An Accidental Mom (14 page)

He looked into frosty blue eyes. Pretty eyes, to be sure, but they didn’t sparkle with love for him the way Lily’s did. “Yeah.” He nodded. “Everyone.”

Susan lifted her head. “Do you mind if I ask who?”

Max tried to disengage himself from her, but she’d wrapped her arms around him so tightly, he couldn’t budge. “Well, my son, for starters. And my mother. She’s getting married one of these days—so my stepfather, too.” He hesitated, wanting to say “Lily” but worried what Susan’s reaction might be.

“And Lily?”

Well, there it was, out in the open. So why not admit it? “Yes, Susan.
Especially
Lily.”

He thought she looked haughty when her brows went up like that, when she tipped her head and stared at him from the corner of her eye. A little arrogant and a whole lot mean.

“She doesn’t have a clue, Max.” Susan fiddled with his lapel, tucked the silk handkerchief keeper into his breast pocket. “Don’t get me wrong…I’m sure she’s
lovely.
But, really, she couldn’t be a day over nineteen!”

Leave it to Susan to hit an almost-forgotten sour note. “Lily is twenty-four,” he said, hoping he didn’t sound as defensive to Susan as he’d sounded to himself.

She laughed softly. “A very young, very naive twenty-four, then.”

Without warning, she was stone serious. He’d seen that expression during meetings. The partners rarely left the conference room with a win in their pockets once she’d plastered that look on her pretty face.

Max steeled himself, waiting.

She drew close, even closer than before. “What you need, Maxwell Sheridan,” Susan breathed, “isn’t a starry-eyed girl, but a woman, a
real
woman who knows how to take care of a man.”

He considered reciting the “you’ll make some lucky guy a great wife someday” speech, but changed his mind. Because then he’d be forced to tell her
he
was not that man—not now, not ever. Knowing Susan, she’d force him to tell her why. And there simply were no words to explain it—at least, none that wouldn’t hurt her.

She combed fingernails through his hair until her hands rested, one on his neck, the other pressed against the back of his head. If a wind had blown through the room right then, Max thought, not a trace of it could have slipped between them. Even if he didn’t have a chance with Lily—and would she be here if he didn’t?—the situation would have made him uncomfortable. Because his whole life was bottom lines. The bottom line here?

Susan was not his type.

She rested her head on his shoulder, began swaying to and fro, as if to an imaginary waltz.
Enough of this, already!
Max decided. What if someone walked in here and saw them like this?

What if that someone was Lily?

Given the choice between hurting Susan and hurting Lily, well, that wasn’t really a choice at all.

He gripped her upper arms, forcing her to take a step back. He hardened his expression and looked into her eyes. “Susan,” he said, his voice more stern than it ever had been when scolding Nate, “what do I have to do to make you listen to reason? As soon as I get my house on the market and settle the partnership deal, I’m outta here. Gone. Vamoose. Done with Chicago. For good. Period.” He gave her a gentle shake. “Got it?”

Eyes gleaming with challenge, she gave him a half smile. “My, but you’re handsome when you’re all riled up.”

She wrapped a leg around his; if he moved either of his feet, they’d both hit the floor like felled trees.

Max had never backed down from a challenge in his life.

Why start now?

He narrowed his eyes. “So, what’s your plan, kid? Keep me standing here ’til Lily comes down those stairs, make sure she gets a good eyeful of you and me like this?”

Susan’s eyes filled with tears and she made no attempt to wipe or blink them away. One silvery drop slid down, leaving a white path on her rouged cheek. “You’ve never even given us a
chance,
Max. How
do you know there’s nothing here in Chicago for you?
I
could be something. But how will you know if you won’t even try?”

She had no way of knowing that Melissa had mastered the art of Crying on Demand. Max had learned to harden his heart to her pseudo-sadness—that, or spend his entire life bending to her every whim, just to keep her quiet.

“I care for you, Max. Very deeply.” Using one red-polished fingertip, she traced the outline of his upper lip. “I think you already know that, don’t you?” She looked at him through tear-clumped lashes. “I think you’ve always known that.”

“Stop it, Susan,” he all but growled. “Stop it right now. You’re making a fool of yourself.”

