Playing the Game (32 page)

“The game? This isn’t about games.” She thought of Lindy and the other kids at the hospital last night and marveled at how he could remain so unaffected. To hell with her composure, her poise, her cool control—to hell with the game.

“No?” mocking surprise seared his voice. He got his teeth into her sudden vulnerability and now he was going to shake her up a bit, she could see. Was she going to sit there and let him?

A new, pulsating surge spread inside her. It wasn’t something she could identify. There was no fight in it, but neither was there any shame. She had to go with it. She had to continue to show her vulnerability.

“Maybe games are overrated. Maybe it’s real life that holds all the best fun. Want to try it?” She looked at him, waiting for his response. She didn’t have a clue what it would be, but whatever it was would drive the life force running through her to the brink one way or another. She prepared herself to go around the next wild bend in this new, untried roller coaster of feelings, anxiously expecting the unexpected.

He steered the car ruthlessly toward the side of the road and pulled up, shoved the car into neutral, and turned to her. Her heart hammered.

He had his game face in place. Roxanne felt the sudden drop of the roller coaster into the pit of her stomach and it was exhilarating and sickening at the same time.

“Am I supposed to believe that you suddenly want to stop playing games and be real?” His eyes betrayed nothing of what he felt, besides mistrust. Roxanne gave up her chance to get off the ride now and jumped in again for another turn around a dangerous bend.

“Yes. I am real. I’m not a machine like you pretend to be.” She bit her lower lip, preparing herself for another big dip before letting herself go completely. “Maybe I even have feelings. For you.”

His mocking laugh rewarded her with a spine-tingling plunge into emotional depths she hadn’t seen since childhood. And this time she couldn’t stay. Even Don’s death had not left her with this feeling of despair. She had to get herself out or she’d drown. She had to fight.

Tears fell to her cheek before her fight took over. She turned her head suddenly, seeing the look of disbelief on his face. She fiercely wiped at the stinging drops.

Too late. He took her head and turned it and held her face in both hands, forcing her to look him in the eye. But this time she was ready for him. The resolve of fighting mischief and self-mocking humor would be there in her eyes to greet him.

But he hadn’t been ready. She looked in his eyes to see his game face had deserted him and with shocking clarity she saw his fear, his pride, his loneliness, all at once. The force of it almost knocked away her resolve to fight. But before she would have let go again, he registered her countenance and she could almost feel his sense of regret, as his game face slipped back into place.

“Of course you have feelings. Just like me. Somewhere in there, but strictly off-limits.” His sardonic smile came into place and he kissed her. Softly. Her resolve melted again, a little. She let the hot intimate feel of his mouth on hers take her over—really take her. She wound her fingers up through his hair, for herself, not for effect.

She knew it would all feel the same to him in the end.

“I swear if I’m late for this game I’ll have to put you off-limits.” Barry pushed himself back from her and looked at her eyes closely. It hadn’t been his imagination. Tears still stained her cheek. He reached his hand up and gently rubbed the wetness away with his thumb.

The self-possessed smile was immediately wiped from her face and she turned from him.

“Don’t pay attention to me. It’s the holidays. They always get to me and…” She stopped, seemingly unsure, looking out the window.

He couldn’t afford for her to keep talking. He’d been a fool to goad her about the game. He needed it just as much as she did. There was no sense trying for a real relationship. Was it becoming dangerous to continue seeing Roxanne Monet?

“And what?” What the hell did he ask for? He didn’t care. He turned the ignition back on. He had to get the hell out of there.

“And this investigation into Don’s death.” She turned back to him, composed but frowning.

“I thought Al had control of that situation? He told me himself your session with the police went well.” This was a safe topic at least.

“It did. But my mother-in-law and her private detective have some information that might be swaying the police otherwise.”

He raised his brow. Maybe not so safe. “Let me guess. You’re back at number one in the standings for murder suspects?”

She laughed and shook her head. “Pretty absurd. I wish Al wasn’t always so worried about it. The stories in the papers are bad enough. He gets me scared sometimes the way he talks.”

“I thought you had an alibi.”

