Pretend Mom (14 page)

"And the winner is . . ."

Dixie heard the faint call of the
judges in the distance as she went down again. Keep calm. Don't
panic, she told herself. Concentrate on the beauty pageant. But
something was wrong. She wasn't surfacing this time. Her leg! A
cramp! She fought the water and came up splashing, but as soon as
she got to the bench, she went down again. Without air!

Bending in the water to massage the
cramp she suddenly realized she was out of air. Terror took hold of
her. Her leg, her lungs, the water. She had to fight—something told
her she had to fight.

It's over. This is it. This time is it!
A fever touched her mind. I'm dying, I'm drowning. I must be. Just
like Mike warned. Mike! Ever since I came home, I've been
drowning.

Just then, two strong arms were about
her, pulling her out, dragging her from the depths of a death to
which she nearly relented. Her skin crinkled at her fingertips as
she grasped the warm earth beneath her. She felt the strong hands
pushing the water from her lungs. Pushing and pushing, until it
came through her nose, her mouth—it even seemed to spout from her
ears. Was she alive or dead?

"Thank God," she finally choked just as
those same hands turned her over to meet Mike's half worried, half
smiling face.

"Took the words right out of my mouth,
sweetheart …"

CHAPTER SEVEN

Will and Tom were at Dixie's side,
grabbing her clothes while Mike carried her to his truck. He gently
placed her across the seat. She barely stirred.

"Tell your mom I'm taking her home and
putting her to bed. She'll be all right thanks to the two of you
letting me know, but, for her, the night is over." He smiled at the
boys as they placed her clothes on the floorboard of the truck and
shut the door.

"We'll come with you," Will
offered.

Mike raised a hand. "It's not necessary
for the two of you to miss out on all the fun. Besides, I'd
appreciate it if you'd look after Amanda. See that she has some
fun. Go on, I'll take care of Dixie," Mike insisted.

"Come on, Will, Mike can handle it,"
Tom encouraged his reluctant brother.

"Okay, and not to worry, we'll take
Amanda with us," Will said.

"I'll remember that, boys." Mike
chuckled, going around the truck to the driver's side. Scooting
Dixie's head up, he propped her on his arm as he slid behind the
wheel. She was dead weight.

She gave a strange sort of sigh but
never opened her eyes until the truck stopped.

Still groggy she rose up. "Where are
we?"

"I brought you home," Mike replied
quietly as he pulled her into his arms again and carried her into
the house. Her legs had been so wobbly she could barely
stand.

Dixie slumped against him like a limp
rag doll. He carried her directly to the bathroom and, after he set
her down, he ran water in the tub. "Now, take that suit off, and
get in the tub."

She didn't react much at
first.

"Or I'll take it off for
you."

***

She must have lain in the tub thirty
minutes or longer, because the water was chilly by the time Mike
called through the door to her.

"You all right in there?"

"I'm fine. I was just about to get
out."

"Well, don't take too long, I've got
hot coffee and sandwiches made," Mike informed her.

Dixie stretched, and yawned, then got
out and wrapped herself in a big, thick, baby blue robe hanging on
the back of the bathroom door. She glanced around but didn't see
Mike. Deciding he must have left, she headed for her
bedroom.

And there he sat, two trays, one on the
floor, one in his lap, and a big grin on his face as he spotted
her. God, just looking at him curled her toes. "'Bout time you got
out of there. You ought to be completely water-logged."

"Yes, I think I am. Look at this—" She
held out her wrinkled fingers.

He touched them.

"How long was I in the
bath?"

"Oh, about thirty minutes or so. I
thought it might relax you a little. Now, come on, get into bed and
have your snack," he insisted, directing her to the bed, he placed
the tray in her lap. "Coffee isn't the greatest thing in the world
when you're going to sleep, but you were out of milk and tea. I
hope it doesn't keep you awake."

"You really shouldn't have bothered.
I'm not at all a dependent person. Not any more at least. You can't
survive in New York and be dependent. But still, I'm glad you did.
I'm starved."

"No bother. I was hungry too." He shot
her a quick appraisal and added, "Besides, a smart woman knows when
to be dependent on others."

When she looked doubtful he added,
"I've been sitting at that judging booth for hours with nothing
more than Kool-Aid. Great for kids, but there's nothing like a
strong cup of coffee once and a while. Why they made me a judge,
I'll never understand. I think all women are beautiful."

"Why not? You're probably the most
eligible bachelor in town." She cast him a slight smile. "It was
nice of you to go to the trouble, and I do appreciate it, but don't
you think you better be getting back to the fairgrounds? Amanda is
probably missing you. And Janet."

"No need now, the contest is over, and
I'm in no hurry to get back. Your brothers are looking after Mandy.
She'll have more fun with them than me. In fact, I was thinking of
going home, myself. I've got a full day tomorrow."

"Tom and Will, will see that Mandy
enjoys herself, I'm sure. They kind of think of her as a little
sister, I think. She's a doll. You're very lucky, Mike." She smiled
and his gaze engulfed her. "So, who won?"

He bit into his sandwich, a frown
lining his face. "Janet."

"I thought she might," Dixie said as
she watched the instant play of emotions cross his handsome
face.

His glance swept over her like warm
butter melting over toast as he smiled. "Why did you think
that?"

Dixie gave a hoarse laugh. "Her
boyfriend was the judge. Haven't you heard?"

"No, but it sounds like you
have."

"You did bring her didn't
you?"

"What gave you that idea?"

