I thought so, too. But Ive told you before how sculpting worksany similarity like that is accidental. Theres a kind of truth in any piece of raw material. The artists job is to carve away what isnt the truth, but she cant build in a picture that isnt there. I had no way to know ahead of time that the woman was going to end up looking like you. Paige hesitated, then added deliberately, But I wanted her to be beautiful. Youre beautiful, sis. And you seem to be the only one in the entire world who isnt aware of it.
Talk about bias. Gwens voice was purposefully light. Maybe her sister never saw what she did. It was the shadow woman in the cameo that put a lump in her throat, not the beautiful lady who was so exuberantly embracing life. Carefully she snapped the lid closed on the velvet box. Ill be beautiful the same day cats fly. Youve just got blinders on because youre my sister.
Hey, youre talking to the brat who put shaving cream in your bra. Short-sheeted your bed. Froze all your underpants next to Moms jam in the freezer. Sisters dont have to do or say nice things.
Gwen chuckled. Come to think of it, Id forgotten what a brat you were. Abby was the nice sister.
And whatd Abby send you for your birthday?
A silk dress. Ivory. Kind of swirly and soft and sexy. Maybe it was studying that cameo that made her suddenly feel restless and uneasy again, but she bounced off the bed and started pacing the room with the phone cradled against her ear. Maybe in the year 2010, Ill find a place to wear it.
Abby keeps trying to reform my taste in clothes, too. She should know by now its hopeless. And how come she got all the good taste in the family?
I dunno. You want to short-sheet her bed the next time we see her?
They both chuckled and wasted a few minutes creating diabolical plans for Abby and recalling all the sick practical jokes theyd pulled on each other as kids. Then Paige filled in her own family newsshed never felt healthier in her whole life, but her new husband Stefan was miserable, suffering morning sickness big-time. As Paige embellished the details, both sisters chuckles spilled into laughter...until Paige suddenly paused and turned serious. Boy, I havent heard a good belly laugh from you in forever, kiddo. Ive really worried how you were doing these past few months. And you havent said one word about the bastard.
I wish you wouldnt call him that. Hes really not, Paige. Rons a good dad to the boys. And he didnt suddenly turn into a creep just because the marriage failed.
I think weve had this exact same conversation beforeyou know I have a different opinion on thatbut okay, okay. Ill try to remember not to call him a manipulative, arrogant son of a seadog in your presence, sweets. But I wish youd try to believe it. Hes well out of your life. You seeing anyone?
You have to be kidding. Im not sure Ive even caught sight of an adult man in six months, between being chained to the computer most of the day and den-mothering a passel of boys in my free time, Owen said wryly. From nowhere, though, a mental picture of Spence suddenly embedded itself in her mind as if glued there.
Youve got to quit hiding in that house.
This is my youngest sister talking? The one who hid in the art studio for years and was never going to get married as long as she lived?
That was before I met Stefan. Now I know what I was missing. And you, too. Just listen to me-now that I know everything, Paige teased, but again, her voice turned serious. I know its got to be scary to get your feet wet in the dating pool again, but everyone isnt like Ron, sis. You just have to steer clear of those high-powered, steamroller types.
I know, I know. Believe me. Again, Spences face flashed in her brain. He was ten times more dynamite than Ron had ever been, a clear study of a man motivated by drive and ambition and overloaded with dynamic, virile male energy. Lord, how could she have kissed him like that? Being a concentrated dynamo was no crime, but for her, Spence might as well have a Danger sign tattooed on his forehead. Abruptly, though, that whole thought train disappeared from her mind. Oops...Paige, I have to go. A pint-size interruption just showed up in the doorway.
Paige chuckled just before hanging up. Give my favorite hellion nephews a giant hug from Aunt Paige, okay?
As it happened, only one of her hellions was standing in the door. Jacob. Tousled and barefoot and wearing his favorite cartoon pjs. He was the spitting image of his dad with his white-blond hair and woman-killer blue eyes and beyond-adorable grin. Hes back, Mom, Jacob said.
Gwen heard the quaver in his voice, and there was sure no grin on his face now. Jacob could manage to get dirty in a bathtub; he had more energy than an entire football team, and there were times he could test her patience like nobodys business. But not when he was scared. Never when he was scared.