“Ironclad.”

“So what’s the deal?”

“Can’t find him.”

“Minor detail, eh?”

“He’ll come out…”

“Who is he? A married man?” He asked half-mockingly and held his breath waiting for her answer.

“No and never mind. Forget I ever brought it up.”

“Great. If we keep it up, everything will be off-limits for discussion.”

“Suits me fine.”

“You’re right. No sense in complicating the game. From now on when we meet, it’s strictly sex and the game.” He thought of Lindy and he wasn’t sure why. Roxanne was good for her. He didn’t want to ruin that. He had to think everything with Lindy would work out okay. Or not think of it at all.

“Which game do you mean? The game of who seduces who, or the game of who can make the other forget to pretend we’re just playing games?”

“Don’t start that again.” He was startled by her frankness but didn’t allow his voice to betray him. Then he pushed himself ruthlessly into game mode and recognized her expert play.

She laughed. “Why? Are you worried?” She felt an edge that hadn’t been there before. Perching herself on that edge of the emotional precipice was turning out to be an irresistible urge when it came to Barry Dennis. He said nothing for a moment.

She thought he wasn’t going to answer.

“I suppose I should be worried. But I’m not. You have as much to lose as I do,” Barry said.

“What makes you think I haven’t already lost it?” She tried to keep calm, but her heart hammered. Her nerves tightened to a pitch that made them jump of their own volition. She watched him lick his lips as he pretended to concentrate on the road. His grip on the wheel seemed unsteady. She felt too giddy—too reckless—to keep her poise.

He flashed her a dangerous, dagger-like stare. She maintained her reckless abandon. His jaw clenched tight.

“It doesn’t matter if you’ve lost it. Not really. As long as the pretense continues. That’s what the game is all about isn’t it? You pretend you don’t care.”

She felt the shot slice through her. She choked, “You’re asking me? Maybe I’ve been playing the game so long, pretending
is
real to me now.” Her voice sounded strangled to her own ears. Her poise was gone.

“Yeah. I’m not so sure of you and your game. Maybe I ought to stick to basketball.”

“You’re conceding?” He couldn’t. He had to keep playing with her. She couldn’t let the game end. She had no other way to relate with him.

Unless she counted Lindy. But he was even more difficult and closed where his daughter was concerned.

“Is that the only way to end this game?” He looked at her and it was impossible to tell what he was thinking behind his mask of indifference.

“Afraid so.” She held her breath.

“I can’t do that. I only play to win.’

“You’ve said that before. But you’re falling behind.”

“Oh? I don’t think so.” He gave her a confident look and all of a sudden she felt as if he saw everything. He saw past the pretense. She looked away, feeling naked. She forced herself into composure, counting on her sense of cool to take control. How was it possible to keep herself wrapped so tightly and still appear to be a lively, vibrant person? How could her emotions control her, her impulses impossible to ignore on every front of her life—except this one? She couldn’t relate emotionally with men.

No more of this—not today. She remained silent, reaching forward to turn on the radio. He didn’t stop her. He could have pounced and won the game right then and there. She was convinced that he knew she was vulnerable. But he left her alone. She pondered the possibility that maybe he wasn’t so far ahead of her in the score.

Chapter 16

ROXANNE SMILED at the little girl through the plastic and felt a zing run through her at the bright smile she received in response.

“I watched the Celtics game yesterday on TV.” Lindy vibrated with excitement. “That is until Da—Paul came to bring me some presents.” She frowned.

Roxanne sat in the chair beside the BCNU tent. She reached her hand into the rubber glove that extended inside to stroke the girl’s head and was treated with another smile. No way was she going to pay attention to Al’s recommendation that she stay away. Especially not since her police interview had gone so well and they hadn’t arrested her like everyone feared.

This girl was such an innocent, wearing all her deepest emotions out in the open, exposed for all to see. How could she possibly be Barry’s daughter? But then Roxanne had to scold herself for not allowing Barry the benefit of the doubt. He’d had ample chances to lose his innocence somewhere along the way since childhood. After all, she’d lost her own when her mother died.

