Falling for Mr. Wrong (11 page)

“The kid looks like a natural,” Mick said, crossing his arms over his chest as he studied Luke’s form. “You sure this is his first time?”

“Not many climbing walls in New York City,” she replied, feeling a strangely maternal surge of pride at the praise. “At least, I assume there aren’t. Can’t say I really know for sure.”

At that moment, Julia appeared and tugged on Kelsey’s pants. “Kelsey, I want to try. Can I try now?”

Kelsey gave a gentle tug to one of Julia’s braids. “Of course.” She looked around for the rest of their group. “Where is Matt?”

“He doesn’t want to do it. He’s still watching. But I want to try.”

Kelsey craned her neck around, searching the gym, and caught a glimpse of Matt’s red shirt on the other side of the room. Once she had Luke and Julia going, she’d find Matt and coax him up onto the wall. But for now, she thrilled at having the chance to protect Luke’s success from competition with his younger brother.

“Great. Let’s go to that one.” She pointed to a spot a few feet down from Luke.

Julia clapped her hands, her body a combination of fear and excitement. She waited for Kelsey’s nod of approval before she crossed the tape and touched the wall. Kelsey moved to position herself behind the girl, keeping her hands close to the girl’s body to help her feel protected, though the wall was low and the floor padded enough that there was little threat of real injury.

Mick followed them. “What’s the schedule this week?”

“I’m biking tomorrow, hiking Wednesday, and running Thursday,” Kelsey replied. She kept her attention on Julia. “Great move, honey,” she said, when the girl pulled herself a few feet up the wall.

“Did you see the e-mail from Artisan?” Mick asked. “They need to reschedule our final photo shoot.”

Artisan was one of their corporate sponsors. The company made high-end climbing gear and loved the father-daughter hook of the expedition to Annapurna. Kelsey knew the fact that she was climbing with her father had helped close the deal with another sponsor as well, this one a manufacturer of tents and sleeping bags. They’d been working with both companies since their first trip to Annapurna, three years ago. When the storm had forced them off the mountain, the sponsors had been disappointed, but willing to give it a second try. Chances were, they wouldn’t give a third.

Losing their sponsors would be devastating. Himalayan expeditions could run close to $100,000, and without funding, there was little chance Kelsey and her father could afford to go. At least, not without several more years of working and saving money. And even though Mick was in amazing shape, he wasn’t getting any younger. Kelsey had the distinct feeling that this was their last chance to make it up the mountain.

Just to add a little more pressure to the expedition. Because things were so lighthearted right now.

“Way to go, Jules,” Kelsey called when Julia reached the top and squinted over her shoulder, a grin splitting her tiny face. “That was amazing.”

“What do I do now?” the black-haired sprite asked, her expression uncertain.

“Climb down,” Kelsey said.

Julia paused, lowered a foot, then a hand, and then jumped off the wall, landing in a heap on the soft mats. She rolled onto her back and threw her arms out wide, giggling. “That was fun.”

“Just be careful when you jump,” Kelsey said, pulling her gently to her feet by one hand. “You don’t want to fall on top of someone else.”

Julia hopped onto her feet. “I promise.” She ran to the wall and placed her hands on the plastic handholds that had been carefully positioned at just the right height for a small climber. “Can I go ahead?”

Kelsey nodded. “Sure. I’ll keep an eye on you.”

She positioned herself a few feet away so she could watch Luke as well. The older boy had moved farther down the wall and was now attempting a harder climb, one designed for a beginning adult, rather than a child. Still, he was making a good go of it, gritting his teeth as he tried a difficult move requiring him to switch his feet on a single foothold before stretching to reach a handhold above his head.

“Never thought I’d see you with a bunch of kids,” Mick said.

Coming from any other parent, this might have been a sly hint that he was impatient for grandchildren. But Kelsey knew well that grandkids were the last thing on Mick’s mind. His comment was more of a dig, a way to let her know he was watching and judging.

“I’m keeping up with my training, Dad,” she said, wishing she didn’t feel a surge of guilt when she thought about the run she’d skipped on Friday, or the extra margarita she’d had with Marie on Saturday when it became clear that Ross wasn’t going to call.

“If you say so.”

