Her Foreign Affair (11 page)

The song came to an end and Randi laughed, using it as an excuse to step away from Court, her heart pumping as much from the exercise as being close to her old love. Dad killed the music, to the groans of Birdie and Drew, but Randi was grateful. She didn’t have the stamina for dancing anymore, and being in Court’s arms came close to stealing all her power to resist him. By the look in his eye, he knew it and heavily counted on her fading resistance. A quick stop in the kitchen to cram the remaining containers into the refrigerator bought her a few minutes while the kids plopped themselves down in front of the TV.

Winded, Randi paused in the pass-through from the kitchen to the family room and assessed the positions of the occupants. Dad had his corner of the sofa nearest the fireplace with Birdie settling down beside him. Drew sat to her left, close, but not too close in response to a look from Dad. Jordan sat beyond the curve of the sectional. Sit beside him, or in her rocking chair in front of the fireplace on the far side of the room? What she really should do was wiggle in between the kids. Drew didn’t have his arm around Birdie—yet—although it was only a matter of time based on the way they smiled at each other.

Court stood behind her, most likely waiting for her to decide where she was going to sit. The sound for the game moving out of half time was back on. Football had never looked so unappealing, but to scurry off to her corner in the reading nook would be rude. Not to mention, there was that situation with the kids.

“What’s the proper Thanksgiving etiquette here?” Court’s breath tickled the side of her neck.

“Kick the kids off the sofa and we take their spots.”

His nearly silent laugh teased her ear. “So cruel.”

“The other option is to stretch out on the floor, or sit on the floor and insinuate ourselves between them by leaning back against the couch.”

“Sounds hard.” His hand cupped her bottom. “We don’t want to abuse this pretty posterior.”

If only… Man she’d love to sit on his hand for awhile and let it do more delicious things to her. Quashing a groan before it escaped, she made an attempt to push him back with her shoulder. “I have floor pillows. A nap on the carpet is a time-honored tradition. You can take the rocking chair, and I’ll sit in the open spot by Jordan.”

“No.” His answer left no room for argument. She hadn’t thought he’d like that suggestion much, so it came as no surprise.

Sneaky Court moved his hand, stroking her back in a way no one else would see, unless they looked at her face. Of course he didn’t want her sitting next to Jordan. Court’s breath warmed her ear while his finger drew a line down her spine, right past her waist and down between her buttocks. Without a pause, he glided his most wicked finger straight into the space between her legs. Right at the very top of her thighs.

“Would they miss us if we, say, wandered off to your bedroom?” He echoed her earlier thought as if reading her mind. “We still have lots to talk about. We’ve barely touched the subject of the last twenty-two and a half years.”

Randi cleared her throat. “Bad form. Rude to guests and all that,” she muttered. “We’ll talk once the extra two leave.”

“Who’s to be polite for? Jordan? No loss there.” His finger curved upward, stroking her through the layers of her clothing, wearing at her resolve to walk away. It wouldn’t take much more for her already weak defenses to completely crumble. She wanted nothing more than to turn around and pick up where they’d left off in the powder room. But with her father shooting glances her direction, she didn’t dare. The very fragile secret was close to exploding into the open, and she needed to hang on to it, just a little longer. Which meant shutting Court down.

“Down boy. Once the game is over, we’ll usher the other two out the door. Until then, I have to play nice. If you want to plead jet lag and go lie down in your room, you’re allowed.”

“Only if you come with me.”

If only she could. “No can do.”

“Then I’ll kick Drew to the floor. He’s a good pup.”

Aghast, she glanced over her shoulder. “He is not a pup.”

“Oh, yes, he is. He’s like one of those retrievers you Yanks are so attached to. Golden Retrievers? He’s exactly like one. Makes friends with everyone, smiles all the time, happy to be wherever he is at the moment as long as he has someone to talk to.”

Randi held back her chuckle, but smiled. That pretty much described Birdie as well if one were to try to compare her to a dog. No, a little chickadee or a canary fit better with her. She’d been well nicknamed.

“Anyhow, toss him a pillow and he’ll make happy on the floor.”

