Blame It on Paris (21 page)

She turned to face him directly. She didn't interrupt him, but as if he feared she was about to lodge a handful of protests, his voice sped up. “Nothing was right for me after you left. Nothing's right here, either, until I'm with you, and then everything works. It's not the boat. It's not the day. It's being with you. Everything gets right again when I'm with you. Kel, come to Paris with me. You know how it was. You know how it can be again.”

She didn't know she was going to kiss him. She'd been wary of Will seducing her, not the other way around. She'd wanted Will to seduce her, not the other way around. And vaguely she recalled having at least a dozen reasons why making love with Will again was temporarily a terrible idea, but just then, she couldn't think of a single one.

He needed love, right now.

And it was easy to give him.

The only thing hard, all this time, had been holding back. And maybe she should try to hold back for her own emotional protection, before she fell any deeper, but Kelly suspected it was already too late for that.

She was already so deeply in love with Will that she couldn't imagine surviving without him. Couldn't imagine another man in her life, ever, not intimately. Couldn't imagine wanting to take risks…like the risks she wanted to take with Will. Couldn't imagine feeling lust or fear or frustration or tantalizing dreams with any other man. Not the way she did with him.

His lips were warm, his body absolutely motionless when she turned her head and took his mouth. But that first one was a gentle kiss—a tease, like the wicked, wild foreplay of their entwined fingers.

When she climbed on his lap—making the boat suddenly buck and rock—she really kissed him. Just bent her head and took it, like a brazen hussy or a woman with a mission or the boss of the universe. All of which she felt like at that precise moment, but it was his fault. The damned man responded as if she were everything—as if the touch of her, the kiss of her, was all he had ever wanted.

He let out a strong sigh, as if he'd been holding in temper and tension for years. Then he roped his arms around her and pulled her into the warm circle of his skin, his heartbeat, his strength. “Hey,” he murmured thickly. “I thought we were supposed to behave.”

“Behaving is so overrated. I've been behaving all my life.” She kissed his earlobe, the spot right underneath it. “Until you.” She felt his hands sneaking under her tank, his hand on the strap of her bra. “You're the only one I want to behave badly with, Will. What do you think that means?”

She couldn't continue talking for a second, because the tank was swirled over her head. Her bra seemed to come off it with it. In fact, her bra seemed to miss the seat and instead take a dive into Lake Michigan, a bobbing bit of red-and-white polka dots that matched her thong—which he was likely to discover soon.

Very soon.

“I think it means…” he said, and then lost his breath. She was already on top of him, so it was easy enough for him to angle kisses down her throat, down to her breasts, the nipples, the swelling round, the underside crease, her ribs. He seemed to forget what he'd been about to say.

She forgot whatever had ever been in her head, anyway. She'd never been bare naked outside before, in open sunlight. It didn't matter if there wasn't a boat near enough to see; it felt brazen and wicked and delicious.

He suckled her breast, tight, pulling her into his mouth, nuzzling, tasting. Her back arched like the sway of a reed. Desire elevated her awareness. Need magnified her senses. Or maybe it was just Will's touch, his scent, his eyes, his mouth that could do these things to her. All she knew…was wanting him more. Intensely, fiercely, greedily wanting more…and wanting to give him more. To make him feel sky-high as a man, the way he'd made her feel sky-high as a woman from the very start.

Out of nowhere, she heard a discordant sound. A distinctly civilized sound.

“Will?”

“I know,” he muttered immediately, as if answering the question he assumed was on her mind. “Too damned narrow and hard and open out here. Not comfortable. The cabin. We'll go down to the cabin.”

Talk was cheap. He'd barely made the incoherent announcement before he'd lowered her back to his lap. Her legs naturally wound around his waist, enabling more of those potent, dangerous kisses. They'd danced before, she knew, but this music had a beat, a power, that seemed to own her from the inside out.

They swayed into each other, a courting dance of chest to breast, lip to lip, her lap nestled against his erection. With each kiss, the dance seemed to intensify the beat of hearts, the drum of wind, the lyrics of longing and passion and fire.