The little-girl-wounded look was gone in a snap. Eyes glittering with anger, she said through clenched teeth, “No one talks to me that way.
No one.
”

Someone just did,
he thought. He gave her a moment to figure that out, then said, “I’m leaving, so—”

She crooked her leg tighter around his.

Max glared at her. “You don’t honestly think you’re gonna change my mind, do you?”

“And you don’t think that little girl is gonna make you happy, do you?”

The anger left him, just like that. Max almost thanked her.

“Yeah,” he said matter-of-factly, “I do. I love her. More than I’ve ever loved anyone. And if she’ll have me, I want to marry her.”

“Marry her!” She released his leg, loosened her
hug. “Well, you can’t blame a girl for trying, can you?”

Max relaxed. Finally, he’d made her see reason! He made a move to walk away, but she threw herself into his arms and locked her lips to his. Seemed to Max it took a full minute to peel her off him. When at last he succeeded, he didn’t look at her, didn’t say a word. Instead, he wiped his lips with the back of his hand and stormed from the room.

He’d search every inch of Wilkes’s mansion until he found Lily. And when he did, he’d take her in his arms and tell her that he loved her…had from the minute he’d first set eyes on her…would ’til the day he died. Didn’t much matter who heard his confession, and he didn’t care who saw him get down onto one knee to beg her to be his wife, either.

A few minutes earlier, Lily had been enduring the tour. She had seen some big houses in her day. Her own father’s six-thousand-foot rancher boasted six bedrooms, six bathrooms… But this?

The only time she’d seen anything more opulent than Donald Wilkes’s home was as a kid, when she and her classmates took a field trip to the state house. That place had four floors, servants’ quarters…more rooms than she could count back then.
Give me a simple two-story Victorian any day of the week!
she thought, escaping and half running down the stairs. She hoped that when she found Max, he’d be ready to find the car.

One of the guests, upon learning it was her first visit to Chicago, had said, “You have to visit Navy
Pier while you’re here, ride the mile-high Ferris wheel. You can see half the city from up there!”

Going around and around on a hundred-fifty-foot tall ride in Chicago in December sounded like a fun and romantic thing to do.
Great excuse for cuddling!

She’d had time to think about the whole Max-Susan thing as she traipsed from room to well-appointed room. His roots were in Texas, and so was his heart. She couldn’t have been wrong about that. He’d seemed so happy there, so calm and contented. Like all those years ago, when they were just kids and the biggest worry in their lives was whether or not Centennial would win the championships.

He’d been fine-looking then, in his padded red and white uniform. But not nearly as handsome as now.

She had to admit he looked charming in his well-cut suit, looked professional and successful and important, all rolled into one. Lily knew she should have told him so earlier, but she would now…if she could find him again in this labyrinth of rooms and hallways they called a house!

Lily couldn’t help remembering the little place across the road from River Valley Ranch. Just a farmette, no more than ten acres. The drive wasn’t a twisting, turning black ribbon, like the one her father had built to bring folks from the highway to the house. Instead, it was a straight shot with two narrow lanes of pea gravel that led from the curb to the garage.

It had always been her favorite house. Nowhere in Amarillo had she seen one better. Not too small, but not big enough to get lost in, either. Tall, narrow win
dows flanked the front door, and Victorian gingerbread decorated the wraparound porch.

Every day, while waiting for the school bus, she had stared at that house, memorized every board and every brick. Of course she loved the house her father had built, stone upon stone. But
this
house, with its quaint little nooks and crannies, well, it had long been a dream to raise her children in such a house!

Someday, if the Good Lord answered all her prayers, maybe she
would
have a place like that. And maybe the kids who’d leave tricycles and jump ropes on that gorgeous covered porch would be Max’s.

Ah, yes…if Lily’s memory hadn’t failed her, the staircase wound down and down, ending at the library door. And she’d left Max in the—

Lily’s heart stopped and her mouth went dry as a bed of cotton. She felt the slick perspiration between her palm and the gleaming oak railing. She tried to move, wanted to move, because the last thing on earth she wanted to do right now was stand here and watch.

Max had both arms wrapped around Susan and was kissing her every bit as earnestly as he had kissed Lily back in Amarillo.

She ran toward the foyer, where a maid had hung her coat and purse. Once she’d stepped outside, where she could think, she’d call for a taxi to take her back to the hotel.

