Playing For Keeps (11 page)

She giggled again as she shifted her gaze toward Cilla who was laughing with her. Cilla's eyes shifted toward Malcolm.

“What are you laughing at?” he quipped as he moved to where she stood. He eased behind her and wrapped his arms around her shoulders. He pressed his face to hers as he hugged her close. “I'm glad you came,” he whispered into her ear.

Her smile was wide as she nodded. As he kissed her cheek Cilla relaxed against him for a brief second. She felt his mother and daughter eyeing them and a wave of awkwardness billowed between them.

“Your mother was just telling me about your cooking skills. Something about beef Stroganoff gone wrong,” she said.

“That's not fair,” Malcolm said. He released the hold he had on Cilla as he tossed up his hands. “I'm trying to get the woman to like me and you two are trying to scare her off! What's up with that?”

His mother chuckled heartily. “I don't think you have to worry about that, son. She likes you. In fact, I'd be willing to wager that Miss Cilla likes you a lot!”

Claudia giggled in agreement.

Cilla felt herself blush, color heating her cheeks.

“Where's Cleo?” Malcolm suddenly questioned, realizing the girl was missing from the bunch.

His mother frowned. “Pouting. Again.”

Cilla couldn't miss the frustration that passed over Malcolm's face.

“I'll go get her,” he said.

Mama Claudette shook her head as she swiped her hands over a plush kitchen towel. “No, I'll go get her. You should show Cilla the house. Claudia, watch my beans for me, baby girl.”

Malcolm and Claudia both answered in unison. “Yes, ma'am.”

Cilla smiled as Malcolm reached for her hand and pulled her along behind him. They moved quickly through the family room, into the dining room, and past the formal living room.

“So what do you think?” he asked when they were out of earshot.

“Your mother's a pistol! She is so funny!”

“She definitely has her moments,” he said. He finally came to a stop in the wood-paneled office. There was one wall of books and a drafting table that sat room center. Photos of him and his daughters decorated the desktop and walls. “This is my office,” he said as he closed the door behind them.

“It's very nice,” she said. “The whole house is beautiful!”

“It's too much house if you want my honest opinion,” Malcolm said, “but it's what my mother wanted.” He shrugged his broad shoulders.

“She's so proud of you.”

He nodded. “I'd do anything for my mother. I love that woman to death!”

“So, you're a mama's boy through and through.”

Malcolm laughed. “Guilty as charged!”

They laughed easily together, slipping into that state of balance with each other that seemed to come naturally. Malcolm was still holding tight to her hand and he pulled her against him. He eased both of his arms around her waist and pulled her closer. Dropping his mouth to hers he kissed her hungrily, relishing the softness of her lips. The connection was sweet and gentle as he reacquainted himself with her taste. The kiss deepened and he teased her lips with his tongue until she allowed him in, her own sliding easily into his mouth. She tasted sweet and citrusy like oranges and peaches. His tongue danced a two-step with hers as he tightened the hold he had around her body.

Both purred when they finally pulled away, breaking the connection. Malcolm leaned his forehead against hers. “My mother knew I wanted to kiss you, that's why she sent us away. So we could have some alone time.”

“I don't think that's what your mother was thinking.”

“You don't know my mother. But you will!”

Cilla laughed.

“We should go back,” she whispered. “I don't want your mom thinking bad about me.”

“My mom likes you. A lot. I can tell.”

Cilla smiled. “Your family's very sweet. Claudia is absolutely adorable.”

“I wish I knew what was going on with Cleo,” he said, concern suddenly blanketing his expression.

Cilla felt herself tense. The shimmer in her eyes faded considerably. She took a deep breath and held it for a brief moment. Malcolm was staring off in thought, worry furrowing his brow. “You know, there's something I really need to . . .” she started.

There was a harsh knock on the door just before the structure flew open. Cleo stood anxiously on the other side, one hand on the knob, the other holding up the wall. “Hi,” she said, looking from one to the other.

“Well, speak of the devil! Hello!” Malcolm chimed. “Did I invite you inside?”

The girl's eyes widened. “I . . . well . . . I . . .”

“That's okay. We'll talk about it later. Did you speak to Miss Cilla?”

“Hi, Miss Cilla,” she said as if they had not had a conversation when she'd first arrived.

