Chapter Seven

Candace’s mind wandered and planned while she scrubbed and painted. She imagined dozens of different scenes while she offered suggestions and praise to the kids as they worked. She kept her distance from Neal as much as possible for fear she would reach out and grab, right then and there, what he promised her.

Candace Marie Hart was in love and looking forward to satisfying some of the more erotic possibilities spinning through her head.

It helped that the chatter and her enjoyment of the kids made it easier to be patient. Besides she’d waited almost half of her life to be with the man she loved. What were a few more hours?

She supposed they would have to talk. After all there were practical questions to answer. Would they go to his house or hers? Would they have the pretense of sitting through dinner first? Would they sleep together throughout the night?

Candace didn’t think she could manage to force any food into her stomach. She also imagined Neal would want to come to her house, both because he felt his to be somehow inferior to hers, and by way of answering her third question, he would want an excuse for leaving her bed.

While she could admit she wanted the additional joy of waking beside him, she was willing to concede that wasn’t a strong possibility on their first night together. But Neal was just as strongly mistaken if he thought she would settle for that sort of casualness for very long. She intended for them to make a life, one in which they would share the mornings and afternoons as much as the evenings. A life enhanced by commitment and children.

Just as they now worked together for the benefit of other children and a shared sense of commitment to the community. She watched the kids, the subtle and the obvious flirting, the amusing ribs and taunts, the quiet displays of friendship. Most of these kids came from homes that struggled financially, several of them from household dynamics that all too often destroyed hope and killed spirit.

Yet they were here working to make a place where they shared common ground, a place where friendships were to be enjoyed and used as a refuge, a place where dreams could be believed.

The parallel was not lost on her. She and Neal had begun as friends, often teasing and tossing out easily deflected barbs. Though the financial stability of their individual childhoods greatly differed, they had each lost the love of a parent in a tragic manner. Now they were about to move to another level by becoming lovers.

She didn’t believe their friendship would diminish under the blanket of intimacy. The very basis of their friendship gave her hope that the intimacy they were about to introduce into their relationship would strengthen this bond between them.

Just as she knew the threat of questions and doubts—from him anyway—could undermine everything they found together.

Well, she would just have to put as much work into proving those questions and doubts wrong as she invested in today’s efforts.

She answered questions as well when a reporter and photographer from the newspaper came by. The kids mugged for shots, offered quotes. They surprised her with their compliments and appreciation for the work she and Neal were putting into this place. Then, after the reporter left and Lou delivered lunch, they sat in clusters that were independent and yet formed a cohesive atmosphere while they talked, ate, and drank soda.

“How do you think it’s going?” Candace asked as she sat alongside Neal.

“I can’t say, mostly because I can’t think with that stereo blasting as loud as they have it.”

Candace chuckled and then cupped her hands around her mouth. “Hey, guys,” she called out. “Let’s tune it down just a little, okay?” There were assorted grumbles and comments, but they did as she asked.

“Now why is it they’ll do that for you, but when I ask for something, all I get is grief?”

“I’m feeding them.”

“Yeah, lunch was a good deal.”

“Actually lunch is on Grandmother.” Candace smiled as she finished off her barbeque pork sandwich, then washed it down with sweetened iced tea. “She first suggested having a caterer come in and do something a little more elaborate, but I convinced her Lou’s would appeal to the kids.”

Hoping to relieve the kink in her back, Candace started to lean back against the wall, only to stop cold when he placed a hand on her back.

“Paint’s not quite dry.”

“Oh, yeah.” His hand slid away, slow and gentle enough that it felt like a caress. Her heart went soft and weak as she looked at him.

“What time would you like for me to come over tonight?”

The answer to that first question, Candace thought. “Whenever you like.”

“I think it would be best if I went home first. To shower.”

“Oh.” She smiled and curbed the impulse to lift a hand to his cheek. “That makes sense.” And an idea she would certainly put to good use herself.

“Would you like to, that is, do you want to go out to dinner?”

She never hesitated. “No.”

“Good.”

The electric moment between them shattered with the sudden, charged silence that followed the entry door opening and closing.

As Officer Garrett Brown made his way unerringly toward Candace and Neal, a few kids got up to walk outside. Several turned their back on him, and a limited few stared at him in defiance.

“Neal. Candace.” Garrett squatted down and his green eyes were shadowed. “I need to take Corey Watson with me.”

Neal rose to his feet, leaving little choice but for Candace and Garrett to follow his lead. Candace had the fanciful thought she and Neal stood side by side, aligned in support of Corey and all the other kids while Garrett stood alone.

“Why?”

“You know why,” Garrett answered, sad resignation creeping past his reserve.

“His mother.”

“Yes.”

There were murmurs coming from the kids who remained in the room. Though they couldn’t hear the exchange, they sensed something had happened.