Swiftly she reached out her arms. Shoot. Dont tell me that blasted monster showed up again?
Yup. The green one. With the big bulging eyes and the claws like scissors.
Darn. I thought we got rid of him permanently the last time.
Nope. Another quaver, as he shot across the room and burrowed his face into her stomach. I just came in to protect you. I wasnt scared or anything, but youre a girl and all. I figured I better sleep with you.
Well, when one of us is afraid, I think its a good idea to protect each other, Gwen said gravely. But lets take care of this monster together first, okay?
She took his hand and together they walked down the hall to his room. Whered he come from this time?
The bathroom. And then he slinked in. And then he hid by the desk.
Ah. She switched on the big overhead light and then slowly took her time, studiously searching around the desk, bending down to look under the bed, then poking in the corners of the closet. You see anything? she asked her son.
Nope.
Any other place you think he could be hiding?
Aw, Mom. You dont have to keep doing this. I know its just a dream. Its just such a real dream that I cant always make it go away.
Honest, I understand. When I was six, I had pink and orange alligators under my bed. Just for the record, though...they all went away by the time I was seven. Never came back.
Boy, were you silly. Everybody knows that alligators dont come in orange.
She made him giggle, but he still wasnt sure about leaving her aloneunprotectedso she curled up on the twin bed with him. It didnt take long for him to fall asleep, never did. But he didnt let her cuddle him too often, now that he was a big grown-up six-year-old, and it felt good, the warm body, the scent of her son, the cowlick tufts of his blond hair tickling her chin.
This was her life, she thought. Loving her kids. Being there for them when the monsters came.
She simply had to shake this strange, lost, dissatisfied feeling that had haunted her lately. And she simply had to put that wild, dangerous kiss from Spence out of her mind.
Before she fell asleep, she hoped fiercely that hed just done her a kindness and forgotten all about it.
Maybe I should sleep with you tonight.
You think so? Spence bent down to kiss the blue-eyed blond beauty. The love of his life had the long eyelashes of a seductress and the cajoling ways of a Lorelei. He knewand she knew even betterthat he could be had. Hed been suckered by a single milk-breath kiss before.
There arent any monsters in your bed, Dad. And just in case one comes, then I wont have to walk all the way down the hall to your room. Its dark and scary in the hall.
He gave April another kiss and then tucked the stuffed two-foot-high yellow rabbit under the covers with her. Theres a night light in the hall now, remember? Its not dark anymore. And Im pretty sure we killed off all the monsters a couple nights ago. Havent seen one since.
But what if one comes?
Then you yell at the top of your lungs for Dad. He illustrated, mimicking her childs soprano in such a campy fashion that she started giggling. Ill come running lickety-split and well save each other. But right now I want you to close your eyes and think about marshmallows.
Marshmallows?
Yup. Close your eyes, lovebug, and concentrate real, real hard on marshmallows. It was the newest theory he was trying. So far he hadnt found a sure cure for night terrors, no matter how many child-rearing books hed read. Instead of picturing monsters just before she went to sleep, he was trying to get her to think about something safe and soft and fun.
So far, it worked some of the time. The chances were about even-steven hed wake up in the morning with a six-year-old hogging the covers. Early in the night, though, Aprils sleep patterns were as predictable as the sunrise. If he could just get her to close her eyes, shed be snoozing deep and heavy twenty minutes from now.
For the next twenty minutes he stood in the kitchen, sipping an iced tea, staring out the west window at the sweep of lawn that bordered his place and Gwens.
Mary Margaret, his housekeeper, made fine iced tea. She was addicted to Pine Sol, though. Seemed there was no limit to the gallons she could go through, and the smell pervaded the kitchen. So did the chicken cacciatore shed made for dinner. Mary Margaret was chunky, built like a barrel, with long, wiry gray hair always pulled back in the same merciless bun. She broke something once a week, covered up any experimental cooking with an overdose of cayenne, and she looked tougher than old nails ... but shed about die for his daughter. Spence never cared about the rest.
Hed been a little uneasy about dads and daughters and whether it was okay for April to climb in bed with him in the middle of the night. Mary Margaret, in typical tactful fashion, told him he was being stupid. When a child was scared, you did whatever you had to do to help them get unscared. She also told him to burn all the silly child-rearing books and listen to her. Shed raised five children. She knew everything.
