Their Child?. Karen Rose Smith
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afternoon, her sleek red hair coiled high on her head, wearing that simple, elegant dress that hugged all her curves and made her delicate skin glow.
Yeah. She did shine in pink. She had that touch of cool rose in her coloring that made it work.
She reminded him of…
He blinked.
And time itself seemed to fall away. He went spinning backward, into that May night eleven years ago.
Lena had worn pink that night. And she’d outshone every other girl at the prom. They had danced every dance. He wouldn’t let any of the other guys even get near her.
That night had changed everything—or so he’d thought when it was happening. That night, though he didn’t tell Lena then, he decided that he wasn’t letting her break up with him, after all. That night, he didn’t care in the least that the big, wide world and all the strange, exotic, mysterious places in it, would never be his to know or explore. That night, he only wanted to stay right there, in his hometown, with Lena held close in his arms…
Lena…
So strange.
He could see his younger self, looking down at her as she whirled in his arms. Lena…
Or was it?
Right now, as he pictured Lena, smiling softly, gazing up at him on that long-ago night, it wasn’t Lena he saw. He was sure of it. He looked down and…
He saw Lori in his arms.
It couldn’t be. It wasn’t. Of course not. His mind was playing weird tricks on him, that was all.
Still, somewhere deep at the center of himself, he was certain…
Blazing heat flooded up under the collar of his silk dress shirt. The walls pressed in on him. He couldn’t breathe.
And then Lori looked up from the table where she sat with Brody. She saw him.
And she smiled. Sheepishly. Hopefully.
Damn. She was beautiful.
And somehow, her smile did the trick. The world righted itself. Everything spun back into place.
The past wasn’t now.
Just as Lori wasn’t Lena.
He almost laughed out loud at his own idiocy. It made a strange kind of sense, he supposed—that now, with the way he felt about Lori, it would seem to him that it must have been her and not her twin he held in his arms that night.
Funny, how a man’s mind could play tricks on him when his heart got involved.
And as much as that one night still haunted him now and then, as much as what had happened then didn’t quite add up—as much as, when he looked back on it, he was troubled by the idea that Lena hadn’t really seemed like Lena…
It simply didn’t matter. It was years ago. Lena was over it and so was he. They had both moved on.
What mattered was right now. What mattered was the hopeful smile on Lori Lee’s soft mouth.
Someone jostled his elbow. “‘Scuse me,” he said automatically, not sparing so much as a glance for whoever had bumped him. He started forward, eyes on the prize, moving swift and sure around the tables, until he reached Lori’s side.
“Tucker!” Brody’s face lit up in a wide smile of greeting.
He gave the boy an answering grin. “Hey, Brody. How you doing?”
“Okay.” Brody stuck his finger under his collar. “‘Cept for this suit.” He made choking noises.
“Brody,” Lori warned softly. Brody heaved a sigh and took his finger out of his collar.
Tucker winked at him. “Lookin’ good, though.”
“You think?” Brody stretched his neck and smoothed his kid-size tie.
“No doubt about it.” Tucker dared to turn his gaze to the woman in pink. “And you…” There were no words. He said the one that came closest. “Beautiful.”
Her soft mouth trembled on a radiant smile. “Why, thank you…”
He reached down and plucked the place card from the empty spot beside her. “Well, what do you know? This is my seat.”
Her expression said she’d already looked at his place card. Still, she teased, “No way…”
He turned the card around so she could read his name—just in case she hadn’t already. “Yep. ‘Fraid so.” He pulled back the chair and slid into it, grabbing his swan-shaped napkin and shaking it out to lay it across his lap.
She leaned close. He got a whiff of her scent, a light scent, as tempting as the sight of her in that pink dress. She asked out of the side of her mouth, “Where did you put Charlie Bowline? He was here a few minutes ago. Apparently, one of the ushers told him he was seated at this table.”
Tucker turned his head enough to snare her gaze. And smiled. Slowly. He watched her lips soften and part a fraction. Her eyes changed, clear blue going soft and smoky.
He said, “Mr. Charles Bowline will be sitting with Tate and Molly Bravo. If he ever manages to find his seat, I’m sure he’ll have a terrific time. Tate and Molly are a lot of fun.”
“Charlie is the best man, you know,” she murmured chidingly.
“Don’t say that. You’ll hurt my feelings.”
She pressed her lips together to keep from laughing, but still the corners of that sweet mouth trembled. “Dirk’s best man, I mean.”
“And I hope he finds his seat quickly.” A waiter filled his gold-edged flute with champagne. He lifted it toward Lori. She picked hers up and they tapped them together.
“Hey. Me, too.” Brody had his Coke raised high.
Tucker tapped the kid’s glass and so did Lori. “To the best man, wherever he may be.”
The food came—skewered shrimp and then salads and a main course of filet mignon and stuffed baked potatoes. It was damn good, all of it. Surprising, considering the size of the crowd. In Tucker’s experience, the bigger the dinner, the worse the food.
Not that the food mattered. To Tucker, the company was what counted—and since the company included Lori, all was right with the world.
They chatted with the other guests at their table—two couples from Abilene, friends of Dirk’s family, and a sweet elderly lady: Dirk’s great-aunt. Beyond the tall windows, the sky slowly darkened to pewter-gray as the promised storm rolled in. Not a problem. They were all safe and dry and having a great time.
Neither Tucker nor Lori mentioned the mysterious appointment she had with him Monday, or their phone conversation the previous Sunday, when she’d as good as said she’d never go out with him. By unspoken agreement, they kept things light and general.
That was okay with Tucker.
She was beside him and he saw no reason she wouldn’t stay there for the rest of the afternoon—even on into the evening if he got really lucky.
There would be dancing.
Oh, yeah. He was a happy man.
Everything seemed workable, now. The afternoon and evening stretched out ahead of them. Sunday, he’d see her at church and at the diner. And Monday…well, she’d set that up herself. Whatever legal matter she wanted to discuss with him, she’d be right there in his office.
He’d have another chance to convince her of how they should be spending more time together.
Like, say, the rest of their lives.
No. He smiled to himself. He wasn’t going to push her too fast. He would take it nice and easy and slow…
After