Harlequin Superromance February 2014 - Bundle 1 of 2: His Forever Girl\Moonlight in Paris\Wife by Design (16 page)

“Have you tasted that crap?” he asked, pushing the cup back toward her.

“No,” Maggie said, trying again to get the cup in his hands. “I don't need it, but you do. It will help you feel less nauseous so you can eat. You need to eat something, sweetheart.”

“I tell you what. I'll drink it if you will.”

Maggie stared down at him, frowning for several seconds. Setting the cup down on the bedside table, she huffed, “Fine. Be right back.”

Frank smiled as she stalked toward the door, her fanny swaying, her brownish-red hair bouncing at her shoulders. If he didn't feel like barfing up the dry toast he'd struggled to get down earlier, he'd pull her into bed and remind her what she did to him every time she entered...and exited...a room.

Minutes later she returned with another steaming cup in hand. “I have mine, so let's have tea, my fine gentleman.”

“Bah, you know I ain't no gentleman. That's why you married me.”

Maggie smiled as she lifted the tea to her lips. “So I'm not into stuffy old boring by-the-book guys. You got me pegged.”

And then she took a sip.

Before spitting it right back into her cup.

“Dear God, that's terrible,” she said, coughing and setting the cup beside his on the bedside table.

Frank laughed and opened the drawer beneath the two cups. “In that case, can I interest you in a piece of chewing gum?”

Maggie laughed and that was all he needed to feel better. In fact, he should suggest it to the doc the next time he went in for the chemo—Maggie's laughter in a bottle.

Cures whatever ails you.

Now if he could just get his daughter to talk to him...and get his mother to realize he wasn't a liar.

* * *

T
ESS
JOGGED
TOWARD
the sideline of the soccer field, the whistle from her refereeing days slapping a rhythm against her sternum. They'd wrapped up practice early...not because they'd accomplished much, but because the attention span of a seven-year-old resembled that of a dog. She might as well have yelled “Squirrel!” every five seconds.

“Okay, Ladybugs, huddle up,” she shouted, beckoning the frolicking seven-year-olds toward where she stood. They tumbled over one another, giant bows bobbing as they skidded to a halt around her.

“We're so good we're going to beat everyone,” one little girl said with a fist pump.

“Yeah, the other teams are gonna eat our dust,” another one said.

“Yay!” Emily squealed, hopping around, making all the other little girls do the same thing. They looked like popcorn on acid.

Tess blew the whistle. “Okay, settle down. We still have work to do before we can take on any challengers. And, first thing first, we have to work on a team cheer.”

Ten blinking eyes met her gaze.

“We gotta have a cheer?” one asked.

“Well, sure. It's how we show unity. The other teams will know exactly who they are playing when we do our Ladybug cheer. So I'm giving you a homework assignment,” Tess said with a smile.

“Awww,” several groaned.

“Well, this is a fun homework assignment,” Tess conceded, putting her arms around the nearest girls and drawing them into a huddle. “I want all of you to go home and work on a fun little chant. Something about being red, black and not afraid of anyone.”

“Are ladybugs mean?” Emily asked, her expression growing concerned.

“Of course not, but they're tough just like we are. Can everyone do that?”

Heads nodded, bows bobbed and smiles met hers.

“You're the best coach ever,” one girl said. Tess thought her name was Piper. She needed to go over the roster and put names with faces.

“And you're the best team,” Tess said, deciding she'd missed her calling. Who cared about Mardi Gras floats when there was kids' soccer to coach? “Now everyone put your hand in. I'm going to count to three, and then we're all going to yell ‘ladybugs,' okay?”

More head bobbing.

“1-2-3—”

“Ladybugs!” they all screamed.

The team broke and scampered toward their parents sitting in the collapsible stands, and Tess walked to where Graham stood cleaning up the paper cups around the cooler he'd brought.

“Good practice,” he said looking up. He wore athletic shorts and a T-shirt that skimmed his toned stomach. He was totally drool-worthy, but Tess pretended he had a wart on his nose and hair growing out of his ears. No noticing his thighs with the sprinkling of hair. No ogling the smooth tanned nape of his neck. No thinking about licking those abs.

