Breathing Room (15 page)

"And what's this 'Remember to breathe' crap?"

"It's not crap. It's a reminder to stay centered."

"Whatever that means."

"It means staying calm. Refusing to be buffeted by every gust of wind that blows your way."

"Sounds boring."

"Sometimes boring is good."

"Uh-huh." He tapped the page. "'Inspirational reading.' LikePeople? "

She let him have his fun.

"'Be impulsive.'" He arched one of those exquisite eyebrows. "That's gonna happen. And according to this schedule you should be writing now."

"I'm planning." She fiddled with the button on her blouse. He folded the list and zeroed in on her with eyes that were far too perceptive. "You don't have a clue what you're going to write about next, do you?"

"I'm starting to make notes for a new book."

"About what?"

"Overcoming personal crisis." It was the first thing that popped into her head, and it seemed a logical choice.

"You're kidding."

His expression of disbelief made her testy. "I do know something about it. In case you haven't noticed, I'm overcoming my own."

"I must have missed that part."

"That's your problem. You miss a lot."

His irritating sympathy was back. "Stop pushing so hard, Isabel. Take some time off, and don't try to force everything. Relax and have a little fun for a change."

"And how would I do that? Oh, wait, I know. By going to bed with you, right?"

"That'd be my choice, but I guess everyone has a different idea of entertainment, so you can pick your own. No, on second thought, it'll work out better for both of us if you let me do the picking."

"Time's a-wasting if you're going for that run."

He settled deeper into the chair. "You've been through a lot these past six months. Don't you think you deserve a little breathing room?"

"The IRS wiped me out. I can't afford breathing room. I have to get my career back on track so I can earn a living, and the only way I can do that is to work at it." Even as she said it, she could feel little fingernails of panic trying to dig into her.

"There's more than one way to work."

"Your suggestion would be to do it on my back, right?"

"You can get on top if you want."

She sighed.

He rose from the chair and turned toward the olive orchard. "What are Massimo and Giancarlo doing down there?"

"Something about a new sewer or a well, depending on the translation."

He yawned again. "I'm going for my run, and then we're both talking toTracy. And don't argue unless you want the untimely death of a pregnant woman and her four obnoxious kids on your conscience."

"Oh, I'm not going to argue. I wouldn't miss watching you go up in flames for the world."

He scowled at her and took off.

An hour later she was changing the sheets on her bed when she heard him return and disappear into the bathroom. She smiled and crept to the door. It wasn't long before she heard him yowl.

"I forgot to tell you," she called out sweetly. "We don't have any hot water."

*

Tracy stood in the middle of the bedroom she'd taken over. Suitcases, clothes, and assorted toys littered the floor around her. While Ren leaned against the wall frowning at both of them, Isabel began separating the dirty clothes from the clean.

"Do you see why I divorced him?"Tracylooked red-eyed and tired, but still luscious in a mulberry bathing suit and matching cover-up. Isabel wondered how it felt to have such effortless beauty. Tracy and Ren were a matched set.

"He's a cold, unfeeling son of a bitch. That's why I divorced him."

"I'm not unfeeling." Ren definitely sounded unfeeling. "But I told you, with Isabel's delicate nervous condition..."

"Do you have a delicate nervous condition, Isabel?"

"Not unless you count a major life crisis." She dropped a T-shirt into the dirty pile, then began refolding a stack of clean underwear. The children were in the kitchen with Anna and Marta, but much like Ren, they'd left signs of their presence everywhere.

"Are the kids bothering you?"Tracyasked.

"They're terrific. I'm enjoying them very much." Isabel wondered ifTracyunderstood that her children's various behavior problems were almost certainly rooted in the tension they'd picked up from their parents.

"That's not the point," Ren said. "The point is that you barged in here without any warning and—"

"Will you think about someone other than yourself for once?"Tracythrew down a GameBoy, disturbing Isabel's carefully folded pile. "I can't lock up four active children in a hotel room."

"Suite! I'll get you a suite."

"And you're my oldest friend. If a person's oldest friend won't help her when she's in trouble, who will?"

"Newer friends. Your parents. What about your cousin Petrina?"

