Orchard Valley Grooms (15 page)

“I’ll tell you what I’ve become,” Steffie said with a laugh, “and that’s Italian. The first day after I left Rome I slipped from English to Italian and then back again without noticing. I think I spent twice as long clearing customs as anyone else, simply because the agent didn’t know what to make of me.”

“So can you cook me some real Italian spaghetti?” her father asked.

“I certainly can, and I promise it’ll be so good you’ll dream about it the rest of your life.”

“With plenty of garlic?”

Steffie raised the tips of her fingers to her lips and made a loud smacking sound. “With enough garlic to ward off vampires for the next hundred years. Besides, I hear garlic’s good for your heart.”

“But lousy for your love life.”

“I don’t think either of us needs to worry about that,” she teased.

“Ah.” David Bloomfield shook his head. “That’s where you’re wrong, Princess. You, my darling Stephanie, are about to discover what it means to be in love.”

Steffie didn’t want to say she already knew all she cared to on that subject.
Thanks, Dad—but no thanks,
she told him silently. Falling in love wasn’t an experience she wanted to repeat.

“You aren’t going to argue with me like Valerie did, are you?”

“Would there be any point?”

“No,” he said, smiling broadly.

“I didn’t think so.”

“You don’t believe I really talked to your mother, do you?”

“Uh…” It wasn’t that she disbelieved him exactly.
He
was convinced that something had happened, so her opinion was irrelevant. He claimed to have enjoyed a lengthy conversation with her mother while strolling around some celestial lake. Valerie had mentioned it soon after Steffie’s arrival. Norah had talked about it, too. Steffie found their accounts fascinating. Did she believe it had happened? She didn’t know. She was inclined to think he’d experienced some kind of revelation—but whether it was spiritual, as he thought, or a dream, or a fantasy of his own making, she had no idea. And it didn’t matter.

“You won’t be the only one who doesn’t believe my talk with your mother was real.”

“It isn’t that, Dad.”

“Don’t you worry about it. Time will prove me right.”

“Prove you right about what?” a distinctive male voice asked from behind her. Steffie froze and the dread washed over her.

Charles Tomaselli.

He was the last person she’d expected to meet here. The last person she wanted to see again.

“How’re you feeling, David?” he asked.

“I’ve been better.”

“I’ll bet you have,” Charles said wryly.

Steffie was on her feet immediately. “I’ll leave you two to chat,” she said with a cheery lilt, anxious to leave the room.

“There’s no reason for you to go,” her father countered, holding out his hand to her. “Your smile is the brightest sunshine I’ve seen in days. Isn’t that so, Charles?”

Steffie cringed inwardly, and not giving Charles time to comment, quickly squeezed her father’s hand. “I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to have too much company all at once.”

“That’s probably true,” Charles agreed. “Besides, I’ve got some business to discuss with you. I thought you’d be interested in hearing what happened as a result of that article we did on the migrant-worker situation.”

Steffie’s breath caught in her throat until she realized Charles wasn’t referring to the stunt she’d pulled in his office the day before. She went weak with relief when she heard him mention something about Commissioner O’Dell initiating an inspection program.

Steffie still hadn’t looked at Charles, still hadn’t turned to face him. She delayed it as long as possible, leaning forward to kiss her father’s cheek. “I’ll get a ride back to the house with Valerie or Norah, but I’ll be in again this evening and we can finish our…discussion.”

“I’ll see you then, Princess.”

Steffie nodded and mentally braced herself as she
turned away from her father’s bed. She looked shyly at Charles. To her astonishment, their eyes met instantly. They seemed drawn to gaze at each other, as though neither could resist the pull of mutual attraction. Her own heart gave a small burst of joy and she wondered if, deep within, his did, too.

“Hello, Steffie.”

“Charles.” Her voice was low and wispy. “I’ll see you later, Dad.”

“Bye, Princess.”

Her eyes skidded past Charles as she hurried from the room, eager now to make her escape. By the time she reached the end of the corridor, she heard a roaring in her ears and she was breathless—all because of a casual encounter with Charles. Obviously she’d need to prepare herself mentally for even such minor confrontations.

She hadn’t been nearly as shy with him that summer evening three years earlier, she remembered with chagrin. It mortified her now to think of her brazen behavior….

If Charles considered her a
kid
when he’d invited her for coffee, then Steffie decided she owed it to herself to show him he was wrong. Without difficulty, she’d been able to discover where Charles lived. Crime had never been much of a problem in Orchard Valley, and Charles had been kind enough to leave his front door unlocked.

