Mad About You (boxed set of beloved romances) Read online

  Except he needed money to start building. He could talk to his boss tomorrow about his salary. And the only savings he had was sitting there under protective canvas covers. One dealer had been pestering him for years about a couple of the cars. He'd call the man, then try to find the original house plans.

  He watched as his son's dark head disappeared inside a battered 1954 Hornet. "Double wow!" came the muffled appraisal.

  Gratitude filled his heart, but then he thought of Ginny, and a tiny selfish part of him cried out for more.

  * * *

  "It's so great to see you, Ginny," Rita said, elbow deep in flour.

  Virginia sat at the kitchen table slicing tart green Shenoway apples for the pie Rita was making. "You too—you haven't aged a day."

  Rita laughed. "Not true, but nice to hear. You haven't fared badly yourself. And Bailey tells me you're a successful executive—computers, isn't it?"

  A blush warmed her cheeks. "Yes, computers. It's not as glamorous as it sounds, but I enjoy my work."

  "So, how do you feel about all this?"

  She took a deep breath, grateful to have a woman close to her age to confide in. "Shocked. It was so sudden—I feel like I've been turned inside out, emotionally and physically."

  Rita clucked sympathetically. "I can't even imagine. When Bailey told me, I was floored—delighted but floored. Are you going to be okay?"

  She nodded. "I guess so. It's hard becoming an instant mom to an eight-year-old."

  "Remember you can call me if you need anything at all." Rita stopped kneading and angled her head toward Virginia. "I mean it."

  She smiled fondly at her former sister-in-law. Though younger than Virginia, Rita had always been mature and thoughtful. "Well, the truth is," Ginny ventured, "I'm a little scared."

  Rita smiled, tossing her black bangs out of her eyes. "You'll be a great mom, Ginny, just give it some time. He seems like a good kid."

  "He's the spitting image of your brother, complete with attitude."

  "Well, since you're the only woman Bailey ever listened to, I'd say you're the woman for this job too."

  "Thanks for your vote of confidence, and your offer."

  "By the way." Rita's voice took on an innocent tone. "Bailey also told me you never remarried."

  Virginia's hand slipped and she gasped as the sharp knife sliced into her skin. Luckily, the cut wasn't deep. "That's right." She sucked her finger, eyeing Rita warily. "I guess I never met the right guy."

  "Well," Rita said lightly, "maybe that's because you'd already met the right guy and married him."

  Shaking her head and laughing at Rita's transparent tactics, Virginia said, "Right, Rita, and that little thing called a divorce never happened."

  The petite brunette smiled wryly. "Well, I tried." She reached for a rolling pin, then her mouth pulled down in a deep frown. "Seriously, Ginny, I know Bailey isn't the easiest person to love. He told me the things he said to you, the jerk—he doesn't deserve you."

  Virginia's cheeks flamed. She'd never told anyone the terrible things Bailey had said to her after the kidnapping.

  Rita's voice softened with affection. "But I think it's great to see you coming together for Chad's sake."

  She had to fight the urge to be carried along with Rita's fantasies. "It's the right thing to do."

  "Bailey will be a good father, Ginny."

  Resuming her peeling, Virginia murmured, "I know, Chad's already completely taken with him."

  "My brother's never loved anyone else, you know."

  Virginia's heart skipped a beat, but she didn't lift her head. "Other than himself, you mean."

  Rita chuckled. "So he's not the most humble man, but maybe after you and Bailey spend more time together..." Her voice petered out on a high, hopeful note.

  Virginia threw her an impatient look.

  Up went Rita's hands, flour buffeting around her head. "Okay, okay, I'll stop—for now." Her black eyes twinkled merrily. "I'd love to have you back in the family, but for now, I'll take what I can get."

  They heard male voices approaching the kitchen door. Bailey and Jerry walked in, heads high and noses sniffing. "Need a taster?" Jerry asked, his smile wide and teasing for his wife. He swooped down on her neck with a noisy kiss that brought a blush to Rita's cheeks. She elbowed him playfully, shooing him out of her way.

