All Grown Up (12 page)

Annalise took the woman’s free hand and squeezed it. “Don’t be silly. I’m here to work, as well. And you’re not intruding…right, Sam?”

He leaned in the doorway, his smile genuine as he aimed it at the visitors. “Of course not. This old house has tons of bedrooms. I’ll help bring in your things. Annalise, do you mind getting them set up in whichever room you ladies decide is best?”

“With pleasure.”

While the men were outside, Annalise gave Rachel an abbreviated tour. “How about this bedroom?” she asked, throwing open the door. “It’s fairly large and has its own bathroom. The painting hasn’t been done yet, and it’s missing some finishing touches, but it’s serviceable.”

Rachel smiled shyly, the baby propped on her hip. “We’ll be fine.” Though the younger woman was dressed in worn denims and an inexpensive sweatshirt, she had a sunny disposition that proclaimed louder than words that she was happy with her lot in life. While Annalise watched, Rachel put the infant on the bed and efficiently changed a wet diaper. “Butch is such a good baby…he hardly ever cries. You won’t even know he’s here.”

Annalise chuckled. “I’m not worried.”

Suddenly, Rachel exclaimed, “Oh, gosh. I promised my mom I’d let her know when we got here. She’s a worrier, and the snow was an issue. Hold Butch for me, will you?”

Before Annalise had a chance to protest, Rachel thrust the infant into her arms and disappeared. The sudden change in circumstances put a lump in Annalise’s throat. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d held a small child. As a rule, she avoided them whenever possible.

Her hands shaky, she held the kid at arm’s length and stared at him. “Well, you drew the short straw, kiddo. I’m clueless. Are we supposed to play peek-a-boo? Or maybe I burp you? Do you just hang out when you’re not hungry?”

Butch had wild red hair and gorgeous blue eyes. After gazing at her solemnly for several seconds, he smiled, cooing and blowing bubbles that collected on his chubby chin. A single tooth at the bottom of his mouth shone proudly.

Her heart contracted in her chest and her womb quivered. This was why she stayed far away from adorable little rug rats. They made her ache for what she was afraid she could never have. She touched her nose to the baby’s, talking silly nonsense syllables to him. When he chortled, she pulled him close, nuzzling his cheek and patting his back as he rooted at her shoulder.

Her blouse was silk, a new offering from an up-and-coming Parisian designer. It never occurred to her that she should keep him away from her expensive outfit. Instead, she held him close, inhaling the precious smells of baby powder and shampoo and a scent unique to small human beings.

She kissed the top of his head. “That’s okay, little fella. You and I will do just fine. I promise not to drop you and you try not to poop before your mama gets back.”

Eleven

S
am stood stock-still, suitcases in hand, and felt his heart fall somewhere down around his feet. The smile Annalise aimed at Butch—the fabulous, cajoling, entirely unguarded beam of happiness—was one Sam had never witnessed. The look on her face as she bounced her little charge was heartbreaking in its rarity.

Why had Sam never seen her like this? Open, delighted, intensely feminine in her gentle care of another woman’s child.

“He likes you,” Sam said, setting the luggage just inside the door and lingering there.

Annalise whirled to face him, her cheeks pink. “Isn’t he cute?”

Butch was wearing John Deere overalls and a yellow onesie with long sleeves. On his tiny feet were soft cloth tennis shoes that matched his outfit.

Sam grinned, enjoying the show. “He could use a barber, but yeah, he’s a peach.”

Annalise held him out. “You want to take a turn?”

It hit him in that moment that she had been hiding herself from him the entire weekend. Never once had he seen this side of her, the soft, nurturing affection, the unself-conscious pleasure.

The knowledge grieved him, for it spelled doom to any fledgling dreams he might have been weaving. Annalise didn’t want to be in a relationship with him. She didn’t want intimacy, roots, commitment. She was afraid of what he made her feel. Of what they both felt. Because she didn’t trust the feelings and she didn’t trust Sam. Seeing her now, with a baby, made him face the unspoken yearnings that had sprung up deep in his gut.

He tasted the bitter bile of failure and found it to be more painful to swallow than he could have imagined. Watching Annalise hold a small child reminded him of everything he didn’t yet have in his life. And it also pointed out that a woman who could show two such different faces to him was someone with issues.

He had his own demons to fight…the specter of statistical marital failure, the possibility that he might be no better a father than his own dad had been. But at least he knew in those instances what battles he faced. When it came to Annalise, there were depths he’d been unable to reach in her, secrets she wouldn’t share. And the fact that he had only now realized he was perilously close to falling ass over heels in love with her didn’t help in the least.

He shook his head, backing out into the hall, feeling appalled and clumsy and off balance. “You keep him. Darren needs my help.”

When he went back outside, he found Rachel wrapping up a phone call. Sam lowered his voice. “The kitchen is stocked. But Annalise doesn’t cook and she’s self-conscious about it. Feel free to take over the meal planning for as long as you’re here.”

Rachel nodded. “It’s the least I can do.”

