Simply Irresistible (27 page)

Slowly John stood and moved his chair out of the way. His eyes got real narrow. “No one ever told that doctor to go fuck himself?”

“Well, I—I—” Georgeanne stuttered, taken back by his anger. “I can’t imagine my grandmother ever using the F word. She was Baptist.”

“Didn’t she take you to another doctor? Have you tested somewhere else? Find a tutor? Any damn thing?”

“No.”
She enrolled me in charm school
, she thought.

“Why not?”

“She didn’t think there was anything else that could be done. It was the mid-seventies and there wasn’t as much information as there is today. But even today, in the nineties, children are still misdiagnosed sometimes.”

“Well, it shouldn’t happen.” His gaze roamed her face, then returned to her eyes.

He still looked angry, but she couldn’t think of one reason why he should care. This was a side of John she’d never seen. A side filled with what felt like compassion. This man standing in front of her, the man who looked like John, confused her. “I should go to bed now,” she uttered.

He opened his mouth to say something, then closed it again. “Sweet dreams,” he said, and took a step back.

But Georgeanne didn’t have sweet dreams. She didn’t dream at all for a very long time. She lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling and listening to Lexie’s even breathing beside her. She lay awake, thinking of John’s angry reaction, and her confusion grew.

She thought of his wives, but mostly she thought of Linda. After so many years, he still couldn’t bring himself to talk about her death. Georgeanne wondered what sort of woman inspired such love in a man like John. And she wondered if there was a woman somewhere who could fill Linda’s place in John’s heart.

The more she thought about it, the more she came to realize that she hoped not. Her feelings weren’t very nice, but they were real. She didn’t want John to find happiness with some skinny woman. She wanted him to regret the day he’d dumped her at Sea-Tac. She wanted him to walk around kicking his own behind for the rest of his life. Not that she’d ever get together with him again, because, of course, she wouldn’t even consider it. She just wanted him to suffer. Then maybe when he’d suffered a long time, she’d forgive him for being an insensitive jerk and breaking her heart.

Maybe.

Chapter Thirteen

Georgeanne had a choice between riding a sand bike, driving bumper cars, or inline skating along the Promenade in Seaside. None of the choices thrilled her—in fact, they all sounded like her idea of hell— but since she had to choose or go along with Lexie’s choice of bumper cars, she picked Rollerblading. She hadn’t chosen it because of her ability. The last time she’d tried it, she’d fallen so hard she’d had to blink back the tears stinging her eyes. She’d sat there while little kids zipped past, lights flashing, and her tailbone throbbing so bad it had taken all her strength not to grab her behind with both hands.

Her experience with Rollerblades was so vivid, she’d almost chosen bumper cars and taken her chances with whiplash, but then she’d seen the Promenade. The Prom was a nice expanse of sidewalk stretching along the beach and was bordered on the ocean side with a stone wall about two to three feet high. The benches built into the stone caught her eye immediately, and she’d made her choice.

Now as the ocean breeze picked up the ends of her ponytail, Georgeanne sighed happily. She stretched one arm along the top of the stone bench and crossed one knee over the other; the Rollerblade on her left foot swayed to and fro like the tide of the ocean several hundred feet in the distance. She thought she probably looked a little strange sitting there in her sleeveless white silk blouse that laced up the front, her white and purple gauzy skirt, and her rented Ultra Wheels. But she figured it was better to look weird than get up and fall on her behind.

She was more than content just to sit right where she was and watch John teach Lexie to Rollerblade. At home, Lexie buzzed the neighborhood on her Barbie roller skates, but learning to balance on a row of rubber wheels took practice, and Georgeanne was relieved that there was someone more athletic than herself to help Lexie. She was also a little surprised to discover that instead of feeling deserted, she felt as if she’d been released from hazardous duty.

At first, Lexie’s ankles had wobbled a little, but John positioned her in front of him, took her arms in his hands, and placed both of his Rollerblades on the outsides of hers. Then he pushed off and the two of them began to move. Georgeanne couldn’t hear what he said to Lexie, but she watched her daughter nod and move her feet at the same time as John.