  Watching the affectionate exchange, Virginia felt a tug of longing. To avoid Bailey's gaze, she looked around the room, admiring the Americana colors of navy, brick, and cream. This was the kitchen she and Bailey had once nuzzled in, had shared late night cookie raids, had warmed formula for their baby....

  "Brings back memories, huh?" he asked softly, too close to her ear. She jumped, tipping the bowl of apples. He caught the bowl without sacrificing any fruit, and settled it back in her lap.

  Embarrassed that he'd practically read her mind, she said evenly, "Good and bad."

  Undaunted, he turned to Rita. "Sis, have you shown Ginny the rest of the house?"

  "Just the living room when we walked through," she said. "Why don't you show her around? Jerry can finish those apples for me."

  Virginia hesitated, but Bailey's expression looked harmless enough. Reluctantly, she relinquished her knife to Jerry. Her back became moist with perspiration as she followed Bailey out of the kitchen and into the living area.

  "In here we stripped and sanded the floors, plus replaced some rock in the hearth," he said as they walked through the family room.

  "It's beautiful. Rita said you did most of the work."

  He waved off the credit. "My schedule is more flexible than Jerry's. I just pitched in is all." Giving her a devilish grin, he said, "I'm still good with my hands."

  She rolled her eyes, unable to suppress a laugh.

  "I knew there was a good mood in there somewhere," he teased, walking close to her down a narrow hallway.

  The Shenoway farmhouse was a rambling two-story structure, made larger still by the addition of sun room and garage. Memories rushed over Virginia at every corner turned—in the den, the dining room, the cubbyhole hideaways. When they climbed to the second floor, her heart began to pound. Five bedrooms in all, and two fall baths. The first was Jean Ann's room, scattered with sports equipment and books. The master bedroom had new windows and updated lighting and ceiling fans—Virginia and Bailey had used the leaky, drafty room for storage when they'd lived there.

  The next two rooms were guest rooms, small but neat and quaint. When they approached the last room, she tried to concentrate on the new carpet instead of the fact it had once held their marriage bed.

  And still did, she noticed immediately, her pulse leaping. She'd wondered what Bailey had done with their one passable piece of furniture, but hadn't dreamt he'd kept it. Fashioned from pale gray wrought iron, the bed gleamed, the headboard a series of thin bars about six inches apart, a web of metal ivy climbing across the top. Simple posts and an overhead frame formed a canopy. Now it hung bare, but when they'd purchased it years before, she'd draped it with yards of gauze. They'd drawn the cloth together when they lay down, shutting out the world, shutting in the sounds and scents of their lovemaking.

  A multicolored handmade quilt adorned the bed, its simple design belying the heated passion that had taken place on the mattress. Her heart pounded against her ribs as she felt Bailey's eyes on her. He wanted a reaction, some signal that their past held relevance with her. That knowledge gave her the strength to adopt a bland smile of disinterest.

  "I kept our bed," he said unnecessarily, an obvious attempt to unnerve her.

  "I see." She turned her attention to other details of the room.

  "This is where I sleep when I visit," he pressed.

  Heat suffused her midsection, but she said lightly, "I don't blame you—the view is nice from this window."

  The palladium window had been the primary reason she'd chosen the room as theirs. The view of the farm was still spectacular. The ornate window dwarfed the modestly sized room, by
far the most architecturally interesting in the house. The roof lines were angled, with plant shelves hugging the ceiling. Near the head of the bed, the sliding door to the working dumbwaiter remained camouflaged. To her immediate right, a door—another reason she'd chosen this room, for the adjoining nursery.

  "It's a bathroom now," he said quickly, opening the door.

  Virginia peeked inside, relieved to see no vestige of the pale-blue and white wallpaper she'd labored to paste on the uneven, deteriorating walls. "Nice," she said smoothly, then turned a smile his way. "We'd better go back down and check on Chad."

  He looked at her as if he wanted to say something, but simply swept his arm ahead. "After you."

  She descended to the first floor, her knees wobbly, and grateful to be out of close quarters with Bailey, relieved to have pulled off another act.

