Her Kind of Trouble (Harlequin Superromance) (25 page)

That, and a handful of real moments. Shared moments of desire and connection and comfort.

Not enough, though. Not nearly enough.

It was conceivable that one day he might be able to appreciate the irony of the situation—the dedicated playboy falling at last, only to find the woman of his dreams was interested in the playboy and nothing more—but right now it felt bitter indeed. All the years he’d wasted. All the opportunities.

The high wail of a distressed baby brought his head up. Daisy was awake. She needed him. His crisis—the mess he’d made for himself—would have to wait.

Feeling gritty and tired and empty, he went inside to see to his daughter.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

V
IVIAN
DIDN
’
T
KNOW
where to put herself when she got home. During the drive, she’d imagined herself crawling into bed, drawing the covers over her head and simply lying in the dark, curled around her pain like an injured animal.

As appealing as that notion was—and it said a lot about how low she was feeling that it was genuinely attractive—once she was home she felt as though someone had put itching powder beneath her skin. She couldn’t settle in bed, the couch held no appeal, food disgusted her and the thought of going out made her want to bang her head against the wall.

She settled for a shower—a long, steamy one, standing with her head bowed, the water streaming down her back. Images from the past few weeks flashed across her mind. Seth laughing. Seth giving her his cockiest, dirtiest smile. Seth’s face blank with exhaustion the night Lola died. Seth whispering sweet, smutty somethings as they made love.

Jesus. Was it any wonder Vivian had fallen for him? She’d been playing with fire while juggling dynamite, and the only miracle was that she hadn’t done something really crazy like blurt out her feelings for him in the heat of the moment.

The thought was enough to make her shudder as she toweled dry. She could imagine his utter bewilderment so vividly it almost felt like a true memory. She could almost see his eyes going blank, him retreating as he grasped that she’d joined the ranks of women who had gone before her in craving something from him that he didn’t have to give.

Or didn’t want to give. Or wasn’t ready to give.

Same difference, at the end of the day.

She pulled on panties and a tank top, then wrapped herself in the flowing silk robe a friend had brought from Vietnam. She always felt comforted by its billowing softness, and she needed that right now.

She lay on her side on her bed, imagining how the next fifty years were going to play out. All the family events where Seth and Daisy would be close enough to touch and yet absolutely out of bounds. The sound of his laughter in another room. His impersonal kiss on her cheek each time they said hello or goodbye. The inevitable time when he’d arrive with another woman on his arm.

This was why people didn’t get involved with coworkers—when things went pear-shaped, it was hell having to look them in the eye every day. She’d bought in to a similar hell falling for Seth, and there was nothing she could do about it, short of packing up her things and running back to L.A.

The thought had no sooner crossed her mind than she dismissed it. Her days of running away were over. She had a growing business here, but more importantly, this was home. This was where her heart felt most at peace. In the short term, that meant she would live through some grief and pain as she taught herself to let go of wanting Seth. But that was simply the way it would have to be. She would have to come up with strategies for hiding her feelings when he was around, and keep herself busy the rest of the time. Maybe she would give herself permission to avoid him for a while. Just until the sharpness of her hurt and disappointment dulled. She could easily go several months without seeing him if she was creative with excuses. Surely by then she’d have a grip on her feelings.

Surely.

Then she remembered that Lola’s funeral was Tuesday. As much as she wanted to protect herself, there was no way she could give herself a free pass on that one. She cared about Seth and Daisy too much to abandon them on such a significant day.

No, she would go. She would say the right things to Seth, to Dennis and Melissa. If she was lucky, she might get a chance to spend some time with Daisy.

She pressed a hand to her chest, bearing down on the ache there. And after the funeral she would come home and be kind to herself until she stopped wanting something she couldn’t have.

In the meantime, she would simply have to live with the hollowed-out feeling behind her rib cage and the hot, pressured feeling behind her eyes.

Resolved, she sought the comfort and oblivion of sleep.

* * *

S
ETH
HAD
A
crappy few days before the funeral. Daisy was fractious, and he wound up taking her to the clinic on Sunday afternoon because he wanted reassurance that he wasn’t overlooking anything. He wasn’t, they assured him, so he took his daughter home and invested in more pacing, jiggling and cajoling in an attempt to soothe her. Vivian kept slipping into his thoughts, and finally he gave up trying to distract himself from thinking about her.

