But it didn’t happen. The little girl he picked up at seven was the same girl he took back home at nine. Talking to her was like skating across soft ice-slow and as aggravating as hell. She hadn’t had much to say about his houseboat, and she hadn’t immediately wanted to know where all the bathrooms were located, which surprised him because in Cannon Beach, bathroom locations had seemed like serious business to her.
He’d showed her the spare bedroom he’d cleared for her, and he’d told her that he’d take her shopping and she could furnish it any way she liked. He’d thought she’d like the idea, but she’d just nodded and asked to go out on the deck below. She’d showed a spark of interest in his boat, so they’d jumped in the Sundancer and slowly cruised the lake. He’d watched her check out the cabin and open the compact refrigerator in the galley console. He’d put her on his lap so she could steer. Her eyes had widened and the corners of her mouth had finally tilted up into a smile, but she hadn’t said much.
By the time he pulled in front of her house two hours after leaving it, his mood matched the storm clouds quickly gathering overhead. He didn’t know the little girl he’d just spent the evening with, but she wasn’t Lexie. His Lexie laughed and giggled and talked water upstream.
The Range Rover had barely rolled to a stop before Georgeanne was out of her house and walking toward them. She wore a loose-fitting lace dress that swayed about her ankles when she moved, and her hair was piled up on top of her head.
A little girl standing in a yard across the street called Lexie’s name and frantically waved a Barbie with long blond hair.
“Who’s that?” John asked as he helped Lexie unbuckle her seat belt.
“Amy,” she answered, opened the door, and jumped out of the four-wheel-drive vehicle. “Mom, can I go play with Amy? She gots a new Mermaid Barbie, and I can show it to you ‘cause that’s the one I want, too.”
Georgeanne looked up at John as he walked around the front of the Range Rover. Their eyes met briefly before she dropped her gaze to her daughter. “It’s going to rain.”
“Please,” she begged, bouncing up and down as if she had springs in her heels. “Just for a few minutes?”
“For fifteen minutes.” Georgeanne reached for Lexie’s shoulder before she had a chance to run off. “What do you say to John?”
Lexie stilled and stared at his middle. “Thank you, John,” she said at practically a whisper. “I had a nice time.”
No kisses. No I love you, Daddies. He hadn’t expected love and affection so soon, but as he looked down at the part in Lexie’s hair, he knew he would have to wait longer than he’d anticipated. “Maybe next time we’ll go to the Key Arena, and I’ll show you where I work.” When his offer didn’t get an enthusiastic response, he added, “Or we can go to the mall.” John hated the mall, but he wasn’t a patient man.
The corners of Lexie’s mouth tilted upward. “Okay,” she said, then walked to the curb. She looked both ways, then dashed across the street. “Hey, Amy,” she hollered, “guess what I did. I went on a big boat, and we drove by Gas Works Park, and I saw a fish jump out of the water and John ran over it. John has a bed and a fridge in his boat, and I got to drive for a real long, long time too.”
John watched the two little girls walk toward the front door to Amy’s house, then he turned toward Georgeanne. “What have you done to her?”
She looked up at him and her brows drew together over her green eyes. “I haven’t done anything to her.”
“Bullshit. That is not the same Lexie I met in June. What have you said to her?”
She stared at him for several lengthy moments before she suggested, “Let’s go inside.”
He didn’t want to go inside. He didn’t want to have tea and discuss things rationally. He didn’t feel like cooperating with her. He was furious and he wanted to yell. “This is fine.”
“John, I won’t have this conversation with you on my front lawn.”
He returned her stare, then motioned for her to lead the way. Following her around the side of her house, he purposely kept his gaze pinned to the back of her head. He didn’t want to notice the way she moved. In the past, he’d always appreciated the way her hips made the hems of her dresses sway. Now he wasn’t in the mood to appreciate anything about her.
He followed her into a backyard bursting with pastel color, a feminine kaleidoscope so typical of Georgeanne. Flowers bobbed in the prestorm breeze while a sprinkler watered the grass near a blue and white striped swing set. The little plastic shopping cart he recognized from the first time he’d met Lexie sat next to a wheelbarrow; both were stuffed with dead flowers and weeds. As he glanced around the yard, he was struck by the contrast in their houses. Georgeanne’s home had a yard and a swing set, a flower garden, and a lawn that needed to be mowed. She lived on a street where a kid could ride a bike and where there was a smooth sidewalk for Lexie to skate. The moorage alone for John’s houseboat cost almost as much as Georgeanne’s entire mortgage. He had a great view and a great house, but it wasn’t really a home. Not like this. It didn’t have a garden or a yard or a smooth sidewalk.
“First of all,” Georgeanne began as she straightened, “don’t ever accuse me of doing or saying anything to hurt Lexie. I don’t like you, but I’ve never said one bad word against you in front of my daughter.”
“I don’t believe you.”
Georgeanne shrugged and strove for a calm she didn’t feel. Her stomach felt as if she’d eaten something rotten while John stood in front of her looking good enough to gobble up with a spoon. She’d thought she could manage being so near to him, but now she wasn’t sure. “I don’t care what you believe.”
“Why doesn’t she talk to me like she did before?”
She could tell him her opinion, but why? Why help him take her daughter from her? “Give her time.”
John shook his head. “The first time I met her she talked a blue streak. Now that she knows I’m her father, she hardly says a word. It doesn’t make any sense.”
It made perfect sense to Georgeanne. The one and only time she’d met her mother, she’d been terrified of rejection and hadn’t known what to say to Billy Jean. Georgeanne had been twenty at the time, and she could only imagine how a child felt. Lexie didn’t know what to say to John now, and she was afraid to be herself.
John rested his weight on one foot and cocked his head to the side. “You must have filled her with lies about me. I knew you were ticked off, but I didn’t think you’d go this far.”
Georgeanne wrapped her arms across her stomach and held the pain inside. His low opinion hurt even though it shouldn’t. “Don’t talk to me about lies. None of this would be happening now if you hadn’t lied about hiring a lawyer.
John rocked back on his heels and looked down at her through narrowed eyes. “Ahh… now we get to it. You’re pissed about getting naked on my couch.”
Georgeanne hoped her cheeks weren’t turning red, but she could feel her face flush like some high school girl. “Are you insinuating that because of what happened between the two of us, I would try to poison my daughter against you?”
“Hell, I’m not insinuating anything. I’m saying it straight out. You’re mad because I didn’t send flowers or some other bullshit. I don’t know, maybe you woke up the next morning and wanted a quickie in the shower, but I wasn’t around to give you what you needed.”
Georgeanne could no longer hold the pain inside, and lashed out. “Or maybe I was disgusted that I’d let you touch me at all.”
He gave her a knowing smile. “You weren’t disgusted. You were hot. You couldn’t get enough.”
“Get over yourself,” Georgeanne scoffed. “You weren’t that memorable.”
“Bullshit. How many times did we go at it?” he asked, then held up one finger and counted. “On the couch.” He paused to hold up another finger. “On the futon in the loft with the stars shining on your bare breasts.” Three fingers. “In the Jacuzzi with all that hot water pounding our butts and sloshing on the floor. I had to pull up the carpet the next day so the floor wouldn’t rot.” He smiled and held up a fourth finger. “Against the wall, on the floor, and in my bed, which I’m counting as one since I only got off once, that time. You may have come more than once, though.”
“I did not!”
“Sorry. I guess I have it confused with the first time on the couch.”
“You’ve been spending too much time in the locker room,” she said between clenched teeth. “A real man