“Renee Watson’s at the hospital,” Garrett explained. “Apparently she made the mistake of getting pregnant hoping the news about the baby would convince Joey Owens to finally marry her.” Candace’s legs threatened to collapse, but she managed to remain still.

“Instead he accused her of cheating on him and being stupid enough to think she could pass someone else’s kid off as his. They got into some sort of wrestling match when she tried to walk away. The on-scene reported empty tequila bottles and glasses scattered around the room. The story Joey gave is Renee bumped against the wall and fell down a short flight of stairs.” Garrett hesitated, and then delivered the rest of the bad news.

“The doctors weren’t able to save the baby.” Garrett glanced over his shoulder at the kids watching.

“And now,” Neal said, “she wants to see Corey.”

“She’s crying for her baby, her only baby,” Garrett affirmed, turning back. “The doctor said she’ll never be able to have another.”

“I’m coming with him,” Neal stated.

Garrett nodded. “I think that would be best.”

“I’ll come with you,” Candace said.

“No.”

Neal looked down at her, and Candace read his expression as clearly as if he said the words. This was one more example of how his life differed from hers, one more reason why he believed he had no business thinking they could have a future together beyond acting on this physical attraction between them.

“Neal, please. I want to help.”

“Then stay here. Candace.” He persisted with a touch of his hand to her arm. “Stay here with the kids.”

Without another word, he walked away. She watched as he spoke to Corey, saw the young man’s face go ghost white and his shoulders quiver before he nodded a weary acceptance and walked out of the center.

Two hours later Candace finally suggested the kids call it a day. Though there had been work completed since Neal and Corey left, there had been little of the joy and anticipation that had marked the earlier hours. She hadn’t avoided any questions nor had she tried to discourage even the strongest comments from the kids. It was a sad reality that too many of them were far more familiar with this kind of event than she could begin to comprehend. After everyone left she spent another hour cleaning and storing supplies.

She considered going by the hospital, then decided against it.

At home she showered and opted for a pair of boxers and a T-shirt rather than the silky lingerie she’d hoped to wear tonight. After doing little more than pushing macaroni and cheese around a plate, she poured a glass of wine and finally reached for her cell phone. Neal’s mechanical instructions to leave a message answered after two rings.

“Hi, Neal, it’s me. I was just wondering how you are.” She hesitated, sipped her wine. “I, uh, well, if you want to talk I’ll be home.”

She hung up without saying more. And decided she was wasting her time on a man so incredibly stupid he didn’t even realize she would want to hear from him.

In defiance, and to keep from going to the hospital or his house, she whipped up a batch of brownies.

The ringing doorbell found her with her hands in a sink full of hot water. Barely drying them with a towel she all but ran across the room and flung open the door.

“Damn it, Candace.” His words fired out with the same blast and precision as a forward pass. “Don’t you ever check to see who it is before you open the door?”

His hair was shower wet, and he wore a different shirt and shorts than he had earlier today. And, Candace thought with an inward grimace, she once again opened the door to him dressed in boxers and a T-shirt. Not a single hope, absolutely not one fantasy about this night, was going the way she dreamed it would.

“I got your message,” he said. “You said if I wanted to talk, that is, you said you would be home.”

She glanced past him, didn’t see his car and debated between a quick jolt of pain or passive acceptance over the realization he’d parked somewhere close and then walked the rest of the way as a means of preventing anyone from knowing he’d come here.

“How’s Corey?” she asked, choosing acceptance as she stepped back to give Neal room to walk inside.

“Exhausted.” He scrubbed a hand over his face. Candace closed the door, shutting them inside. Alone.

“He wanted to go home, but the cops wouldn’t allow it. Social Services came. I offered to have Corey stay at my place, but they said he couldn’t; I’m not cleared for that kind of thing.”

“That’s ridiculous,” she protested. “There’s no one better for him to be with.”

“Not everyone agrees with you.” Neal glanced around her house as if seeing it for the first time. “Just as I’m sure everyone in town would have something to say if they knew I’d come here tonight.”

“Neal,” she said, struggling against yelling at him. Anger wouldn’t help the situation at this point, especially anger directed at his notion of how people would talk. Her heart ached for the man who guarded his heart by expecting so little.

“If you think I’m concerned about my reputation because anyone knows you’re here, you’re sadly mistaken.”

“You should care.”

“I do care,” she answered simply. “About Corey and his frame of mind at the moment. I care about you and how this has made you feel. But, Neal, I don’t care about what other people choose to believe. I made that mistake once before and look where it got me.”

“That’s easy to say here and now.”

“Any time you want to meet me in the town square, I’ll be glad to announce it to the entire city.”

He said nothing, simply stared at her until she sighed with something frightening close to despair. “Look—”

“Don’t,” Neal ordered, stopping her hand before it could connect with his arm. Before his skin could feel the soft, cool touch of her hand.

