Dancer in the Shadows (6 page)

"Why did you go after him?" she demanded, her green eyes blazing with anger.

"I wanted to find out something for myself." She walked into the bedroom with Valerie at her heels.

"He saw Michael. He must realize that he's his son!" Valerie sounded hysterical. "He's going to want to take him away from me!"

"Did he tell you that?" Shelly asked her calmly.

"He was too shocked when he saw Michael. I thought he was still asleep when Sean came. I just know he'll try something to get even," she said bleakly. "I know he must hate me."

"Did you happen to notice that Sean is still wearing his wedding band?" Shelly asked. "Don't you think that's a little strange for a man who seemingly doesn't care?"

"It would protect him from a girl wanting to get too serious," Valerie mumbled, flushing.

Shaking her head at her friend's bitterness, Shelly walked toward the bathroom. "I'm going to take a shower."

Valerie walked back into the living room, looking around at the gold tweed couch and gold velvet chairs she and Shelly had bought at a furniture warehouse sale. Houseplants in colorful macrame hangers were scattered around the room. Sighing, she walked into the smaller bedroom, where Michael was back in bed looking at a comic book. He flashed her a sunny smile. "Who was the man, Mommy?" he asked curiously.

"An old friend, darling." She smiled faintly, sitting on the edge of the bed.

"Does he have a little boy, too?" Michael asked innocently.

Valerie's eyes filled with tears as she reached forward, hugging the small boy tightly.

"Yes, oh, yes, he does," she whispered tautly, resting her chin on his golden-brown hair.

Valerie was surprised by Sean's silence over the next four days. Craig was irritated by her absentmindedness, and every time the phone rang she jumped, afraid it was Sean.

"Valerie, I don't know what the problem is, but this letter is totally unacceptable." He threw the paper on her desk. "If it's possible, I would like to get this out today."

She muttered angrily under her breath as she inserted a fresh sheet of stationery into the typewriter and began typing rapidly.

Friday night, Valerie refused Craig's dinner invitation, explaining that she was teaching one of Shelly's ballet classes that evening. She rushed home to pick up Michael and to change into leotards and tights.

While Michael sat in a corner of the large room, happy with a coloring book and crayons, Valerie was busy teaching the fundamental steps to six women. Concentrating on the complex steps, she soon resumed her former grace.

After the class ended, Valerie glanced over to her sleeping son. Arching her back, she walked over to the stack of records next to the record player, sifting through the albums. She lifted one out, studying the label before placing it on the turntable. After setting the needle on the record, she walked back to the center of the room, her profile reflected in the mirrors along the wall. Her eyes closed as her feet automatically placed themselves in the fifth position, heel against the toes of the opposite foot. The soft strains of a valse from The Sleeping Beauty drifted through the air.

Valerie was transported back in time to the day she had auditioned for admittance to the academy. The steps came back to her as if she were still practicing daily. She had danced with all her heart only to walk outside that day and lose it to the dark enigmatic man waiting for her, a man whose touch stirred newly awakened senses to such a fevered pitch that she could only be aware of his hard, lean body against her. As the music ended, she was startled out of her dream world by the sound of hands clapping slowly and steadily, the sound a mockery.

"Very nice." Sean stood in the doorway. "Is that what won you the coveted scholarship?"

"Yes." She felt both angry and confused at seeing him so unexpectedly. "How did you know I was here?"

"Instinct." He entered the room, looking around until his gaze fell on the sleeping boy. "Isn't it a little late for him?"

"He likes coming," Valerie said defensively, turning off the phonograph and picking up a wraparound skirt. "You still haven't told me yet why you're here."

"I thought we could have dinner together and talk," Sean said coolly.

"Michael's too tired and he'll just be cranky." Her tone was just as icy. "Some other time."

"Get someone to watch him."

Valerie looked up with a mutinous expression. "We have nothing to discuss."

"Yes, we do." Sean's eyes flickered toward the sleeping Michael.

Valerie felt a cold rush of fear. "There's a neighbor who babysits for me. I can ask her," she said slowly, stooping down to pick Michael up, not wanting to awaken him. Before she could reach him, Sean had come up and easily picked the boy up in his arms. Michael stirred and drowsily looked at the tall man.

