"You want me to apologize for spilling the beans?" Christian offered behind her. So, he'd noticed the stares.
"Only if you're sorry."
"I'm not."
Exasperated, Kezia started walking.
"Want to know why?" Glancing back, she caught her breath at his expression, playful and tender, masculine and intense. "I waited a long time for you because I wanted you to be my first. And I don't care who knows it."
She forced her feelings back, couldn't let him move her. "I'm sure you've learned a lot since then."
He laughed. "Has my technique improved?" His gaze lowered, laser heat all the way down her body. "Only one way to find out."
"I've learned a lot since then, too."
"I look forward to a full and frank exchange of ideas."
She frowned to stop the smile. "I mean, about men like you."
"C'mon, how about a tumble for old times'sake?"
"That's your best line? No wonder Miss November dumped you."
"Miss September. And for the record, our parting was mutual-smoothed with the help of a diamond navel ring. You're the only woman who has ever dumped me."
"It was your choice to leave," she reminded him coldly.
Christian's tone was equally frigid. "And yours to stay."
They had reached the impasse that had parted them and it looked as wide a gulf as ever.
CHAPTER SIX
"YOU STILL DON'T trust yourself, do you?"
Staring out the window, Joe was glad the psych couldn't see him roll his eyes. If one more kindly professional probed his feelings … After ninety days' rehab he was supposed to have learned how to control destructive impulses.
"That's why you haven't called your wife," prompted Dr. Samuel when it became clear Joe wasn't going to answer. "Because you're worried you might fail her again."
For all his bedside manner, Dr. Samuel had a gaze that could strip paint. Joe concentrated on Redvale House's gardens. The soldierly rows of conifers down the driveway flanked symmetrical beds of purple and red poppies. Everything had self-restraint in this place, he noted wryly, even the plants.
"Talk to me, Joe," commanded Dr. Samuel.
Joe turned to face the man who could have been his twin. Same age-mid-thirties-same lanky stature, same unexceptional brown eyes and hair. But they lived in different worlds. "I can't make promises while I'm in here." I won't hurt my family again. "My ninety days is up this week. If I can stay sober outside for three months, we'll talk."
"And what's your son supposed to do in the meantime?"
That struck a nerve. "What's your point?"
"Six months is too long for a four-year-old to lose all contact with his father."
Joe glared. "I'm trying to do the right thing by my family."
"You want to make yourself perfect before you take the first step." Dr. Samuel steepled his long, manicured fingers. Joe hated it when he did that. "Even if you never take another drink, that's not going to happen, Joe. Humans aren't made that way. Besides, maybe your wife doesn't want you perfect. You won't know until you ask her."
"I'll write her a letter."
Dr. Samuel shook his head. "You know that part of the twelve steps is to make direct amends to the people we've harmed."
"Except when it would hurt them more-or others." Joe met Dr. Samuel's paint-stripping gaze with one of his own.
The other man didn't flinch. "At your lowest ebb, you got drunk and struck out at your wife. Let's be very clear. I make no more excuse for that than you do." His tone was acerbic. "But it affected you so profoundly that you acknowledged your alcoholism and committed yourself to residential rehab. At the very least, don't you think she needs to hear that in person?"
Joe stared blindly out the window. He'd survived his childhood by not giving a damn. Alcohol had put a protective visor around the scary business of living with a woman he knew he didn't deserve and a son who peeled his emotions back to tender. "I'll think about it."
"Turn around," said Dr. Samuel, and reluctantly Joe complied. "Would you risk your life for your wife and child?"
At last, an easy question. "Of course."
"Yet you won't take an emotional risk for them." The pain was so unexpected it took Joe seconds to realize he'd been cut. Having made his neat incision into Joe's heart, Dr. Samuel probed gently. "What are you really afraid of? All she can do is say no."
"Oh," said Joe, "is that all she can do? That thought never occurred to me."
Dr Samuel smiled. The first smile Joe had ever seen from the man. He was so surprised he returned it.
"Tell me, Doc-" he spoke gruffly to cover his momentary lapse "-are you this brutal with all your patients?"
Dr. Samuel turned serious again. "Only the strong ones." Joe refused to feel gratified. "And the stubborn ones," he added, and smiled at Joe again.
DON WAS WAITING FOR KEZIA and Christian back at the hotel, sitting straight-backed in a cane chair on the front veranda, his sparse ginger hair lifting in the warm breeze.
The sight of him distracted Kezia from her brooding and she hung out the open window with her thumbs up and called, "Success!" She was puzzled when she received no answering salute. "I'm going to have to buy that man a hearing aid."
Christian didn't reply, and she scrambled out of the passenger seat then slammed the Ferrari's door, listening for the curse and smiling when it came.
What was she doing? Provoking Christian into a fight when she was within hours of being rid of him?
With a supreme effort of will she opened the driver's door. "Sorry about that." You were the one to issue an ultimatum and refuse to compromise. "And thanks for all your help." You were the one who disappeared without a goodbye. The memory of discovering him gone without a word could still upset her. "Bastard!"
She slammed the door again. Wrenched it open. "Damn it, I want to talk about it." Her voice vibrated with passion.
Christian got out of the car and closed both doors with exaggerated care. "Tough. I don't."
"I didn't dump you. You dumped me because I wouldn't run away with you on one day's notice. 'If you love me you'll come with me.' Well, if you'd loved me you would have stayed!" Fourteen years of bitterness uncorked. "But that's not your style, is it, Christian? Better to run away than to stick it out and work on a compromise."
Christian began strolling across the car park toward the hotel. Kezia yelled after his retreating back. "That's right, you coward! Walk away!"
"You're confused," he called back. "The coward stayed."
Anger propelled her after him. "I had responsibilities."
"You had excuses."
"What's your excuse for disappearing without a goodbye?"
"You ripped my heart out. What the hell did you expect?"
Her own began to bleed, the wound as fresh as the day he inflicted it. "Did it ever occur to you," she cried with a searing anguish that cauterized the flow, "that I could have changed my mind?"
Christian swung around, his face a study in shock. "Did you?"
She was silent while she watched him suffer, wondered whether he could ever suffer enough. "I guess you'll never know now, will you?" She held her chin high to stop it from trembling.
"Tell me!"
Without another word, she walked past him, forcing a smile for Don as she rounded the corner of the hotel. "We got it," she enthused. Inside, her stomach was churning. "Isn't that great?"
Don's lined face remained grave and Kezia pulled up another cane chair. "You have bad news."
"My dear girl." He reached for her hand, waiting for Christian, who arrived grim-faced a few seconds later.
Like Kezia, he assessed Don's mood at a glance. "Tell me something else I don't need to hear today."
Don cleared his throat. "It's customary for the executor to notify the tax department to inquire after money outstanding but I had no idea … "
Wearily, Kezia leaned back. "A tax bill. Oh, great. I guess I could sell my station wagon."
"I'm afraid that won't be enough." Don hesitated. "Muriel has been stalling Inland Revenue for two years over provisional tax. I believe she used the tax money she should have been setting aside to pay off other creditors."
Oh, Nana, why didn't you tell me?
"How much?" Christian asked quietly.
Don tightened his hold on Kezia's hand.
"There's quite a high penalty regime for provisional tax. Incremental penalties as well as use-of-money interest-"