“I also double-checked on our travel arrangements and visas, and returned those crampons that were damaged in shipping.”

Mick grunted, shooting her a sideways glace. “As long as you aren’t getting distracted.”

“I’m not distracted,” she snapped, the easy moment between them dissolving in a surge of irritation.

“You aren’t going to back out on the Artisan shoot, are you? You haven’t scheduled a babysitting job or started running a summer camp?”

“No, I won’t back out of the shoot.” Kelsey ran an exasperated hand through her hair. “For Pete’s sake, have I ever backed out on anything before?”

His mouth twisted, and he turned away from her to watch Luke. “Just the summit. But that was a big one, don’t you think?”

Chapter Twelve

The brilliant afternoon sun reflected off the surface of Ross’s laptop, and he spun around in his new office chair to adjust the window shade. The whir of the blinds falling into place echoed in the empty room. Someday, he imagined, the light, open space in downtown Denver would be filled with file cabinets, a drafting table, and comfortable chairs for conferences, but right now, it held only the large oak desk he’d had delivered that morning, his laptop, and a printer. A waterfall of papers decorated the empty desk, while a document titled “Stagefeather” taunted him from the open computer.

But he really wasn’t thinking about work.

Call her… Call her not… Call her… Call her not.

Had he ever struggled so much with one simple decision?

Ross stared at the phone on the desk as if it might actually stand up and lecture him in a metallic, pseudo-human voice. “Please make a decision, idiot, so we can all get on with our lives.”

Familiar arguments warred for control of his brain, as they had ever since she’d left on Friday. On one hand, he knew it would be ridiculous to pursue her further. Neither he nor the kids could handle complications right now, and as gorgeous and sexy as she was, Kelsey was all kinds of complicated. On the other hand, he wanted her with a hunger he couldn’t begin to explain, a gnawing that began in his gut and pulsed through every cell of his body.

Glumly, he continued to stare at the phone, his hands not moving. She was different from any woman he’d ever known. Something was driving her. Something deep and powerful. Unlike the carefree, irresponsible vagabond he’d assumed she must be, he didn’t get the sense that she took any joy in her upcoming trip. She’d flared with a powerful sense of injustice when he suggested she was irresponsible for being a climber.

In fact, the more he got to know her, the less she seemed to fit the stereotype he wanted to fit her into. When he watched her with the kids he saw someone imminently trustworthy. Safety-conscious to a fault. She took a damn first aid kit with her on a trip to the park. How irresponsible could she be? When he asked the kids to perform their new gymnastics skills in the living room, Julia had told him—in a voice eerily reminiscent of Kelsey—that the living room was too small for them to practice in safely, and if he wanted to see them they’d have to go to the basement or outside in the backyard.

She knew the risks inherent in her trip. She could quote the death toll from the mountain with uncanny precision. When he met her three years ago she’d been scared she was never coming back. Which left him with the nagging question—why
did
she climb? Why was she so determined to summit Annapurna?

Ross toggled the mouse, lighting up his sleeping computer. Whatever her reasons, Kelsey’s goal was unmistakably dangerous. And much as he wanted to imagine he could call her and have some kind of purely physical fling with her, Ross feared that such an idea was impossible. He knew Brit—and probably others in his family—wanted to believe that he was some kind of ladies’ man, but the truth was, a guy didn’t marry his high school sweetheart and stay married for ten difficult years because he was a player.

No, Ross had realized somewhere over the past few years that he was far being from a playboy. In fact, he was shamefully monogamous.

Which meant one thing—he couldn’t call her. Not today, or tonight, or ever again.

To distract himself from his increasingly circular thoughts, he began flipping through the pictures of Stagefeather’s land. The property was heartbreakingly beautiful, a stark landscape of brown, rolling hills slowly giving way to deep evergreen trees and sharp outcroppings of rock. A stream rolled over boulders and down waterfalls. The land was a jewel. It wasn’t hard to see why Herriot was determined to claim it for the resort.

For the next hour, Ross forced himself to focus on his work. He reviewed the tax records Herriot had sent. He contemplated ways to work around Herriot, alternative arrangements for the resort, landscaping plans that didn’t include Herriot’s land. But all the while he found himself becoming more and more convinced that Herriot was right. They needed Stagefeather’s land. And Stagefeather needed to sell.

