Chapter Six

Hours after he’d insulted Candace in the weight room, Neal came out onto the porch of his house before she reached the top step. He stood there, hands on his hips, feet braced apart, looking like he was ready for a fight. Candace offered one of the cups shooting frosty steam into the evening air.

“We can sit out here where the neighbors won’t think we’re anything more than a couple of friends enjoying a root beer float and some conversation.”

“I’m expecting Corey.” Still Neal took the offered cup. “We’re going out for pizza.”

“Fine.” She sat. “Just think of this as having your dessert first.”

Candace sighed in relief even as fresh nerves swam in her stomach when he relented and sat beside her. “I came by the gym this morning to tell you Appliance Land has offered to contribute a refrigerator to the youth center.”

“What does Baines want in return?”

“A week’s worth of prime advertising space.” Candace swirled her spoon in circular designs in her cup of ice cream. “Along with mention in the football program.”

“I’ll bring it up at the next meeting of the Booster Club.”

Neal spooned in two mouthfuls, then leaned back and stretched his legs out before him. “I’m sorry for what I said this morning, Candace. I was in a mean mood, and I took it out on you.”

“Believe me, Neal, what you tossed at me today is nothing compared to what I’ve dealt with before.” Because her throat felt raw, she soothed it with a spoonful of her float. “And much of what I went through in my marriage is far removed from the civilized image you have in your mind.”

With the silence between them thick and dangerous, Neal slowly, and carefully, sat back up. “What are you saying?”

“It had been made clear to both Anthony and I that we were expected to give the family, both families, an heir. As wrong as I know it was to enter into a marriage for so selfish a reason, I was willing to go through with the marriage for the joy of having a baby.” She cleared her throat but decided against taking another bite of ice cream, the first one wasn’t settling well in her stomach.

“When we had sex, Anthony wasn’t always, uhm, careful. Or gentle. I mean, I know there are times between a man and a woman when, well, when urgency is what is wanted, craved.”

She desperately wanted to get up and pace as she talked. She wanted Neal to take her in his arms, hold her as she opened her heart and vulnerabilities to him. Candace kept still and stared out over the front yard.

“From the beginning, from our wedding night actually, Anthony always seemed detached, almost mechanical. As if he viewed being intimate with me as a chore rather than as something to be shared.”

She paused, considered her own words, realized she shied away from saying she and Anthony had made love. Now she did sigh, and realized anew how much she’d sacrificed by agreeing to the marriage in the first place.

“But as the months went on it became apparent there would be no child.”

“You can’t have children?”

“I never got pregnant,” she answered. Her hands were so cold, from more than simply holding a chilled cup. She prayed it was nothing more than fate being kind to an innocent child that had prevented conception during her marriage.

“Anthony regularly blamed me; he accused me of not being able to satisfy his needs. I didn’t believe him,” she hurried on despite Neal’s low muttered oath. “Or at least I told myself I didn’t. Until the day I found out his latest mistress was pregnant. The same day I learned I once again had failed to get pregnant.”

“You didn’t fail,” Neal said, his voice low. “Last I heard it takes two people to make a baby.”

“Not according to Anthony.”

Neal swore again, using brutal language she’d never have expected. Candace couldn’t stop the cringe of humiliation.

She didn’t need to close her eyes to recall, in vivid detail, the fury and desperation on Anthony’s face. Nor did she want to forget the pain of his hands or the words he’d spat in an attempt to carve out a slice of her soul. He’d hurt her and for that she would never forgive him. But she also learned a lesson that day.

Never again would she settle for less than the respect and supportive love her heart wanted. Never again would she sit back and allow someone else to plot her future or make her decisions.

“He, uhm, Anthony was furious when he came home that night. More furious than I’d ever seen him.” Setting her cup down on the porch beside her, Candace gathered her courage and faced Neal.

“So furious that he began to hit me. It was the only night he did,” she hurried to say when she saw the rage burst onto Neal’s features.