When he appeared several hours later, there were scented candles lit throughout the living room and a bottle of champagne chilling in the kitchen.

“Is that you, darling?” Steffie had called out from the bathroom. She’d been sitting in a bubble-filled tub for the better part of an hour, and her skin had started to shrivel. She was also worried about the candles dripping and the champagne getting warm, but she dared not leave, fearing she’d never be able to get the bubbles just right again. It was important that he think she was completely nude, though in reality she wore a skimpy bikini.

Charles didn’t answer. He stalked into the room, stopping abruptly in the doorway as his shocked gaze fell on her.

“What the hell are you doing here?” he’d demanded.

“I thought you should know I’m not a child.”

“Then what are you—a mermaid?”

She forced a soft laugh and said in what she hoped was a sultry, adult voice, “No, silly man, I’m a
woman
and if you’ll come here, I’ll prove it to you.”

“Get out.”

“Out? But…but I was hoping you’d join me.”

“No way, sweetheart. Now either you remove yourself from my home or I’m calling the police.”

She pushed her big toe under the water tap. “I think my toe might be stuck.”

“Fine, I’ll call the plumber.”

“But, Charles, darling…”

“Charles, nothing,” he snapped. Marching into the bathroom and gripping her by the upper arm, he lifted her halfway out of the tub. She screeched, stumbling to find her balance. As soon as she was upright, Charles
tossed a towel at her and told her she had five minutes to leave before he called the police.

Steffie had fled, but she’d seen the gleam of male admiration in Charles’s eyes, seen the way he’d looked at her for a second or two. And, fool that she was, she hadn’t been the least bit discouraged. Instead, she’d devised yet another plan.

Steffie wandered into the waiting area searching for Valerie. One of the orderlies mentioned that her sister had gone to pick up office supplies. Steffie remembered hearing something about an errand, but she hadn’t been paying enough attention to recall whether Valerie was returning to the hospital or going straight home.

Oh, well, there was always Norah.

Tracking down her youngest sister didn’t take long. Within five minutes, Steffie found her in the emergency room—preparing to go on duty. The hospital was understaffed, and now that their father was beginning to recover, Norah had returned to work. Steffie didn’t bother to ask for a ride.

Hoping Charles would be gone, she went back to the surgical ward. Her luck hadn’t improved, and they met at the elevator.

“I thought you were headed home?”

“I’ll have to wait for Valerie,” she said, trying to edge past him. “Or get a cab.”

His arm blocked her escape. “There’s no need to do that. I’ll drop you off at the house.”

“No, thanks,” she returned stiffly.

“I want to talk to you, anyway,” he said, none too gently guiding her into the elevator. “And as they say, there’s no time like the present.”

“This really isn’t necessary, Charles.”

“Oh, but it is.”

She noticed, when he led her out of the hospital to the parking lot, that he was driving the same red sports car she’d seen the day before. It eased her conscience a bit that it hadn’t been damaged during his race across the countryside.

He opened the door for her, and Steffie climbed inside. She was adjusting the seat belt when Charles joined her. The space seemed to shrink like silk pressed against a hot iron. Their shoulders touched, their thighs, their arms. For a moment, Steffie held her breath.

“You said you wanted to talk to me?” she said after he’d pulled out of the hospital parking lot. She was leaning as close to the passenger door as she could.

“I thought we’d discuss it over a glass of iced tea. You
are
inviting me inside, aren’t you?” He turned and grinned at her, that boyish, slightly skewed grin she’d always found so appealing.

She’d planned to tell him she had no intention of letting him in; instead she cleared her throat and said, “If you’d like.”

“I would.”

The ten-mile drive to the house generally took fifteen minutes. Steffie could have sworn Charles was purposely
dragging out the time, driving well below the speed limit. They were so close in the small cramped car that she couldn’t avoid brushing against him, even though she tried not to. She was trying to forget that he’d kissed her the day before, and this didn’t make it any easier.

Steffie closed her eyes. It was all she could do not to shout at him to hurry. Why was he prolonging these moments alone? The least he could do was make polite conversation.

“My father seems cheerful, doesn’t he?” If Charles wasn’t going to say something, then she would. Anything to ease this terrible awareness.

“He certainly does.”

“He’s got a reason to live now, and that’s made all the difference in the world. I’m not sure what to think about his dream, but—”

“What dream?”

“Uh…nothing… It’s not important.” Steffie couldn’t believe what she’d done. In her nervousness, in her desperation to fill the silence, she’d blurted out what should never have been shared.

