Spark Of Desire (29 page)

“Your magazine. It came in Monday. You can find it yourself.” She turned back to her husband and snapped something at him before she walked toward the coffee bar counter. Her husband caught Kevin’s eye and shrugged before he went back to work getting himself set up.

“They all hate me,” Kevin whispered when Kate sat down.

“They don’t all hate you.” She patted his hand. “They’re being loyal. Nobody understands why you won’t try to talk to her.”

“Because it’s a waste of time. She wouldn’t listen to me. She has no reason to.” Kevin stared at the whipped cream dissolving on his hot cocoa. Hot cocoa. It was ninety degrees outside and he had a cold spot in the middle of his chest that hot cocoa was not going to fix.

Kate’s small fingers closed around his wrist. He met her eyes. “It’s okay to be afraid. I don’t have any statistics for you, but I’m pretty sure everyone is afraid at one point or another that the person they love doesn’t love them back. All we usually need to fix it is confirmation.”

Jack set a mug in front of Kate. “Hot chocolate. I can’t believe you two. It’s broiling outside.” He slipped into his chair. “Am I interrupting something?”

“No.” Kate drew her hand back across the table. “Just talking. So he’s the magazine clerk’s husband? Wasn’t he at your birthday party, Kevin?”

Kevin studied the table top. Confirmation. Jack had given Kate confirmation that he loved her. He’d wanted to quit the department for her. Kate had given Jack confirmation by talking him out of it. Did Jessica want that? Would she accept an apology if he swore he loved her?

The guitar player fiddled with his microphone. “Hello, I’m Aron McGraw. The first song I’m going to play tonight is
Down by the Sallee Gardens
.”

He’s no professional, but he won’t play Danny Boy. That should please Kevin.
Her words echoed in his mind. They had never talked much about music. Once he’d mentioned not liking the canned Irish-American music everyone assumed he should. She hadn’t played any of it at his party, and she’d bought Guinness for him. Why had she paid so much attention to his preferences?

Why hadn’t he paid attention to hers?

He wasn’t even sure what he’d said that had hurt her so much.

Except for that gold digger comment. He’d accused her of trying to trick him into marrying her. For a few moments, two weeks ago, he’d believed she was capable of using him as a means to an end and told her so. What had he been thinking?

What had she thought?

He had fallen in love with her. He wanted to see her succeed, and he wanted to be with her when she did. But he’d accused her of not being in love with him. Of worse than that. Of using the love she’d cultivated against him. How was he supposed to fix that?

The singer launched into another song.

Kevin picked up his drink. The whipped cream had melted, leaving a milky film on the surface. He could still feel where she touched his chest. How could he let someone who affected him like that go? He looked at Jack and Kate.

They seemed engrossed in the song, but they were disappointed in him. Jack had his hand lying over Kate’s, and she leaned toward him. When he first met Jessica, he’d tried to convince himself he wasn’t in love with her. That he had only wanted what Jack had, that he’d wanted stability and any handy woman would do.

Jessica just happened to come with added drive and ability. He convinced himself that he liked her the same way he liked Bobbie or Dan. Liked her as a potential crew member.

Then he tasted frosting on her lips.

“Okay, this next song is actually by Andy M. Stewart. It has a sing-along chorus if you’d like to join in. You’ll pick it up pretty fast. The song is called
Take Her in Your Arms
.”

Kevin sipped his drink. It was getting cold. Any other day he’d have asked the staff to heat it up for him again, but not today.

Jack laughed. “That sounds like you.”

Kevin looked up. He’d been too busy thinking to hear a word, but he knew the song well enough. Jessica had played it at his party. The man in the song was too lovesick to even shave, and although Jessica had never appeared painted and scented as the woman in the song did, it had still been enough to drive this man demented. Yes, he knew if someone polled the guys at the station,
demented
would be the description of choice.

Kevin remembered the chorus as the singer reached it. It was all about how hold a woman and telling her you loved her could fix everything.

He’d never told her he loved her. Maybe, as Kate said, she just needed confirmation.

It seemed too easy. But if he held her tight enough she wouldn’t be able to hit him until he’d explained himself.

He jumped out of his seat. “I gotta go.”

By the time he got to his car, he’d decided she wouldn’t believe a heartfelt apology. He had to do something to prove what he said. This had gone on too long and he’d been too cruel. She needed physical confirmation.

He went home.

The house sounded empty. It sounded like this every time he walked in, but today his footsteps echoed as he ran up the stairs two at a time. He kept the ring in his underwear drawer. Yanking open the drawer, he reached in the front left corner.

And it wasn’t there.

The whole plan thus far depended on that ring.

Groping along the side of the drawer, he found nothing, so he started across the front. Still nothing. He hadn’t had it out for years. When he’d moved into the house last year, he hadn’t even emptied the drawers, they’d pulled them out and reassembled the dresser once they got it inside.

He pulled the drawer out and dumped it on the floor.

The ring box tumbled off the top of the heap. He scooped it up and opened it. The ring itself wasn’t much to look at. It needed polishing and had a couple of scratches. His great-grandmother had worn it until his grandparents married before they emigrated, and his grandmother had worn it until her death when she willed it to him. Now, maybe, it would gain him the forgiveness he needed and the woman who would give him a fifth generation to hand it down to.

He stuffed it in his pocket and ran out the door, barely remembering to lock the house behind him.