"I've detested Petrina ever since we were debutantes. Don't you remember how she tried to hit on you? Besides, none of those people happen to be inEuroperight now."

"Which is another reason you should fly home. I'm no expert on pregnant women, but I understand they need familiar surroundings."

"Maybe in the eighteenth century."Tracymade a helpless gesture toward Isabel. "Could you recommend a good therapist? Twice I've married men with stone where their hearts should be, so I obviously need help. Although at least Ren didn't screw around on me."

Isabel moved the clothes she'd folded out of the line of fire. "Your husband's been unfaithful?"

Tracy's voice grew unsteady. "He won't admit it."

"But you think he's having an affair."

"I caught them together. A hot little Swiss miss from his office. He...hated it when I got pregnant again." She blinked hard. "This is his revenge."

Isabel felt herself developing a good solid dislike for Mr. Harry Briggs.

Tracytilted her head so that her hair fell over one shoulder. "Be reasonable, Ren. I'm not moving in here forever. I just need a few weeks to get my head together before I have to face everybody back home."

"A fewweeks? "

"The kids and I'll spend all our time at the pool. You won't even know we're here."

"Mommmmyyy!"Brittanystreaked in, naked except for purple socks. "Connor threw up!"

She shot back out again.

"Brittany Briggs, you come back here!"Tracyrushed after her, hips waddling. "Brittany!"

Ren shook his head. "It's hard to believe that's the same girl who used to throw a fit if her maid woke her beforenoon."

"She's a lot more fragile than she's letting on. That's why she's come to you. You realize, don't you, that you have to let her stay?"

"I've got to get out of here." He grabbed her arm, and she barely had time to snatch her straw hat from the bed before he pushed her out the door. "I'll buy you an espresso in town and one of those pornographic calendars you like so much."

"Tempting, but I need to start making notes for my new book. The one on overcoming personal crisis," she added.

"Trust me. Somebody who entertains herself picking up litter doesn't have the foggiest idea how to overcome crisis." He headed down the stairs. "One day you're going to admit that life's too messy to fit inside those tidy little Cornerstones of yours."

"I've seen exactly how messy life can be." She sounded defensive, but she couldn't seem to help it. "I've also seen how applying the Cornerstones can make things better. It's not just me, Ren. I have testimonials." And how pathetic did that make her sound?

"I'll bet you do. And I'm sure the Cornerstones work in a lot of situations, but they're not going to work for everybody all the time, and I don't think they're working for you right now."

"They're not working because I'm not applying them properly." She caught her bottom lip between her teeth. "I also might need to add a few new steps."

"Will you just relax?"

"Like you?"

"Don't knock it till you've tried it. At least I have a life."

"You make awful movies where you do hateful things. You have to wear disguises to go out in public. You have no wife, no family. Is that what you call having a life?"

"Well, if you're going to get picky about it." He crossed the marble floor to the front door.

"You can deflect other people with wisecracks, but it doesn't work with me."

"That's because you've forgotten how to laugh." He twisted the knob.

"Untrue. You're making me laugh right now. Ha!" The door swung open to reveal a strange man standing on the other side.

"You wife-stealing bastard," the intruder growled. And then he drew back his arm and swung.

Chapter 11

Isabel flew across the marble floor, but the man had only caught a shoulder, and Ren was already back on his feet, every muscle in his body focused on annihilation. She shot an incredulous look at his assailant. "Are youout of your mind? "

Ren made a leap for him just as the words the man had spoken sank into Isabel's brain.

"Ren, stop! Don't hit him."

He already had the man by the throat. "Give me one good reason."

"It's Harry Briggs. You can't kill him unlessTracysays so."

His grip eased, but he didn't let go, and fury still glimmered in his eyes. "Do you want to explain that punch before or after I take you apart?"

She had to give Briggs credit for standing his ground in the face of what could be a very painful death. "Where is she, you son of a bitch?"

"No place where you can touch her."

"You made her miserable once. You're not going to do it again."

"Dad!"

Ren quickly released his hold as Jeremy rushed in. The boy dropped the broken roof tile he'd been carrying and flung himself into his father's arms, the sulky expression he wore most of the time vanishing.

