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Authors: Pat Warren

Stand-In Father (Intimate Moments) (20 page)

BOOK: Stand-In Father (Intimate Moments)
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Cursing uncharacteristically under his breath, he turned from her, gulping air. He needed some breathing room, some time and space. “I’ve got to go,” he said, his voice thick.
“Yes, so do I.”
Alex ran a shaky hand through his hair. “No, I mean I’ve got to go back. To San Diego. My father needs me at the office.” The lie rolled off his tongue easily. He ground his teeth, wondering when he’d lost all manner of conscience. But he couldn’t keep doing this to her. It was too unfair.
She wouldn’t cry, Megan told herself. Not now, not yet. “Oh, I see. All right.” With trembling hands, she straightened her clothes, smoothed her hair.
Like a man coming off a binge, he took two heavy steps toward the door. “In the morning.”
“Yes, okay. I’ll have your bill ready.” With dry eyes, she watched him go inside, heard the back door click shut. Strolling to the big tree, she leaned against it and gazed up at a half-moon playing hide-and-seek with the clouds.
There’d be plenty of time to cry later, plenty of time to face yet another hard fact—that despite what had just happened between them, Alex, like Neal, didn’t care enough to stay.
 
At six in the morning when Megan came downstairs, she found two envelopes on the kitchen table. In one, there were ten hundred-dollar bills and a note scribbled on the back of his business card asking her to send him a bill if he’d shorted her. The other envelope was addressed to Ryan.
Walking to the front door, she drew in a bracing breath before swinging it open. Alex’s Porsche wasn’t in the parking lot.
 