Cilla gave her a smile, the two locking eyes. Cilla didn't miss the anxiety shining in the young girl's stare. She suddenly felt an overwhelming sadness. She struggled to keep it from showing on her face. “Hi, Cleo. How are you?”

“I'm good.” She looked toward her father. “Grandma said come eat. The food is ready.”

Malcolm nodded. “Thank you. We'll be right there.”

Cleo stood staring at the two of them, her eyes shifting from one to the other, back and forth.

Malcolm stared back. “Yes?”

“I was just wondering if you gave Miss Cilla her phone back?”

Malcolm snapped his fingers. “I actually forgot about the phone. Thank you for reminding me,” he said.

“I'll get it before I leave,” Cilla interjected. “I'm actually hungry and I can't wait to taste this famous chicken your father has made.” She winked an eye at him as she brushed her manicured nails across the front of his shirt. She moved toward the door. As she came to the girl's side she rested her hand against Cleo's shoulder. She smiled at her sweetly. “Everything's going to be okay,” she said.

Chapter Nine

The meal went better than any of them could have anticipated. Both girls were in rare form and between Malcolm and his mother, Cilla couldn't remember the last time she'd laughed so hard. The jokes and stories were abundant, the food delicious, and the company engaging. Dinner flew by. Before Cilla knew it Malcolm was admonishing his daughters to shower and get ready for bed. They had school the next morning.

As Malcolm had cleared the dishes Mama Claudette invited Cilla to walk through her nightly ritual with the girls. Cilla didn't miss the smile that pulled at Malcolm's mouth as he feigned interest in his chore.

Bathed and dressed in their nightclothes, both girls were waiting in their grandmother's bed, tucked beneath an antique quilt that decorated the space. The room was warm and inviting and Cilla's gaze was drawn to the pictures on the nightstand; one of Malcolm as a young man, his parents' wedding photo, the twins' baby pictures.

Claudia was happy to see her there and said so. Cleo could have cared less, as disinterested in Cilla's presence as she could be. Cilla stood off to the side as Mama Claudette led the girls in their nighttime prayer. Their youthful voices were heartwarming as they prayed for their souls to be taken by God if they failed to wake from their slumber. When they were done, Claudia jumped excitedly. “Story time!”

Cleo heaved a heavy sigh. Mama Claudette shook her head as she turned toward Cilla and explained the Cobb family short story ritual.

“Before bed each night we make up a very short story. Everyone gets to add one line and one line only. Tonight will be the first time in a long time that our story will have five lines instead of four.”

Cilla nodded her understanding as Mama Claudette led the tale. “Once upon a time there was a master builder, a man who'd built skyscrapers as high as the clouds.”

Cleo spoke next, focusing her gaze directly at Cilla. “One day he met the woman who guarded the secrets of the kingdom, nothing ever passing her lips that was not supposed to be told.”

Malcolm's voice suddenly rang from the doorway. “Together they were magic, their love bigger than the sun and the moon.”

“You've used that line before,” Claudia interjected.

“He always uses that line,” Cleo noted.

“I can use any line I want,” Malcolm said. He stuck his tongue out at the two of them.

“Let's finish up now,” Mama Claudette chided. “It's getting late.”

Claudia continued. “One day they shared a kiss so magical that the secrets the woman kept spilled out in the open for everyone to see.”

Everyone turned to look at Cilla for the last sentence. She smiled as she looked back at each one. Then she spoke. “But the master builder had built a beautiful box to catch them all so none of the secrets ever got away and they lived happily ever after.”

The girls both rolled their eyes. Mama Claudette chuckled warmly and Malcolm laughed out loud.

“I think you're a natural,” he said.

“That was fun.”

Mama Claudette clapped her hands. “Off to bed you two!” She leaned to kiss one twin and then the other. Both girls hugged and kissed their father as they headed toward the door. Claudia stopped to hug Cilla and Cleo tossed up a dismissive hand.

The adults stood waiting until they heard the girls' respective room doors slam closed. Mama Claudette nodded. “Malcolm, you make sure everything is locked up downstairs. I'll see you in the morning, son!” she said. “Cilla, I hope to see you again soon. Please, don't be a stranger.”

Cilla gave the woman a warm hug and the matriarch hugged her back. “Thank you for everything, Mama Claudette,” she said.

Malcolm kissed his mother one more time, then entwined his fingers between Cilla's, pulling the back of her hand to his lips. He kissed it gently then guided her out of the space and back down the circular staircase.