She’d touched his life profoundly—touched
him
profoundly—and he was resigned to the idea that she would be with him, in his head, his gut, his blood and his dreams, for a while. There was no pretending otherwise. There was even a twisted kind of comfort in the notion.

Yeah. That was how messed up he was.

By the time Tuesday morning rolled around he was raw-eyed from lack of sleep and feeling more than a little frayed around the edges.

The perfect mindset for a funeral.

He dressed with care, thinking of Dennis and Melissa and what this day meant to them. Wanting to do the right thing by Lola.

Predictably, Daisy threw up on his suit jacket as he was about to start the long process of loading all her paraphernalia in the car. He tried sponging the mark, then wound up stripping off his grey suit and putting on his navy one. They were running ten minutes late by the time they hit the road, and he hit speed dial to call Jason, knowing his perennially punctual brother would be there and could pass on a message to Dennis and Melissa in case they were worried.

It wasn’t until his brother picked up that Seth remembered that he was still royally pissed with him after the big-brother lecture he’d received Saturday morning. The only thing that stopped him from hanging up was the fact that his brother had caller ID and would know it was him.

“It’s me,” he said coolly. “Just wanted to let you know I’m running late, in case anyone is worried.”

“I’m coming from work but I’m almost there. I’ll pass it along.” His brother sounded unnaturally stiff.

“Good. Thanks. I appreciate it.” Seth, too, sounded as though he was talking to a stranger, but he figured that was his brother’s fault, not his. Jason hadn’t bothered to pick up the phone to apologize since reading him the riot act, and no way was Seth going to be the one who extended the olive branch.

No way.

“How’s Daisy?” Jason asked.

“She’s fine.”

“Good to hear. Which way are you coming?”

“Down through Camberwell to the freeway, then onto Springvale Road.”

“Might be worth jumping on the EastLink if you want to make up time,” Jason suggested neutrally.

Seth’s patience was already thin and his brother’s careful conversation shredded what was left of it.

“For God’s sake. Is that the best you can do?” he snapped.

“What?”

“If offering me route suggestions is your way of apologizing for Saturday morning, you’re going to have to try harder. A lot harder.” He changed lanes and jockeyed for position at the lights.

“I wanted to talk to you in person. After the funeral,” Jason said.

“Fine, do that, if that’s the way you want to handle it,” Seth said shortly, reaching for the button to end the call.

“You’re still pissed with me.”

It wasn’t a question.

“What do you think?”

“I was out of line. I realize that. As you said, what you and Vivian do is between the two of you. You’re both old enough and ugly enough to work it out for yourselves.”

His brother was saying all the right things, yet Seth could hear the “but” lurking beneath his words.

“But you still think I’m a sleazy, opportunistic asshole, right? That I’m taking advantage of her?” He was so tired, and a part of him had been spoiling for a fight with someone—anyone—since Vivian had left.

Jason’s heavy sigh came down the line. “I told you, I overreacted, and I said stuff I shouldn’t have. I apologize for that. But I’m not going to apologize for looking out for Vivian and being worried about her. You don’t know her the way we do. She’s not as tough as she likes to pretend.”

“You think I don’t know that? Vivian has a heart the size of the moon,” Seth said hotly. “She likes to come across as cynical and on top of things, but she chooses to see the good in everyone. She would lay down her life for the people she loves.”

There was a short pause.

“Okay. Maybe you know her a little better than I thought you did.” Jason sounded confused.

“Vivian and I understand each other. We always have. I like her more than almost anyone else I know, and if you think I’d voluntarily hurt her or take advantage of her, you really do need your head read.”

Another pause.

“I thought you guys weren’t seeing each other anymore,” Jason said.

“That’s right.”

“Even though you like her more than almost anyone else you know?”

It was amazing how revealing his words sounded when they were being parroted back to him.

“I should probably concentrate on the road. I’ll see you in thirty minutes, okay?”

Seth ended the call before his brother could ask more probing questions. The last thing he needed was his brother running to Jodie with some story about how besotted Seth was with Vivian. Neither he nor Vivian needed that kind of speculation buzzing around them. They’d made their clean break, kept things neat and tidy. He wasn’t about to be the one to make them messy. It felt like the least he owed her.

