Isabel Sharpe Read online

  How do I feel about Edgar?

  Nothing.

  How do I feel about Edgar?

  Nothing. Her mind started wandering.

  Edgar…the look on his face when he’d trapped her in the car. My dream is that one of these days when I’m inside you again and we’re making incredible sexual magic happen…

  Sparks and heat burned through her system.

  Great. Instead of peace and oneness with the universe, she was just getting horny.

  A chirping filled the room. Melanie opened her eyes in confusion. Tricia made a sound of exasperation.

  “My phone, sorry. I forgot to turn it off.” She grabbed her cell from her purse lying by her bed, checked the display. Her eyes lit up. “Mind if I take this?”

  “No, of course not.” Anything to get out of meditating.

  “Hi.” Tricia’s voice was soft, intimate. She got up from the floor and started pacing. “What’s going on? No, you’re not calling too late. I was just teaching Melanie how to meditate on her issues.”

  A man. Mom was talking to a man, maybe the same one as before. Melanie had to quell the instinctive anger. This was fine. Mom was a big girl. She was clean. She was sober. The guy could be a friend, though from the way her mom had brightened, Melanie doubted it.

  “Yes, tomorrow. Okay, I’ll be there. Thanks so much, Jim.” She snapped the phone off. “Now where were we?”

  “Oh, no.” Melanie folded her arms across her chest. “You don’t get off that easy. Who was that?”

  “An old friend.”

  “Old boyfriend?”

  “No.” She pressed her lips together, started to speak, then stopped. Melanie waited. “He was a friend of your father’s and mine.”

  Melanie stared. Tricia had never told them about their father other than that they’d dated for a while and he’d left. “Is he…like Dad?”

  “Not really. Well, we were all stupid in those days. He’s been clean longer than I have. Ten times longer. And he was always more stable than your dad. More emotionally honest. More in touch with his feelings.” She rolled her eyes. “Naturally, that’s why I didn’t fall for him.”

  Melanie nodded sympathetically. “I hear you.”

  “Anyway, it’s nice to be back in touch.”

  Back in touch? That could mean anything. She was still leery of any guy Mom invited into her life, old friend or not, which was silly. “Is this a date?”

  “No, no, no. No. This is not a date. No.”

  Right. “Mom?”

  “Yes?” She smoothed her skirt nervously, her voice as chirpy as her cell phone.

  “Maybe you could say no a few more times?”

  “Oh.” She laughed uneasily. “He’s taking me to meet a friend of his who writes children’s books, to show her my drawings.”

  “Really?” No, that wasn’t a date. Maybe Jim was okay if he was helping her mother pursue this new, cool career. It sounded like something Edgar would do. “That is very sweet of him.”

  “It is, isn’t it.” Her mother’s cheeks grew pink. “Why don’t we get back to meditating?”

  Melanie grinned slyly to let her know her change of subject wasn’t unnoticed. Sounded as if this man was more than an old friend to her mother. Maybe Mom’s taste in men had improved along with her habits and attitude.

  Was that all it took? Melanie settled herself back down on the floor, determined this time to do better at meditation. And, actually, after she relaxed, she did manage to push most of her thoughts away. In fact, she was really starting to—

  Her mother fidgeted beside her.

  Melanie returned to her own mind, cleared it again. Tried to make sure that—

  Tricia scratched.

  Melanie opened her eyes. “Stop wiggling, Mom. Just be.”

  Tricia looked startled, then burst out laughing. “Okay. How about we just talk?”

  “Much better. It’s too late for concentrating. I’ll practice again tomorrow.” She got up and sat on the bed, pleased when her mother joined her.

  “So tell me about the date with Edgar. What did you do?” She blinked innocently. “How was the DQ Blizzard?”

  Melanie scowled at her. “We went fencing.”

  “Fencing! Now that is an unusual date. I had a guy take me cow-tipping once, but that is cooler. I assume he knows what he’s doing?”

  “He’s Wisconsin Division Champion. Cow-tipping?”

  “Long time ago. Go on with Edgar, I’m impressed.”