Neal watched the hurt shine in her eyes before she masked it with a lift of her chin. He had no words for trying to explain that if she touched him now he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from taking her. His emotions were too jumbled and tangled inside of him to guarantee he would treat her in the careful manner she deserved.

“Very well,” Candace said into the silence between them. Neal realized a buzzer sounded in the kitchen. “Excuse me. I have brownies in the oven.” He waited a full ten seconds before he followed her.

“Making breakfast?” he asked, trying to bridge the tension with a weak attempt at humor.

Her preference for breakfast sweets continued to amuse and baffle him. By all rights she should weigh over two hundred pounds and be on the sloppy side of physically fit. Instead, he blew out a breath as he caught sight of her bending over to remove the pan from the oven; she had curves that tantalized him.

The smell of freshly baked brownies filled the room. Neal noticed dishes drying in the drain board; a layer of flour had yet to be wiped off the counter; a glass of wine sat to one side. On her refrigerator hung a postcard from Italy, another from San Francisco and a magnet in the shape of a faucet advertising a local plumbing firm. Above a small desk holding neat stacks of paper, articles, and magazines hung a printer’s box filled with an eclectic assortment of odds and ends.

Neal felt an unexpected curiosity. Why would a woman like Candace care about keeping an old circus stub or an orange plastic monkey no longer than his index finger? What significance did the gold coin hold? What made the three tiny covered buttons a special keepsake?

She’d done more than express a decorating style, he realized. She’d made a home. While there was the subtle undertone of elegance in her choice of furnishings, there was also a welcoming atmosphere. Anyone coming here would feel comfortable sitting in the kitchen, enjoying the warmth of laughter and caring as much as the rich aromas and spices of cooking.

It was nearly as damnably seductive as the woman who had brought it all together.

He remembered the last morning he’d sat in his mother’s kitchen, still hungry after eating half a bowl of stale cereal, watching her strut around in a new dress. Something inside of him had broken free that morning, and he’d unleashed all the sense of abandonment and confusion of his sixteen years in the tirade. He’d ended up yelling that she was little more than the whore the entire town called her. It was years later before Neal could identify the look on his mother’s face, the utter and complete shock he would say such a thing to her.

He’d hurt her that morning, every bit as carelessly and selfishly as every other man she’d allowed into her life. And later that night she lay dead, killed after a final and desperate plea to have the life she so desperately wanted.

“I have no business being here.”

Candace turned away from the oven and stared at him for one long, heart-stopping moment. Even before she lifted her chin, before she said a single word, he admitted he faced trouble.

“Then tell me why you did come here, Neal.”

He considered lying, if only to protect her. To protect himself. He chose evasion rather than truth.

“It was just wrong for me to come here this late.”

“Why?” Candace asked again.

Tossing aside the potholder she walked toward him. Neal took a step in retreat. He didn’t like the look in her eye, nor that slight curve to her lips. Certainly he didn’t like the way he watched her body move as she advanced toward him. He took another step backward.

“You said earlier today you would come to me tonight,” Candace said. “You said earlier today you didn’t want to stay away any longer.” She took another step to bring them closer. “You said you couldn’t.”

“Damn it, Candace,” he yelled, both in anger at her throwing the words—his words—back at him and in defiance of the need welling up inside of him. More than his next breath he wanted to close the small distance that bridged between them and take everything she offered. Take everything his heart and body wanted, craved, needed.

“Think about where I’ve been.”

“At the hospital, helping a boy you care about?”

“At the hospital, sitting beside a boy who’s just learned his mother has been beaten half to death by her boyfriend.”

Neal drew in a rattled breath, barely noticing his legs bump into the kitchen table. He’d felt so damned helpless as he sat beside Corey, the way he’d felt so often during his own childhood. He’d never seen his mother beaten, but he knew she allowed herself to be used by men. He knew she’d used men in return for her own needs and desires, physical and otherwise.

“You understand him.”

“I am him!” Neal shouted.

“No, you’re not,” Candace answered back, her voice soft, not with condescending sympathy but with a grasp of how it felt to want to go beyond your past. How she understood that he couldn’t figure out.

“Damn it.” Desperate to rattle her, he grabbed her arms, shook her. “This will never work.”

Her chin lifted, her eyes all but glowed with a stubborn determination he’d never seen before.

“Yes, it will,” she whispered even as her hands settled at his waist, as her body arched to press against his. A glimmer of satisfaction and pure feminine power intensified the little hum in her throat as she felt the unmistakable evidence of his desire for her. “You just have to want it badly enough. You have to want me badly enough.”

“Candace—”

“Do you, Neal?” She rose on her toes and slid her arms up his chest to wrap around his neck. She brought her mouth within a breath of meshing with his. “Do you want me badly enough?”

“You don’t know what you’re asking for.”

Her chin lifted an inch higher. “Show me.”