“That was fun,” Cilla said. “And you do that every night?”

Malcolm nodded. “Actually we've been doing it since I was a little boy and my father participated. I'd like to think it'll last forever but I'm sure the girls will tell us they're too old to get tucked in and do story time sometime in the near future.”

“Maybe not. Maybe they'll understand just how precious these moments are and want to keep up the tradition. You never know!”

“Let me show you something,” he said as he guided her back to his office and the wall of books. His finger trailed a line of uniformly sized, hard-covered books. He pulled one from the row. “Every night my mother writes those little stories down and she keeps them. One year I gathered them all up and had them bound into a book as a Mother's Day present for her. When she started doing story time with the girls, I wanted to make sure we preserved them, so every year I publish all the stories for that year into a book. We have the big book, the first one, and now nine years' worth of stories.” He passed one of the editions to her.

The leather-bound book was a collaboration of vignettes and simple line drawings. Some of the sketches were immature and childlike, the others more refined.

“This is wonderful!” Cilla exclaimed. “Who did the artwork?”

“The girls did some and the rest is mine.”

“You're quite talented, Mr. Cobb.”

He shrugged ever so slightly. “It's nothing really. I just wanted to capture the memories. Something for the girls to pass down to their families.”

Cilla passed the book back to him. She wrapped her arms around her torso, hugging herself. “I should be going,” she said.

Malcolm nodded. “You could always spend the night.”

She laughed. “Uh, no! Your mother likes me. I'd like to keep it that way.”

He slipped an arm around her waist and pulled her close. His kiss was teasing and Cilla felt heat soar through her midsection. They held the kiss for a good while, both knowing that it would take little prodding to move things a step further. She broke the connection abruptly, taking a step back from him. They both laughed nervously.

“Coffee in the morning?” she asked. She took a quick glance at the clock on the oversize desk.

Malcolm grinned. “I wouldn't miss it for anything in the world. Are you sure you can't stay?”

Nodding, Cilla moved toward the home's front entrance. At the door, Malcolm stepped outside, pulling the door closed behind him. They made small talk as he walked her to her car. Unlocking the vehicle, Cilla pulled open the driver's-side door. As she turned to say good-bye Malcolm eased himself against her until her back was pressed against the vehicle. Above them there was a full moon shining brightly. The stars flickered like miniature bulbs against the blue-dark canvas. Malcolm whispered her name as he clasped both hands around her face, his thick fingers pulling through her hair. Then he kissed her again, his hands dancing up and down her back. Beneath the late-night sky they traded gentle, easy caresses, losing themselves in each other's touch.

By the time she pulled her car out of the driveway, Cilla's head was a whirlwind of lustful fantasy as she struggled to regain her composure. It wasn't until she reached the second stoplight that she realized she'd forgotten to get her phone back and that Cleo's phone and Cleo's secret were still hidden in her purse.

 

 

Cilla imagined that if she looked like she felt she'd probably scare Malcolm away. It felt as if she'd only had a few minutes of sleep, having tossed and turned for most of the night. Her stomach felt like a curdled mess, her nerves completely frazzled. She hadn't bothered to dress, tossing on a pair of old sweats and a T-shirt. Her usual curls were brushed back flat against her skull and were captured in a tight bun at the nape of her neck. She wore no makeup. Anxiety creased her forehead and dark circles painted her eyes. There was nothing at all pretty about the apprehension that consumed her.

She took a deep breath and held it before stepping from her car. Outside the weather was beginning to change. The early-morning air had just a hint of chill and she shivered, wishing she'd thought to bring a sweater. But Cilla hadn't been able to think clearly about much. Between thoughts of Malcolm and his daughter and how she suddenly found herself fitting into the mix, she was completely discombobulated. What bothered her most is that she should have told Malcolm. She should never have left his home without showing him what she'd found on his daughter's phone. She was racked with guilt and it was consuming. She blew out the breath she'd been holding as she moved toward the coffee shop entrance.

Inside, Malcolm was already seated at their corner table. He'd bought the coffee, two cups sitting in wait atop the table. The expression across his face was welcoming, his smile gentle, until he laid eyes on her and then concern registered in his dark gaze.

“Hey,” Cilla said as she took the seat beside him. She was gnawing nervously on her bottom lip, her hands twisting in her lap.

“What's wrong? Did something happen?” Malcolm questioned.