With the added height of the wheels, John looked huge. The back of Lexie’s head barely reached the waistband of his jean shorts where he’d tucked in his “Bad Dog” T-shirt. Lexie, with her neon pink bicycle shorts and pink kitty shirt, looked very small and very dainty skating between her father’s large feet.

Georgeanne watched them skate away, then she turned her gaze to the tourists who walked the Promenade. A young couple strode past, pushing a two-seated stroller, and Georgeanne wondered, as she often did, what it would be like to have a husband, to have a typical family, and even though she did well on her own, to have a man to share half the worry.

She thought of Charles and felt guilty. She’d told him of her and Lexie’s plans to vacation at Cannon Beach, but she’d left out one important detail. She’d left out John. Charles had even called the night before she’d left to wish her a safe trip. She could have told him then, but she hadn’t. She’d have to tell him sometime. He wouldn’t like it, and she couldn’t blame him.

A flock of seagulls squawked above her, drawing her attention from her problems with Charles to several children tossing bread crusts over the Promenade wall toward the beach. Georgeanne watched the birds and the people for a while before she spotted John and Lexie. John skated backward toward her, and she let her gaze slowly slip up his muscular calves, over the backs of his knees and hard thighs, to the wallet making a bulge in his back pocket. Then he crossed one foot behind the other and was suddenly skating forward, beside Lexie. Georgeanne looked at her daughter and laughed. Lexie’s brows were lowered and her face pinched as she concentrated on what John was telling her. The two of them slowly wheeled past and John glanced at Georgeanne. His brows lowered when he saw her, and Georgeanne was struck by how much he and Lexie resembled each other. She’d always thought Lexie looked more like John than herself, but with both of them scowling, the similarities were striking.

“I thought you were going to practice around here,” he reminded her.

That’s what she’d told him, and he’d believed her. “Oh, I did,” she lied.

“Then come on.” He motioned with his head.

“I need to practice a little more. Y’all go on without me.”

Lexie raised her gaze from her feet. “Look, Mommy, I’m good now.”

“Yes, I see that.” As soon as they wheeled past, Georgeanne resumed her people watching once more. She hoped when John and Lexie returned next time, they would have grown tired of skating and the three of them could retire their Rollerblades and get serious in the gift shops lining Broadway.

But her hopes were dashed when Lexie boldly rolled past as if she’d been born with wheels on her feet.

“Don’t go too far now,” John called after Lexie, and took a seat by Georgeanne on the stone bench. “She’s pretty good for a kid her age,” he said, then he smiled, obviously pleased with himself.

“She has always picked things up quickly. She walked a week before she turned nine months old.”

He looked down at his feet. “I think I did, too.”

“Really? I worried that she’d become bowlegged from walking so early, but there was no way, short of hog-tying, that I could stop her. Besides, Mae said all that bowlegged stuff is an old wives’ tale anyway.”

They were silent for a moment while both of them watched their daughter. She fell onto her behind, picked herself up, and was off again.

“Wow, that’s a first,” she said, surprised that Lexie didn’t skate toward her with big fat tears in her eyes.

“What?”

“She isn’t howling and demanding Band-Aids.”

“She told me she was going to be a big girl today.”

“Hmm.” Georgeanne’s eyes narrowed on her daughter. Perhaps Mae was right. Perhaps Lexie was more drama queen than Georgeanne realized.

John nudged her bare arm with his elbow. “You ready?”

“For what?” she asked, although she had a real bad feeling she knew the answer.

“To skate.”

She uncrossed her legs and turned toward him on the bench. Through the thin fabric of her skirt, her knee brushed his. “John, I’ll be real honest with you. I hate skating.”

“Then why did you pick it?”

“Because of this bench. I thought I could just sit here and watch.”

He stood and held out his hand. “Come on.”

Her gaze traveled from his open palm and up his arm. She looked into his face and shook her head.

He responded by making chicken sounds.

“That’s so juvenile.” Georgeanne rolled her eyes. “You can coat me with secret herbs and spices and serve me in a bucket, but I’m not skating.”

John laughed and creases appeared in the corners of his blue eyes. “Since I promised to be on my best behavior, I won’t comment on how I’d like to see you served.”

“Thank you.”

