It was the reassuring, uncomplicated gesture that did Tess in-the contrast between the sweet simplicity of that touch and the terrifying complications casting shadows over her personal life.
“I don’t know.” Tess swallowed, mortified by the sting behind her eyes and the burn in her throat. “I don’t know what’s going on, what’s going to happen between Quinn and me. I want an affair, but I know it’ll be painful and messy-there’s no avoiding it.”
“Are you sure?” Addie asked.
“He’s an alcoholic,” Tess said. “He’s got a kid. I’m working with him. How much worse could it be?”
“He could be married,” Charlie pointed out.
Tess huffed out a shaky laugh. “You’re right. Things could be worse. But I don’t do those things. I don’t do messy and painful. So I’ve been asking myself why don’t I just give up on the idea?”
“Because he kissed you,” Addie said.
“Yes, he did.” Tess shivered, remembering. “He kissed me. I mean, he kissed me, and omigod, I want him. I’m scared to death how much I want him. There,” she said, glaring at her friends. “Are you satisfied now? Totally-in-control, love-’em-and-leave-’ em Tess Roussel has been brought to her knees by a moody, troubled man, with just one kiss.”
“Must have been some kiss,” Charlie said.
“Take my word for it.” Tess sucked in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “The man may have his faults-and plenty of them-but he knows how to kiss.”
ON SUNDAY AFTERNOON Quinn sat in the local minor league field bleachers with his daughter and a crowd of people he barely knew. He drank lukewarm lemonade, watched his newest crew member strike out twice in the first four innings and listened to Tess’s low-level whining about the sticky seat, the flat soda, the rude couple two rows down and the high price of the sandals she wanted for a new dress. He closed his eyes, tipped his head back and let the sun warm his face.
Life was good.
He still couldn’t believe he was here, instead of checking the equipment at the job site. But he’d thought Rosie might enjoy the outing. And when Mick and Jack had ganged up on him to twist both arms-not-so-subtly pointing out that Tess would be here, too-he’d agreed to help with the chaperoning duties for Jack’s Little League team.
Tess jostled his elbow as she scooted her feet out of the aisle, scrunching back and turning her face to the side to avoid a nose-to-butt-crack encounter with the fan heading to an empty seat farther down their row. “Gee, Quinn. You sure know how to show a girl a good time.”
“I’m having fun.” Behind them, Addie noisily slurped the last of her soda and then yelled at the ump. “I haven’t seen a Wildcats game in years. I forgot how exciting it can be.”
“Glad you’re enjoying it.” Quinn stole a handful of popcorn from Tess’s bag and shoved it into his mouth.
“Don’t get too impressed with yourself.” Tess brushed a stray fleck of popcorn from her light blue pants. “Addie doesn’t get out much.”
The batter caught one high and inside, sending a pop fly into left field. Addie gripped Tess’s shoulder as Mick went deep, deep, loping into position and making the catch look as easy as pie.
“He’s wonderful,” Addie said. “And incredibly cute.”
“Think so?” Tess leaned forward, giving Mick a squinting once-over. “Quinn can introduce you after the game.”
“No,” Quinn said.
“Why not?” Tess dug into her bag and pulled out two fluffy kernels. “He’s single. Addie’s single. And she’s right-he is sort of cute.”
“Bad combination,” Quinn said.
“I thought you liked him.”
“I hired him. I’m not going to date him.”
“I’m not going to date him, either,” Addie said. “Unless he asks me.”
“You don’t know anything about him.” Quinn stared into the outfield with a frown. “He might be lying about being single. He could be a bigamist with a wife in every town he’s ever lived in.”
“What’s a bigamist?” Rosie asked.
“A man who’s married to more than one woman at a time,” Tess told her. “Which is something Mick could never afford on what your dad’s paying him.”
“He doesn’t look like a bigamist.” Addie jumped to her feet to boo with the crowd.
“What does a bigamist look like?” Rosie asked.
“Like any other man. Which is one reason they’re so scary.” Tess reached across Quinn to offer Rosie some popcorn. “Bigamists, I mean. Men aren’t scary at all.”
After a slight hesitation, Rosie took one piece.
Quinn silently released the breath he’d been holding.
Whatever Tess had accomplished with his daughter, Quinn wished she’d do it again. He glanced at her profile, enjoying her nearness, wishing he could hold her sticky hand. Instead, he took his daughter’s hand and gave it a quick squeeze.
Rosie squeezed back.
Quinn froze, afraid to let go but afraid to hold on a moment too long. Addie jumped up behind them again, cheering another of Mick’s plays and the end of the inning, nudging his arm with her knee. Rosie’s hand slipped from his.