* * *

Over dinner, the conversation between four very different adults was helped along by little Butch’s antics. His parents had brought every conceivable baby conveyance, including a high chair. Rachel had matter-of-factly prepared country ham and hash brown potatoes for dinner, along with a simple serving of applesauce.

Annalise was subdued, but held her own in the odd social setting. Sam had no appetite at all, because all he could think about was that he had missed his last chance this afternoon. He couldn’t stay any longer. He wouldn’t. It was too painful.

As soon as it was polite, he stood and carried his plate to the sink. “Thanks for the dinner. I’m going to head back to Charlottesville. Tomorrow will be a full day.”

When he turned around, Annalise’s face was the color of milk. “You’re leaving now?”

He nodded tersely. “I have a business to run, and now that Darren and Rachel are here to keep you company, there’s no reason for me to stay.”

“But what about the snow and your car?”

“I checked the forecast. The temperature is still above freezing…and will stay that way. I’ll follow the truck tracks Darren made until I get back out to the highway. He said all the main roads have been plowed and salted.”

“But…” Her eyes shimmered with anguish.

Seeing her reaction almost made his resolution buckle. Perhaps if he stayed, they could continue their aborted conversation. “But what, Annalise? Can you think of a reason I should hang around?” Their guests had disappeared seconds before to the back of the house to change a poopy diaper.

She stood and faced him, her arms wrapped around her waist. “You’re angry with me.”

He shrugged. “Maybe.”

“For what?”

His jaw worked as he filtered through the words that wanted to tumble forth uncensored. “You told me that this weekend was as far as you were willing to go. Have you changed your mind?”

Annalise was no fool. She heard the question behind the question.
Are you willing to take a chance and see where we end up?

With every cell and sinew in his body he willed her to say yes, to come to him with a smile and hug and tell him she wanted him to stay. But she didn’t.

At that moment, the Harrells returned. Darren held Butch as Rachel started cleaning up. With a baseball cap on backward and a scraggly mustache that was almost too blond to be noticeable, the skinny young contractor barely looked old enough to be a dad.

He held Butch easily, tucked in his left arm like a football. “I hate to inconvenience you, Miss Annalise, but you’ll probably need to leave here Wednesday morning. By that time I’ll be done with the preliminary stuff, and my crew will arrive to start ripping out the old duct work.”

“What about Rachel and the baby?” Sam asked.

“My mom’s coming from Roanoke to pick them up that morning. She and my dad have been asking for a long visit with Butch, and this seemed like the perfect time. Me and the boys will have sleeping bags and a few electric heaters, ’cause the furnace won’t be online at all until Friday night or Saturday morning. Maybe Monday if we run into any hitches. After that y’all can come and go as you please, warm as toast.”

Annalise nodded. “That makes sense. But you’ll have to sign for any shipments that arrive before I get back. I’ve started ordering a lot of the paint and wallpaper and draperies.”

“No problem. And you don’t have to worry. My guys will leave everything as nice as when they found it. We’ll camp out in the living room…won’t even need to mess up the bedrooms.”

Sam frowned. “That’s not necessary. I know my grandmother would expect you to make yourselves at home. Especially since commuting each day isn’t a viable option.”

Rachel wiped her hands on a dish towel, grinning. “Don’t worry, Mr. Ely. He’s been looking forward to this for days.”

The younger couple left, ready to get settled in their room and put the baby down for the night.

Sam exhaled slowly. “I’m going to head upstairs and pack. If it’s not too much trouble, why don’t you put all our wet snow clothes in the dryer.”

He brought up the subject on purpose, curious to see how she would react.

Annalise nodded, not meeting his eyes. “Of course.”

Drawing this out was futile. He ground his teeth together, fighting almost irresistible temptation. “Goodbye, Princess. I’ll see you around.”

Feeling like an old man, he turned to leave.

“Wait,” she said urgently, her voice breathless. “Won’t you at least come tell me goodbye before you go?”

He turned back, though he knew he shouldn’t. She stood there tall and poised and yet with a hint of melancholy. “If you want me to.”

“I do.”

Upstairs in his bedroom, he threw things haphazardly into his large bag. He didn’t want to go into the bathroom, couldn’t bear to look at the shower and remember. He grabbed his toiletries, stopping dead when he saw his face in the mirror. Where had those lines on his forehead come from? Or the evidence of stress in his posture and on his jaw? He looked as if he were at the end of his rope.

Cursing roughly, he returned to the bedroom, gave one last sweeping glance at the bureau and then stopped dead. Piled on a straight-back chair in the corner were Annalise’s pretty feminine pajamas. He picked up the top and held it to his face, his eyes stinging. God, he was a fool.

For seven years…seven long, damn years. Beautiful, sexy Annalise Wolff had tormented him with her icy silences and her cool, accusing gaze. Now…finally, she had given him a taste of what it could be like between them. She had connected with Sam in a way he’d only dreamed about. They were damned near perfect in bed together.