She relaxed when Charles finally turned off the road onto the mile-long family driveway. He parked in front of the house.

Steffie didn’t wait for him, but threw open her door and jumped out, her keys already in hand. She had the front door open by the time he caught up with her, and tossing her purse onto the hall table, led him briskly into the kitchen.

Norah had made some iced tea that morning. Steffie silently thanked her sister for her thoughtfulness as she took out the cold pitcher. A minute later, she’d found two tall glasses, added ice and sliced a fresh lemon. Another minute, and the drinks were ready.

“What was it you wanted to say?” Steffie reluctantly asked. She hadn’t realized how warm she was and held the glass between both hands, enjoying the coolness against her palms.

“It’s about what happened yesterday,” Charles said, walking away from her. He paused at the bay window that overlooked the backyard. Just beyond his view was the stable. “Or more appropriately, what
shouldn’t
have happened.”

“I
’d rather not discuss it,” Steffie said adamantly. She didn’t want to hear any more about her irresponsible accusations and rash actions. Nor did she wish to hear how much Charles regretted kissing her.

“If anyone needs to apologize, it’s me,” she said quickly. “Why don’t we just leave it at that? I was wrong.”

Charles’s back was to her as he stared outside toward the stables. “I don’t think anyone’s ever infuriated me this much,” he said quietly. He turned, set his glass of iced tea aside and thrust his hands into his pockets. “I’ve never met a woman who manages to irritate me the way you do.”

Steffie stiffened. “I’ve already apologized for leaping to conclusions. I admitted I was wrong.” She shrugged elaborately. “My only excuse is that I spent a hellish week trying to get home and I haven’t slept properly in days and I—”

“This isn’t necessary,” he said, interrupting her. “I’m not looking for an apology…. Actually I’m here to make my own. I want you to know I’m sorry about chasing after you. It was a dangerous thing to do. I might have spooked Fury into throwing you.”

“Not to mention damaging your car.”

“True enough.”

“Let’s put it behind us,” Steffie suggested with a weak smile. “I was wrong to run away. It was…childish.”

“You were angry, too.”

“I’ve never met a
man
who manages to irritate me the way you do,” she said, consciously echoing his words.

“We always seem to get on each other’s nerves, don’t we?” His grin was warm and gentle, just as his kiss had been. Strangely, Steffie found his smile no less devastating.

“We certainly have a history of annoying each other.” It took her more courage than he’d ever know to refer to the past. But suddenly she hoped they could put that behind them, too.

“I’d never be able to forgive myself if anything had happened to you,” he said.

“I wasn’t really in any danger of Fury throwing me.” Okay, so that was a slight exaggeration, but she
had
stayed in the saddle.

“It was, shall we say, a memorable way for us to meet again.” Charles’s voice was husky. He moved closer to her and she lowered her eyes, but not before she noticed how his attention seemed to center on her mouth.
“There’s one thing I’m not sorry about.” He took another step toward her and raised his hand to touch her cheek. His fingers brushed aside a stray lock of hair. Steffie couldn’t move. She couldn’t think coherently. She could barely breathe.

“I don’t regret kissing you,” Charles whispered.

Then she did move. Trembling, she stepped backward and bolted to the other side of the room.

“Stephanie?”

“Call—call me Steffie,” she stuttered. Her hands were shaking so badly that she jerked them behind her.

“I prefer to call you Stephanie. You’re not a little girl anymore.”

She smiled brightly. Now was the perfect time to convince him how sophisticated she’d become after three years in Europe—sophisticated and
experienced.
She was sure that was the type of woman he expected, the type of woman he wanted.

“As kisses go, it was very nice,” she agreed in an offhand manner. Was she overdoing it? she wondered. “Yours had a gentleness, and that was unusual. Most men aren’t like that, you know? When they kiss a woman it’s hot and sweaty. They leave a girl breathless.”

“I see,” Charles said, raising one eyebrow.

She placed her hands on her hips, fashion-model style, and tilted back her head, letting her long brown hair swing lightly. “I’m not the same person I was three years ago. You’re right about that. I’m all grown-up now.”

“So it seems.”

“I appreciate the ride home,” she said, walking out of the kitchen. She hoped Charles would follow her because she wasn’t sure how much longer she could maintain this performance.

“Is there anything else these…hot, sweaty men taught you?” he asked in a dispassionate voice. He reached for his iced tea, apparently disinclined to leave quite so soon.