"Hello," he mumbled sleepily.

Sean looked down at him with a tender expression. As he looked up at Valerie, his features hardened. "Where's your car?" he asked brusquely.

Valerie turned off the lights in the classroom and led the way down the small hallway. After locking the front door, she headed for her Fiat. Sean carefully laid Michael on the passenger's seat.

"I'll follow you to your apartment." He turned, walking toward a silver Mark V. Valerie grimaced at her car as it sputtered when she turned the key. Then the car roared to life.

On the road, she could see the headlights of the big car behind her, making sure she didn't escape. Michael sat up in the seat, rubbing his eyes.

"Who's the man, Mommy?" he asked.

"A friend," she said carefully, unsure of how to tell him Sean's real identity. "He and I are going out to dinner if Mrs. Rogers can stay with you." Valerie pulled into the parking lot, with the silver car following close behind.

Sean walked up to the car as Valerie got out. "Well, so you decided to wake up." He looked down at the now-alert Michael.

"Can't I go with you and Mommy?" he begged. "I promise I'll be good."

"Next time," Sean promised. "Funny thing, your mother forgot to tell me your name."

"Michael."

Sean looked over at Valerie's pale face. "Michael?" he questioned softly.

"All of my name is Sean Michael Hunter, Jr.," Michael said proudly, unaware of the tension between the two adults. "I'm named after my daddy." He jumped out of the car, skipping toward the entrance, then breaking into a run for the stairs.

"Michael, be careful," Valerie called after him, anxious to break the tension.

Sean's steely grip held her back. "You have a lot to make up for, lady," he said through clenched teeth. "It's ironic that you wouldn't tell me about my son, yet you named him after me."

She wrenched her arm free, her green eyes blazing with anger before walking ahead of him. At the apartment door, Sean took her key, inserting it into the lock and opening the door.

"Go get your pajamas on and brush your teeth," she told Michael before turning to Sean. "I'll be in in a few minutes." He merely nodded as he sat on the couch, looking entirely at home.

Valerie quickly made a phone call to Mrs. Rogers, who told her she'd be over in twenty minutes. Val had been tempted to tell Sean she couldn't find anyone to watch Michael, but she knew he wouldn't let her escape so easily.

Since he was dressed in casual slacks and shirt, she chose a pair of powder-blue slacks and a cream-colored shirt with faint blue stripes running through it. She quickly freshened her makeup and ran a brush through her dark hair. After quickly spraying some perfume around her, Valerie walked into the living room, surprised to see Michael, in his pajamas, sitting cross- legged on the couch talking animatedly to Sean. He turned around, grinning at his mother.

"I brushed my teeth," he informed her. "He has the same name as me." He pointed to Sean.

"As I, and don't point," Valerie corrected. "I suggest you get into bed—now."

Michael slid off the couch and turned to Sean, his small hand outstretched. "Good night," he said solemnly.

"Good night, Michael," Sean said gravely.

Michael then walked to his mother, arms out for a kiss, before going into his bedroom. Valerie was relieved when the doorbell rang, dispensing with the need for any conversation with Sean. Mrs. Rogers' sharp eyes looked Sean over, noticing the resemblance to Michael. "Don't worry if you're late, dear." She smiled warmly at Valerie, her eyes still on the handsome man standing nearby. "I have no plans."

Valerie groaned inwardly, reading Mrs. Rogers' thoughts on seeing her with the man who must be Michael's father.

"Thank you for coming on such short notice." She smiled, preceding Sean out the front door.

In the parking lot, he courteously helped her into the car, his touch impersonal. Valerie was surprised by Sean's knowledge of the city as he drove through an older section of town, stopping at a Mexican restaurant famous for its fine food. She had never been there, as Craig, on their occasional dates, preferred to take her to American-style restaurants. Here she could appreciate the quiet simplicity of the low, fat red candles burning at each table and the old-fashioned black-and-white photographs, depicting the early days of the city, on the walls.