Mixed signals. He’d been sending her mixed signals, Alex admitted to himself as he sat at his desk at Shephard Construction, no more able to concentrate on the work in front of him than he had in Twin Oaks. Because of Megan Delaney.
He’d been back three days and nothing seemed to help. He swiveled in his chair, then rose and walked to the bank of windows. The same sailboats he’d noticed yesterday and the day before were out on the water below, skimming along, the people aboard enjoying the warm May morning. The day after his return, he’d taken the
Black Sheep
out for a trial run with Mitch. He’d been determined to have a good time, to forget about everything pertaining to the past couple of weeks, to recapture his carefree way of life.
Only it hadn’t worked. He’d held the rudder in his hands, felt the welcome salt spray, turned his face up to a bright California sun. It had been a perfect day for sailing. Mitch had brought along a cooler filled with chicken sandwiches and beer. The same sort of setup they’d enjoyed on many a lazy afternoon in the past.
Yet Alex had been distracted, his mind so occupied with other thoughts that twice Mitch had had to poke him to get his attention. Finally, when they’d reached Catalina Island, they’d thrown a blanket on the sand and Alex had poured out his story.
It wasn’t a pretty one. But then, deception never was.
“Why didn’t you tell her?” Mitch had asked. “I mean, in all that time, surely you had an opportunity.”
“I don’t know,” he’d answered.
“So now that you’ve gotten her bills paid up and even stopped to order a dryer for her, you feel better? You don’t need to go back?”
“I didn’t say that,” he’d answered enigmatically.
Mitch had scrunched up his beer can and tossed it into the trash receptacle, then zeroed in. “Sounds to me like you’re hooked, buddy.”
“What do you mean?” he’d demanded to know.
“You know, as in hook, line and sinker. As in over the top. As in in love with the woman.”
Alex had nearly spilled his own beer hearing that. “You’re crazy. I’m attracted, that’s all. That’s it. She’s a beautiful woman, and I’m a normal guy. Who wouldn’t want her? And I’ll even admit that the boy’s terrific. But love? Hey, man, you know that scene’s not for me.” He was certain he’d sounded convincing.
Until he’d looked at his friend.
“Uh-huh,” Mitch had said, eyes narrowed, mouth curled in disbelief. “Well, that’s good. Because love can’t be based on a deception.”
Alex watched the boat with the bright yellow sail nearly topple over in a strong breeze, then finally right itself. After lunch and their disturbing conversation, they’d sailed back to the marina. Mitch had droned on about things at the office and several anecdotes about his family. Alex had half listened, all the while mulling over Mitch’s earlier words.
Love can’t be based on a deception.
Of course not. Even if love wasn’t a consideration, friendship couldn’t be based on a lie, either. So what was his relationship with Megan Delaney?
I don’t know what you want from me,
she’d said. The way he’d pulled her into the kiss had surely told her that a physical relationship was what he wanted. Yet he’d acted insulted when she’d accused him of wanting only that. He had in fact defended himself vigorously.
How could she know what he wanted when he sent her all those mixed signals? Thrusting his hands deep into the pockets of his slacks, Alex frowned as he gazed out the window. Instead of the calm ocean scene, he saw Megan’s face, those sky blue eyes, that hesitant smile, that wonderful dimple in her chin. He pictured the way she looked when she gazed into her son’s face and the stunned passion reflected in her eyes after he kissed her.
The thing was, Alex thought as he strolled back to his desk, he wasn’t an ambivalent person. From an early age, he’d known what he wanted to do, to be. True, he’d been sidelined by Cynthia, making a young man’s error in believing that she felt as he did, that life was meant to be lived full tilt. No one had been more shocked than him when she’d done a one-eighty and opted for a vine-covered cottage complete with family dog and two-point-five children. He’d chosen to move on rather than compromise.
From that day on, he’d made sure in all his relationships that permanence wasn’t what he was headed towards. If the women in his life could handle that—and there’d been plenty who could—he would see them from time to time. If not, he’d had nothing to do with them. Truth and honesty, that’s how he’d played it.
Until Megan.
From the beginning, he’d lied to her. Sitting down in his chair, Alex leaned back. He’d arrived at her home under false pretenses, at least partly. It didn’t matter that his motive was an honest concern for her welfare and that of her son. He’d been no better than her husband.
He deceived her royally
was what Grace had said about Neal’s behavior toward his wife. Motives be hanged. Alex, too, had deceived her royally.
So just say, for a minute, for the sake of argument, that perhaps she had somehow gotten under his skin. That he cared more for her than any woman he’d ever known. He supposed he could admit to that, to himself only, of course. Then what made him think, when he confessed his dark secret to her, as confess he must, that she’d have anything to do with him ever again? If he knew anything about Megan, he knew she’d despise duplicity.
So there you are, he told himself. Even if love was a factor—which it was not—the lady herself would stop the progress of their tenuous relationship before it ever really got off the ground once she heard his story. And that would be that. No use pondering what couldn’t be.
Leaning forward, Alex picked up his pen and reached for a stack of mail his secretary had opened for him earlier. He’d wait out the rest of the time limit he’d given the Parsons. If their answer was favorable, he’d finish the transaction by mail and phone. If it wasn’t, he’d forget all about Twin Oaks and everyone in it.
Except that he’d have to tell Megan about the list, the transplant operation, the switch. Confession was good for the soul, or so they said. Perhaps it would be kinder to do it by mail. Or was it that he couldn’t stand the thought of the usual warm welcome in her eyes turning to frosty rejection or worse when she learned the truth? He’d still set up the educational trust fund for Ryan, of course. He’d have the bank notify Megan of that and stay personally uninvolved. For the sake of her son, she couldn’t refuse him that much.
Yes, that’s how he’d handle things, Alex decided. The last thing in this world he needed was a doe-eyed woman with roots firmly entrenched in a small town and her charmingly mischievous son to divert him from his personal goals. Finally, he was back on track.
Coward!
a small voice inside his head screamed.
“Oh, shut up!” Alex said aloud, then bent to his paperwork.
 