It was important to her for him to understand she had not allowed the physical abuse to develop into a pattern.

“It was the only night he did,” she repeated and waited until he nodded. “I left him the next morning.”

“You went to Italy.”

“I ran. I was too embarrassed…ashamed,” she corrected after a moment. “To have anyone see what I had allowed. Even if only for one night I allowed it. I stood there, in that bedroom, Neal and never fought back that night. If Ben had not broken into our bedroom, I don’t know what might have happened.”

Neal leaned forward, braced his arms on his legs, and gripped his hands together.

“Like you said about your mother this morning,” Candace continued. Absently she rubbed her hands together. “I tossed aside my self-respect in order to get what I wanted at the time.”

“It’s different, Candace.”

“Is it, Neal? How? Why? Because I’m a member of the prominent Hart family and you’re not sure who your father is? Because I wanted a baby and your mother wanted material possessions?”

“It’s more than that, and you know it. Look around you.” Neal swept a hand across the sky. “This is pretty much the way I lived when I was growing up. I haven’t come very far since then.”

“You know what I see when I look around? That house”—she pointed down the street—“needs a new screen on the front door, while the house next to it has taken the time and effort to keep the grass mowed and even plant a few flowers. And there, a father is playing catch with his son. What I see, Neal, are families struggling to live, something that is true of every neighborhood.

“Oh, the house I grew up in was grander, more beautiful than most of the homes around here, but that doesn’t mean my family hasn’t had our share of heartache and misery. You know that as well as anyone in our family.”

“Maybe,” he allowed. “But you knew where you came from, where you belonged. I was never sure which man would come strutting out of my mother’s bedroom on any given morning.” His left hand fell to his knee, bunched into a fist. “I’m the one who had to stand by her grave and hear the whispered insults beneath the false expressions of sympathy.”

“Your mother made bad choices,” she murmured, rubbing fingertips over the tension rebuilding at her temples. “Those are things you had no control over, Neal. Just as I had no control over the way I was raised. Why can’t we both just accept the person we are today and go from there?” Gently, she moved her hand to close over his. “Maybe the truth is I’m the one who’s not good enough for you.”

His gaze jerked around to clash with hers. “Why on earth would you say that?”

“The decisions you’ve made about your personal life are influenced by your feelings about your mother and the way she lived her life. What about the women in my life? I don’t remember my mother,” she admitted with a choked cry. “I try but I can’t remember her. I look at pictures of her, but she’s like a stranger. I don’t remember if she held me or loved me.”

“Candace—”

She stopped him with a wave of her hand, then wiped the tears from her eyes. “My grandmother, the woman who has had the greatest influence on my life, ruined Ben and Tara’s first marriage. She chased away the brother I haven’t seen, except for one brief afternoon, in almost four years. I let her talk me into marrying a man I didn’t love, and then I walked out on that marriage.”

“It’s not the same.”

“Only because you don’t want it to be.” Candace stood. “You know I want to be with you, that I want to make love with you, Neal. The truth is I’ve liked, respected, admired, and loved you for more than half of my life. Even as I wore another man’s ring and lay beside him in the night. So this time the choice is yours.”

She sighed, took notice of Corey walking their way. “If you want us to remain as nothing more than friends, I’ll honor the choice you make. Hey, Corey.”

“Ms. Hart. Coach.” He jammed his hands into the pockets of his shorts. “Am I interrupting?”

“Nope,” Neal answered. Shaken by what sounded too much like an ultimatum, he stood and looked at Candace. He wasn’t ready to admit outside his private thoughts he wanted her as a lover. He also wasn’t willing to lose her friendship.

“I was just trying to talk Candace into grabbing some pizza with us.” When she blinked in surprise, he glanced back at Corey. “If you don’t mind.”

“Cool.”

“Maybe you could call Sandra and see if she’d like to come along.”

“Why?”

“Because if you two are along, then Candace will see it as an informal committee meeting and foot the bill.”