She turned around and smiled serenely. “You’d be surprised.” Deciding to give him the answer he deserved, she rashly went on. “As you might imagine, I met men of all nationalities—students from all over Europe—and I sampled my fair share of kisses.” Mostly chaste kisses of greeting or farewell, but he didn’t have to know that. And then there were Mario’s exuberant hugs…. Mario was only four years old, but Charles didn’t have to know that, either.

Charles scowled, and set his glass down on the counter hard enough to slosh liquid over the edges. He stalked past her. “Goodbye,
Steffie,
” he said coldly, throwing the words over his shoulder.

It wasn’t until he’d slammed the front door that she understood his words had been meant as an insult. He was telling her he’d changed his mind, reconsidered. He’d seen through her little dramatization and decided he’d been wrong: she wasn’t an adult. She remained a silly, immature girl.

Steffie wandered between two rows of budding apple trees, contemplating her latest disaster with Charles.
The setting sun cast a rosy splendor over the orchard. All her life, Steffie had come out here when she needed to think. This was where she found peace, and a tranquillity that eased her burdens. Since her last meeting with Charles, there’d been plenty of those. And regrets. She hadn’t seen him in several days and that helped. But it also hurt. There were so many unanswered questions between them, so many unspoken words.

Hearing footsteps behind her, Steffie turned to see Norah walking toward her.

“You’ve got to do something!” Norah moaned.

“About what?” she asked when Norah moved three agitated paces ahead of her.

“You’ve got to help Valerie. You can give her advice. You’ve had more experience with men.”

Steffie suppressed the urge to laugh at the irony of this statement, considering her ludicrous performance in front of Charles. She reached up to run her fingers along the smooth bark of a branch. “What’s wrong with her?”

“She’s making the biggest mistake of her life,” Norah said dramatically. It wasn’t often that her sister sounded so distraught. Unfortunately Steffie was hardly the ideal person to advise Valerie on romance.

“I told you before that Valerie and Dr. Winston are in love,” Norah continued. “Everyone around them can see it. And whenever Valerie and Colby are together, they can’t keep their eyes off each other.”

“So what’s the problem?”

“They aren’t seeing each other anymore.”

“What do you mean?”

“They’re avoiding each other. I don’t think they’ve talked in days.”

Norah’s words struck a chord in Steffie. She knew exactly what Valerie was doing, because she was guilty of the same thing herself. She hadn’t seen Charles since the day he’d driven her home from the hospital. They were obviously taking pains to avoid each other—just like Valerie and Dr. Winston.

“I don’t see what I can do,” Steffie muttered.

“Talk to Val,” Norah argued. “She might listen to you.”

“What am I supposed to say?”

Norah hesitated, frowning. “I don’t know, but you’ll think of something. I’ve given it my best shot and I just wasn’t getting through to her. Maybe you can.”

“I’m glad you have so much faith in my abilities,” Steffie said lightly.

“I do have faith in you,” Norah said, her blue eyes serious. “You’re different now than before you left.”

“Three years in Italy will do that to a girl.” As she had with Charles, Steffie strived to seem flippant and worldly.

“I don’t mean that. You’re more thoughtful. More—I don’t know—mature, I guess. Before you left Orchard Valley you acted like you had to prove yourself to the world, but it isn’t like that now. I can’t see you doing some of the crazy things you used to do.”

Just as well that Norah didn’t know about some of her “mature” behavior these past few days. And thank heaven no one in the family had any idea of the embar
rassing stunts she’d pulled trying to attract Charles’s attention three years ago.

“I remember the time you stood on Princess bareback and rode around the yard. You were lucky you didn’t break your neck.”

Steffie remembered the incident well. It had been shortly before their mother died. She’d been grieving so terribly, and doing something utterly dangerous had helped vent some of her pain and grief. But Norah was completely right. She shouldn’t have done it.

“Okay, I’ll talk to Valerie,” Steffie promised, “but I don’t know how much good it’ll do.”

Steffie tried. But the conversation with her sister hadn’t gone as planned. One look at Valerie told her how much her sister was suffering. Valerie tried to hide it, but Steffie knew the signs from her own limited experience with love.

They’d become involved in a lengthy discussion about love, then decided neither one of them was qualified to advise the other. They’d thought of bringing Norah in on the conversation but that suggestion had resulted in a bout of unexpected giggles. They couldn’t ask Norah about falling in love because she was too busy dating.

One interesting detail that emerged from their talk was something Valerie mentioned almost casually. While Steffie was struggling to find a way home, Charles had seemed very concerned about her. He’d
even pulled a few strings in an effort to help when she didn’t arrive on schedule.

