting to her. Which was a good thing because she was getting to him. As if no time had passed since they’d been together as almost-lovers, so alike under their obvious differences. “Where is that?”

“Bowling.”

Startled laughter. “Bowling.”

“Yup.” Energy rose, a pure clean shot of adrenaline that had nothing to do with overload or stress. “And we’ll rent kayaks and paddle the mighty Delaware and Raritan Canal.”

“Ah-ha.” She pinched her lips together.

“And…” He tried to gauge her mood, hoping she wouldn’t put up a real fight, hoping the Maggie he knew wasn’t that far gone. “We’ll have dinner at Ajihei if you like Japanese. Then back to my place to talk until we fall asleep. In the morning I’ll take you to Pj’s Pancake House for—”

“Excuse me.”

“Yes?” He faked surprise at the interruption. “You had a question?”

“Do I get a say in any of this?”

“Since when do kidnap victims get a say?”

“Chocolate mousse cake. Two forks.” The waiter put a slab of cake down in the center of the table that could feed four people. “And two coffee-and-cream stouts.”

“Thank you.” Grant nodded to him, still mainlining adrenaline. He hadn’t been bowling in a long time, either. Or kayaking, for that matter. He hadn’t done much besides work out, go to the office and attend the same social events with the same circle. Who was he to criticize her life? He held up the black, foamy beer. “Here’s to our afternoon.”

Maggie looked down at the mountain of chocolate cake. “I was going to talk to you about us spending less time together, not more. I’m here this week to see Clara.”

“Clara wants nothing more than to see us married and living next door.”

“She—” Her horror broke the cake’s hold on her gaze. He winked at her, then couldn’t look away. Desire rose, sharp and hot.

He put down his beer and loaded a fork with mousse cake and as much ice cream as he could fit without toppling the whole thing over. “Open your mouth.”

She glanced at the cake, then at him. Her mouth opened, she leaned forward; he could see the shadow between her breasts. Feeding her cake became less about making her lose control and more about fear he would. To hell with talking; he wanted this night to end tangled and sweaty in his bed, the way he’d fantasized about too many times in the years since he’d booted her from his life.

The cake went in; her lips closed around the fork. He came
this close
to saying forget bowling, forget the kayaks, he was going to drag her back to his place.

“Good?” His voice barely emerged.

“Mmm.” She closed her eyes and chewed slowly.

Torture. Profound torture. He reached toward the cake, afraid he was more under her spell than she was under his. “More?”

“No.” She picked up her own fork and loaded on a bite as impressively large as the one he’d just fed her. “Your turn.”

The cake was moist and rich, the mousse creamy and bittersweet, the ice cream pure vanilla heaven. He savored it slowly, enjoying the way she watched him, color high, a tiny smudge of chocolate on her lower lip.

“Cheers.” He held up his beer; their glasses clinked together; they took simultaneous sips. The sweet coffee and roasted malt flavor spread over his tongue.

“Cheers, Grant.” She smiled, took another sip, forked up more cake and ice cream for herself this time.

What had changed? He didn’t dare question. But some resistance had given way, and he felt like a goofy kid in puppy love. If anyone had asked him yesterday how his life was going, he would have said he had it all. Now it seemed the definition of
all
had changed. And he didn’t want to follow that thought any further because it scared the hell out of him.

Between them they finished the entire cake, downed the glasses of stout and emerged into the still-early sunshine of the day, pleasantly buzzed, laughing over a story they’d dug up about the time they’d come home late from a party and had to get Maggie to bed without waking her parents. Somehow he’d gotten a ladder out and up to her window silently enough for success.

He didn’t tell her, and he’d forgotten until she brought up the memory, that standing on the ground, watching her gorgeous rear and fabulous legs disappearing inside, then her beautiful head reappearing, waving and whispering good-night between breathless giggles, he’d been swept away by teenage passion and had wanted to ask her to elope with him out that same window, down that same ladder, right then.

Crazy idea; he’d recognized that right away. She was home in one of the six bedrooms in her house, and he’d be offering her half of the pullout couch in his mom’s living room. No college plans for him back then, no plans at all besides get through each day, smoke, drink and feel good. That night he’d still struggled against the truth, but looking back he could see the seed had been planted
then, the knowledge that he had to let her go. Maggie and Grant would not be forever.

“So what is it, Mr. Kidnapper? Kayaking or bowling first?”

“Kayaking.” He took her arm and kept her close to him. “Cooperate and no harm will come to you.”

They rented boats at Princeton Canoe and Kayak and paddled leisurely up the tree-lined Delaware and Raritan Canal, which flowed lazily through rural Princeton, then slid into Lake Carnegie.

The weather was perfect, sunny, warm, the trees proudly waving newly leafing branches, showing off their return to green. But the best part of the trip from Grant’s perspective was watching Maggie’s original purposeful pace relax as the scenery and their conversation distracted her. In the middle of the small lake, she was even content to drift.