"W…what—" she stammered. Had she stuck
her foot in her mouth? Had she been guilty of listening to gossips,
too? "I thought you came together, when I saw you
earlier."

Tawny gold eyes veiled quickly.
"Actually, she came with her mother. And she'll go home with her
mother. Now, enough about Janet. How do you feel?"

"Not too bad really." She cleared her
throat. "I'm tired and my throat hurts a little."

"Then take a big swig of your coffee,
and you'll start feeling better. I think you really need to stay
away from water for a while."

She eyed him suspiciously, then gulped
it too quickly and was stunned by the after effect it left "What
did you put in this?" Her eyes widened with surprise.

"A little Jack Daniel's that Emily
happens to keep under the kitchen sink."

She tried to laugh, but her voice
forced her into silence.

"Dear Mom. But, a little goes a long
way for me. I never learned to handle this stuff. I tried several
times, intentionally, you know, as part of growing up—but two
drinks and I'm under the table."

"That's in your favor. Hey, that voice
sounds like it's suffering more than you are. Suppose, you just lay
there and eat and drink, and I'll do the talking."

She nodded, and smiled before biting
into her sandwich.

"You should do that more
often."

"What?"

"Smile." His gaze poured over her
lazily. "Before that whiskey puts you under, tell me what happened.
I thought you were a good swimmer."

"I'm a little out of practice. I got a
cramp in my leg." She barely made the words audible.

He nodded. "A cramp will do it. I
should know." Getting to his feet, he put the tray down and came to
her side. "Which leg?"

"Oh, it's all right now, just sore,"
she explained. She raised her knees to her chest and covered them
with the sheet.

Mike pushed her legs down, and
uncovered her legs. His look was more clinical than sexy. "Which
one?"

His terrific bedside manner made her
trust him. Although, deep down, she suspected that she trusted him
from the first day they'd met, thirteen years ago. "Mike really—"
she protested, setting her tray aside.

"Stop over-reacting and tell me which
one." he insisted.

Crossing her arms over her chest she
huffed, "The right one. Are you always so pushy, or is it just
me?"

"It's just you. Now, relax and lay
back. I'm really very good at this. You'll see. I learned from a
pro several years ago. When I was playing football, I'd get a lot
of cramps, and we had a masseur that could make anyone feel better.
He was so good, in fact, that one day I asked him to show me how he
did it. He thought I was kidding but I insisted, and told him that
maybe I could help him out when he couldn't make the games. I got
pretty good at it." Mike took her leg into his hands and began to
work a special magic from knee to foot. His big fingers kneaded the
obvious knots in her leg until it began to relax.

He had no idea what he was doing to her
inside. His touch sent a silent message. While his back was to her,
she studied him. A big man, with gentle hands and a kind heart.
God, it'd be hard not to fall in love with a man like this. She
knew her mind was beginning to wander into dangerous territory.
Since she'd been home, Mike had been her knight in shining
amour.

A wave of relief rushed through her.
She became aware that something earth shattering was happening to
her. It must be the whiskey, she thought. "Oh, you are good,
Mike."

He must have worked on her leg a full
ten minutes before he finally stopped and covered it again. No
gawking at her, no flirting, he just covered her leg and sat down
again.

She was the one reading too much into
his actions.

"So, did you like playing ball?" she
asked as he sat down in the chair and continued to finish his
sandwich.

"Hmm, loved it." He bit into his
sandwich again and chewed for a moment before continuing. "Most of
the guys do, at first. Being good at something you like is
exhilarating. It's an ego trip, really. You have the best of life,
or think you do. Trouble is, you can only get so broken up and
still play. So, I retired early." His expression changed as he
spoke. Dixie thought she read regret in his features.

"Just how broken up did you get?" she
asked, ignoring the fluctuation of her hoarse voice.

"Oh the usual. A few ribs, fractured a
few bones, but when I knocked my knee out the third time, the docs
gave up trying to fix it. I knew I was through then. It took me a
little while to admit it, but it was inevitable. That's the price
you pay for making the big money, and having things your
way."

"I never noticed you limping or walking
with difficulty. Was it that bad?"

"Bad enough not to play ball anymore. I
took therapy for a couple of years afterwards. It acts up now and
then when it rains." He winked.

Her heart fluttered madly, as his
magnetism drew her in. "That's about the time your wife died, isn't
it?"

"Yeah."

"What was she like, Mike?"

"Beautiful, smart, most men's
dream."

"I'm so sorry for you and Mandy." When
he didn't elaborate any further, she asked, "Why didn't you go into
commercials or something? I'm told that's what most ball players
do. Looks like you could have made a fortune; I mean you were
making a name for yourself. I remember reading about you in the
papers."

"I made a lot of mistakes back then. I
quit school to go into the big leagues. Bad mistake." He shook his
head. "I thought I was something. I wasn't; just another jock. I
was in the big time though. Finally, the game ceased to mean much
when money was the only object."

"Sounds a little like the music
business. You go into it thinking how exciting it is to perform,
but after a while the people out there don't even look
real."

"Yeah, I know what you mean. It stopped
being fun when it became a job. When I couldn't play I went through
a depression."

"Because of your injuries?"

"No. Connie and I had a good marriage
at first, but when I retired things changed. She was used to big
money. Her parents were loaded. She wanted me to take a job with
her dad's company. I refused. Amanda was born that same year.
Things were rough. And then there was the car wreck."

"Was Amanda with you when it
happened?"

"No, she was at her
grandmother's."

"That's good."

"God, yes." He looked at her and smiled
that lopsided kind of smile that makes a woman's heart go thump. "I
don't talk about those days much."