“Works for me,” Corey agreed, shrugging a shoulder in an effort to hide his pleasure with this change of plans.

Neal looked at Candace, watched softness overcome the sad resignation in her eyes and questioned if he deserved her respect and friendship. Even as he accepted them both shamelessly.

“Works for me, too,” she said.

****

The morning following their impromptu dinner with Corey and Sandra, Neal walked onto the front porch to collect the newspaper. And discovered roses waiting for him. Yellow ones, to represent friendship, Neal recalled her explaining.

Her behavior last night had certainly been nothing more than that of a friend. There had been no flirty glances, no lingering touches, and not one single provocative comment. Whether due to the teenagers’ presence or simply in support of her decision to back off her pursuit of becoming his lover, he couldn’t be sure.

She said she’d loved him for more than half her life. Then she gave him the choice of accepting or rejecting her feelings.

As he placed the roses on his kitchen table, he admitted he wanted to believe her. He wanted, with a desperation that was difficult to acknowledge, to accept her words as a lifelong promise.

By her own admission she’d made a similar promise to another man without her heart being involved.

It was possible they could maintain a physical relationship and the friendship as well. Many couples did. He had, on a few rare occasions, balanced along that line. Of course none of those women had been Candace.

If he believed her, if they began an affair, how could he protect her reputation until the time came when she realized her heart had changed? What did he have to offer her that someone else couldn’t give her?

How could he stand by, after having held her and kissed her, after having her tell him that she loved him, and allow another man the freedom to have his hands on her? Neal scrubbed a hand over his face as his thoughts kept going in circles, tormenting and confusing him.

“How come she sent you flowers? I thought the guy was supposed to do that kind of thing.”

Neal peeked over his fingers. Corey stood in the doorway, wearing only a pair of ragged blue jeans, rubbing a towel over his morning-shower hair. After last night’s dinner Candace had offered to drive Sandra home, claiming it would give them an opportunity for some girl talk. Neal’s offer to drive Corey altered into an invitation to spend the night when they spotted Joey Owens’ pickup in the front drive. Joey Owens and Corey’s mother, Renee, had a long established sexual relationship that didn’t always remain quiet or gentle in nature.

Corey took another swipe at his hair and then draped the towel over his neck. Neal noticed the summer job had complemented the weight lifting regime as much as he had hoped it would. The kid was well on his way to having a chance at getting a college scholarship.

“You’ve been around Candace enough to have learned by now she has her own way of doing things.”

“How come you didn’t go home with her last night?”

Neal stood and met Corey’s stare. There was way too much knowledge in the boy’s gaze.

“Candace took Sandra home.” Neal paused. “And you came here.”

“I could have gone somewhere else last night, you know. I’ve done it before.” Corey ducked his head a moment—with a shame that mirrored what still dogged Neal. “I don’t need anyone looking out for me.”

“You don’t like being here?”

Corey’s head jerked up and he met Neal’s gaze. “I don’t need your charity.”

“I didn’t offer any. I thought what I gave you was friendship and a little privacy along with a bed and some food this morning.” Neal crossed his arms over his chest. “The way I figure it, if you’re rested and have your stomach full, I’ll get a full day’s work out of you at the youth center today.”

“You know I’d be working there today anyway.”

Anything to stay away from his mother’s house. “Yes, I do. So you tell me, Corey. Of all the places you could have gone last night, why did you stay here?”

“Because you know what it’s like.” Like a geyser the emotion burst free. “You know how it feels to be pulled in a hundred different directions.” His breath shuddered in, then out. “You know what it’s like to feel guilty for wanting more than what you have.”

Neal’s gaze strayed to the roses. How did you go about fueling a young boy’s dreams without dampening that spirit with the reality that some dreams are forever out of reach? Especially when Neal knew his own secret dream of loving Candace had all but been placed in his hands.

****

Throughout breakfast, Neal continued to waver between accepting Candace’s suggestion they become lovers and swearing to keep his hands off her. When he and Corey arrived at the youth center, he was no closer to a decision than when the morning began.