  “He was…different there.” Melanie flopped back on the bed. “Everyone knew him and liked him and respected him. I saw him spar with a friend and he was really good, confident and graceful, really in his element.”

  “How did that make you feel?” She snorted in that way that reminded Melanie of Alana. “Apparently I’m your therapist for the evening.”

  Melanie managed a smile. “Disconcerted.”

  “Like he was breaking out of the safe little box you had him in? And how dare he?”

  Astonished, she turned to stare at her mother. “Yes, that’s it. Damn, you are good.”

  Tricia rolled her eyes. “If it’s an emotion you can have for a man I’ve not only had it, but analyzed it in deep detail with a professional. I could write a book.”

  “Maybe you should.”

  “Go on.” She pretended to hold a pad and pen to take notes. “What did you do after the fencing?”

  Melanie giggled, wistful for all the years she’d missed with Tricia. “Dinner. At Bartalotta’s in the village.”

  Tricia whistled silently. “The man knows his food.”

  “Mmm.” Melanie sighed rapturously. “It was wonderful food.”

  “And the rest? How did it feel? Your therapist wants to know.”

  “We drank Prosecco and talked and it was easy and nice the way it always is with Edgar. Except…”

  “Except?”

  She grimaced. “I had, um, feelings that weren’t easy and nice the way it always is with Edgar.”

  “Lu-u-st.” Tricia drew out the word, relishing her pronouncement. “I’m not surprised. He does have a great haircut.”

  “He does.” She shared another laugh with her mother and felt some of her disturbance subsiding. “What’s next?”

  “I promised to go on three dates with him. Then I have to decide whether I still consider Edgar in…that way.”

  Would she? Wouldn’t she? All she knew was that she was in this mess deeper than she ever would have anticipated.

  “Then Stoner called and now I have a date with him, too.”

  “Good.”

  “Good?” The last reaction she expected.

  “Comparison shopping.”

  Melanie giggled again, put her hands under her head. “I think this might drive me completely insane.”

  “Why do you think that’s so?”

  “Because he was a friend for so long, and then he was a lover without me knowing it. What is he now? And what if this ends up screwing up our friendship? I don’t know what I’d do without him.” She got up on her elbows, focused on Mr. August from her firefighter calendar. “He’s always there for me, he listens when I’m upset, he tolerates my insanity, he accepts every flaw I have. I’ve never met anyone like that before. If I lose him because of this…”

  Tricia shrugged. “Don’t lose him. He’s certainly not going anywhere if the vibe I get from him is true. The guy is completely in love with you.”

  Adrenaline again. Why wouldn’t it behave itself? “I just can’t…date him. I can’t be in a romance with Edgar.”

  “Who says you have to be in a romance? Go on the next two dates. See how you feel then.” Tricia patted Melanie’s knee. “You don’t have to decide anything tonight.”

  “You’re right. It’s just that…I…he…” She gave up, collapsed back onto the bed. Here’s where things got really fuzzy. She had no rational responses, just feelings. “I’m terrified.”

  “Of what?” Her mother lay down next to her, stared up
at the ceiling alongside her.

  “I don’t even know.”

  “I do.”

  “What? Commitment?”

  “No, not commitment.” Her mother shook her head, making a swishy sound against the rose-colored quilt. “You’re scared because you’re falling in love.”

  12

  TRICIA WAITED IMPATIENTLY on the stairs for Jim to arrive. Since their last lunch meeting, she’d meditated over him several times, and though her inner voice had been silent, she’d decided it was in everyone’s best interest that they stay friends. First and foremost, because she’d promised herself no men in Milwaukee. Her duty here was to her daughters, and they did not need to see her getting messed up in a romance. She wanted to prove to them she’d moved beyond her man-dependence, and the worst way to do that was to fall in with someone less than a month after she’d returned. Second, she was moving to Florida, so what was the point of starting something with Jim that was doomed to end in a few months? And third, she needed this time without men for herself, too. Since adolescence she’d been attached to some male or other with mere weeks in between. This was her time, finally, to bloom on her own, to find out who she was and what she could accomplish.

  Better late than never.

