Tired though she was, Christie couldn’t walk away. She loved James. He’d hurt her badly when he’d disappeared without a word—and then seemed to think all should be forgiven once he came back. Eventually she had forgiven him, although she still didn’t understand exactly why he’d left. For good measure she’d tossed in a threat or two. If he ever walked out on her again, it would be over.
She had legitimate reasons for being upset with him. She’d believed he was different from her various exes. Christie had a bad track record with men, starting in high school. The only thing her ex-husband had ever given her—besides trouble—was his name. And every man she’d loved, before and since, had left her high and dry. She’d had a pattern of finding losers she felt she could rescue with enough love and sympathy. Generally they moved in together and for a while all would go well. Then, invariably, there’d be a fight or a betrayal or some kind of disastrous revelation, and the affair would be over, leaving Christie sick at heart, crying her eyes out and desperately alone.
Yes, she’d believed James was unlike any other man she’d ever known. Certainly in the obvious ways, such as the fact that he wasn’t nearly as handsome as the guys she usually went for. Tall, skinny, with facial features that were sharp and slightly irregular, he resembled the caricature of a butler in some English comedies she’d seen. But that was superficial and irrelevant. He was compassionate, caring and kind, and that made him more appealing than all the good-looking men she’d been attracted to in the past.
Furthermore, James had inspired her to become a different woman, to look beyond herself. She’d laid out her past, ugly as it was, so there’d be no secrets between them. Then poof! Like every other man she’d ever loved, he’d disappeared from her life.
When he’d come back a few weeks later, Teri and Bobby had championed his case, but Christie was having none of it. Then Teri went into labor and they’d met at the hospital. After that, Christie decided to give their relationship a second chance. However, things were still tentative. She was bruised, weary, uncertain; experience had been a brutal taskmaster and she’d already given too many second chances.
“You look tired,” James said. He met her halfway down the stairs and slipped his arm around her waist. Walking beside her, he guided her up the rest of the steps.
“You would, too, if you’d held a fussy infant for the past three hours.”
“Jimmy?”
“No, Christopher.” Her sister had named the three little boys after Bobby, James and Christie. Naturally, Christie couldn’t help being partial to Christopher, the smallest of the three and—of course—the one who demanded the most attention.
“What did you do to your hair?” James asked as he kissed the top of her head.
Christie had recently had the front bleached blond and then added streaks of auburn. She never could wear her hair just plain. That was far too boring. Good thing Teri was a hairdresser by trade, or had been until her difficult pregnancy, which had put a temporary end to her career. Her friend Rachel Peyton had done a terrific job with this new style.
“Do you like it?”
“I like you,” he said, drawing her inside his small apartment. He led her to the sofa and urged her to sit down. Christie didn’t object as he went into the kitchen and put water on for tea.
“I like you, too,” she told him.
James brought her a cup of tea, sweetened with honey and with a fresh slice of lemon on the side. No other man had ever waited on her. None had loved her in quite the way James did, either. It would be easy to let down her guard yet again, but she couldn’t. She needed time to feel confident in his love. Everything she knew about James said she could trust him; however, she’d believed that before, and he’d abandoned her. No, for her own peace of mind, her own emotional well-being, she had to play it safe.
“How’s school?” he asked.
Christie had signed up for photography and accounting classes, and another business course, intent on starting a company that specialized in documenting personal property for insurance purposes.
“Okay.” Having a reliable vehicle was a huge benefit. Getting to school by bus could be a daunting task, especially since she still worked at Wal-Mart. James had been instrumental in getting her that car, although she hadn’t known it at the time. She would never have accepted his assistance had she been aware that Bobby and Teri had involved him.
“I’m helping one of the girls in my accounting class.” Christie was proud of that. “I’m actually pretty good with numbers.”
“Me, too.”
“I guess that means we’ll have smart babies one day,” she said, laughing. She couldn’t resist teasing him a little.
James’s face flushed at the mention of children. He was worlds behind her when it came to sex and relationships. Christie knew he’d had some brief and not very successful liaisons, but had never been in a serious relationship before now. He’d been a chess prodigy—like Bobby—until he’d suffered a nervous collapse. Bobby was a good friend to James, and had eventually hired him as his driver. To the best of Christie’s knowledge, James hadn’t played chess since he was a teenager.
James sat close to her and slid one arm around her shoulders. Christie relaxed against him, shutting her eyes and sighing contentedly.
“I want us to get married soon,” he said.