“Can I get you something?” he asked her. Anything. Right now, I’ll try to get you anything in the world you want.
“Nah.” His daughter sucked her soda through a straw as obnoxiously as Addie had done. Quinn caught her eyeing one of Jack’s Little Leaguers, who happened to look back at the same time and then duck his head shyly. “I’m fine,” she said.
God. Maybe he shouldn’t have left her alone with Tess after all.
SHORTLY AFTER 3:00 p.m. on Friday, Rosie plopped her ten-year-old butt on the passenger seat of Tess’s roadster and hauled her backpack onto her lap. Her it’s-an-ordeal sigh made it clear that everything-the end of the school day, Tess’s arrival, the weight of the books and homework assignments in the bag-was part of a plot to rob her of any chance of happiness. “This is getting to be a bad habit,” she said when she’d slammed her door.
“Tell me about it.” Tess blew a kiss at the Stepford cop as she pulled out of the appropriate pick-up spot and joined the orderly line of appropriate family vehicles waiting to proceed at the appropriate snail’s pace to the exit. “I’ve got better things to do on a Friday afternoon.”
“Like what?”
“Like getting ready for Friday night.”
“What’s wrong?” the kid asked with sweetly innocent concern. “Having problems with your cable hookup?”
“Ha. Ha.” Tess spared her a miserly grin. “Score one for the whippersnapper.”
Rosie sighed again and fiddled with the strap on her bag. “Is my dad going to be home in time for dinner?”
“Don’t count on it. The delivery they were expecting this morning got pushed back to this afternoon, and the crew is working overtime to get everything stored and secured before the weekend hits. Why?”
Rosie heaved another martyr’s sigh. “Nothing.”
“Hey. I’m a girl. I know when ‘nothing’ means nothing and when it means everything.” Tess downshifted to ease around a corner. “Talk to me, kid.”
Rosie’s shrug was sharp and unhappy. “There’s nothing you can do about it.”
“Try me.”
Rosie chewed on her lower lip and stared out the windshield. Tess figured she was weighing her desire to get what she wanted against her need to punish Tess for existing.
Desire won out. “I’m invited to a party tonight,” she said. “A birthday party.”
“Get out.” Tess braked for a signal and stared at her. “You’ve got friends?”
“Ha. Ha. Score one for the forty-year-old with the bags under her eyes.”
“Thirty-one. And amazingly wrinkle-free.”
“Must be the lighting.”
Enjoying the conversation more than she’d expected she might, Tess made her turn through the intersection. “About this party…”
“Alana’s mother told her she had to invite all the girls in the class.” Rosie began to shred a different portion of her lip. “Dad hasn’t taken me shopping to buy the present yet.”
“Men.”
“Yeah.”
“What are you wearing?” Tess asked.
Rosie glanced at her dingy white T-shirt and khaki cargo pants. “What do you mean?”
“To the party.” Tess checked Rosie’s mouth to see whether she’d drawn blood. “Every girl in your class is going to be there, right?”
“Yeah. So?”
“So, this is an opportunity to make a major fashion statement. In an entirely not-the-usual-school-clothes way.”
“What’s wrong with what I have on?” Rosie pointed at the baggy pants and worn athletic shoes. “All I have to pack is some pajamas and another shirt for tomorrow.”
“An overnight?” Tess shuddered at the thought of a class full of young girls camped in one house through the endless hours of a slumber party. Alana’s mother must be a saint. Or on some really powerful drugs. “Triple the fashion play.”
“Triple?”
“There’s the arrival outfit. The pajama scene. And the morning after. Three chances to make a statement.”
“I don’t want to make a statement.” Rosie slumped in her seat. “I probably can’t go, anyway.”
“I don’t see why not. You got the invitation, right? And it’s not like you’ve got anything else to do tonight except wait around for your dad to get home.”
Another jerky, dismissive shrug.
“Besides,” Tess said, “every woman wants to make a statement. And if you’re wearing the coolest clothes in the room, you don’t have to open your mouth to do it.”
No response. Misery hung in the car’s air-conditioned atmosphere, a miasma of heartache and despair.
And memories.
With a sad and resigned sigh of her own, Tess checked her watch before pulling her car’s phone set from her purse and hooking it to her ear. “Quinn, it’s me. Yeah, I made the pickup, no problem. Just wanted to let you know I’m going to run a few errands…With Rosie, right. And it’s going to cost you.” Tess wiggled her eyebrows at the kid. “Seems there’s a birthday party in the works…Yeah, that’s what I figured. No problem. I’ll take care of it. Just promise you’ll pay me back.”
Tess handed Rosie the phone. “He wants to talk to you.”