In two short days, he had second-guessed everything he thought he knew about his goals for the future, had even tried to convince himself that he and Annalise might have what it took to be a couple, in spite of their differences. But she wasn’t going to let it happen. And he didn’t know why.

The reason didn’t really matter. He dropped the soft cloth as if it had burned his hand, and scrubbed both palms over his face. He was finished. It was over.

He loaded the car and sat in the front seat to call his grandparents and update them on what was going on. His grandmother asked a few seemingly innocent questions, and Sam had to wonder, at least for a moment, if she had hired Annalise with some kind of matchmaking in mind.

When he hung up, he looked at the house, warm light gleaming through Gram’s lace curtains. Some of the happiest times of his life had been spent in that house, this weekend included. Would he ever be able to bring a wife and family here without encountering the memory of Annalise’s sex-rumpled hair and sparkling eyes?

He rubbed his chest, feeling an ache that wouldn’t go away. If he could understand where he’d screwed up, he’d be able to fix things. Surely Annalise wasn’t still holding on to the past. No way could she doubt the sincerity of his apology or the intensity of his attraction to her. They’d damn near burned up the sheets.

But it hit him then that perhaps he didn’t know her at all. Maybe she enjoyed luring men into her web and destroying them. The black-widow analogy disturbed him. She wasn’t cold or calculating. The worst he could say about her was that she was insecure.

The sheer absurdity of that thought forced a laugh. He was probably the only person on the planet who would describe her that way. The woman was hell on wheels, kicking ass and taking names on a daily basis. She was full of life and sass and enthusiasm.

Except where Sam was concerned. Around him, she acted like she wanted him and hated herself for doing so. Maybe that was harsh. At times he had felt a softening in her, a simple pleasure in the heat they generated together. He felt as if they had lived a lifetime in the last forty-eight hours, the past and the present coming together in a cataclysm of epic proportion.

Drumming his fingers on the steering wheel, he debated taking the easy way out and simply driving away. But as Annalise had so helpfully pointed out on a number of occasions, the world expected Sam Ely to do the honorable thing.

He’d told Annalise he would say goodbye. No way around it.

She was standing in the foyer when he opened the front door. “I thought you’d left,” she said, her voice subdued.

The wind caught the door, jerking it out of his hand and slamming it. “Sorry,” he said. “I told you I would say goodbye. I’m not a liar.”

“You could have forgotten. You have a lot on your mind.”

He shoved his hands in his pockets to keep from grabbing her. “I’ll tell Gram you have everything under control.”

“I’ll send you email updates with photos. You can forward them to her.”

So polite, so bloody polite. He hadn’t planned to ask, but the question wouldn’t be ignored any longer. “Have you forgiven me for what happened when you were twenty-one?”

She shrugged. “Of course.”

“No
of course
about it. We’ve barely spoken in seven years.”

“True.”

“Is that what we’re going back to?” he asked bluntly. “Veiled hostility?”

“I doubt I’ll have much occasion to speak to you when you’re with your wife and kids.”

The sentence held equal measures of sarcasm and stoicism. He searched her face. What the hell did she want from him? “In that case,” he said, feeling the dual punches of anger and need, “I’d better take what I can get right now.”

Perhaps he grabbed her or maybe she launched herself at him, but whichever way it happened, she whispered his name as they ended up desperate in each other’s arms. She kissed him as wildly as he kissed her. Tongues thrust and mated, breathing harshened.

Beneath her thin blouse her nipples were hard pebbles. His sex was equally firm, pushing urgently at her belly.

“Do you want me to stay?” he asked, giving her one more chance to claim what was hers. It didn’t matter that she was nothing like the image of a woman he’d always imagined building a life with. He
wanted
her…not in spite of the difference, but because of it. She was perfect for him.

She laid her head against his collarbone, squeezed her arms around his waist and then released him, outwardly calm but for the rise and fall of her chest. “I don’t need you to stay,” she said. “With Rachel and Darren here, I’ll be fine.”

She hadn’t answered his question. She’d talked about
need,
not want.
“God, you’re stubborn.” He said it quietly, no accusation in his words. Only sadness. “See you around, Princess.”

When he walked out the door and closed it behind him, he could see her silhouette…tall, slim, alone.

* * *

Annalise didn’t know it was possible to have your heart ripped from your chest and still function as a living, breathing human. For two hours, she sat with the Harrells in the living room, playing Monopoly, talking about current events, speculating about the economy. She couldn’t bear to go to her room and see the bed where Sam had made love to her.

The baby woke up around nine. Rachel fetched him, his little face blotchy from crying. “Poor thing is teething,” she said, “and this is a strange house to him. But it’s okay, isn’t it, darlin’?” She smooched the top of his head and held him to her breast.

Before he left, Sam had brought down a rocking chair from his grandparents’ bedroom. Annalise looked at the infant with barely concealed longing. “May I rock him for a bit? Do you mind?”

Rachel and Darren laughed in unison. Rachel tucked a thin blanket around Butch’s legs and handed him over. “Believe me, hon, we’ll take all the help we can get.”