  The rest of the afternoon passed uneventfully. Chad had fallen in love with the farm, as she knew he would. He surprised her by making friends with Jean Ann, although she suspected it had something to do with the slingshot his cousin had given him. Dinner was sprawling and noisy, punctuated with tantalizing smells and satisfied sighs. Chad ate like he'd never tasted fried chicken, consuming only one piece less than Bailey's four.

  As Virginia watched her son, she felt love flourishing in her heart. When he dropped the sullen, tough persona, he was a charming child. He was open and talkative with everyone at the table except her. With a start, she realized that since his arrival, he'd not once addressed her by her name, or even addressed her at all. Easy enough to overlook in a rowdy roomful of people, but ominous with the impending night alone with him.

  Glancing down the table at the identical dark heads thrown back in laughter, she lifted her iced tea glass with a shaky hand. These Kallihan men were going to be the death of her yet.

  Chapter Seven

  "THIS IS IT?" Chad asked, climbing out of Bailey's car to stand in front of Virginia's town home. Disappointment weighted his voice.

  On the solo drive home, Virginia had steeled herself for his reaction, knowing her home would fall woefully short next to the allure of Shenoway. Still, she had to struggle to keep her voice cheerful. "This is it."

  Bailey obviously heard the disparaging remark because he frowned at Chad when he walked up. "You haven't even seen it."

  "Can't I stay at the farm with you?"

  Bailey glanced at Ginny, then back to Chad. "I don't live at the farm, I have an apartment downtown."

  Chad wheeled and headed back to Bailey's car. "Great, I'll stay there!"

  Catching him by the shoulder with one arm, Bailey said, "No, you're staying here with Ginny."

  "You don't want me to live with you?" The same hurt she felt colored her son's voice as he stared at Bailey.

  "Sure I do..." Bailey began, then sighed. "Look, my apartment is no place for a kid to be, okay? Your mother and I agreed you'd be better off here."

  "But when will I see you?" Chad whined.

  Bailey looked to her for help.

  "All the time," she said brightly, fighting her rising panic.

  "When?" her son demanded.

  "Tomorrow?" Bailey asked, his eyebrows raised for her confirmation.

  She nodded, relieved.

  "Tomorrow afternoon," Bailey continued, "we'll go shopping for things you need."

  A spark of interest flashed in Chad's eyes. "A new bike?"

  Again Bailey looked to Virginia.

  "Sure," Virginia said, glad to be able to give the boy something he wanted.

  "And a motorcycle?"

  "Whoa," Bailey said, laughing, "we'll talk about that when you're older, okay?" He steered their son toward the front door.

  The early evening air blew warm against her moist neck as she led the way into the house. Bailey brought up the rear, carrying Chad's duffel bag.

  Chad circled the entryway and scanned the contents of the rooms with a telling frown. "Do you have a TV?"

  She pointed into the living room. "In that cabinet. Why don't you turn it on and I'll get us all something to drink."

  "I want a Coke," Chad said.

  From behind, Bailey placed a hand on his shoulder. "But we'll take whatever you have, right, Chad?"

  Chad worked his mouth and shrugged. "Whatever." He shuffled into the living room.

  Bailey rolled his eyes heavenward, then set the duffel on the bottom step. Somehow she knew he would follow her into the kitchen, and he did. He walked to the refrigerator, opened the door, and bent over to rummage around, whistling under his breath. With hands on hips, she watched him with no small amount of amusement. Apart for eight years, back together for two days, and he'd hardly missed a beat. For a few seconds her perception of time dissolved. She half expected him to emerge wearing boxers and lifting a milk carton to his mouth.

  He turned his head. "Hey, Ginny, do we have any—" He stopped and straightened.

  She said nothing, eyebrows raised.

  He laughed awkwardly. "That is, do you have any salsa?"

  "Second shelf."

  "Uh, right." He withdrew the jar, and glanced around the kitchen, looking sheepish.

  "The bowls are over the sink, right cabinet."

  "I assume you have chips."

  "I'll get them," she offered with a wry smile.

  Emptying the red sauce into a bowl, he said, "I didn't mean to come in and take over—"

  "Yes, you did," she said, but then laughed and added, "I'll let it slide." With having to maneuver around Bailey, her neat kitchen suddenly seemed cluttered and close. She put the iced drinks and a platter of chips on a tray, then headed toward the living room, feeling Bailey uncomfortably close at her heels.

