A Marriage Between Friends. Melinda Curtis
support as he could get.
“But he’s here now.” His voice high-pitched and desperate, Teddy pointed at Vince. “He’s here and he could be my dad.”
Dad. This boy thought he was father material. Vince wouldn’t know how or where to begin to be a father. His own had given up on him after fourteen years. Still…
“He can’t be your dad,” Jill was saying.
“Wait a minute,” Vince said, causing Teddy to beam, which in turn made Vince’s heart swell—this little boy wanted him for a dad!
“A father is there for you every day, in every way. Vince lives in Las Vegas.”
“Oh.” Vince and Teddy were simultaneously brought crashing back to earth. Vince realized his toes were cold. Who was he kidding? No way was he father material.
Teddy wiped his face with his hands and then stood dejectedly, shifting on his long, skinny feet.
Jill kissed Teddy’s cheek. “I think we’ve done enough painting for one night. Why don’t you go on upstairs and get yourself some ice cream?”
“Three scoops?” Teddy sniffed, sneaking a glance at Vince.
“Two.” Jill wrapped her arms around the kid, only releasing him when he squirmed free. “I’ll be up soon to tuck you in.”
Teddy shuffled across the gravel driveway to a covered staircase. Vince’s anger grew with each step Teddy took as he climbed to the second story, but he held it in check until a door clicked closed.
“It’s been more than ten years, Jill. You haven’t told him anything about me.”
Jill jerked her head as if in shock, sending her auburn ponytail cascading over one shoulder. “You’re not his father, Vince.”
“But I am your husband.” Not that he knew what that meant. Vince rubbed his forehead. He hadn’t come here to reclaim his wife. Vince should just slide back into the leather seat of his Porsche and instruct his attorney to draw up the divorce papers. He reached in his pocket for his car keys, but couldn’t seem to pull them out. “I told you when I asked you to marry me that I’d love your baby as if he were my own.”
“I know.” Jill looked away and lowered her voice. “Teddy’s been without a father for ten years because of me. I had some hard choices to make, but I’m willing to live with them.” And then she did look at him, squaring her shoulders. “Besides, you only came now because a business deal made it convenient. I don’t expect you to step into the fatherhood role after all this time.”
“Then what do you expect?” But Vince knew. Money. He flexed his fingers. It always came down to money, and Arnie had mentioned her buying this place. Shady Oak couldn’t have been cheap. “We’re still married. My family made a deal with yours. It’s been quite profitable.” Vince glared at Jill. They hadn’t signed a prenuptial agreement.
“How dare you imply—”
“How dare you leave me!” Vince lost the struggle with his temper. “You got what you wanted—a name to legitimize Teddy—and I’ve let you keep it all these years, no questions asked. Well, now you can damn well answer a few of them.”
CHAPTER THREE
“PLEASE DON’T YELL.” Jill felt Vince’s anger pulse over her. She hadn’t realized how much she’d hurt him back then.
And yet she couldn’t tell him the real reason she’d left, because Vince was nothing like the memory of the man she’d carried with her all these years. He wasn’t patient. He wasn’t kind. He didn’t…
He’d never understand, and she’d had enough dreams shattered for one day.
Ignoring the way the cool air had her shivering, Jill turned her back on Vince and picked up Teddy’s paintbrush. There were two more boards to paint.
“I’m sorry,” Vince said after several seconds sounding anything but. He sighed.
Jill tried to ignore him. First thing tomorrow she’d spray-paint two powerful words on all of the signs. By the afternoon she’d have them up all over town and then she could make the guest beds, hang the linens and stock the rooms with toiletries in preparation for a new group of clients checking in Sunday afternoon.
And Vince—both the real and her fantasy version—would most likely be gone.
A pang of loneliness settled in her bones.
Of course, it could have been the cold. It was quite nippy now.
Vince’s Italian loafers moved closer as Jill splashed a curve of purple jerkily across the board. But Vince said nothing, and then his feet disappeared. A car door opened and closed.
Jill’s shoulders sagged. The Vince she’d fashioned over the years wouldn’t have let the conversation end, wouldn’t have left. He’d have stayed and faced the situation head-on.
“What kind of crazy stuff are they assigning school-kids nowadays?” Vince crouched next to Jill and picked up the other paintbrush. He’d taken off his expensive jacket and tucked his tie in the placket of his shirt.
“It’s…um…crazy.” Jill repressed the urge to smile. If the man didn’t have enough sense to leave she wasn’t going to tell him he was helping the opposition. Smooth and graceful, his line of green more closely resembled Teddy’s style than hers. It was only guilt that made her admit, “You’re good with a brush.”
Vince flashed her the smile he’d given the tribal council.
“But this isn’t rocket science, so I’m not impressed.” Jill went back to her own stiff lines as the wind rustled through the branches above them. The storm that was supposed to pass through during the night was building. The road to Mokelumne was tricky enough in daylight. Add darkness and rain and it was dangerous. “You’re not Monet. You can paint faster.”
“I don’t think Teddy would appreciate something just thrown together.”
“You’d be surprised.”
A faint roll of thunder sounded in the distance. The boards were on the east side of the garage sheltered by an overhang. They’d be protected tonight. If Vince didn’t leave soon, Jill wouldn’t be.
“Switch brushes.” Jill dipped her brush in purple and handed the dripping mess to him.
Vince was more meticulous in his pass-off. The green didn’t so much as dribble off the brush when he gave it to her, reminding Jill how graceful he was. She’d always struggled to be the polished sophisticate, while he could carry off class in worn jeans and a T-shirt. He was probably an accomplished lover, too.
“You’re smearing the paint,” Vince pointed out. “You’ve got a big black blotch where the green and purple mix. Why don’t you turn that one over and start again?”
It was on the tip of Jill’s tongue to tell Vince the blotches didn’t matter. By tomorrow there’d be something covering up her sloppy work. “This will do.”
“Here. I’ll fix it.” Vince edged closer, reaching his arms in front of her so that he could pick up her board. Long arms, long fingers, long—
“It’s fine.” That self-preservation kicked in again. No longer cold, Jill elbowed Vince back into his own space, sending a glob of green paint flying onto one of his fine Italian-leather shoes. She snatched up a scrap of newspaper and tried to wipe the goop off, but the paint had already soaked into the leather, leaving a dime-size mark.
“I’m sorry. I’m always such a klutz.”
“Some things never change.” Vince laughed, a rich sound that seeped into Jill’s system and made her want to relax until she looked in his dark eyes and saw the same lure of heat that had made her heart pound when she was a teenager. Now her heart nearly stopped. Was she destined to be simultaneously