Feeling only slightly sick, he dialed the old man’s number.

…

By Tuesday afternoon, Kelsey had absolutely stopped waiting by the phone. Because that would have been pathetic. She was not a
wait by the phone for four days
kind of girl. She was a
lift weights until you wanted to cry
kind of girl. A
run until your thighs ached and your lungs screamed
kind of girl.

A hold a baby and feel nauseous sort of girl.

“How’s Oscar?” Marie called from the bathroom. “You aren’t going to pass out and drop him, are you?”

“Jesus, Marie, don’t you ever close the door?” Kelsey called back. “I’m fine.” Unexpectedly, she realized this was true. Though far from comfortable, holding Oscar no longer filled her with the same level of dread as it had in the past. The bald-headed baby regarded her suspiciously, his old man’s brow wrinkled as it slowly dawned on him that the person in whose arms he reclined was not the familiar figure he had come to expect.

“Don’t even think about crying,” Kelsey scolded, careful not to breathe his baby scent too deeply. “Or pooping. I’m not going anywhere near your diaper, regardless of what Marie says.”

Being with Marie and Oscar was a welcome break from the increasingly intense final preparations for the trip. She’d spent most of her morning arguing with suppliers and confirming hotel reservations. After a three-hour bike ride, she’d gone back home to try the last of the sports bras, tanks, and pants Artisan wanted her to model during her photo shoot with her dad. Even that task, which should have been fun, seemed like a trial.

The first time Kelsey had modeled for one of her sponsors, it had been a heady experience. What girl didn’t love the idea of being a living clothes hanger? And how much better to be a clothes hanger for a company that actually promoted women’s sports, and would shoot pictures of her being active and strong. She liked being a role model and certainly didn’t object to being thought attractive enough to be on the cover of a clothing catalog. But today she took no joy in the clothing she’d been sent. Today, all she could think about was the phone that hadn’t rung.

And her father’s words, ringing in her ears.

Just the summit, but that was a big one…

It was nothing new. She’d been living with his disapproval and disappointment for the past three years. Still, it hurt.

At least he’s alive. You did that much.

Oscar gave an experimental cry of distress and Kelsey flipped him onto her shoulder as she walked, congratulating herself when the motion felt less like rotating a crying football and more like gently shifting the weight of a baby. She’d called Marie at five, hoping to be distracted from her increasingly dark thoughts, and Marie had said, in no uncertain terms, that her father was a jerk and Ross an ass, and she needed to come over right away and bring a pint of ice cream because Oscar had an ear infection and had been crying most of the day and the only remedy for jerks, asses, and crying babies was clearly Rocky Road.

Kelsey had complied. How could she not?

Marie emerged from the bathroom, still zipping her pants. “Looking good,” she said, with an approving nod. “Can you keep him for a little longer? I want to gorge myself for a few minutes before I get back in the saddle.”

Kelsey winced. “Tell me you washed your hands.”

“Of course I washed my hands.” Marie waggled her offending digits in front of Oscar face. “What do you take me for, some kind of amateur?”

“You didn’t close the door or dress yourself before leaving the bathroom,” Kelsey said drily. “Forgive me for questioning your hygiene.”

Marie swaggered over to the kitchen, the curve of her hips pronounced in a pair of snug capri jeans. She wore a flowered button-down shirt with a belt at the waist that emphasized her hourglass figure. Her hair provided evidence of the quality of the day, the normally orderly red ringlets divided between frizz and knots. “You were ready to see the truth. You’ve crossed over to the other side.” She grabbed a spoon from a drawer and lifted the lid of the ice cream container. Utensil poised above the chocolaty interior, she sighed happily.

“What side exactly?” Kelsey asked.

“You know, the side separating the girls from the women.” Marie dug out a heaping spoonful and paused to swallow it. “The side separating those who close the door, and those who know that life moves too fast for such formalities.”

“The side that walks around half-dressed and says damn the consequence?”

“Exactly. The side that does not wait around for assholes who said they would call, but don’t.”

Kelsey swung Oscar around so the baby faced Marie, and she didn’t have to look into her friend’s sympathetic eyes. “I’m not waiting. You know that.”

