Invincible (24 page)

She laughed nervously. “I wouldn't dare fall off and ruin this outfit.”

He eyed her up and down appreciatively. “You look amazing in it.”

“Thank you. I've been wondering about something all afternoon.”

“I'll be glad to satisfy your curiosity.” He was glad to be talking to her at all, considering her threat yesterday not to speak to him for the rest of her life. “What is it?”

“How did you know what sizes to buy for the two of us?”

He chuckled. “That's easy. I called my mother. She had Flick's measurements because she planned to buy her a few things.”

Kristin nodded in understanding. “And she had mine because I borrowed some clothing from Emily, and we're the same size.” She met his gaze and said, “It was a
thoughtful thing to do, Max. Flick is over the moon—with her outfit and with the chance to ride horseback.”

“Thanks.”

“I'm still going to pay you back.”

“Look, K,” he said, trying to keep his voice from sounding as aggrieved as he felt, “you're going to have to get used to me spending money on Flick. Sometimes, like today, it's going to mean spending money on you, too.”

“I'm used to taking care of Flick and myself by myself.”

“You've got me now.” He didn't say she would have had him from the start if she'd only told him she was pregnant. Mostly because he thought her fears about how he would have reacted at eighteen probably had some foundation. He had no idea what he would have done. She was right about one thing. It would have been hard to give up being a heedless teenager to be a father.

He was older and wiser now, ready to shoulder the responsibility of being a father.

And a husband?
That, too. If he could get her to agree to marriage on his terms.

While Flick rode ahead, Max said, “I wish you'd reconsider marrying me, Princess.”

“You asked your girlfriend to go horseback riding with us, Max.”

“If you were listening, you heard she isn't my girlfriend.”

She shot him a severe look.

“Not anymore,” he added.

“How many more girlfriends are waiting in the wings?”

“None.”

She cocked her head and said, “I'm supposed to believe you?”

“It's the truth.”

“I'd rather focus on the job we have to do, if it's all the same to you.”

“Obviously we're not going to be dating our way through the player roster anymore,” he said.

She lifted a brow. “Why not? We're both still single adults.”

“The word is going to get out that we're parents.”

“So? We're still
single
parents.”

“Not for long, if I can help it,” Max muttered.

“Have you figured out what excuse we're going to use to get together with Elena and Steffan tomorrow?”

“How about having a drink with us?” Max said.

“You're suggesting we invite potential coconspirators in an assassination to dinner?”

“Why not?”

“It doesn't sound like you're taking this threat seriously, Max.”

“This is how I do my job, Princess. And I'm good at what I do. People say far more in social situations, when they've got a few drinks in them, than they realize.”

“Well, this isn't what I do. I'm relying on you to make sure we don't foul up this investigation.”

“Keep your chin up, Princess. There's always the possibility they've sent us on a wild-goose chase. All the
CIA had to go on was a couple of emails intercepted by Interpol. Someone could have had an idea to do the bad thing but never figured out how to make it happen.”

“I hope it is a false alarm. I don't want Irina and Steffan to be the bad guys. I wish I could take Flick and go home, but I've got to stay for the exhibition match. And Harry's plane arrived early this morning. We helped him settle in at the rehab center before practice and he's expecting Flick and me to come and visit him again later today.”

“May I come, too?”

“I can't very well keep you away when you're paying for everything,” she said.

“I won't go if you don't want me there,” Max said.

“I think Harry would like to see you.”

“We have two weeks of Wimbledon competition after our exhibition match until the final matches,” Max said. “Will you stay until then?”

“I signed up for the whole job, plus I don't want to move Harry again too soon. So, yes, we'll stay until the Gentlemen's Singles Championship match on July 4.”

July 4. America's Independence Day. That meant he only had a few weeks to work out some sort of compromise on custody, if she wouldn't marry him.

Flick slowed her mount and said, “Can I ride with you, Dad?”

“Sure.”

“I have a question.”

“Go ahead and ask,” Max said.

“Are you and Mom going to get married?”

Max's glance slid to Kristin, who shook her head, apparently used to Flick's candid questions. “I don't know,” he said at last.

“I like having a dad and a mom.”

“I'm still going to be your dad, even if your mom and I aren't married,” he pointed out.

“Yeah, but if you and Mom get married, we can do more things together, like this.”

“I can't make your mom marry me, Flick,” he said.