The look she gave Court over her shoulder this time should have made him wither away, but no, the devil she remembered grinned back at her.

“Fine.” She reached for the coffee pot. “Anyone need a refill?” she called out to the room in general. Groans of denial came back.

“What’s the special brew you wanted to make me?” Court asked.

“Take your seat and I’ll bring it to you. Pillows are behind the sofa.”

Randi watched from the corner of her eye as Court disrupted the lazy folks nearly comatose on the couch. From her secret stash, hidden at the very back of the liquor cabinet, she pulled out a dark brown bottle of hazelnut liqueur. She’d once overheard a man refer to it as panty-melter. Talk about setting herself up for trouble with a capital T. Right, as if she could have more trouble on her hands than she already had?

On a wave of recklessness, in went the liqueur followed by a healthy dose of cream. The good stuff, real, heavy whipping cream. Two extra miles on the treadmill this week. Mentally, she crossed her heart, then revised her vow. Next week.

Now she needed a good plan. Step one, get Dad and Jordan sent on their merry ways.

Step two. Shit, what was the best step two? Get Court aside and talk strategy or sit the kids down and go for broke? Because before this night ended, it would all have to come out. A glance into the family room solidified her conviction. Drew settled himself on the floor, pillow at Birdie’s feet and his head on the pillow, feet aimed toward the TV. They looked a little too comfortable. How had they grown to be this comfortable with each other in only a week? Were they instinctively reacting to their close relationship, as in blood relationship, but mistaking it for attraction?

Shit. Step two, jump in with both feet. No time for strategy or finesse. It would be so much easier if she didn’t like Drew. But she did. He was a nice kid. Reminded her a lot of Court way back when.

Lord, what would this do to his image of his father? What would this do to Birdie’s image of her? Wyatt? Court and Drew? So many variations, this could go awry in so many ways it wasn’t close to funny. It all depended on how Birdie received and processed the news.

Which led to step three, which depended entirely upon the kids and their reactions. Surprise certainly. Horror? Disgust? Feelings of betrayal almost a guarantee. She could only pray for forgiveness and understanding. How many chances over the last two years had there been to tell Birdie the story of her life? One day the kid would actually read her paperwork in detail. Not that Randi had ever handed either of the certificates to her and said, “Hey, here look at this. This is who you really are.”

Hmm. A thought to consider. She knew right where to find the certified copies of Birdie’s birth and adoption certificates. For years they’d lived in Randi’s purse alongside Birdie’s shot records. Once she went off to college, Randi had filed them with the marriage certificate and vehicle titles. Right beside Wyatt’s death certificate. All things that should be in a safe deposit box at the bank.

“With the vehicle titles?” Wyatt had asked her with a raised brow when he’d asked about the marriage certificate.

“They’re all certificates of ownership, right?”

“But do I own you or do you own me?”

“Yes.”

Wyatt had at least laughed and never questioned her logic again. As long as he could find what he needed when he needed it, he never complained. Then again, his method of finding things had been to ask her to find it for him. Great system. For him.

Randi leaned her head against the cabinet and said a silent prayer for strength and courage.

So. Step one. Get the extras off the stage.

She lifted the two mugs and waited until the play finished before walking in front of the viewers. She stopped long enough to hand one mug to Court, then stepped right over Drew and glided smoothly into her rocking chair.

With an audible sigh, she slid off her shoes and flexed her feet. A deep red line cut into her feet where the straps across her toes had been. Should have worn the black velvet slippers she’d picked up last week. So much for vanity and trying to impress two blind dates.

Set up by her daughter and her father. The pair of them looked mighty cozy on the sofa. A photo right now would portray almost the perfect family. Kick Jordan out of the picture and you’d have a girl sitting like a princess, surrounded by her father, grandfather and brother. Not a bad picture come to think of it. Getting up to find her camera would ruin the entire tableau. Nothing more than illusion anyway. No such thing as a perfect family existed anywhere.

From the first gulp of her laced coffee, she felt its magic slide into her blood, warming secret spaces in her body now protesting they’d been ignored too long. It seemed more than two years since Wyatt’s passing. Love had grown between them, softly at first. Slow and steady, directly opposite the instant explosion she’d experienced with Court. Enough love that she truly missed Wyatt’s comforting, solid, steady presence and his ability to shelter her from any storm. She’d been well loved and her mourning deep and sincere.