“I know that.” Marie paused, then said softly, “I’m sorry. You really liked him, didn’t you?”

Kelsey grimaced. “Saying I liked Ross Bencher would be like saying I liked heroin. And you and I both know I’m way too smart for that.”

Around a mouthful of ice cream, Marie said, “You are the only woman I know who would compare a divorced father of three to heroin.”

“Everyone has their own version of heroin,” Kelsey said. “Mine just happens to be responsible, dedicated to his family, and dead set on dating women who resemble Betty Crocker.”

“See, this is clearly one of those ‘to each her own’ sort of moments,” Marie said. “Because my version of heroin runs toward gentlemen with gobs of money and an extravagant lifestyle.”

Oscar squirmed on her shoulder and grabbed a handful of hair. “Ow.” Kelsey retrieved the strands from his tight grasp. She walked over to Marie and lowered the baby so he was even with her friend’s face. “Come on, give it up. You know you could never survive a life without babies.”

Marie waggled a full spoon in Kelsey’s direction. “After today, don’t be so sure.”

“What was so bad about the day?” Kelsey asked, restoring Oscar to the curve of her shoulder. The baby rewarded her with a bright-eyed look and a fresh grab at a long brown lock of hair. “He doesn’t seem particularly cranky right now.”

“That’s because you’re holding him. He’s been crying all day. I think he’s sick of me.”

Kelsey felt an inordinate surge of pride. “Really?”

“Really.” Marie gazed down at the melting chocolate in front of her. “And my mom called.”

“Oh.” Kelsey adjusted Oscar so she could lay a hand on her friend’s shoulder. “Is she okay?”

“Just the usual drama. Frank’s a deadbeat, Jackie left her husband—
again
—Cora’s pregnant, and oh, would I mind sending her fifty bucks to help her get through until payday?”

When they met in college, Kelsey had been convinced her relationship with her father was as dysfunctional as it got. But that was until she met Marie.

Marie was the oldest child of an enormous, complicated family that included step-siblings by at least three different fathers (Kelsey never could quite get them all straight), various aunts and uncles who wandered in and out of the family house, and a mother who was perpetually in love, out of love, and broke and looking for help paying the bills. Marie had spent most of her life dangling a baby on her hip, so it was only natural that when she needed money, she turned to nannying. Given her propensity for ordering people around, it was also unsurprising that she eventually decided to open her own business.

What Kelsey found amusing was that her friend claimed to harbor a fantasy that someday she’d be swept off her feet by a rich playboy who would take her away from her life of toil and set her up in a mansion where she would get endless manicures and never worry again about getting spit-up on her favorite blouse. Kelsey suspected that when Mr. Right did come along, he’d have a fondness for babies, a tolerance for chaos, and a personality strong enough to match her outspoken friend.

Marie slapped the top back on the ice cream and shoved it into the freezer. She held out her hands and made a cooing sound at Oscar. “Okay, I’m done whining. Give me back my little man now.”

Surprised to feel a trace of reluctance, Kelsey handed over the baby. As she did, Marie cocked her head. “I don’t mean to alarm you, but isn’t that a phone I hear ringing?”

Kelsey sucked in a breath. She completed the Oscar transfer, shot Marie a look of desperation, and ran for her purse. Staring at her phone in the moment before she answered the call she whispered, “Heroin.”

Marie nodded with a smile. “I figured.”

Kelsey took a deep breath. “What should I do?”

“I say answer. But then again, I come from a long line of addicts.”

Hesitating only a second longer, Kelsey dove for the answer button. “Hello?”

Her heart skipped when Ross’s deep voice commanded the other end of the line. “Kelsey, this is Ross.”

“I figured.” She paused, trying to decide how to play the moment. If she sounded mad, would she be admitting that she cared? If she acted offhand, would he know she was faking it?

Meaningless small talk seemed the best possible route. “How are you?” she asked. “Did you get the new office set up?”

Her heartbeat thumped in her ears like an approaching freight train. She swallowed hard. Behind her, Oscar started to fuss, and Marie smiled knowingly as she walked past Kelsey and ducked into a bedroom, closing the door behind her.