Megan knocked once on Ryan’s bedroom door, then opened it. Her son was sitting on his bed with the Austin Healy model car beside him, Alex’s printed note in his hand. Obviously, he’d been reading it yet again, trying to understand. His young face was a study in sadness.
She walked over and sat down, slipping her arm around him. She was certain his heart hurt almost as much as hers. Uncertain what to say, she waited for him to speak first.
“I just don’t understand why he couldn’t have waited to talk to me in person before he left,” Ryan got out finally, his voice wobbly. “He said he’d go on our field trip and chaperone and everything. It’s next week. What if he’s not back by then, Mom?”
Struggling with her own emotions, Megan chose her words carefully. “His note said something really important came up and he had to leave. Sometimes business problems have to be taken care of and chaperoning of field trips has to be canceled.” Lord, how many times had she had to make similar explanations to this boy for Neal’s many absences? More than she cared to count, and here she was, doing it again.
“Yeah, I guess.” Abject misery sat on his small shoulders as he hugged his Tasmanian devil pillow to his chest. “He did say he’d probably be back. Probably doesn’t mean for sure, right?”
“No, it doesn’t.” Perhaps she’d brought this unhappiness on her son by allowing him to get close to Alex Shephard. And herself, as well. But how could she have prevented it? He’d come storming into their lives like a runaway train. After the briefest resistance, they’d accepted him with open arms, even skeptical Grace. And Megan, who’d stopped believing, stopped hoping and dreaming, had begun to think maybe this time something good, something solid, would take place. And now they were left with the broken pieces of their hearts and shattered dreams. Hadn’t she learned long ago that wishing alone didn’t make it so? “I’m sorry, Ryan.”
Blinking against tears, Ryan looked up at his mother. “You liked him, too, didn’t you, Mom?”
She never lied to her son, not unless the truth would hurt him badly. “Yes,” she whispered, drawing his warm little body close to hers, “I liked him, too.”
A look of determination settled on his young face. “He’s going to come back. I just know he will.”
 
“Glad to meet you, Liz,” Alex said, shaking hands with the tall blond woman. He turned to Mitch’s wife, Jan. “I’ll bet you’re glad to have your sister visiting for a while.” He’d completely forgotten that Jan had a sister. He wouldn’t have accepted Mitch’s dinner invitation had he remembered. He’d fallen into yet another matchmaking trap, one his best friend was deviously clever at setting.
“Would you like a glass of wine, Alex?” Jan asked. “Dinner won’t be ready for another half an hour.”
“Sure, that’d be fine.” He followed Jan as she led the way out to their brick patio. Mitch enjoyed barbecuing and the coals were already glowing. Cushioned rattan furniture was informally arranged at one end of the roofed terrace where the soft light of overhead lanterns cast a yellow glow on the outdoor scene. Alex almost smiled at the way Jan maneuvered him to the only two-seater, then waved her sister over to join him. Not too obvious.
While Jan busied herself pouring wine and Mitch went inside for the platter of meat, Liz Trent smiled at Alex. “I understand you work closely with Mitch. Funny that we’ve never met before, I’ve been living in Boston. Just moved to California last week.”
“How do you like our state so far?” Alex asked, more to make polite conversation than because he really wanted to know. Liz was lovely, with warm brown eyes and a body a man wouldn’t easily forget. But he hated being thrust into these situations and had warned Mitch about this many times. Apparently, their little talk on Catalina had caused his friend to give it one more shot.
Liz crossed her long legs. “It’s wonderful. So much sun and sand and water. Do you like to sail, Alex?”
So she’d been briefed on his interests. Mitch, it seemed, had no shame. “I can take it or leave it,” he answered, feeling contrary.
Returning with the meat platter and overhearing the conversation, Mitch glared at him. “Don’t let him kid you. Alex is planning to prime his sailboat to compete in the America’s Cup race.”
“Oh, that sounds so exciting,” Liz purred.
Alex sipped his wine and wished the evening would end quickly.
 
“Grace, I want you to look at this,” Megan said, sitting down at the kitchen table and handing over a letter attached to another sheet of paper. “It just came in the mail.”
“What is it?” Grace asked, taking both in hand. Quickly, she read the brief official letter, then flipped the page over and studied the second sheet. “Your promissory note on the second mortgage has been satisfied, it seems.” Raising both brows, she glanced across the table where she’d been working on the books. “Did you come into an inheritance you forgot to mention to me?”
BOOK: Stand-In Father (Intimate Moments)
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