* * * *

Jessica opened the front door and left it open, locking the screen door to help cool off the apartment. She’d been considering staying to watch Julie’s husband until she noticed Jack and Kate lingering near the front doors. That would only mean one thing. If she had a little more class, she’d have been able to hide out in the office until they were ensconced in the coffee bar.

Changing into shorts, Jessica dropped onto the couch with her chenille afghan wrapped around her shoulders. Without the afghan she’d be twice as cool, but she needed to be hugged by something, even if it was her own afghan.

She didn’t have that much class. She’d gone out hoping for the confrontation. Hoping he'd say something.

He hadn’t. The entire time she’d been standing right in front of him by the new hardcover table, he’d stood stunned and saying nothing. It hadn’t exactly been a triumph all around. Jessica stared at the movie she'd popped in when she came home. She didn’t even remember what she’d put on. Her ranking should make her happy. Her parents had sent flowers to prove how proud they were. Her father was, anyway. Her mother hadn’t written out the card. The flowers sat on the table. At work they’d gotten her a cake. Vanilla. Sonya hadn’t saved her the frosting roses.

What were Sonya and Julie doing? She almost felt sorry for Kevin trapped in a room with them, even a room as big as the store. Both of them had been furious and neither had much subtlety.

She’d thought she’d steeled herself to have him drop her as soon as she didn’t need him anymore.

But she hadn’t. No one could have been prepared for his sudden wild accusations. Not after the way he’d touched her and kissed her. Acted like he wanted her. Some harpy in his past must have saddled him with a fear of women that she now had to pay for. Closing her eyes, she tried to clear her mind. No time to worry about this now. Tomorrow was the oral exam. She had to focus on the oral exam.

A car pulled into the parking area. It didn’t alarm her until she heard footsteps on her stairs. She cringed into the corner of the couch. At best, it was a friend coming to make sure she hadn’t hung herself from grief. At worst, it was Kevin.

“Jessica? Can I talk to you?”

Worst it was. Kevin couldn’t see her from the door. If she didn’t move off the couch, he might think she’d stepped out and left the door open. Pigs might fly, too.

“Jessica, I know you’re in there. I really need to talk to you.”

She heard a small clang from the door. Either he’d leaned his hand or his head on it. Tears formed on her eyelashes. Would it be so bad to open the door? Even if he thought she was only with him because of money or connections or something? She had no idea what he thought he had that was so valuable, and it wouldn’t matter when he realized he didn’t love her and dumped her.

Why did she always look ahead to see the end of the relationship?

“Jessica, will you please listen to me?” He sighed. “I’m sorry. You can’t imagine how sorry I am. I’m a fool, and I got cold feet.”

Cold feet from what? He might not know it, but she hadn’t planned to go all the way that day. She had been prepared to pull him up short. Why would he have cold feet from the thought of having sex, anyway? He was a guy. Weren’t they always up for sex?

“I can stay out here all night. You have to come out sometime. You have to be downtown at ten-thirty, so you’re going to have to leave the house by ten and, knowing you, you’ll leave at nine-thirty to allow for Los Angeles-style traffic in Arden.”

Jessica bit her lip. He’d been paying attention. Her theory had always been, why be on time when you can be annoyingly early. Did it mean that he’d noticed something about her?

“Jessica, I wish I could tell you why I stormed out on you two weeks ago.”

His voice was now coming through the window. That meant he’d moved down the stairs to the third step and was leaning toward it. Did he realize what a spectacle he was making of himself, talking to a window? What if she’d been taking a bath? She might have no idea he was out there. She pressed her hand against the wall, wallowing in the idea that he was on the other side of it.

“Jessica, I love you. If you’d let me in, I’d hold you and try to tell you how much, but I don’t think I know the words.” His voice had dropped to that low rumble that made her ache all over. “I brought something I want to give you that might prove how much I love you. I figured after the way I acted you wouldn’t believe me if I told you the moon was made of rock.”

No, I wouldn’t. But I would want to
.

“I brought you my grandmother’s wedding ring. I thought maybe when the time came we could give it to our oldest. Or we could give it to my sister’s oldest boy. He’s my oldest nephew. You never said if you wanted to have kids. I think I was monopolizing the conversation then. I’m sorry for that, too.”

Jessica sat up. She hesitated to believe he might be asking what she thought he was asking. Although, it would explain the cold feet comment. She hopped off the couch and hurried to the door. The screen door latch stuck for a moment and by the time she got it open, he’d turned and come up one step. Jessica stopped and stared at him, trying to get some order out of her thoughts. “Did you just propose to me?”

“I—yes.” He looked doubtful. “I guess you have to backward-engineer a little to get there, but that’s what I meant.”

“No.” Jessica’s throat closed, but after the word was out. Her heart would have leaped into his arms shouting
yes
, but her mind still remembered the sting of being called a liar and a gold digger.

“No?” Kevin repeated. He looked down at his hand and she realized he had the ring in his palm. “Is there anything I can do to change your mind?”

Chapter 15

Jessica pulled the afghan tighter around her shoulders. “I can’t live with someone who thinks what you think about me.”

Kevin reached across the stairs to grip the banister as if he needed the support. “I don’t believe that. You aren’t a gold digger and if you were, you’re digging in a copper mine. I just got scared. I panicked. And I’m sorry.”

Jessica lifted her chin. “What about being a liar?”

“I have been lying since I met you. Lying to myself, to my friends, to everyone, because I was afraid you couldn’t love an old man like me.”