“Banana.”
“Yuck.”
“No editorializing, please. That happens to be my favorite.”
“I don't remember seeing any moon pies in your pantry.”
“I'm out. Finished them off a couple of days ago and haven't been back to the store since. I'll stock up with a half-dozen boxes next time I go to town.”
She looked him up and down in a leisurely manner that made his heart start to pound. “Sure doesn't look like you eat half a dozen boxes of moon pies at a time. Not an extra ounce on you.”
Damn. He could almost feel himself starting to blush. Because she had embarrassed him, he blurted his next question without thought, grabbing randomly for another cookie at the same time, even though he hadn't taken a bite of the first one yet. “Have you always been afraid of the dark?”
Lucy didn't seem to find the question too personal. Nor did she seem to mind answering. “I think it started when I was ten or eleven. That's when my mother got sick, and she seemed to always be worse at night. Several times I woke up and found a baby-sitter in the house after my father had taken my mother to the hospital. It got to where I was afraid to go to bed because I didn't know what would have changed in my world by the time I woke up.”
She sighed a little and gazed down into her teacup as she continued, “I woke one morning to be told that she had passed away during the night-just as I had always predicted, I suppose. I've given a lot of thought to my neurosis during the past few years, and that's the best answer I can come up with. It's not that I'm so terrified of the dark that I turn into a screaming hysteric or anything like that-I just don't like not being able to see.”
Because he didn't know what to say in response to that heart-wrenching explanation, and being so lousy at expressing sympathy, Banner changed the subject. “Are you cold? We can move back into the living room in front of the fire, if you are.”
“No, I'm fine. This sweater's warm and the hot tea tastes wonderful. And I'm enjoying our game. It's a way for me to get to know the real you.”
That was the problem, of course. He wasn't sure how to show anyone the real him. He just…was.
Still looking at him much too knowingly, Lucy said, “My turn to ask a question. What's your first name?”
That made him frown. “Haven't I told you that already?” She smiled again. “No. You said to call you Banner.”
“Oh.” Embarrassed, he shrugged. “Habit, I guess. It's Richard. Richard Merchant Banner.”
“You don't care for the name Richard? And that's question 6-A, not a new one.”
He shrugged again without protesting her fast-and-loose rule making. “It's my father's name. I answered- reluctantly-to Ricky as a kid, but I outgrew that by the time I was in high school. Never really liked any of the other nicknames for Richard and my middle name is my mother's maiden name, not exactly one I'd want to answer to. Banner just seemed to suit me.”
“Richard Banner. It's a nice name.”
“It's my father's,” he repeated. “I'd have preferred a name of my own.”
She seemed to consider that response as she slowly chewed a bite of cookie, and then she swallowed and prodded, “Your turn.”
“Er-what's your middle name?”
“Jane, after my maternal grandmother. My aunt Janie was named for her, too.”
He really couldn't think of anything else to ask about her that seemed safely impersonal. Wasn't she tired of this game yet? Did she really intend to ask him fifteen more inconsequential questions? He didn't see what she thought they were accomplishing, other than killing time by making small talk.
She certainly wasn't getting to know the “real” him with such trivialities.
But Lucy's next question turned out to be far from innocuous. “What was your ex-wife like?” she asked, her gaze focused intently on his face.
Banner's response was a startled, “Why?”
“I'm just curious. We're trying to get to know each other better, remember? I'll tell you about my last serious relationship, if you like, and you don't even have to use one of your questions. Not that there's much to tell. I thought I had found a partner, and he thought he had found a second mommy. Wanted me to take care of his needs without giving much consideration to mine. Needless to say, it didn't last long. How about your marriage?”
Deciding to think about what she had told him later, he concentrated on her question. “It lasted less than a year.”
“Did you love her?”
It was an extremely personal question, of course, and he had every right to decline to answer. Some things didn't belong in any sort of game. Instead, he scowled and said flatly, “I thought we were suited. I was mistaken. I was trying to prove that everyone else was wrong about my ability to maintain a meaningful relationship with another person, but all I succeeded in doing was proving that they had been right after all.”
Lucy shook her head in exasperation. “You decided that from one failed relationship? Didn't it occur to you that perhaps you simply ran your experiment with the wrong partner?”
He shrugged. “I know exactly what I proved. And that was your seventh question, by the way.”
Her hands wrapped tightly around her teacup, she ignored the reference to the game. “You're afraid to try again to have a real relationship with anyone.”
“I'm not afraid,” he countered instantly. “Just realistic.”
“So the kisses we've shared have been…?”
She let the quiet words fade off, waiting for him to complete the sentence.
“They were nice,” he said after a moment. “But I know you'll have to leave soon.”
He was making it clear that he would do nothing to detain her. “Nice,” she repeated with a lifted eyebrow. “That's the way you describe our kisses?”
A faint flush crept up his neck from the open collar of his sweatshirt. It seemed that he had accidentally tripped over her feminine ego. “They were, uh, really nice. Great.”
Without warning, Lucy rose and rounded the table toward him. He rose instinctively to meet her.
Stopping directly in front of him, she reached out to stroke a hand up his chest. “I really think I can do better than 'nice.' Why don't you give me a chance to prove it?”
He really tried to resist her. But then her other arm went around his neck, and his willpower crumbled just like the cookie he'd been mutilating only moments before.
His arms went around her and his mouth met hers.
The spectacular kiss-
After only a slight pause, a man's voice asked, “Is Lucy Guerin there?”
“Yeah. Hold on.” Banner motioned with the phone toward his guest. “It's for you.”
He moved aside as she took the phone, giving him a smile that made his chest tighten again. Lucy's high- voltage smiles were definitely dangerous, especially when they followed one of her mega-watt kisses.
Hulk was sitting at the door, patiently waiting to be let outside. As Banner moved to open the door, he heard Lucy say into the phone, “Daddy! Merry Christmas. Are you at Aunt Janie's house?”
He wasn't eavesdropping, Banner assured himself. But he couldn't help overhearing a little of her conversation as his dog ambled out through the open door. The affection in Lucy's voice was obvious, indicating that she loved her father despite having lived away from him since she was very young.
He wondered if Lucy's father had made a special effort to stay in touch with his daughter despite the distance between them. Had he called regularly on the phone, sent her cards or letters, made sure she had a gift from him for every birthday? He wondered if Lucy's father had been there for any concerts and dance recitals and sporting events she might have participated in.
Banner would bet Major Guerin had done all those things when his military career had allowed-unlike Richard Banner, who had always been much too busy to regularly remember the son he had fathered with his high school girlfriend.
Maybe if Richard had made the effort occasionally, Banner himself would have turned out differently-or maybe