The discordant sound intruded on her consciousness again.

It was a phone, she recognized with frustration. The sound emanated from down beneath the seat cushions. It was Will's cell phone—it must have fallen.

“Will,” she said, and maybe she whispered it against his neck, but her tone meant to communicate seriousness.

“Forget it. I don't care. Whoever it is can leave a message.”

But it wasn't that simple. The phone eventually stopped ringing and then started up again. Stopped and started…again. After the fifth time they couldn't help but notice and slowly Will pulled away from her to answer the phone.

Kelly could hear, all too clearly, the sound of a woman's frantic voice on the other end.

“Will. It's your Mom, dear. Your dad's been in an accident. He'll be fine, we're almost sure….” A catch in his mom's voice, raw and soft. “But could you come? Lakeland Hospital.”

K
ELLY MOVED
as fast as Will, had her clothes back on and was cleaning up even before Will started the motor. They headed back to the marina, taking advantage of both the sail and the ship's motor to achieve maximum speed.

She found a plastic bag below, where she swooped up the rose petals and secured them in her purse before bounding back on deck. “What can I do to help?”

“Nothing until we get there. Then you can help me tie up.”

She nodded, thinking it strange how, considering all that had just happened, she hadn't forgotten Will asking her to go to Paris with him. That subject was obviously completely tabled for now. Still, her heart kept reeling from the possibility. All this time, she'd been so sure Paris had only been a fantasy she could never return to.

Well, maybe Paris had been a fantasy. But Will wasn't. Maybe they could go back.

By the time they pulled into the marina, Will's face was harsh. There were no smiles in his eyes.

“Do you want me to drop you off home?” he asked her.

They tied lines, covered the sail and locked up, then charged for his car at the same breakneck pace. “My apartment is so close to the hospital that it'll work either way,” she said. “If you want to be with your family alone, then drop me off. But if you want me to be there with you…I want to. I know your family. Maybe I can help, Will. Choose whatever way works best for you.”

“I want you with me.” There was no hesitation in his voice. When they climbed in his car, he brushed a brief, hard kiss on her lips, a kiss of connection.

In less than an hour, they were striding into the hospital. Will stopped at the information desk, discovered that his dad had been moved from the E.R. to a private room. Halfway down the corridor, Kelly recognized Will's mom. She didn't know his sisters but the three women were readily identifiable from their blond hair to the Maguire bones, even if they hadn't instantly descended on Will like hummingbirds.

Kelly doubted Will even realized how naturally he took charge, how naturally they all knew they could let down their guard once he was there. His mom spotted her, and separated from the rest to reach out with both arms.

Kelly immediately folded the woman into a hug, saw tears start to well in Will's mother's eyes. Apparently Barbara had been determined to hold it together for her family, but given a sympathetic outsider, all the fear for her husband had sneaked to the surface. Kelly had been afraid she'd be in the way, but now she was glad she'd come.

“The doctors just talked to us. Aaron's going to be fine,” Barbara said, although her voice quavered.

“That's great news.”

“It was just so frightening. The car was completely totaled. And he was covered in blood and knocked out for a few minutes, so initially we had no idea how badly he was hurt. And all we could do was wait. It took ages to do all the X-rays and tests and finally hear what was wrong.”

Will came up behind the two of them, heard the rest.

“He's got some terrible-looking bruises. A broken ankle. They want him completely off his leg for a couple weeks. It took forever in the emergency room because they had to stitch him up all over the place.” Her voice caught again.

Will put his hand on Barbara's shoulder. “I'm going in there, Mom.”

“Good. Go.”

Will looked at Kelly, as if to say,
You'll watch over my girls for me?
As if he had to ask. Down the hall, there was the usual ubiquitous waiting room, where they could plunk down—or pace—until Will returned. Kelly easily got his sisters talking. They all wanted to spell out the details of the accident, over and over, as if talking could purge the fear from their minds.