Although they’d never openly discussed her relationship with Charles, Valerie seemed to know how Steffie felt. It wasn’t that Steffie had tried to conceal it; with one breath, she admitted she’d made a fool of herself over the newspaper article and with the next, she’d asked her sister about falling in love. Valerie was certainly astute enough to figure out Steffie’s feelings for Charles.

David Bloomfield was now recuperating at home and doing well. Steffie still hadn’t seen Charles. She’d thought maybe he’d be stopping by the house to visit her father, whose release from the hospital had been a festive event.

Steffie was pleased to see that Valerie and Colby were able to steal a few moments alone that afternoon, but she didn’t think their time together had gone well. They’d gone for a walk in the orchard; Valerie had looked pale and sad when they returned, and Colby had remained silent throughout the celebration dinner that followed.

Knowing it was inevitable that she’d see Charles again, Steffie tried to mentally brace herself for their next meeting.

She couldn’t have guessed it would be at the local gas station.

“Why, Steffie Bloomfield,” Del of Del’s Gas-and-Go greeted her when she went inside to pay for her fill-up and buy a bottle of soda. “I swear you’re a sight for sore eyes.”

She laughed. Del was pot-bellied and at least sixty, but he had to be the biggest flirt in town. “It’s good to see you again, too. What do I owe you for the gas?”

“If I were a rich man, I’d say the gas was free. Looking at your pretty face is payment enough. Right, Charles?”

It always happened when she was least prepared, when seeing him was the last thing she expected.

“Yeah, right,” Charles answered from behind her with a decided lack of enthusiasm.

“Hello, Charles,” she said, turning around to greet him, trying to sound casual and slightly aloof. She pasted a smile on her face, determined not to let him fluster her as he had every single time they’d encountered each other.

“Stephanie.”

“I don’t know if you heard, but Dad’s home now.”

“I got word of that the other day.” Charles took his wallet out of his hip pocket and paid for his gas.

Steffie twisted the top off her soda and took a deep swallow. It tasted cool and sweet, bringing welcome relief to her suddenly parched throat. “I was thinking you might stop by and visit.”
Hoping
more aptly described her thoughts, but she couldn’t admit that.

He didn’t answer as he followed her outside. The service-station attendant was washing her windshield and Steffie lingered, wanting to say something, anything, to make a fresh start with Charles.

“As I recall, you wrote one of your first columns about Del’s, didn’t you?”

“You’ve got a good memory,” Charles said, his words a bit less stiff.

The boy had finished with her windows and there was no further excuse to dawdle. Reluctantly she opened her car door. “It was good seeing you. Oh, by the way, Valerie told me you made several efforts to find me when I was trying to get home from Italy. I appreciate all the help you gave my family.”

He shrugged. She set one foot inside the car, then paused and glanced back at Charles. She
had
to speak up—now. “Charles.” He turned around again, a surprised expression on his face. “There’s something you should know.”

“What is it?”

“I’m very grateful for your friendship to my family—and to me.” With that she ducked inside her car, heart racing, and drove off without looking back.

Unfortunately dinner that evening was a strained affair. Norah had come to Steffie an hour before with the news that Colby had dated another nurse, a friend of Norah’s, three nights running. Norah didn’t know whether to tell Valerie, and had asked Steffie’s advice.

Steffie thought it best not to say anything to their sister until Norah had slept on the matter.

But Steffie suspected that Valerie was already aware of it, suspected that Valerie knew it in her heart. Although her sister hadn’t said anything to the family, Steffie believed she’d quietly made arrangements to
return to Texas and her job as vice president of CHIPS, a software company based in Houston.

Everyone could feel something was wrong, but no one said a word during dinner. Everyone was terribly polite—as though the others were strangers—which only heightened the tension.

Their father had made his excuses, claiming to be especially tired, and with Norah’s help retired to his room almost immediately after dinner.

Apparently Valerie wasn’t in the mood for company either, because she excused herself and retreated to her bedroom, leaving Steffie and Norah to their own devices.

After they’d finished clearing up after dinner, Norah left to attend a wedding shower for a friend.

Feeling at loose ends, Steffie inspected the kitchen. On impulse, she decided to make the spaghetti sauce she’d promised her father. She dragged out the largest pot she could find and began to assemble ingredients. Fresh tomatoes, onions, tomato paste, garlic. No fresh herbs, so dried would have to do. Oh, good, a bottle of nice California red…