Should he ever fail to obey her sage advice, the threat of habanero-and-cayenne-laced chicken cacciatore was always there.
The only terrorizing females hed allowed in his life in several years now were April and Mary Margaret.
But he was considering adding another.
Across the yard, past the shadow-dipped fence and moonlit swing set, a light went out in one of the back rooms. Gwen was putting her sons to bed. Like him, she probably couldnt really rest and relax for a few minutes yet, not until she knew for sure the kids were asleep.
Light glowed from the jalousie window in her bathroom, then flicked off again. After that she headed for the kitchen. Living across the way from her for the past two years, he knew her patterns fairly well by now. She flew around the kitchen doing little cleanups right after the boys went to bed. A few minutes later shed check on them. She didnt let down her hairso to speakuntil she was sure her sons were asleep. Then, often enough, shed slip off her shoes and wander outside barefoot for a few minutes, closing her eyes, breathing in the night.
It was her way of letting out the days stresses, Spence guessed. But hed seen her lift her face, seen the moonlight wash over her delicate profile and soft skin. Sometimes a night breeze would pucker off the ocean, cupping the blouse fabric intimately to her high, full breasts, fingering light and shine into her cap of nutmeg brown curls. Sometimes shed sway in the breeze as if she were hearing music, not dancing, but as if there were a song or dream in her head that she couldnt stop thinking about.
During the day, it was almost impossible to catch Gwen when she wasnt herding kidshers and half the neighborhoods. She always had a smile. Was always dressed in practical cotton or denim. Always had time to give a neighbor a helping hand or a listening earincluding himbut hed never seen any guy around the place except for her good-looking, cold-eyed ex.
If Spence hadnt seen her, all those moonlit nights, he would never have guessed there was more to the package than the practical single mom and commonsense neighbor. But hed seen the sensual beauty in Gwen, the dreamer side to her... and the loneliness.
From the beginning shed never given him more than the friendly time of day. Spence sensed she needed healing time to get over her divorce. He understood that. He had scars left over from the breakup of his marriage to May, and there was no fast recovery from certain kinds of emotional wounds.
Two years had passed, though. Two years of watching her and thinking about her and using their mutual single-parent problems to naturally create excuses to talk with her. Spence had never tried a serious move. It pushed his black humor buttons, though, that an embarrassing number of women in his business life seemed willing to chase him, given no encouragement at all, yet Gwen had never given him the first sign that she noticed he was a male human being. Maybe she didnt like brown hair and brown eyes. Maybe tall men didnt turn her on. Maybe she liked big brawny guys instead of lean. Spence had a sister whod never treated him as sisterly as Gwen did.
She hadnt kissed him last night like a sister, though.
With his gaze still on the window view, Spence set his iced tea glass in the sink. He considered whether he was up for a knife-in-the-gut rejection. He considered how many clear no-touch signals shed given him over the past two years. He considered that he hadnt taken a serious risk with a woman since May, and having his heart torn out had been as much fun to recover from as a ballet wound.
Spence rubbed the back of his neck, then abruptly pivoted around. He checked first on April, to make sure she was dead-to-the-world asleep, then inhaled a lungful of courage and strode determinedly for the back door.
The problemthe really nasty, unsolvable problemwas that the only way to figure out what Gwen Stanford. feltor could feel for himwas to go over there and find out.
But taking the risk sure felt like diving into the ocean with no life buoy or rescue raft in sight.
Three
You give me fever... when you kiss me ... It was tough to belt out rock and roll when you couldnt carry a tune to save your life and had to whisper because the boys were sleepingbut brownie making wouldnt be the same without a song. Gwen cracked two eggs and plopped them in the bowl.
I know youre gonna treat me ri-i-i-ight... She checked the recipe for the amount of sugar. One cup. That struck her as a little stingy, so she heaped in some extra. Louie, Louie... Oops, she was pretty sure those were lyrics to some other oldie, but no matter. There was still a hip-swinging beat to that one, too. Only drat, shed forgotten to preheat the oven.
Holding a wooden spoon dripping sugar and chocolate, she swiftly pivoted around ... and almost had a heart attack when she saw Spence in her screen doorway. Eek, she said weakly.