There would be no romantic Ferris-wheel-in-December ride tonight. Or ever.

“H
ave you seen Lily?” Max asked the senior partner a while later.

“Is she the blonde or the brunette you came in with? I forget.” He laughed. “You amaze me, Maxwell. I mean, who else could come in here with book-end beauties!”

If he’d had his way, Max would have walked into the room with only Lily on his arm. Because they’d seen him with women like Susan before, dozens of times. Lily was one of a kind: petite, pretty, with a smile that put the sun’s warmth to shame and big green eyes that sparkled brighter than any emerald he’d ever seen. She looked classy in her elegant long-sleeved black dress. Its neckline exposed no more than her collarbones, its hem skimmed the tops of her knees. She’d chosen a single strand of pearls, dangly earrings to match, and piled her hair atop her head so that it looked like a mink-and-satin crown.

“Lily is the brunette.”

“Hmm,” the man said, nodding. “She’s a looker, all right, that one. And she didn’t get that way with makeup. No siree. That one was born gorgeous.”

Donald stared off into space. Picturing Lily, no doubt, Max thought. A buzz of jealousy coursed through him, and he had a notion to snap his fingers in front of Wilkes’s face.

“Um…Lily?” he said instead.

That brought Donald around. “We had quite a pleasant conversation during our little tour. That’s some special young woman, your Lily. Pretty as she is on the outside, she’s even prettier on the inside.”

His Lily.
What Max wouldn’t give to truly make her his. “Have you seen her?”

Wilkes gave him an “are you kidding?” look. “Last time I saw her, she was headed back to the library. Said that’s where she’d left you.”

The library, where until a short time ago, he’d been preoccupied with a certain blonde octopus….

Then Max’s heartbeat sped up. Surely he hadn’t been
that
preoccupied. He’d have noticed, wouldn’t he, if Lily had come into the room while Susan was—

“Mr. Sheridan, sir?”

The partners faced a middle-aged woman in a gray uniform. She smoothed her white apron with one hand, held a gold key ring in the other. “A young woman asked me to give this to you.”

Lily had volunteered to stow his car keys in her purse, so he wouldn’t have to lug them around all night. How like her to make an offer like that, Max thought, slipping them into his trousers pocket. “Where is the, uh, young lady now?”

“Oh, she left, sir. About half an hour ago.”

Now his heart thundered. “Left? But she came with me.”

The woman shrugged. “Taxi came for her, like I said, ’bout half an hour ago.”

No doubt about it. Lily had seen him with Susan. Why else would she have run off like that?

“Lovers’ quarrel?” Donald teased, elbowing Max in the ribs.

“We’ve never had so much as a cross word,” he said, mostly to himself. Then he remembered the time he’d read her the riot act over that whole golden retriever fiasco. “I have to go—see if I can get to the bottom of this.”

“Right, before it gets any deeper,” Donald agreed. “It’s been my experience that diamonds are great smoothing-over tools. My advice to you is, wait until the jewelers open up in the morning before you confront her. If you’re going to poke at a hibernating grizzly, be prepared with a tasty treat, I always say.”

“Great advice, Don. Thanks for nothing.”

Wilkes frowned. “No need to take that tone, Max. Let’s not forget who’s the senior partner.”

“I remember. But I’m outta here, officially, tomorrow. Let’s not forget
that.
”

Max followed the maid to the door. “Was she very upset when she left?”

“I probably shouldn’t say anything, Mr. Sheridan, sir. It’s none of my business, after all.”

“I’m making it your business.”

The woman sighed. “Well, there were tears in her eyes when she walked out that door.”

Wincing, Max grabbed his coat from the hall tree and stepped onto the granite porch. He hesitated, remembering he’d driven Susan to the party. He looked back inside. “See that blond woman over there by the piano?”

The maid nodded. “Miss Fisher.” She all but scowled. “Yes?”

“I want you to tell her that Max Sheridan said she can hike home or ride on the back of an elephant, for all I care. Don’t clean it up—use those words, exactly.” He peeled a twenty-dollar bill from his wallet and held it out to her. “I can count on you, right?”

She looked at the money but didn’t take it. “Mr. Wilkes doesn’t allow us to accept tips from his guests.”

“Mr. Wilkes is too pie-eyed to know who’s doing what.” Max shoved the bill into her apron pocket. “Those words exactly, okay?”