“Looks like Ms. Hart’s the only one here,” Corey commented, nodding toward where her car was parked.

“Candace always has liked to get an early start.”

“Well, at least that won’t be a problem between the two of you when you hook up.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You always get out of bed early and work out.” Color bloomed on Corey’s cheeks, but he didn’t back away from Neal’s gaze. “Guess she won’t mind.”

Because the image of climbing into bed with Candace held far more appeal than the thought of getting out, Neal turned toward the building.

“I think we need to find enough hard labor to keep your mind off certain subjects.”

“I’m seventeen, Coach,” Corey said with candor. “That’s not going to happen.”

Despite his own turbulent thoughts, Neal chuckled. “Let’s give it a try anyway.”

Before they opened the door, the music greeted them. Braced against the ear-numbing sound, Neal led the way inside. Nothing could have prepared him, or diminish his body’s reactions to, the sight of Candace in the middle of the room.

She wore her hair pulled into a ponytail and protected by the backward bill of her cap. Her white cotton T-shirt molded around her breasts in a way that looked as seductive as the finest lace. She wore blue jean shorts, the hem ragged from scissors and short enough to give a man plenty of long leg to admire. At the moment those legs and her hips were moving in time to the sounds of a mellow Motown classic by the Temptations as she stirred a can of paint.

“My Girl.” Both the title and the personal, possessive statement flashed through Neal’s mind.

“She sure knows how to…” Corey cleared his throat when Neal’s head jerked in his direction. “Stir things up.”

“Go back outside and wait for the others.”

“Yeah, okay. Uh, Coach?” Corey asked, though Neal’s attention had returned to Candace. “How will we know when it’s safe to come inside?”

“When I open the door.”

Not waiting for Corey to leave, Neal started her way. She finished the stirring, swiped the thin stick against the side of the can and then turned to look for a brush.

“Oh.” Her hand jerked in surprise, dropping the wood strip so it clattered to the floor. “Neal, I didn’t…”

He gripped her arms and tugged. Their bodies collided, shifted to fit their intimate contours. Hard masculine planes held soft feminine curves.

She hesitated for only a half second. Then, her arms circled, her eyes searched his for confirmation, her lips curved in invitation.

Love offered, whole-heartedly.

Despite all reason and every argument against doing so, Neal accepted.

His hands were as bold and demanding as his mouth. They swept over her, discovering strength beneath the soft skin, releasing a flood of desire kept under the lock of public reticence. She arched against him, and he was helpless to resist. While he continued to taste and savor the richness of her mouth, he cupped his hand around the weight of her breast, filled the room with the explosion of her encouraging moan. Her legs buckled, his arms held her tight against him. And still she gave.

His mouth finally left hers and trailed down to the hollow of her throat. Only it didn’t satisfy. Neal had enough reason left to question if anything he shared with her would ever satisfy his hunger for her. As he gave in to the compulsion, he returned his mouth to hers, and reason was shredded into a few fine threads.

“Neal,” she whispered when he finally released her mouth and dragged in a deep breath.

How could the simple sound of her whispering his name calm and yet intensify the ache within him? An ache that didn’t exist solely within the confines of a physical craving. He was, Neal admitted, tired of analyzing and guessing.

He was tired of holding back from taking what he wanted, what had been offered. He was tired of always believing he had no right when he knew, deep within the most protected corners of his heart, Candace belonged to him in a way she would never belong to anyone else. He belonged to her in a way he could never express, except by way of a physical joining.

“Tonight.”

It wasn’t a question or even a choice. He was beyond either now. He saw the joy leap into her eyes before she tilted her chin at a familiar, and stubborn, angle.

“Are you sure?”

“I’m not sure this is such a good idea for you,” he admitted. “But I don’t want to be without you any longer.”

“Then you won’t.” Her hands moved to frame his face, and her lips touched his, sweetly.