"Because I said so.'' Oh, he hated falling back on something that lame, and that adult. "The hose is around back. God, I want a beer."
But because he lacked the energy even for that, he dropped into the closest chair and stared glassy-eyed at nothing. If he had to face that mall again in this life, he promised himself, he would just shoot himself in the head and be done with it.
"That was Anna," Phillip told him as he wandered back into the living room.
"Anna? Saturday night." He couldn't stop the groan. "I need a transfusion."
"She said to tell you she'd take care of dinner."
"Good, fine. I've got to pull myself together. The kid's yours and Ethan's for tonight."
"He's Ethan's," Phillip corrected. "I've got a date myself." But he sank into a chair and closed his eyes. "It's not even five o'clock and all I want to do is crawl into bed and oblivion. How do people do this?''
"He's got enough clothes to last him a year. If we only have to do it once a year, how bad can it be?"
Phillip opened one eye. "He's got spring and summer clothes. What happens when fall gets here? Sweaters, coats, boots. And he's bound to outgrow every damn thing we bought today."
"We can't allow that to happen. There must be a pill or something we can give him. And maybe he's got a coat already."
"He came pretty much with the clothes on his back. Dad didn't get a package deal this time either."
"Okay, we'll think about that later. Lots later." Cam pressed his fingers to his eyes. "You saw the way Claremont looked at him, didn't you? That nasty little gleam in his beady little eyes."
"I saw it. He'll talk, and he'll say what he wants to say. Nothing we can do about it."
"You think the kid knows anything, one way or the other?"
"I don't know what Seth knows. I can't get a handle on him. But I'm going to look into investigators on Monday. Check on tracking down the mother."
"Asking for trouble."
"We've already got trouble. The only way to deal with it is to gather information. If it turns out that Seth's a Quinn by blood, then we deal with that."
"Dad wouldn't have hurt Mom that way. Marriage wasn't just a thing to them. It was the thing. And they were solid."
"If he'd slipped, he'd have told her." That Phillip firmly believed. "And they'd have worked it out. That part of their lives wasn't our business, and it wouldn't be our business now but for Seth."
"He wouldn't have slipped," Cam murmured, determined to believe it. "I'll tell you one thing I got from them. You get married, you make that promise, that's it. I figure that's why the three of us are still on the single side of life."
"Maybe. But we can't ignore the talk, the suspicions. And if the insurance company balks on paying off Dad's policy, it's going to put all four of us in a bind. Especially since we just signed a lease for that hellhole."
"We'll be okay. Luck's starting to move in our direction."
"Oh?" Phil asked as Cam rose. "How do you figure that?"
"Because I'm about to spend the evening with one of the sexiest women on the planet. And I intend to get very lucky." He glanced back as he started up the stairs. "Don't wait up, bro."
When he stepped into his bedroom, Cam heard the commotion from the backyard. He walked to the window and looked down on Seth and the dogs. Simon was sitting stoically while Seth soaped him down. Foolish raced in mad circles, barking in excitement and terror at the hose that was pouring out water where it had been carelessly tossed on the grass.
Of course, the kid was wearing his brand-new shoes, which were now soaking wet and muddy. He was laughing like a loon.
He hadn't known the boy could laugh like that, Cam realized as he kept watching. He hadn't known he could look like that, unreservedly happy and young and silly.
Simon stood up, gave a long, violent shake that sent water and soap flying. Backing up, Seth slipped in the wet grass and tumbled onto his back. He continued to howl with laughter as both dogs pounced on him. They wrestled over the water and mud and soap until the three of them were soaked and filthy.
Upstairs Cam just stood watching with a mile-wide grin on his face.
the image popped in his head when he headed down the hallway to Anna's apartment. He wanted to be able to tell her about it over dinner. He wanted to share it—and he thought it would certainly soften her every bit as much as a quiet meal in a candlelit restaurant.
The roses he'd picked up on the way weren't going to hurt either. He sniffed them himself. If he was any judge of the female mind and heart, he'd bet his full stake that Anna Spinelli had a weak spot for yellow roses.