The woman smiled. “It’ll be my pleasure, sir.”

One more bridge burned, he thought as he started the car.

It was all Max could do to keep his mind on the road during the drive from Wilkes’s house to Lily’s hotel. He hadn’t needed to see her face to imagine how she must have looked, if indeed she’d witnessed the kiss. He cringed, picturing her, green eyes wide with disbelief, lips slightly parted in shock, one delicate hand pressed to her pearl-draped throat. She’d have stood there a second or two, if he knew her, blinking to make sure she hadn’t been seeing things. And when she realized the scene was all too real, Lily
no doubt had lifted her chin, thrown back her shoulders and marched resolutely toward the nearest exit.

She’d always been a tough little thing. It seemed to Max she’d rather have the earth swallow her whole than allow anyone to see they had enough control over her to make her cry.

He pounded the steering wheel. “Idiot!” he said through his teeth. “What kind of man are you?”

Not the kind she deserved. The guy Lily deserved would have been far more concerned with
her
feelings than with a woman he barely knew. He’d put up with Susan’s shenanigans because he hadn’t wanted to embarrass her. But it would take a lot more than being brushed off by the likes of him to hurt a woman like that. He’d behaved like the stereotypical ladies’ man, believing he was attractive enough, sexy enough to have that kind of power over a woman.

But he
did
have the power to hurt. He’d wounded Lily deeply, cut her to the quick. If he hadn’t, she never would have run off like that. Not his take-it-on-the-chin Lily!

He’d never felt more like a heel. When he got right down to it, his own ego had been in control of the situation, not Susan. He hadn’t tried hard enough to get rid of her. Who would he be kidding if he said he’d done everything humanly possible?

Certainly not him.

Definitely not Lily.

Max braked hard in her hotel’s parking lot and ran from the car to the lobby. He stood, toe tapping nervously on the beige marble floor, waiting for the elevator. When finally it arrived, he got in, punched the
button for the fifth floor, drummed his fingers on the brass rail that followed three walls of the car.

The doors opened with a high-pitched
ding
and he stepped into the hall, his hurried footsteps muffled by the plush carpeting. Max found her room, took a deep breath and knocked on the door. He’d make her understand, somehow, that what she’d seen had been a horrible yet meaningless mistake, that nothing like it had ever happened before or would ever happen again.

No answer.

He knocked again, then steeled himself, because if she opened that door and she stood there, eyes red-rimmed from crying…

Still no answer.

Max pressed an ear to the door, knuckles banging a third time. “Lily?” he called quietly. “You in there?”

A bellhop walked by, shoving a cart laden with soiled dishes. “If you’re lookin’ for the lady who was in that room, I think she checked out.”

Max stiffened. “Checked out?”

“Saw her pulling one of those wheely suitcases down the hall.” He thought about it a moment. “Must’ve been ten, fifteen minutes ago, when I delivered room service at the other end of the hall.”

“Are you sure she checked out?” He’d floored the sports car, risking a speeding ticket or an accident to get here as fast as he could. How could she have had time to pack and—

“I remember her,” the young man said, “because she nearly bumped into me.” He tugged the sleeve
of his white jacket. “Looked like maybe she’d been cryin’.”

“Thanks,” Max said, slipping the kid a five.

“Hope you catch up with her,” he called, as Max raced toward the bank of elevators.

“So do I,” he said under his breath. “So do I….”

Lily decided enough was enough. No more tears. Period. She sat woodenly on the black vinyl chairs at gate nine, hands folded primly in her lap, waiting to board the plane.

She’d been lucky today—catching a standby flight coming into O’Hare, getting another going out.

But luck had nothing to do with it, and she knew it. The Good Lord had orchestrated things.

She learned the hard way, and God had made sure she’d get to Chicago so she could see for herself that things could never work out between her and Max Sheridan. And He’d arranged quick passage home so she could lick her wounds in the bosom of her loving family.

She should have known better. Because, really, what more could she expect from a man who’d abandoned his faith…who, despite his many blessings, questioned the Almighty more often than he questioned local politicians. If he couldn’t trust the Lord, how could he be trusted himself?

He can’t,
she admitted, remembering the sight of him with Susan.