Nope.

Not at all.

“Yes, they did better today.”

“You're really good with them,” he said, squinting against the sun. “I'm glad you volunteered to help.”

A warmth blossomed inside her. She shrugged it off. “I'm not the best, but I'm better than poor Jim.”

The both turned and looked at Jim who waved at them from the top of the bleachers. He had his leg propped up and looked relaxed in his new job of team manager.

“Seriously, Tess, thanks for doing this.”

“Surprisingly, I like it.”

Emily came galloping over. “Guess what?”

“What?” Both she and Graham said in unison.

“Kathryn is inviting me to her birthday party. We're going to ride ponies!”

“Cool,” Tess said, offering the child a high five.

Out of the corner of her eye, Tess spotted Monique charging across the field in her wrap dress and metallic strappy sandals. Her oversize sunglasses covered most of her face, but she smiled at Emily as she approached them.

“Mom!” Emily shouted, kicking it into high gear to reach her mother. Monique caught Emily's shoulders before she bulldozed her over. “You came to practice...but it's already over. You shoulda seen me. I kicked the ball good today. I'm pretty awesome at this soccer stuff.”

“Good, sweetie,” Monique said, heading toward where Tess stood with Graham. Tess couldn't see her boss's eyes, but she had the feeling they carefully studied her and Graham, weighing, measuring...perhaps even suspecting. Especially after Tess admitted having his cell phone number. “Tess, what are you doing here, and why are you wearing a whistle? Are you coaching the team?”

“I told you I volunteered to help Jim. I brought Emily to practice, remember?” Hmm...what was Monique's game? Or maybe she had ADD and hadn't really listened when Tess had told her.

“Oh, of course,” Monique said, propping her glasses on her head and glancing at Graham. It wasn't a possessive glance though it was familiar. “And you're helping, too?”

Graham nodded. “Jim needed it.”

Monique looked over at Jim before shifting her attention back on her ex. “I'm sure it's nice for Emily to have her father so involved in her everyday life. Finally.”

Monique's words should have been complimentary, but they sounded anything but. A sudden wave of dislike flooded Tess. The woman liked making Graham feel guilty for the years he'd been in Houston, and that seemed such a petty thing to do in front of their daughter. In front of Tess.

“Yeah,” he said, smiling at his daughter, who came and nestled herself against his side. He wound an arm about her shoulders, squeezing her to him. “I'm happy to help the Lake End Ladybugs get ready to win the championship.”

Emily giggled.

“You shouldn't get her hopes up,” Monique said.

“Why not shoot for the stars? Right, Em?” Graham patted his daughter's back and gave Monique a sharp look.

“Yeah, you should have seen us practice. We're good,” Emily said, nodding at Tess. Tess smiled back, affirming the girl, though she wasn't so sure they could win a game, much less the championship.

“Time to go, Emily. Tell your father bye. Tess, too,” Monique said, suspicion tight around her mouth. Maybe she didn't suspect a physical thing with Graham as much as she suspected he might try to mine tidbits about Upstart. Tess hadn't thought how it might look from a business standpoint to be coaching soccer with Graham...Upstart's rival.

Jeez. They were a Maury Povich show waiting to happen.

Emily gave each of them a hug and even jogged over to Jim and bestowed one on him. Seemed like Graham was right—a little fresh air and exercise brought out the best in his daughter.

Seconds later, Tess stood with Graham, watching Emily and Monique stride ahead of Jim who hobbled behind them toward the parking lot.

Graham lifted the cooler off the bleacher and tucked it under his arm, looping the plastic garbage bag over his arm. “Sorry about Monique. She's good at popping bubbles. I'm trying to get her to look at the bright side with Emily, let the kid dream a little.”

“You don't have to apologize for Monique,” Tess said, picking up her clipboard, falling into step beside him.

He cocked his head. “You're right. I'm sure you've learned quickly who she is.”