"Jeremy." Briggs drew him close, sinking his hands into his son's hair and closing his eyes for a moment.

Ren rubbed his shoulder and watched.

Despite the foolhardy punch he'd thrown, Harry Briggs didn't look too dangerous. He stood a few inches shorter than Ren, with a slim build and pleasant, regular features. As Isabel studied him, she sensed a neat freak like herself, except this one had fallen into a bad spell. His straight, conservatively cut brown hair hadn't been near a comb recently, and he needed a shave. Behind his wire-rimmed glasses, his eyes were tired, and he'd worn his rumpled khakis and tan polo shirt a day too long. He didn't look like a philanderer, but that wasn't exactly something you could see on a person's face. He also seemed to be one of the least likely men on earth to be married to a dazzler likeTracy.

As he rubbed his son's shoulders, she noticed a serviceable watch and a plain gold wedding band. "Have you been taking care of everybody?" he asked Jeremy.

"I guess."

"We need to talk, buddy, but I have to see your mother first."

"She's down at the pool with the brats."

Harry tilted his head toward the front door. "See if I put any dings in the car while I was driving down here, will you? There were some gravel roads."

Jeremy looked troubled. "You won't leave or anything without me, will you?"

Once again Harry touched his son's hair. "Don't worry, pal. Everything's going to be fine."

As the boy set off, Isabel noticed that Harry hadn't answered his question. When Jeremy was out of earshot, he turned his attention back to Ren, and all the softness he'd displayed to the boy vanished. "Where's the pool?"

The heat of Ren's anger seemed to have burned off, although she suspected it could reignite at any moment. "Maybe you'd better cool down first."

"Never mind. I'll find her myself." Harry stalked past them.

Ren picked up the piece of broken roof tile Jeremy had dropped, stared at it for a moment, then gave a martyr's sigh. "We can't leave him alone with her."

Isabel patted his arm. "Life's never simple."

*

Tracy saw Harry coming. Her heart did an instinctive skip-hop before it settled into the pit of her stomach. She'd known he'd show up sooner or later. She just hadn't expected him to find her so quickly.

"Daddy!"The girls came flying out of the water. Connor squealed when he spotted him, and his fat diaper bobbled from side to side as he rushed to greet his favorite person in the world, not knowing that same person hadn't wanted him to be born.

Harry somehow managed to scoop up all three. He was particular about his clothes, but not when it came to the kids, and he didn't seem to mind getting wet. The girls lavished him with sloppy kisses. Connor knocked his glasses askew.Tracy's heart ached as she watched him return their kisses and offer them the same single-minded attention he'd given her in the days when they'd still been in love.

Ren appeared. It didn't hurt to look at him the way it did to look at Harry. This older Ren was tougher and smarter than the boy who'd taught her how to smoke a joint, but he was also more cynical. She couldn't imagine how this business with Karli Swenson had affected him.

Isabel came to his side looking cool and capable in her sleeveless blouse, biscuit-colored slacks, and straw hat. Her boundless competence would have been intimidating if she weren't so kind. The kids had adored her on sight, generally a good sign of a person's character. Just like every other woman who stepped into Ren's orbit, she was fascinated by him, but unlike the others, she was fighting it.Tracygave her high marks for trying, even if she didn't stand a chance, not when Ren's desire was so obvious. In the end she wouldn't be able to resist him, which was a shame, because a fling wouldn't be enough for her. She was the kind of woman who wanted all the things Ren didn't have to give, and he'd eat her up before she realized it. Not just in a good way either.

It was less agonizing to feel sorry for Isabel than herself, but Harry was here now, and she could only hold off her pain for so long.Who are you? she wanted to ask.Where is the sweet, tender man I fell in love with?

She hoisted herself out of her chair, 158 pounds of beached whale. Fifteen more pounds and she'd outweigh her husband. "Girls, take Connor and go find Signora Anna. She said she was making cookies."

The girls clung tighter to their father and glared at her resentfully. From their point of view she was the wicked witch who'd taken them away from him. A hard, tight knot stuck in her throat.