  At the doorway of the living room she came up short, and Bailey jostled her from behind.

  "What—" Bailey's sentence ended when he saw the scene of the movie Chad was watching. A half-clothed man and woman were making love against a wall, their moans reverberating from the stereo speakers. Bailey strode over and snatched the channel changer, finding a nature documentary in two clicks.

  "Hey!" Chad yelled. "I was watching that!"

  "Well, you're not watching it anymore," Bailey said firmly, his eyebrows drawn together.

  "I know what sex is," Chad grumbled from his prone position on the rug.

  "Knowing is good, seeing and doing is not good." Bailey ran a hand through his hair. "We'll talk about this later."

  She watched Bailey once again handle the situation like a pro while she felt like a helpless bystander. A revelation washed over her: She was utterly ill equipped to raise this child. Her eight-year-old son knew about sex—or said he did—what else had he been exposed to? And what things had he missed?

  It was becoming abundantly clear just what she had missed.

  She set down the tray with unsteady hands, then fled to the guest bath across the hall in search of aspirin. After a full minute of shuffling bottles and jars, she found the painkiller and swallowed two with a paper cup of water. When she closed the medicine cabinet, she jumped. Bailey stood behind her, staring at her in the mirror. He stepped closer in the small room, triggering a shiver that raised the hair on her arms.

  "Headache?" he asked with a small smile.

  "Yeah, imagine that," she replied without turning around.

  "This whole situation feels pretty strange, doesn't it?"

  "You always had a gift for understatement, Bailey."

  "I know he's a handful," he offered. "I'd be glad to stay tonight."

  Desire curled low in her stomach. She searched his eyes for ulterior motives, but his dark irises revealed nothing. So soon after last night, she didn't trust him or herself with that kind of proximity.

  He read her mind. "I'll take the couch." Still no hint of teasing.

  The thought suddenly occurred to her that Bailey wasn't as interested in getting next to her as much as he was concerned about her handling Chad by herself. Remembered words echoed in her head. My God, Virginia, what were you thinking? Even I kn
ow not to let a baby out of my sight....

  "We'll be fine by ourselves," she said firmly. "After all, you won't always be around to pick up the pieces." She held his gaze level in the mirror.

  He inched closer, placing his hands on either side of the sink, penning her in from behind without touching her. His angry eyes bore into hers. "If you won't give me a chance to prove I've changed," he said, his voice low, his words deliberate, "I may have to resort to drastic measures."

  Her mind spun. What did he mean? Acquire sole custody of Chad?

  "Whoa," came Chad's voice from behind. "Why watch it on TV when I can just watch you two?"

  They both whirled around at the same time to face their son. Embarrassment flooded Virginia as Chad stared at them with knowing eyes.

  "I thought you wanted to watch TV," Bailey said, frustration plain in his voice.

  "If you're only going to let me watch whales and stuff, what's the point? Where's my room?"

  "I'll show you." Virginia brushed past Bailey with as much dignity as she could muster. "Keep in mind," she said to Chad as they climbed the stairs, "up to now it's been only a guest room—we can change it any way you like."

  Her heart pounded, anticipating the likely explosion when Chad saw the frilly room. She pushed the door open and switched on the light.

  "No way!" he shouted without even stepping inside.

  "It'll do for now," Bailey said.

  "It's a girl's room!"

  Virginia hated herself for scrambling to make amends. "I didn't have time to take down the curtains. And we'll buy new linens tomorrow."

  "I'm sleeping on the couch," Chad declared.

  "Fine," Virginia said quickly. "We'll have your room fixed up in no time. We'll make a shopping list for tomorrow. Then, when your stuff gets here, it'll seem more like home."

  Immediately, she wished she could take back the last word. It hung in the air between them, and she waited for Chad to lash out.

  He stared at her, blinking furiously to rid himself of the tears she saw forming. "Wrong again," he said in a dull voice, then spun and pounded down the stairs. She started to follow him, but Bailey put out his arm.