Plus it makes it easier for your ego. Let’s not forget that bit, stud.

Fine. And it made it easier on his ego. Since it was all he had left, he figured he was allowed to preserve it.

He was fifteen minutes late by the time he unstrapped Daisy from her car seat, put her into her stroller and made his way to the Wilson Chapel at the Springvale Botanical Cemetery. People were milling in the foyer still, and he relaxed a notch when he realized that he and Daisy hadn’t held things up. He spotted his brother first, then Jodie, and was about to make his way to them when Dennis and Melissa waved from across the room. He corrected his course, glancing around the crowd. It wasn’t until he spotted Vivian that he realized he was looking for her.

She was wearing a deep blue dress that made him think of a black-and-white movie from the thirties. She stood in profile to him, her eyes covered with large sunglasses as she talked to her parents.

She looked so good his step faltered. The urge to go to her, simply so he could be close to her, so he could hear her voice and look into her eyes, was almost overwhelming.

He tore his gaze away and focused on the Browns.

“There you are. And there’s our sweet girl. Can I hold her?” Melissa asked eagerly, already reaching for the baby.

“Of course,” Seth said easily. Daisy was a living, breathing balm, and he figured Melissa and Dennis would need their fair share of cuddles today.

He watched as Melissa arranged Daisy’s blanket to ensure she was warm in the chapel’s air conditioning. Lola’s mother had seemingly aged since arriving in Australia, and Seth had to look away from the grief in her eyes as she stroked her granddaughter’s cheek. He glanced across the room in time to catch sight of Vivian following Jodie and Jason into the chapel.

One day it was possible he would be able to watch the provocative sway of her walk and not be affected, but today was not that day. God help him.

“We should go in. I think they want to start,” Dennis said.

Seth piloted the stroller, walking behind the Browns as they made their way to the front pew. He recognized a few of Lola’s friends in the crowd, as well as his own parents. Again, he couldn’t stop himself from searching for Vivian’s face. He found her sharing a pew with his brother’s family. She’d taken off her sunglasses, and for the briefest of moments, their gazes clashed. He was the one who broke the contact, busying himself setting the stroller to one side as the Browns sat.

She looked beautiful. He wasn’t sure if he’d seen her in that particular shade of blue before, but it suited her supremely.

Stop it. Today of all days, let it go. Let her go.

Easier said than done. He inhaled sharply through his nose, then fixed his gaze on the celebrant who was waiting at the lectern for everyone to be seated. After a few minutes, music came up—the Dixie Chicks’ “Lullaby,” one of Lola’s all-time favorites—and people slowly fell silent. Seth listened to the lyrics about love and forever and knew this was going to be a tough hour.

Lola had not been his love, but she had been his lover. They had had some good times together. He’d enjoyed her, and he hoped she’d enjoyed him. He hoped that he’d never made her unhappy, that he’d never given her cause to regret the night she walked into Night Howls and took a seat at the bar.

“Good morning, everyone. I’d like to welcome you to the memorial service for Dolores Alice Brown,” the celebrant said as the last notes of the song faded. “As we all know, Dolores preferred to be known as Lola, which her mother tells me suited her much more, and that is how we will remember her today.

“Lola was born two days early during a cold winter in Yorkshire twenty-four years ago. She was the much longed-for younger sister to Tom, and the daughter Melissa and Dennis had been hoping for to complete their young family. From the start Melissa says she knew Lola had a mind of her own....”

Seth bowed his head as he listened to the celebrant outline Lola’s too-short life. Zara was invited to speak next, and Seth found himself laughing along with everyone else as Zara recounted some of her friend’s more outrageous antics—the time Lola had tried to talk her way into an exclusive restaurant by pretending she was famous, the time she’d sent herself flowers to pique the interest of someone she worked with, her obsessive love for all things Dr. Who, especially if they involved David Tennant.

Another of Lola’s friends spoke next, then Melissa passed Daisy to him while she and Dennis walked to the lectern.

“You’ll have to forgive us if we get a bit messy,” Dennis said, his already watery gaze scanning the audience. “Lola was our girl, our little firecracker, and we’re still trying to get our heads around the fact that she won’t be ringing up from the other side of the world with some outrageous tale, or clomping through the door in her sky-high heels.”