Lullaby for Two / Child's Play. Karen Rose Smith
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of things.”
He could have kissed her then. He could have just bent right down and slid his arms around her. That’s what everything inside him urged him to do. But a kiss right now could damage the fragile thread of understanding forming between them.
After a last glance at Sean, Vince went to his room to find a clean shirt. Fortunately, Mrs. Zappa had ironed a few yesterday.
Away from Tessa, he inhaled a deep breath and took a white oxford, one of many he had because they were so practical, from his closet and carried it back to Sean’s bedroom where she was still watching his baby.
When she took the shirt, he said, “I’ll be in the kitchen pouring orange juice.”
He closed Sean’s bedroom door behind him, giving her the privacy to change…the privacy to think about their lives intersecting again.
A few minutes later, Tessa walked into the kitchen, feeling self-conscious in Vince’s shirt and knowing she shouldn’t. But when they’d been married, she’d sometimes worn one of his shirts with nothing underneath it and that had often led to—
She banished thoughts of their past together. Making sure she’d buttoned Vince’s shirt up to the neck, she told herself once more that there was nothing to be self-conscious about. Still, when Vince’s gaze slowly scanned her, she felt naked. She felt foolish; color crept into her cheeks.
She went to the counter where he had taken a pitcher from the refrigerator. “This housekeeper of yours must be a gem if she squeezes fresh orange juice for you.”
“She is. Already I don’t know what I’d do without her. I think she’s trying to mother me, though, and I don’t know how I feel about that.”
Tessa had never known her mother and in some ways, she believed her loss was easier than Vince’s situation where he’d had a mother one day and the next day he hadn’t. “You could let her do nice things for you. There’s nothing wrong with having parents who care, even at our age.”
As soon as she said it, she knew her words were a mistake.
Vince’s brow creased and he handed her one of the glasses he’d filled.
She took a few sips, not knowing where to take the conversation from there. Her father was definitely a hundredpound gorilla standing between them in the room.
She grasped for an easy topic. “So how do you like being chief of police?”
He shrugged. “It’s okay. I’m pushing around a lot of papers, though. I’m used to being in the thick of things.”
“Fortunately, we don’t have much murder and mayhem in Sagebrush.”
“Fortunately,” he agreed.
That change of subject hadn’t done so well.
The kitchen was furnished as sparsely as the rest of the house. There was a dining area with a table and chairs but it looked as if it was never used. There were no curtains or blinds, no place mats, not even a pad and pencil that said Vince spent some time here. But there was a calendar hanging by a magnet on the refrigerator. She noticed the appointment she’d had with Vince and the one with Dr. Rafferty were marked. Then there was a notation about his meeting at the high school. The rest of the blocks were empty.
She realized Vince hadn’t begun his life here yet.
“I know what you’re thinking,” he said gruffly.
“You’re a mentalist now?” Although her tone was teasing, she remembered all those times years ago when he could read her mind and she could read his. From the moment they’d first spoken to each other, they’d been so in sync.
He didn’t banter back. “You’re thinking a child should be raised in a real home, not just in a condo that’s a place to stay.”
He definitely wasn’t reading her mind tonight. “No, that’s not what I was thinking, Vince. I was thinking you’ve just begun a life here. It will take some time to establish it…if you want to.”
After he studied her thoughtfully, he admitted, “I couldn’t see putting money into rugs and drapes when we might only be here a few months. Except for Sean’s room. I wanted his room to be a special place for him.”
Setting her glass on the counter, she asked, “So you really intend to leave again?”
He set his glass down, too, and stuffed his hands into his pockets. “When I found the specialist in Lubbock, I thought coming back here would be a good idea. Since I was familiar with the area, I was able to get in touch with a couple of friends. I believed Sagebrush would be good for Sean because we wouldn’t be landing in a strange place. But as soon as I drove down Longhorn Way, I thought ‘strange’ might have been better. I have very few happy memories here, Tessa.”
She knew that was true—a mother who’d abandoned him, a father who hadn’t known how to be a father. Vince had had to be the parent. He’d had to pay the bills and work afterschool jobs to keep food on the table. Then when he’d married her, he’d had double the responsibility.
When Vince slipped one hand from his pocket, Tessa knew what he was going to do. She should have grabbed her medical bag and fled. She should have…but she didn’t.
He reached out and brushed her hair from her cheek. His rough skin on hers was as arousing as it always had been. Even back in high school, his hands had been callused from outside work. Trembling, she couldn’t look away from him, couldn’t step back, couldn’t forget what they’d once been to each other.
“Your perfume suits you.” His voice was husky and there was a fire in his eyes that meant he desired her. She could never forget that heat or hunger.
“You shouldn’t…” She couldn’t seem to get out any more words.
“I shouldn’t what? Touch you? We’ve been avoiding each other like we had the plague. I don’t think that has to do with lack of chemistry, but too much of it. It’s still there. Even worried about Sean, I want to feel your skin under my hand.”
He could always do this with words—make her need. He straightened the collar of his shirt around her neck and under her hair as if that were the most natural thing to do. But then his hand slid along her collarbone, his fingers lacing in still-damp strands of her hair.
When Vince’s lips brushed over hers, her breath caught, her heart raced, her stomach twittered. Before she realized what she was doing, she reached for him, too. Her body was reacting as if it knew what was best.
He murmured something against her lips, something like, “I don’t believe this is happening.”
But then she heard nothing but the hum of the refrigerator and concentrated on the sensation of Vince’s lips on hers. He had always been an expert kisser, even at eighteen. Now, there was no finesse about the kiss, no intentional seduction. She felt his deep hunger, felt hers rise up to meet it, welcomed the invasion and sweep of his tongue in her mouth, the press of his body against hers. Old and new, familiar and different, excitement and desire mixed with the thought that what they were doing was taboo…yet she couldn’t remember why.
Suddenly, a baby’s sharp cry penetrated her pleasure. Instinctively her body shut down. She broke the kiss, and Vince pulled back.
He said gruffly, “I have to check on him.”
Of course he did, and she wanted to run into the room with him. Already she cared about this child as she did all her patients. But she stayed put as if she were glued to the spot.
Mechanically she picked up her glass, drank more orange juice and didn’t think about the kiss, didn’t revel in the lingering sensations from it, didn’t wonder why she’d let it happen.
When Vince returned, she was still standing there, counting the tiles along the back of the sink.
“He’s okay,” Vince told her. “He must have cried out in his sleep. Sometimes