Mr. Imperfect(13)

"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-"