“It wasn't Dad's fault. The police said the other driver was drunk. In the middle of the
day.
Swerved right into Dad's lane, and then Dad swerved trying to avoid him, only that meant that cars were coming at him from both directions. His car looks like an accordion. There's nothing to fix. It's a complete write-off.”

“But really, it's a miracle everyone walked away from it,” Will's mom said firmly. “A car is just a car.”

“I know, Mom. I know. But who's going to run the business while Dad's laid up?”

The question was rhetorical, Kelly figured. Unless they'd all lost their minds, the Maguire women knew perfectly well how that egg was going to fry.

Will emerged from his father's hospital room moments later. The family hung together a while longer, making plans. Aaron needed serious rest, and the nurse firmly asked that there be no more visitors, that it would be better if everyone left until the next morning. Will agreed but wanted to speak to the doctor one last time himself. He sent the Maguire women home, arranged for his sisters to get their mom dinner and promised Barbara that he'd be home—her home—before dark. His mother really wanted him to stay with her that night.

Kelly hung tight until he'd talked to the doctor. By the time Will was steering her toward the exit doors, the parking lot was only half-filled, the late-afternoon sun relentless and hot. It was the first second she'd had him alone in hours.

“Thanks for staying,” Will said. “I didn't realize it was going to take this long.”

“It's fine. I was glad to be there. I like your whole family.”

“And they adored you on sight.”

“They don't
adore
me, fella. They think I'm the key to keeping you in South Bend. That gives me so much political clout that I can probably trip over my mouth a few dozen times and still land in the plus column.” She added smoothly, “So…you agreed to take over the company for your dad?”

He startled in surprise. “How did you know that?”

“Because he's hurt. And he's your father. And I'm guessing it's the first thing he asked you when you went into his room.”

“You've got that right.” He started the car and merged into traffic. When he didn't add anything further, Kelly pushed.

“How're you feeling about it?”

“You mean, because it's the last thing in hell I ever wanted to do?”

He sighed. “It's exactly what you said. Dad's hurt. That's a whole different thing. He'll be back on his feet in a couple of weeks—which means, knowing my dad, he'll find some way to be in the office at the end of next week, no later.”

“And?” She knew there was more.

“And, I knew from his expression that he thought this accident was the best thing that could have happened. He thought it'd manipulate me into sitting in his chair. Keeping me here.”

“And?”

He shot her a look. “Before you were in my life, did you know, no one ever pried? I mean, my sisters did, but I learned how to play them when I was a kid. You, though, are worse than a bloodhound.”

“Thank you so much.”

“You're welcome.” He reached over and tracked a finger down her ribs, just to remind her that he knew her hopeless ticklish spots. And to avoid being plagued anymore, he answered her questions. “It doesn't matter whether he's trying to manipulate me or not. Doesn't matter what I want to do. He's hurt. He needs help. He's family. Even when I want to strangle him, he's still my dad. And that's that.”

He pulled into her driveway a few minutes later, frowning at the look of her place, the way he always did. Tonight, though, he was obviously distracted, and when he stopped the car, she insisted he not walk her to the door. She knew he still had miles to go that night, and that his mom was waiting for him.

Before climbing out, though, she said gently, “You need to be here, but I know you must be feeling trapped. Still, since you're stuck staying longer, Will, you might as well use the time to forge something different with your dad. I know, I know. It hasn't been going well. But this is another chance, right? Whether you asked for it or not, it's still another opportunity to try something new, some way to get along better with him.”

“Kelly…” She heard the annoyance in Will's voice, knew—par for the course—that she'd gone too far.

She leaned across the gearshift, which required major acrobatics, and cupped his cheek so she could kiss him. Kissing him was easy enough, but shaping the kiss she wanted was a serious challenge, because she didn't want a plain old smack. She wanted a lip-melting, down-and-dirty, heart-squeezing pressure-cooker of a kiss. When she lifted her head, her heart was racing as if she'd run a three-minute mile, and her spine felt permanently twisted.