Lily closed her eyes, hoping to block the image from her mind. But it seemed just as vivid, just as painful behind that curtain of darkness.

She focused on the young couple seated across from her. Newlyweds, no doubt. She could tell by the way the girl kept holding her hand up, trying to catch a beam of light in her diamond wedding band. By the way they sat, shoulders touching.

She looked away, unable to watch a moment more of their bliss, because the truth was, she’d never have a moment of it for herself.

True as that was, she couldn’t put all the blame on Max’s shoulders. Half belonged to her, for convincing herself he cared for her, that maybe he was falling in love with her. He had never said anything of the kind, had never made a single promise, had not so much as hinted at a commitment.

She’d read far more into those kisses than he’d intended. From Max’s point of view, they’d probably just been for sport. Trivial. To give meaning to them had been a mistake. One of the biggest she’d made. Ever.

She inhaled a gulp of air, exhaled slowly.

Life was pretty good, right?

She had her dad, her sisters, her animals, right?

Lily remembered a day from long ago…

“Where’d you get that black eye?” her dad had asked, pulling her onto his lap.

“Jimmy Peters dumped my book bag on the school bus floor. And when I was crawling around picking them up, he kicked me. So I socked him. I hate him!” she had said, burying her face in the soft flannel of his plaid shirt.

“Now, now,” he said, drying her tears with the pads of his thumbs. “Let me tell you a story. It’s
about an old Navajo and his young grandson. ‘There is a great battle going in within me, a war of two wolves,’ he told the boy. ‘The first wolf is evil, and symbolizes worry, hatred, bitterness, anger, superiority, laziness—all the worst of human emotions.

“‘The second wolf is good, representing kindness and love, hope, faith, trust, helpfulness—the best things man can be.’

“The grandson thought about this for a long, long time, and then he said, ‘Grandfather? Which wolf wins?’”

Lamont had taken Lily’s face in his big callused hands at that moment, had looked deep into her eyes and finished the story: “‘Whichever wolf I feed,’ said the grandfather. ‘Whichever wolf I feed….’”

Lily hadn’t fully understood the moral, not as a ten-year-old.

But she knew its meaning now, and held it close to her heart.

God had blessed her with free will, had given her the ability to choose how she would react to things that happened to her, throughout her life.

She would have to choose now, between feeling disappointed and angry with Max, or forgiving and forgetting. She knew which decision the Lord expected her to make.

So she’d pray, hard, for the strength to get through this quickly, quietly, without complaint.

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. Flight number three-five-seven is now boarding at gate nine. If you’ll have your boarding pass ready, please…”

Lily stood, grabbed her carry-on bag, and got into
line with her fellow passengers. As she shuffled, one slow step at a time closer to the airliner’s entrance ramp, she decided to pray, too, for the wisdom to remember that Max hadn’t guaranteed anything but friendship. In that regard, he hadn’t let her down at all.

That
was the truth she’d hold on to until the pain lessened.

And it would only subside, for it would never leave her.

Max wished he’d left his coat in the car, because as he ran through the terminal, he could feel the sweat running down his back. He checked the monitors, looking for any flight bound for Amarillo International, and saw one, scheduled for takeoff in less than fifteen minutes.

Maybe it would be late and he’d reach her in time, stop her from getting on that plane. He couldn’t have her thinking there was any truth in what she’d seen in Wilkes’s library.

He tried her cell phone again, hoping she’d finally turned it on. But it rang and rang before a pleasant-voiced woman instructed him to leave a message after the beep. “Lily,” he said, breathing hard as he ran toward gate nine, “don’t get on that plane. Please. You have to let me explain—”

His cell phone cut out on him. Max slapped the mouthpiece shut. “No-good piece of worthless trash,” he grumped, shoving it into his shirt pocket. “Of all the times for it to die on me…”

He encountered a throng of people, milling through
the security check-in point. Max hadn’t thought of this. He’d never make it through the system without a boarding pass. Even if he’d managed to book a last-minute flight, he couldn’t leave Chicago. Not with all the paperwork he’d put into motion before Wilkes’s party. There was no turning back. Not that he wanted to. But if he didn’t stay, scribble his John Hancock at the bottom of every document, he’d have to start the whole process over again. No…better to stay put, clean things up, and then put the Windy City behind him, once and for all.