“Come on, Georgie, I’ll help you.”

“I need more help than you can provide.”

“Five minutes. In five minutes you’ll be skating like a pro.”

“No, thanks.”

“You can’t just sit here, Georgie.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’ll get bored.” Then he shrugged and said, “And because Lexie will worry about you.”

“Lexie won’t worry about me.”

“Sure she will. She told me she didn’t want you to sit here all by yourself.”

He was lying. Like any six-year-old, Lexie was basically self-centered and took her mother for granted. “After five minutes you’ll leave and let me hold down the bench?” she asked, compromising so he’d leave her alone.

“I promise, and I promise that I won’t let you fall either.”

Georgeanne sighed with resignation, placing one hand in his palm and the other on the stone wall. “I’m not very athletic,” she warned him as she carefully stood.

“Well, your other talents make up for it.”

She was about to ask him what he meant, but he moved behind her and placed his strong hands on her hips.

“Outside of a good pair of skates,” he said close to her left ear, “the most important thing is balance.”

Georgeanne felt his breath on the side of her neck and became so flustered her skin tingled. “Where do I put my hands?” she asked.

He took so long to answer she didn’t think he was going to. Then just when she opened her mouth to repeat her question, he said, “Wherever you want.”

She balled her fingers into fists and held them down at her sides.

“You need to relax,” he said as they slowly rolled down the Prom. “You’re like a totem pole on wheels.”

“I can’t help it.” Her back collided with his chest, and his hands tightened on her hips.

“Sure you can. First off, you need to bend your knees a little bit and balance your weight over your feet. Then push out with your right foot.”

“Isn’t the five minutes up yet?”

“No.”

“I’ll fall.”

“I won’t let you fall.”

Georgeanne took one quick glance down the Promenade, spotted Lexie a short distance away, then looked down at her skates. “Are you sure?” she asked one last time.

“Of course. I do this for a living. Remember?”

“Okay.” Carefully she bent her knees slightly.

“Good. Now give a little push,” he instructed, but when she did, her feet began to slide out from under her. John wrapped one forearm around her middle and his other hand grabbed her and kept her from falling. She found herself pressed tightly against his chest, her breath frozen in her lungs. She wondered if he knew what he’d grabbed.

There wasn’t a doubt that John knew. If he’d been blind, he would have known he’d grabbed one of Georgeanne’s big, soft breasts. In a split second his battered control shattered completely. Up until now, he’d done reasonably well at governing his body’s reaction to her. Now, for the first time since he’d seen her standing on his deck yesterday morning, his control completely deserted him.

“Are you all right?” he managed, and carefully slid his hand from her breast.

“Yes.”

He’d told himself that being around Georgeanne would not pose a problem. That he could handle having her stay with him for five days. He’d been wrong. He should have left her sitting on the bench. “I didn’t mean to grab you by your ... your, ahh ...” Her behind was pressed into his groin, and for one unguarded moment, lust rolled through him like a ball of fire. He lowered his face to the side of her head.
Holy shit
, he thought, wondering if the side of her neck would taste as good as it looked. John closed his eyes and indulged a fantasy. He inhaled the scent of her hair.

“I think the five minutes are up now.”

Sanity returned and he moved his hands to her waist and put several inches between them. He tried to ignore the desire twisting his gut. He told himself that getting sexually involved with Georgeanne was
not
a good idea. Too bad his body wasn’t listening.

Since he’d seen her on the beach yesterday in that little halter top and shorts, he’d had to remind himself several times to ignore her long legs and deep cleavage. Even though he’d never thought he would have to, he’d had to remind himself of who she was and what she’d done. But after last night, it didn’t seem to matter any longer.

Last night he’d seen behind the beautiful face and the centerfold body. He’d seen the pain she’d tried to hide with her laughter and smiles. She’d told him of table settings and silver patterns and dyslexia and of growing up thinking she was retarded and feeling lost. She’d said it all as if it didn’t matter. But it did. To her and to him.

Last night he’d looked past the gorgeous eyes and the big breasts, and he’d seen a woman who deserved his respect. She was the mother of his child. She was also the star of his wild fantasies and erotic dreams.