Yeah, she had. Tess respected Monique's drive and business smarts, but she would have likely never been friends with the woman. There was something hard about Monique, something that told Tess when push came to shove she couldn't rely on her boss to have her back. Very different from the way she'd felt at Ullo. Of course, maybe that's because her daddy was her boss and she'd always known she was safe. She didn't want to talk about Monique with Graham, so she changed the subject. “Are you going to the Oedipus thing tomorrow night?”

He slid blue eyes over to hers. “Of course. They're one of our biggest accounts.”

Tess lifted her eyebrows. “Oh, you sure about that?”

“As sure as it gets.”

“Mmm,” came Tess's response.

Graham stopped. “You love this, don't you?”

“What?” she asked turning around. “I'm making conversation. It's what friends do.”

“No, you're protecting yourself by playing a little game between Ullo and Upstart. Keeps you from feeling anything, keeps you from wanting me.”

“Why, you egotistical—” Tess whipped her head around to find him grinning at her. “I'm not playing games, Graham, merely giving you a heads-up in regards to Miles. Monique had drinks with him Tuesday night—that's why I brought Emily to soccer. So don't accuse me of games when I'm being more than nice to warn you.”

“And why would you do that?” His face grew serious.

“Huh?”

“Warn me?”

Tess stopped midstride. She spun toward him, mouth open. But...she didn't know what to say. Why was she warning him? She had no business saying anything about Upstart's plans for Oedipus, or the fact Monique had pulled out all the stops to tear the lucrative account from the hands of the new Ullo CEO. Was he right? Was she needling him to keep herself from falling prey to the attraction between them, or did she subconsciously want to help the company she'd loved for so long? Or maybe she felt like she should rub his nose in Upstart's success, proving she was loyal to Monique. Her actions and emotions mystified her. It was as if she were in a house of mirrors, her image stretched and distorted at every turn.

Graham studied her, his expression not what she was accustomed to. No soft blue eyes full of sympathy or alight with passion. Instead he looked intrigued. It was a good look on him—made him intense and somehow even more desirable. This man who had hurt her now stood ready to protect her father and the company he'd built with sweat and tears. It should have pissed her off, but instead, something inside stilled at the thought.

“Just wanted you to know what you're up against,” she muttered, moving toward her Prius, wanting to escape Graham examining her every motive.

“I thought at first this was about inserting something between us so you didn't jump my bones and have your wicked way with me in the parking lot,” Graham said, trailing behind her, seemingly unwilling to let the conversation die.

She wrinkled her nose. “As if.”

“But that's not it. You can't help it, can you?”

“Help what?” She faced him, chin up. No way she backed down, even if she longed to get in her car and escape...just the way she had two nights ago. Sticking her head in the sand had become a strategy. Ask her father. She couldn't seem to dial the number and return his two phone calls. Not like she hadn't tried. She just didn't know what to say to him yet.

She needed time, but that had been her excuse all along. Time. Maybe it would run out before she was ready.

“You left your heart at Ullo.”

No shit, Sherlock. Of course she had left her heart at Ullo, but that didn't mean she hadn't tried to move on. She'd spent the past weeks since she'd signed the contract with Monique putting her all into designing brilliant floats for Upstart. She had stuff that was going to blow Miles Barrow's mind for the Oedipus floats...if Monique submitted it. Anger and hurt tied to her pride were good motivators and she'd created some of her best work over the past few weeks.

And it should have been for the company that carries your name.

At that thought, anger flooded her. He didn't have to be so smug, questioning her loyalty to her new job...even if it was partly true. “My allegiance is to the person writing my paycheck. When Upstart does well, I do well. Tomorrow night I'll prove to Miles and Oedipus that Upstart can and will build their floats in 2016. And they will be the most stunning, beautiful and cost-effective floats in the history of parading.”

“So you think Upstart will replace Ullo as their go-to floatmaker?” Graham said, his eyes flashing beneath the parking lot light blinking on. No more smiles. Game on.

“Every dog has its day. Upstart has been whittling away Ullo's business for the past two years. I've already brought in the captain of Thor, and Stacy Reynolds just gave us all of the floats for Rhea. We're almost too busy...but not for Oedipus, of course. That parade would be icing on the very large cake we'll be serving.” Tess turned and unlocked her car, the beep-beep punctuating her declaration.