Flick stared at him with her mouth open in surprise. “You mean you've asked her?”

Max couldn't see the harm in admitting he'd proposed. “Yes, I've asked your mom to marry me. She wasn't too keen on the idea.”

He saw Kristin roll her eyes.

“Why didn't she want to marry you?” Flick asked.

“You'll have to ask her,” Max said.

“Mom, why don't you want to marry Dad?”

Kristin glared at him over Flick's head. Then she met her daughter's gaze and said, “A man and a woman who get married should love each other, Flick. Your father and I aren't in love. That's why I said no.”

“Oh,” Flick said. “I see.”

Max watched her forehead furrow in thought. Then she lifted her chin, smiled at Max and said, “Well, Dad, you're just going to have to convince Mom to fall in love with you.”

“G
ramps!” Flick cried.

Max stood back as his daughter barreled past him into her grandfather's room. The rehabilitation center he had chosen for Harry was situated near the small village of Wimbledon, where the grass tennis courts of the All England Lawn Tennis Club were located, to make it easier for Kristin and Flick to visit him every day.

Max watched as Flick climbed onto Harry's bed, easy as you please, and hugged him tight around the neck. He was glad Kristin had warned him about her father's appearance after his stroke. Harry's face sagged badly on the right side. When he talked to Flick, Harry's features contorted so he looked like some kind of made-up movie monster, but she didn't seem to notice.

“I rode a horse, Gramps!” Flick told Harry. “And I have a father!” she added.

Max realized the horse had come first. He'd been an afterthought. He had a lot to learn about the priorities of nine-year-old girls. “Hello, Harry,” Max said as he
approached the bed. He turned to look for Kristin and realized she'd hung back by the door.

Max noticed Harry reached with his left hand to shake the right hand Max extended to him.

“Ih uh oo ee oo,” Harry said laboriously.

“He says it's good to see you,” Flick translated.

“Aow ime.”

“He says—” Flick began.

“Never mind,” Max said.
About time.
He could decipher that for himself. Kristin had told him that Harry had known all these years that Max was Flick's father. The old man must have resented the extra responsibility, although it was clear he adored his granddaughter. It seemed he was happy the secret was out.

Max shot a look over his shoulder at Kristin and saw she'd moved into the room and was leaning against the side wall. He'd known about Harry's paralysis. He hadn't realized Harry's speech was so bad.

“They've got a great speech therapy program here,” he said to Harry.

“Own ee ih.”

“He says he doesn't need it,” Flick translated.

Max glanced back at Kristin and saw the despair on her face as she slumped back against the wall. No wonder she'd looked so distressed during the trip here. Harry might not want speech therapy, but he needed it. He saw her dilemma. How could you argue with a man who'd had a stroke? Especially when you couldn't be sure whether upsetting him would cause another one?

“I think your speech could use a little work,” Max said.

“Max,” Kristin said in a warning voice, stepping away from the wall. “I don't think—”

“Because I can't understand a thing you say until Flick translates for you,” Max finished.

Max watched as Harry's face got red. His glare blazed from one eye while the other drooped at half-mast.

“Oo un itch!” Harry huffed out.

“He said—” Flick began.

“Don't repeat what he said!” K said as she stepped between the two men. “That's enough from both of you. Dad, you need speech therapy.”

“No!” Harry barked.

“You're pretty good with the negatives, Harry.”

“Shut up, Max,” K said without looking at him. She kept her eyes focused on her father as she said, “I'm not going to argue with you, Dad. I'm going to the speech therapist tomorrow morning, and if she tells me you've scheduled a therapy session, Flick and I will come visit you. If you haven't, we won't.”

“Mom, that's coercion!” Flick complained.

Max hadn't known his nine-year-old was familiar with the word. But he personally applauded Kristin's willingness to compel Harry to choose speech therapy by threatening to withhold his granddaughter's visits.

“I'd believe her, Harry,” Max said. “She means it.”

“Eez a uffff irl,” he mumbled.

“What's that, Gramps?” Flick asked, for once not able to understand him.

“He says your mom's a tough girl,” Max said. He turned to see what Kristin thought about her father's remark and felt his heart squeeze when he saw the tears brimming in her eyes. She blinked them back—like the tough girl she was—but Max was beginning to realize just how much Kristin had been dealing with on her own in recent months.