She shook her head. “We need to talk.”

Malcolm shifted forward in his seat. His own anxiety was suddenly on overload. “Whatever you want,” he said. “Just tell me what's going on. You don't look good.”

Cilla sighed heavily. “I didn't sleep well. I've been thinking about you all night.”

Malcolm chuckled softly. “I thought about you too but it was a good thing for me.”

She shook her head, the faintest of smiles pulling at her mouth.

Malcolm smiled back. “That's much better. Now tell me what's going on.” He reached a hand out and grabbed hers. She was shaking and he suddenly would have done anything to ease her discomfort.

Cilla took a deep breath. Then another as she stared into his eyes. For a brief moment she wished that she could have done anything not to stir the pot she was about to agitate.

Malcolm was still staring at her curiously, his warm palm caressing the back of her hands. He bristled ever so slightly when she pulled herself from his touch. She reached into her handbag, searching deep in the bottom lining until she pulled out his daughter's cell phone, setting it on the table. He looked from it to Cilla, confusion washing over his expression.

“I don't understand? I wasn't worried about the phone. I knew you'd get it back to us and Cleo's still being punished so she can't use it anyway.”

“You need to look through her phone,” Cilla said. “I think it'll explain why she's been having such a hard time lately.”

His gaze still flitting back and forth, Malcolm picked up the device from the table and engaged it. It opened to the same social network site that Cilla had seen. It took him a moment to comprehend what he was seeing and then he gasped, loudly, sounding as if he'd just been punched in the stomach.

“What is this?” he asked, his voice coming louder than he expected. He looked around the room, suddenly afraid that he had drawn attention to them. He drew his gaze back to Cilla's face and asked a second time. “Really, what is this?”

“When Cleo and I ran into each other at the fairgrounds this is what she was looking at. And she was crying hysterically. I think this is what upset her. She met me in your driveway yesterday and she was desperate to get her phone back. It was clear that she didn't want anyone to see these.”

“You knew about this last night and you didn't tell me?”

“I was waiting for the right moment.”

Malcolm snapped. “The right moment?”

“I was hoping for an opportunity to talk to Cleo, to see if I could find out who did this to her.”

“It's not your place to talk to my child,” Malcolm suddenly hissed. “You should have talked to me. You should have told me!”

Cilla nodded ever so slightly, tears welling in her eyes. “I was only trying to help, Malcolm.”

“If you wanted to help you should have told me the minute you found out.”

Cilla nodded again. “You're right,” she said, her expression hardening. “I should have, but I didn't. Because I knew how difficult this was going to be for you and for Cleo. Most especially for Cleo and I was hoping I could figure out how to make it better before I did have to tell you.”

“You didn't have any right to keep this from me,” Malcolm snarled, his expression heated.

“Malcolm, there is nothing you can say to me that I haven't already said to myself. I've been beating myself up over this and I'm sorry. All I can do now is apologize to you. If you want to be mad at me, be mad. If you want to yell at me, then yell. I can take whatever you need to dish out. But whatever you need to do, however you need to take out your anger, you take it out on me before you have to confront your baby girl because she needs your support and love right now and nothing more.”

Malcolm moved onto his feet. He muttered between clenched teeth. “Well, thank you for that but I think I'm fully capable of figuring out what my daughter needs.” Then without another word he turned and hurried out the door.

Outside the cold air hit him like a much needed slap in the face. He suddenly felt numb and deflated, all the wind knocked from his sails. He slid into the driver's seat of his car but he didn't bother to start the engine, suddenly unsure of where he was going or what he planned to do.

Malcolm suddenly felt overwhelmed, unable to fathom the magnitude of what he had to deal with. He suddenly felt like he'd failed Cleo, not to know that this had happened to her. And he had questions. Who had done this to her, and when? And what about Claudia? Was she caught up in this mess as well?

He was still holding tight to that phone and he opened it again, scrolling through the dark images. He paused on a photo of Cleo, the hazy figure of someone in the picture with her, his hands where they should not have been. Someone had touched his baby, stealing her innocence, and Malcolm was suddenly ready to kill. Something like rage swelled full and thick through his spirit. He threw the phone, hard, and it ricocheted off the dashboard to the floorboard beneath his feet. He slammed his fists against the steering wheel, over and over, until he didn't have the strength to hit anything more. Tears clouded his vision and he slumped over the steering wheel sobbing like a baby.