She said softly, swiftly, “I love you, Will.” Before tumbling out of the car and heading inside.

He didn't answer. But then she hadn't given him a chance to.

Right then, neither of them had answers for anything. Much less each other, Kelly thought.

She felt unsettled even before she walked into the apartment—and more so after she saw the mess. Her roommate was out somewhere. There were no signs of life beyond a mound of soda cans, dozens of beer cans, flies buzzing around pizza left in the sink from last night and the stink of dirty socks on the floor near the door.

Normally Skip was a pretty decent roommate, but every once in a while he remembered he was still a college kid and reverted to type. A complete slob. A condemnable-by-any-health-department-standard slob.

She wasn't about to clean up after him, Kelly told herself every time. As she filled the sink with sudsy water and shook out a fresh trash bag, she told herself she was only doing this for herself, because she couldn't stand the mess or the smells. Which was true. Or true enough.

But it was also true that her plan to get out of this dump had become newly complicated. Will was staying longer in South Bend because of his dad now. He'd also asked her to go with him to Paris. She didn't know how or when any of that was going to resolve, which meant that for her to make any sudden, big moves without being sure of all the consequences seemed foolhardy.

Which meant, of course, that she was stuck in this nightmare of a place for a while longer.

Suddenly feeling too ornery to settle on any serious project, she plunked down with her itchy mood and pounced on e-mail. Naturally, there was no response from her father, but that didn't stop her from sending him another post.

 

Bonsoir, mon père. I see there's still no response from you…but until I get a message that my e-mails are undeliverable or some clear indication you're blocking me, I'm determined to keep up a dialogue. Even if you think I'm a complete *chameau* and a peau de vache—you're stuck with my being your daughter.

And since you're stuck, you're destined to hear a piece of my mind today, because I am really upset. In fact, I've had it—had it—with fathers who treat their children like inanimate objects. You have no idea what I've been through with Will today. He loves his dad, but his dad only seems to love him back if Will does what he wants. And then there's you. Who never cared enough to even find out if I existed.

Well, since I can't be with Will tonight—and I'm tired of living with all this unsettledness—I'm going over to Mom's to have it out with her. It's about time I heard her story about why she told me you were dead. I'd also like to know why and how she could have fallen in love with a man—namely you—who apparently didn't give a damn about her. I'm sorry to be so cross in this e-mail. It's really been a rotten day. Love, Kelly

 

She hit Send, and then abruptly realized that she'd written exactly what she wanted to do with the rest of her evening.

 

S
HE FOUND
her mom on the back porch, doing business…a cell phone in one hand, her laptop open on a white wrought-iron table, her bare feet cushioned on an ottoman…the toenail paint shiny red and still wet, her toes separated by white cotton balls.

Char looked up with a quick smile when she saw Kelly. Both of them had been miserable about their relationship lately, Kelly knew. Her mom's eyebrows raised when she saw the bottle of wine, but even though she continued the business call, she motioned for Kelly to come in. Kelly motioned back that she was headed for the kitchen first.

She knew where the wine opener and glasses were, filled the two goblets near to the rim—no tame drinking for this conversation—and then carried the tray through the living room and onto the back porch again.

Her mother was still on the phone, but she blinked at the size of the poured wine—shot a curious, concerned look at Kelly—and started to seriously hustle the caller along.

The white lilacs were just fading against the far fence, and the peonies tucked on the north side of the house were beginning to grow heavy with fat, pink blooms. The lawn was fresh clipped and looked luxuriously soft and green. A neighbor's mower buzzed three doors down. Somewhere kids were yelling and whooping it up on a trampoline.

Every sight and sound was familiar. Maybe there was nothing fancy or expensive about the suburb, but so many childhood memories were etched in her mind. It was the kind of neighborhood where people watched out for one another, the kind of neighborhood where she'd go to Jason's house after school as often as he came to hers, and everybody did big block parties and knew each other's business and yelled if a child did something unsafe, even if it wasn't their own kid.