He wanted to help. He was determined to help, whether the “tough girl” liked it or not. Better late than never, he supposed.

His mother and her assistant, Emily Whatever, had moved to the Blackthorne residence in Berkeley Square on the West End of London, so Emily would be available every day to tutor Flick until she finished her class work for the current year. But he wanted his daughter in a good London public—which was England's version of a private—school in the fall. Not necessarily a boarding school.

Max had spent too much time separated from his parents growing up to be a big fan of sending kids away. He could understand it might have been the best choice when Kristin was on her own. But if he could convince her to marry him, he wanted them to live together like a family.

Convincing her to marry him seemed impossible at the moment. Kristin wanted not just someone who loved her, but someone she could love. And he had no idea how to accomplish that feat.

No woman he'd dated had ever loved him. Not for himself, anyway. Kristin had come closest to caring. But
he'd ruined all that ten years ago. He wasn't sure what he could do to make her start to care again. But he was going to do his damnedest to figure it out.

“Time to go, Flick,” Kristin said. “Say good-bye to Gramps.”

Max watched as Flick clung to her grandfather's neck. “Get well, Gramps,” she said. “So we can go home.”

Home.
If Max got his way, she was already home. He suddenly realized that, while he'd worried how Kristin would make the transition from living in Miami to living in London, he'd never considered Flick's feelings on the subject. He was going to have to readjust his thinking to keep her in the loop.

Max was jolted from his reverie when he felt a small hand grasp his. He looked down and found his daughter looking up at him expectantly.

“Ready to go, Dad?”

“Sure,” he said. “K?” he said, glancing in her direction. “You ready?”

She was brushing her father's hair back from his brow. Both of them looked embarrassed to be caught in such a tender pose. “Yes, I'm ready,” she said, dropping her hand. “Remember what I said, Dad.”

He made a face but didn't reply. Max would have put money on the fact the old man would be in speech therapy starting tomorrow.

“Where to now?” Max asked as they left the rehabilitation center.

“Your mother invited Flick and me to stay at the
Blackthorne mansion in Berkeley Square, and I've accepted. We've already been there to see our rooms.”

Max barely kept his mouth from dropping open in surprise. Kristin voluntarily accepting the hospitality of the Mean Witch? The world was turning on its ear.

She flushed, so he knew she was aware of how peculiar her decision seemed.

“If we stay with the duchess, Flick can have her own room and I'm still close enough to get to her if she wakes during the night,” Kristin explained.

He shot a worried look at Flick, then looked back at Kristin and asked, “Does that happen often? Her waking up, I mean?”

“She sometimes has nightmares.”

Max imagined his child having nightmares. And him not being there to hold and comfort her. “I think I'll ask my mother if I can stay with you in Berkeley Square.”

“I don't think that's a good idea,” Kristin said.

“Why not, Mom?” Flick asked plaintively.

Kristin made a face at Max.

Max realized he'd better start recognizing the fact that his daughter was listening whenever he spoke and wasn't shy about sharing her opinions of whatever he said. In this case, her sentiments helped him, but that might not always be the case.

“I want to spend as much time as I can with Flick,” he said.
And you.
“There's plenty of room in that huge old place.”

“That ‘huge old place' is a magnificent home,” Kristin said.

“And really, really old,” Flick added.

Max laughed. “The Blackthorne mansion dates back to the mid-eighteenth century, I think around 1754.”

“When we visited Gram there, Mom and I got really good scones at a place around the corner,” Flick said.

“Don't forget the delicious tea,” Kristin said.

Max frowned, trying to think of which place they might be talking about, then said, “Oh, yeah. Now I remember. The Gunter Tea Shop. It was originally called Gunter's.”

“It's really old, too,” Flick said.

“You're right about that,” Max said with a laugh. He couldn't believe how much he was enjoying this simple conversation with Flick and Kristin. But he could already feel both of them slipping away. His exhibition match was just around the corner. Two weeks after that, Kristin and Flick would be returning to the States.

It didn't seem like nearly long enough to make Kristin fall in love with him. Especially considering how long it had taken him to fall in love with her. Of course, there had been the age difference back then. He tried to think what it was about Kristin that had made him start to care for her. Maybe he could emulate that behavior with the same result.

Listening. Helping. Caring. Simple things that had made him love her. All easier to do if he was staying with Kristin and Flick at his parents' Berkeley Square mansion.

It was time he got started.