  All morning she’d been making the rounds, applying for jobs at restaurants and hair salons. The process had been exhausting and oddly discouraging. Yes, she needed income, but something about pursuing the same old employment felt like taking a step backward for the first time since she’d started her recovery a year ago.

  She was irritable now, and craving a cigarette. On this trip she’d have to have the dreaded “talk” with him, to tell him her decision, which made her even more jittery and cranky. Then she’d have to meet a woman who’d pass some kind of official judgment on her work. She wished Jim would show up soon so she could at least get that part over with.

  A motorcycle engine sounded, growing louder. Had he brought the bike? She leaned out to look down the street, and Jim came into view riding the old Harley, looking every bit the hot biker rebel he’d been a quarter century before. Her jitters increased, but her crankiness fell victim to a genuine welcoming smile. No matter what, an old friend was a sight for lonely eyes.

  “Hi there.” He turned off the bike, grinning as if his eyes had been lonely, too, took off his helmet and climbed off, headed for her—a man on a mission.

  She turned her face so his mouth regretfully landed on her cheek. “Hi, Jim. Thought you’d bring the car today.”

  “Thought about it.” He looked at her curiously. “But the bike could use a real ride, and I thought maybe you’d like that, too.”

  “Yes. Yes.” She managed a tight smile over a seriously shaken resolve. The way he strode possessively toward her in his black leather jacket and jeans… Oh, boy. “Um, can we talk for a second before we go?”

  She’d counted on having this conversation in the car, not in the driveway, but she wasn’t going to shout at him en route on the bike. Not for a topic like this.

  “Sure.” He folded his arms across his broad chest. “What’s on your mind, Tee?”

  “Us, I guess. You and me. What this is all about.” She gestured between them, all hope of being able to gracefully lead into the subject gone. “I mean, last time in the van, it wasn’t—I don’t think…”

  “Too much too soon?”

  Tricia blew out a breath, more anxious about hurting or disappointing him than getting what she knew was right for her. Typical, putting consideration of men’s feelings ahead of hers. But she wouldn’t back down. She was learning. “Yes. Exactly. Too fast. It was a surprise. Seeing you, and all those memories. But…I’m not looking to get involved with anyone right now.”

  “I had a feeling.” He looked at her seriously, but didn’t seem upset. “It’s why I didn’t throw you over my shoulder and haul you upstairs to your bedroom just now. The only reason.”

  She felt herself blushing fiercely. Holy moly.

  “Thanks, Jim. That would have been…” Delicious. Sexy. Incredible. “Inappropriate.”

  “Inappropriate.” He rolled his eyes. “Who are you and what have you done with the real Tricia Hawthorne?”

  She laughed again, gratefully warm and fuzzy. He’d made this easy for her, accepting her needs without question, while flattering her by making sure she understood he wasn’t accepting them because he wanted to. “Thanks for understanding.”

  “I do. I don’t like it, I admit, but I understand. You’re in a different place right now than I am. If you’d shown up ten years ago and pushed for involvement when I was first getting my life back on track, I would have done the same….” He frowned, scratched his forehead. “Nah, I’d still have jumped you.”

  Tricia burst out laughing, leaned forward and gave him a spontaneous hug and kiss…on the cheek, sigh. “You’re the best, Jim.”

  “You are so right.” He grinned and smacked her lower back—low enough that she gave him a warning glare that didn’t bother him in the slightest. “Let’s go. Beatrice is dying to meet you.”

  “I’m ready.”

  Tricia followed him onto the motorcycle, settled herself, and spent the next two hours relaxed and happy. Almost relaxed. Relaxed would have been possible only if she could have kept herself from thinking about the broad strong back in front of her and how fun it would be to lean into it, tease him with the feel of her breasts, maybe slide her hands around to the front, tease him more, touch him when no cars were nearby, drive him insane so he’d pull off the road and—

  Incorrigible. She was incorrigible.

  And relaxed would have been more possible if she didn’t feel as if driving two hours to find out what this woman thought of her pictures was overkill. She liked them or she didn’t. All this emphasis on a face-to-face meeting made Tricia nervous.