Score one for Grant.

By the time they turned the kayaks over to the rental agent, Maggie was sexy and windblown, cheeks pink from sun, eyes heavy-lidded with fatigue. To his surprise and vague discomfort, more than wanting to make love to her, he wanted to curl up with her for a nap. Fine if she brought out the animal in him, but he wasn’t anxious to set his heart up for any more pain where Maggie was concerned.

“Hey.” He put his arm around her, intending a brief hug as they walked toward his car. When she didn’t resist, his arm decided to stay. “Sleepy?”

“Oh, maybe a little. All this fresh air…”

“They don’t have fresh air in Chicago?”

She giggled softly. “I don’t get out in it as much as I should. Cities, you know how it is.”

“Doesn’t sound too healthy to me.”

“I suppose not.”

He was pleased she didn’t put up a fight. Either she
was getting closer to seeing his point about slowing down—or she was just too tired to take him on. She was definitely too tired to watch where she was going. “My car’s here.”

“D’oh!” She got in and buckled herself, yawning. “Bowling now?”

“Soon.” He started the engine.

“Somewhere else first?”

“You’ll see.”

She smiled and settled back into the seat, lids lowering and raising slowly, as if she was dying to give in to sleep. He took Alexander to Mercer down to Lover’s Lane, then turned in to Marquand Park. The last time they’d been here, he’d said goodbye.

“Oh, the memories.” Her voice sharpened.

“Time to make new ones.” He got out and retrieved the blanket he kept in the trunk for unexpectedly chilly evenings, impromptu picnics, extra cover on camping trips and, ahem, yes, in case he was “entertaining.”

Sad to say the blanket had been cleaned and returned to the trunk a long time ago.

“Ah, the infamous Conroy bedding.”

He ignored the smirk in her voice. “You benefitted many times.”

“Yes.” She didn’t seem to be able to look at him. “I did.”

“New memories.” He took her hand, led her toward his favorite tree, which had a huge branch grown nearly horizontal, on which they’d sat, legs dangling, many times and talked and talked—he’d never met anyone before Maggie who’d made him feel so worth listening to.

“Nap time.” He spread the blanket nearby, under a large spruce.

“Just a nap?” Her suspicious tone raised a big red flag.

“If I wanted to seduce you, Maggie, I’d wait until
tonight when we’re at my place with a real bed available and all the privacy we never used to have.”

She still didn’t look at him. “Is that the goal of this afternoon?”

“No.” He was able to speak sincerely, but not for the reasons she might think. “This afternoon is a chance to get to know each other again and have fun in the process.”

“Okay.” She dared a glance up at him and for a crazy second he thought she looked disappointed. “Okay.”

“So…” He sat on the familiar soft plaid wool and patted a spot respectably far away. “You look as tired as I feel.”

She nodded and yawned as she sat next to him, closer than the spot he’d indicated, which put his noble intentions in a fair amount of jeopardy.

“This is nice.” She lay down and stared up into the gently waving branches of the evergreen above them. “Thank you.”

“Sure.” He couldn’t say much more. The sight of her, limp with fatigue, dark lashes drawn down to her cheek as if they had weights on them, made an impression on his heart as if it were burned on there. Maybe it always had been. He put his arm around her; she nestled her head into his shoulder and he held her as her breathing slowed and became regular, as the blood left his arm and pins and needles took its place. He’d lose a limb if that’s what it took to be able to watch her sleeping, to feel her body so near again.

Finally he had to close his eyes himself or he was going to kiss her soft mouth and tell her he loved her, that he’d never stopped loving her and that odds were he never would stop loving her; he’d beg her to move to Princeton, share his bed, share his house, share his life.

He took a deep breath.
Slow down, Grant.
This was about memories of old, old feelings that had blossomed in
his youth, when he and Maggie were different people heading for different lives than the ones they had now. He needed to send his overly romantic heart a strong dose of reality.

She made a small sound and snuggled closer, her head slipping off his shoulder so blood started flowing mercifully into his fingers again. He couldn’t resist, curled his arm around her back, rested his chin against her hair, and let his body relax into the sweet smell of the pine and grass, the periodic caress of the breeze…

Who knew how much later, he opened his eyes to find her next to him. Waking up to Maggie. He had to shut down his next thought, which was about wanting to wake up to her tomorrow morning, too, and the next, and the next, as long as she was here. Maybe instead of indulging the excitement and lust they generated together, he should drop her back at Clara’s after dinner. He hadn’t counted on feeling vulnerable to this woman ever again. In fact, he’d sworn after high school that he never would.

“Hey.” She moved to roll onto one elbow and winced, hunching her shoulder toward her ear.

“Let me help.” He jumped on the excuse, masochist that he was, and pulled her close so he could massage the stiff muscles.