She savored his words, wanting to believe they’d spend the rest of their lives blissfully together. But her experience shouted otherwise.
Several of the men in her past had offered to marry her; the marriage proposal typically came just before certain awkward matters arose.
Yeah, right. Awkward didn’t begin to describe them.
With Jason, they’d had to wait until his divorce was final—and then she’d learned he hadn’t even bothered to file.
With the next guy, it was problems with the IRS. Big problems…. He’d expected her to pay off his debt.
And with Danny… He’d had trouble with the law. In fact, she’d found out just in time that he was only interested in marriage so she would make conjugal visits while he served a twenty-year prison sentence for fraud. Plus, her role as his wife meant supplying him with money for the entire length of his term.
“Christie?”
She knew James was waiting for her response.
“I…I don’t think I’m ready for marriage yet,” she murmured, and felt him tense. She didn’t expect him to be pleased but she couldn’t say anything different.
James didn’t respond right away. “I thought marriage was what you wanted,” he finally said. “What we both want.”
“I do…but not yet.”
He removed his arm and straightened. Leaning forward, he stared down at the floor, then asked, “When do you suppose you will?”
“I don’t know. Why? Are you planning to walk out on me again?” If so, she wanted to know that now.
“No. I plan to spend the rest of my life loving you.”
She’d heard that before. Her suspicions rose again; it sounded so promising, but then it always did…until she learned the truth.
“Why do you want to get married so quickly? Do we really know each other, James? I trusted you and look what happened.” She didn’t mean to keep throwing that one transgression in his face, but she was genuinely worried about it.
He stood and walked to the other side of the room. “I’d hoped we could let it go.”
Christie wished their situation was that simple. “Do we really know each other?” she repeated. “Sure, we’re attracted and it would be easy to become physically involved…”
“Okay.” He perked up at that.
How predictable men were. This was usually when other men she’d dated would suggest they “test” their relationship by setting up house together. Naturally they always moved in with her—because they could no longer afford rent. Granted, that wasn’t the case with James, but she realized he was growing frustrated, although he was the one who’d initially wanted to wait. He’d resisted jumping into bed a few months ago, when she’d been willing. Apparently their views on this subject had been reversed. Imitating a game-show host, she blared, “Wrong answer.”
The vehemence in her voice made his head jerk back. “You aren’t interested in sex?”
She laughed spontaneously. “I didn’t say that.”
“Okay,” he said with reluctance. “Then what’s the problem? You were certainly ready to do it with other men. Why not me?”
Christie blinked at the physical pain that struck her at his words. She pressed her hand against her heart until it passed. Then she drew in a deep breath and slowly expelled it before she stood.
“I think it’s time I left. Thank you for the tea.” She carried her mug to the sink. Her hand shook as she set it down and she tried to swallow the constriction in her throat. She turned to leave and found James blocking the door.
“I didn’t mean that,” he said, sounding utterly miserable.
He wasn’t the only one feeling bad. “Sure you did,” she said, putting on a bright face. “And why shouldn’t you? It’s true. I was all too willing to give myself to other men. There were a lot of them, too. And then I was stupid enough to tell you everything, thinking—oh, I don’t know, thinking that if you knew, we could put it behind us. Thinking you’d understand how important a clean slate was to me. And let me remind you, James, you turned me down a few months ago.”
“Yes, but…” He sighed. “You can trust me, Christie. You know I’d never intentionally hurt you.”
“I used to think so,” she muttered. “Now…”
He closed his eyes. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe it’s best to hold off on marriage. I’ll tell you what—you let me know when you’re ready to forgive and forget, and we’ll talk again.”
“Good idea,” she said cheerfully. “And you do the same.”
His brows shot up, and he stepped aside so she could exit the apartment.
Christie walked past him and was halfway down the stairs when he said, “I don’t suppose this is a good time to mention that I’m going away for a few days.”
She paused, her foot midway between two steps. The only reason he’d told her this now was to get her attention. For all she knew, it might not even be true. “When did this come up?” she asked without turning around.
“An hour ago. It’s business. Bobby and I have some meetings in L.A.”
Which explained why Teri hadn’t said anything earlier. Questions buzzed in her brain, demanding answers. She wanted to know exactly how long he’d be away. What kind of business? And why did he leave it until now to tell her? But making an issue of this would’ve been too much like the old Christie, the insecure Christie, the woman who required constant reassurance.
“Okay,” she murmured, although she clenched the railing so tightly that her fingers ached.