Before he could knock on Anna's door, the door across the hall swung open. "Hello, there, you must be the new boyfriend."
"Hi, Mrs. Hardelman. We met a few days ago."
"No, we didn't. You met Sister."
"Oh." He smiled cautiously. She looked exactly like the woman who had popped out of that door before, even down to the pink chenille robe. "Well… how's it going?"
"You brought her flowers. She'll like that. My beaux used to bring me flowers, and my Henry, God rest his soul, brought me lilacs every May. You think lilacs next month, young man, if Anna lets you keep coming around. Most of them she scoots along, but maybe she'll keep you."
"Yeah." He managed to smile even as his heart stopped at the words "keep you."
"Maybe." On impulse he pulled one of the roses out and gave it to her with a neat little flourish.
"Oh!" A girlish blush rose pink on her wrinkled face. "Oh, my goodness." Her eyes gleamed with pleasure as she sniffed it. "How lovely. How sweet. Why, if I were forty years younger, I'd fight Anna for you." She winked flirtatiously. "And I'd win."
"No contest." He flashed her a return wink and a grin. "Ah, say hi to… Sister."
"You have a nice time tonight. You go dancing," she added as she shut the door.
"Good idea." And chuckling to himself, Cam knocked.
When she answered, looking sexy enough to gobble up in three quick bites, he decided the dance should begin immediately. He snatched her up, whirled her around to the throbbing, elemental beat of classic Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band. Then he dipped her as she laughed and stumbled.
"Well, hello." Enjoying the quick dizziness, she chuckled. "Let me up. You've got me off balance."
"That's just where I want you. Off balance." He lowered his mouth to hers in a molten kiss that melted every bone in her body. With her head spinning, she clutched at his shoulders.
"Door's still open," she managed and flailed out with a hand to slam it shut.
"Good thinking." He brought her up slowly, inch by inch, his mouth still nibbling busily on hers. "Your neighbor said I should take you dancing."
"Oh." She was surprised steam wasn't pumping out of her pores. "Is that what that was?"
"That was just a sample." He caught her bottom lip between his teeth, tugged, released. "Wanna tango, Anna?"
"I think we'd better sit this one out." But she pressed a hand to her heart to hold it in place as she eased out of his arms. "You brought me flowers." She buried her face in them as she took them from him. "Figured I was a sucker for rosebuds, did you?"
"You're right." She laughed over the blooms. "I'll put them in water. You can pour us some wine. I've got it breathing on the counter. Glasses are right there."
"Okay. I—" He looked over, saw a shiny pot steaming on the stove, a platter of antipasto on the counter. "What's all this?"
"Dinner." She crouched down at a kitchen cupboard to locate a vase. "Didn't Phillip give you my message?"
"I thought when you told him you'd take care of it, you meant you had someplace you wanted to go and you'd make the reservations." He plucked a stuffed mushroom off the platter, sampled it, and sighed in pure sensory delight. "I didn't think you'd be cooking for me."
"I like to cook," she said easily as she filled a pale pink vase with water. "And I wanted to be alone with you."
bsp; He swallowed quickly. "Hard to argue with that. What are we having?''
"Linguini, with the famous Spinelli family red sauce."
She turned to take the glass of Merlot he'd poured for her. Her face was just a little flushed from the kitchen heat. The dress she'd chosen was the color of ripe peaches and molded her curves like a lover's hands. Her hair was down and curling madly, and her lips were painted nearly the same color as the wine she sipped.
Cam decided if they were to have more than a three-second conversation before he grabbed her again, he'd better stay on the opposite side of the counter.
"It smells incredible."
"It tastes better."
Her pulse was hammering everywhere at once. The way he'd looked at her, just that one long, intense, and measuring stare before he smiled, had brought out her need, a low and nagging ache of need, throbbing incessantly. On an impulse she reached back and turned the flame under the pot off. Keeping her eyes on Cam's, she walked around the counter.
"So do I," she told him. She set her glass aside, then took his, placed it on the counter. She shook her hair back, tipped her face up to his, smiled slowly. "Try me."