She welled with fresh admiration for Lindy. She lost her mother and she cried about it, often at night, according to the nurses. But most of the time she’d remained a charming, upbeat little girl.

“You can still call Paul Daddy for now, Lindy. The jury is still out on that one.”

“I want to call them both Daddy.”

“That’s a good idea. You’re a very lucky little girl to have two daddies aren’t you?” Roxanne confronted the issue rather than dance around it. The psychiatrist had advised it was the best way to handle Lindy’s family situation so there’d be no surprises. As long as she was getting enough love and attention, she wouldn’t be harmed by it—theoretically.

At least Roxanne would do her part to provide attention and as much love as she had in her for the girl. She had to admit she was impressed with Paul’s commitment to the child. She knew Barry still wondered if Lindy would be better off with Paul than himself in spite of his promise to step up.

“My mother said the same thing. She said Barry gave me my genes and Paul gave me everything else. I think genes count most don’t you? My mother said I was lucky to get such good genes and a good example too. But I’m not sure what she meant.” The little girl grimaced as she shifted uncomfortably. “It hurts a lot today, Roxanne. They did an examination on me.” She paused before continuing tentatively. “I cried a lot. It was too hard not to.”

Roxanne took Lindy’s hand and tried not to cry herself. Her heart squeezed at Lindy’s words. Struggling for a bright note, she searched her mind for a change of subject. “What did you think of your dad’s basketball game?”

“Bar—I mean Daddy—played terrible didn’t he? One of the nurses watched it with me and kept saying that everyone has an off day. But the announcers weren’t very nice saying all kinds of bad things about him. I didn’t like that. But it was fun to watch when he scored baskets.”

Roxanne was charmed by the changing expressions on the girl’s face. She laughed and nodded her head in agreement. She’d wished she hadn’t stayed for that game yesterday afternoon.

“Yeah. I know what you mean. It wasn’t a picnic to watch in person either. I didn’t have to listen to announcers, but some of the fans heckled the team.”

“What’s
heckled
mean?”

“Saying bad stuff about the players. But they have to realize those guys are people just like you and me and they can’t be great all the time, right?” Roxanne wasn’t at all sure what Lindy thought of Barry, but she wanted to be sure she got as real a picture as a kid could get about a high-visibility superstar that everyone else seemed to talk about.

“I guess so.” Then she looked at Roxanne, obviously getting ready to say something big. “Roxanne?”

“Mmm hmm?”

“Where am I going to live when I get out of the hospital? Am I going to live with Daddy or Paul?” The little girl needed reassurance and Roxanne quickly searched her mind for some kind of comforting answer to the impossible question.

“I’m not sure, honey. But what I am sure of is that you will live with someone who loves you very much, whoever it is. Okay?” Roxanne held her breath and watched Lindy’s face. It was the best she could do for an answer to that loaded question right now. Barry hadn’t been sticking to the schedule Al had set up, and Paul Paris knew it. Everyone was speculating on the subject of the custody suit these days, so she shouldn’t have been surprised to hear the question from Lindy.

“Who do you want to live with, honey?” Roxanne couldn’t resist the quiet inquiry.

“I want my mother.” Tears glistened in Lindy’s eyes as she struggled not to cry.

“It’s all right to cry, honey. I know what you mean. I wish I had my mother right now, too.” Roxanne stroked the girl’s cheek, comforting her the best she could from the wrong side of the plastic. She wished she could give the little girl a big hug, but she didn’t dare take the liberty of removing the plastic like Barry had. When she’d lost her mother she was older and she’d had Bonnie, but she could imagine the girl’s suffering. If it weren’t for those damned germs. When Lindy opened her eyes and looked up at her finally with a wan smile, she realized she had let a few tears escape too.

The nurse came in then with lunch and Roxanne prepared to feed her. Thank goodness Lindy turned the conversation to more innocuous subjects while she ate. Roxanne wasn’t sure she could survive another of the little girl’s test questions.

Lunch was nearly finished when Harry came in and walked slowly up to the pair with a furrowed brow. “Roxanne, I have to speak with you about something.”