When they had been seated, the waitress asked if they wanted drinks before dinner, and Valerie quickly requested a vodka-and-tonic. Sean asked for a particular brand of Irish whiskey. After the waitress took the rest of their order, she left them and Sean laced his fingers in front of him, resting his elbows on the table. "Were you afraid I'd forget you're of age now?" He cocked an amused eyebrow.

"I wouldn't expect you to remember anything at all about me." Her voice sounded calmer than she felt.

A hardening of Sean's features was the only sign that he had been affected by her remark. "You seem to have acquired the look of someone who's been around. They'll believe you're of age," he said cruelly.

Valerie whitened under the ruthless gaze. She began to rise from the table, wanting to be as far away from him as possible.

"Sit down." His tone was that of a man used to being in command.

"I won't stay here to be insulted," she said in a low voice.

Sean leaned back in his chair, lazily lighting a cigarette. "They always say the truth hurts." He spoke briskly. "But that isn't why I brought you here."

"Then why are we here?"

"I suggest we eat our meal first." He spoke calmly as the waitress approached them with their food.

Valerie looked at her chicken enchilada without any appetite. But knowing Sean would not say anymore until after dinner, she attempted to swallow a few bites. There had been times when she had wondered what would happen if he ever appeared in her life again, but she had never thought beyond that. Glancing up under her lowered lashes, she noticed the wide gold band on his left hand. Her hand trembled as she recalled the moment when she had slipped it on his finger. She took a hasty gulp of her drink, letting the alcohol soothe her frazzled nerves. She pushed her plate away, tensely waiting for Sean to finish. He looked up, noticing the faint trembling of her chin.

"When did you cut your hair?" he asked unexpectedly.

"T-two years ago," she stammered, surprised by his sudden question.

"Makes you look younger in some ways." He lit another cigarette. "Now, as to this cozy family reunion..." His lips twisted cruelly.

"It's about Michael, isn't it?" She felt a wave of panic inside.

"How old is he?" he asked.

"Three and a half," Valerie replied, anger beginning to override panic. "What's wrong? Don't you believe he's your son?"

"I'd have to be blind to miss the resemblance." His smile was amused. "So I wouldn't suggest that you try to make me believe he isn't mine. After all, Craig has blond hair."

Valerie gasped at his malicious remark.

"And, as he is mine, I should have some say in his upbringing," Sean continued.

"In what way?" She was suspicious.

"He needs a father," he stated coldly.

"He has me; that's enough," she retorted.

"You may be able to soothe a stomach ache or chase away the bogeyman, but you can't teach him to play baseball or show him a man's world," he pointed out—correctly, to her irritation. "You can't do everything for him, Val."

"What you're saying is that you want to take him away from me," she replied in a choked voice.

His dark eyes took in the naked pain on her delicate features. "Not exactly—just that both of us should give him a home." He stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray. "Let him find out he has a father, too."

"I'd like to go, please." Valerie fumbled for her purse and fled the restaurant before her tears could fall.

In the parking lot, her taut nerves threatened to break as she waited beside the car. Sean unlocked the passenger's door and helped her in before walking around to the driver's side. He slid behind the wheel, then turned, reaching out to grip her chin, jerking it roughly until she faced him. Green eyes stared into brown ones, a small animal mesmerized by a larger one ready to attack. Sean's fingertips caressed her jawline and moved sensuously along her throat. Valerie trembled under his touch as his fingers tightened convulsively around her throat.

"How does Saunders make love, Valerie, my sweet?" he mused, tightening his grip until tears sprang from her eyes. "Do you curl up to him in the middle of the night? Or utter those throaty moans of joy as he possesses you?"

"Do you enjoy abusing women, Sean?" She finally managed to choke out the words. "Does it turn you on?"

A look of disgust appeared on his granite features as he released her so suddenly she flopped back against the seat. He turned, flicking on the ignition, silently driving her back to her apartment. She tried to make a hasty escape, but his reflexes were faster than hers. He was out of the car and at the passenger's door by the time she unbuckled her safety belt.

"Thank you for dinner," Valerie said stiffly. "But you don't need to come up with me."

"We still have a few more things to get settled." The steel grip on her upper arm brooked no argument as he escorted her upstairs.