  Milwaukee turned to farmland within half an hour’s drive; farmland alternated with forest to Madison. Beyond Madison to the north, the landscape began to swell and fall with gentle treed hills. Off Route 188, they followed back roads through more farmland until they climbed to the top of a particularly high and beautiful rise and turned into a driveway leading to a lovely stone farmhouse shaded by maples and edged with daylilies in more colors than Tricia knew existed.

  “Here we are.” Jim secured the bike after Tricia climbed off. “Beatrice’s place. She’s lived here about eight years now.”

  Tricia pulled off her helmet and inhaled the sweet fresh air sweeping across the hills, trying not to feel she was about to go on trial. She hadn’t been to this part of the state since she was a kid and her parents brought her on a minivacation for a tour of the Wollersheim Winery on their way to Wisconsin Dells. It wasn’t Colorado or the Pacific Northwest, but it had a good deal more charm than the unrelenting flatness of the southeastern part of the state.

  “Nice, isn’t it?”

  “Beautiful house. And what a view.” She swept her helmet toward the valley below, then surrendered it to Jim. “Welcome.”

  Tricia turned, taken aback when the grandmotherly figure she’d been picturing for whatever reason turned out to be a woman younger than she was. Er, not much younger. She was stunning, with long wavy auburn hair, fresh natural skin and lively eyes, dressed in a floral skirt and cream top that hugged her slender figure. By the adoring look she gave Jim and the way he gathered her in for a bear hug, Tricia decided she’d have to hate her.

  Except when she turned to Tricia her eyes were warm. “Hi, Tricia, I’m so glad to meet you. Come in, I have homemade strawberry lemonade and cookies waiting.”

  “Thank you, it’s nice to meet you, too.” She guessed. “Your house is beautiful. Did you plant the flowers yourself?”

  “The previous owners did those. I planted the kitchen garden on the other side of the house, though.” Her smile was gracious, relaxed. She moved so like a dancer she made Tricia feel like an elephant with a broken leg. “Not that we can grow all that much in our short summer here.”

&n
bsp; “No.” She thought of Dahlia, eating out of her garden in California practically all year long. “Jim said you’d lived here eight years?”

  “I moved a few years after my divorce. I needed a change. I left a lot of bad things behind in the city. But I’m also a loner and I really do prefer the peace. This feels like home by now.”

  “How are the winters?” Tricia would go insane within three weeks of a snowfall.

  “Long. But I also have a house in Florida.”

  “Florida.” Tricia half laughed in surprise. “Where?”

  “Kissimmee. Not far from Orlando.” She stopped to pick an invasive morning glory vine out of a bed of impatiens. “We’ll have to get together after you move. Jim visits often. He’s been checking out real estate, too.”

  Tricia sent him a quizzical glance. Jim in Florida? She couldn’t quite imagine that. “Really?”

  Jim shrugged. “It’s a dream still. No serious plan.”

  “Come on in.” Beatrice opened the door and stepped aside for them to precede her. “We’re set up on the patio.”

  The house was as beautiful inside as out, with casual welcoming furniture, lots of thriving plants. The patio had a different view of the valley and of an expansive vegetable garden bordered by roses in bloom. What a life! As peaceful, clean, spacious and solitary as Tricia’s past decades had been stressful, dirty, cramped and crowded.

  They sat on comfortable cushioned iron chairs. The strawberry lemonade was fruity and not too sweet, the spiced butter cookies made Tricia vow to improve her baking. A breeze swept through the screens, butterflies and bees visited the garden, and Tricia thought she even saw a hawk soaring over the hill. Heavenly.

  They chatted a little, Jim and Beatrice catching up on a few people Tricia didn’t know, then on his studio work and Beatrice’s publishing career, which appeared to be going very well; she was selling steadily. Tricia imagined what that would be like, not having to go anywhere to work, living in your creative head all day long. That might work for her….

  But what about her pictures?

  “Tricia.” Beatrice turned toward her as if she’d heard her thoughts. “I have to admit that when Jim said he wanted to show me a friend’s drawings I only said yes because I love him.”