Yet, she was a woman not quite ready for the nursing home. She still had desires. Desires that had ignited by a momentary connection with Court’s darkening eyes. A sluicing of liquid heat traveled straight to her core. Heaven help her, she wanted him. Now. Right here.

At the sound of a throat clearing, she switched her gaze to her father and found him staring at her. She glared back, pointedly nodded toward Jordan, who dozed with his chin on his chest, and then the front of the house where his car was parked at the curb. Dad merely smiled and shook his head. At the two-minute warning, she gulped down the rest of her coffee and used sign language to inform him she wanted to see him in the kitchen.

“All right,” he grumbled and heaved to his feet. “The Raiders are losing anyway. Sad day when Dallas stomps them into the mud this way.”

“What mud?” Randi gave him a narrow-eyed glare as she chased him into the kitchen. The warm carpet gave way to cool vinyl under her bare feet, reminding her she wanted to get off them for the night very soon.

“All right, you dragged me in here.” Dad put his cup in the sink. The pose he took, leaning against the counter, arms crossed, clearly signified he didn’t want to budge.

“It’s time you gather up your leftovers, and your guest, and go home. I’m sure Jordan would appreciate a nice, quiet hotel room about now. Or the ability to go trolling for companionship for the night. Either way, you’ve worn out your welcome for today.”

Scowling for effect, he stood firm, looking immoveable. “I want to be here when you tell her.”

“No.” Randi crossed her arms and stood firm. Even if she did get a crick in her neck looking up at him. As he’d often told her, a person’s size didn’t matter. It was her determination, and Dad had run into her brand of it more than once. “This is my problem and I don’t want to tell my daughter her whole life is not what it seems in front of a stranger. Jordan has no part in this, and I won’t do that to her or Drew.”

“I want my chance to grill the smooth-talking son of a bitch who sent my daughter home pregnant. Besides, I’m her grandfather,” he pointed out.

“But you’re not related to the other two. I’ll call you tomorrow, unless she decides to disown me tonight, then she may very well end up on your doorstep. If the situation warrants your presence, then you can come back. Otherwise, we have things to work out around here before you play your role of outraged father.” At his stubborn look, she threw up her hands in frustration. “You’re making this extra hard on me. It’s already a difficult situation, and you butting in like this is distracting me and taking away the energy I need to deal with this in a reasonable manner.”

Anxious to drive her point absolutely home, she poked her finger against his breastbone. “Do NOT do this to me. I’m trying to do the right thing by my daughter, and a little support from you would be appreciated right now. I need to focus on her first, not your sense of injured chivalry.”

At last he nodded, rubbing his chest where she’d poked him, and asked quietly, “How are you going to do it?”

“I don’t know yet. I wanted to talk to Court first, but I think I’m out of time.” Valuable time he’d used up by being pigheaded.

They looked into the family room where Birdie tried to rest a bare foot on Drew’s head. He kept pushing it off, but they could see the sly smile on his face. The boy was going to strike and give Birdie what she had coming. Hopefully, it would be limited to tickles. She hoped Jordan had a strong heart as momentarily he’d be awakened by a screech loud enough to scare the dead.

Randi backed away from her father and stepped into Birdie’s line of sight. Drew’s as well. She gave them both a mother glare, and they settled down. She ignored Court’s pout. Troublemaker. For a moment, the anger returned, and she bent the heat of her scowl on him. That innocent look so did not work on her anymore.

His eyes twinkled at her and he smiled, the special private smile, no less.

Damn him.

So the look still worked on her.

She rolled her eyes and turned away. “Your leftovers are all ready to go, Dad.” This agitator wouldn’t walk all over her this time.

Ten minutes later, she stood on the entry patio and waved as Dad drove off with Jordan. A minor skirmish out of the way. One which had been tougher than it should have been. This was not the right time, physically or emotionally, to go down this path, but she had no choice morally. Any minute now those kids could sneak off and do something that would scar them for life.