The Stanislaskis ( Books 1-6). Nora Roberts

her lips. What she heard in his voice was more hurt than anger. She wanted nothing less than to hurt him. “There are things about me you don’t know. Things I’m not ready to tell you.”

      “They don’t matter.”

      “They do.” She took a deep breath. “We have something. It would be ridiculous to try to deny it. But love—there is no bigger word in the world. If we share that word, things will change.”

      “Yes.”

      “I can’t let them. From the beginning I told you there could be no promises, no plans. I don’t want to move my life beyond what I have now.”

      “Is it because I have a child?”

      “Yes, and no.” For the first time since he’d met her, nerves showed in the way she linked and unlinked her fingers. “I would love Freddie even if I hated you. For herself. Because I care for you, I only love her more. But for you and me to take what we have and make something more from this would change even that. I’m not ready to take on the responsibilities of a child.” Under the table she pressed her hand hard against her stomach. “But with or without Freddie, I don’t want to take the next step with you. I’m sorry, and I understand if you don’t want to see me again.”

      Torn between frustration and fury, he rose to pace to the window. The rain was still falling thinly, coldly upon the dying flowers outside. She was leaving something out, something big and vital. She didn’t trust him yet, Spence realized. After everything they’d shared, she didn’t yet trust him. Not enough.

      “You know I can’t stop seeing you, any more than I can stop loving you.”

      You could stop being in love, she thought, but found herself afraid to tell him. It was selfish, hideously so, but she wanted him to love her. “Spence, three months ago I didn’t even know you.”

      “So I’m rushing things.”

      She moved her shoulder and began to poke at her eggs.

      He studied her from behind, the way she held herself, how her fingers moved restlessly from her fork to her cup, then back again. He wasn’t rushing a damn thing, and they both knew it. She was afraid. He leaned against the window, thinking it through. Some jerk had broken her heart, and she was afraid to have it broken again.

      All right, he thought. He could get around that. A little time and the most subtle kind of pressure. He would get around it, he promised himself. For the first part of his life, he’d thought nothing would ever be as important to him as his music. In the last few years he’d learned differently. A child was infinitely more important, more precious and more beautiful. Now he’d been taught in a matter of weeks that a woman could be as important, in a different way, but just as important.

      Freddie had waited for him, bless her. He would wait for Natasha.

      “Want to go to a matinee?”

      She’d been braced for anger, so only looked blankly over her shoulder. “What?”

      “I said would you like to go to a matinee? The movies.” Casually he walked back to the table to join her. “I promised Freddie I’d take her to the movies this afternoon.”

      “I—yes.” A cautious smile bloomed. “I’d like to go with you. You’re not angry with me?”

      “Yes, I am.” But he returned her smile as he began to eat. “I figured if you came along, you’d buy the popcorn.”

      “Okay.”

      “The jumbo size.”

      “Ah, now I begin to see the strategy. You make me feel guilty, so I spend all my money.”

      “That’s right, and when you’re broke, you’ll have to marry me. Great eggs,” he added when her mouth dropped open. “You should eat yours before they get cold.”

      “Yes.” She cleared her throat. “Since you’ve offered me an invitation, I have one for you. I was going to mention it last night, but you kept distracting me.”

      “I remember.” He rubbed his foot over hers. “You’re easily distracted, Natasha.”

      “Perhaps. It was about my mother’s phone call and Thanksgiving. She asked me if I wanted to bring someone along.” She frowned at her eggs. “I imagine you have plans.”

      His smile was slow and satisfied. Perhaps the wait wouldn’t be as long as he’d thought. “Are you asking me to Thanksgiving dinner at your mother’s?”

      “My mother asked,” Natasha said precisely. “She always makes too much food, and she and Papa enjoy company. When it came up, I thought about you and Freddie.”

      “I’m glad to know that you think about us.”

      “It’s nothing,” she said, annoyed with herself for stringing out what should have been a simple invitation. “I always take the train up on Wednesday after work and come back Friday evening. Since there is no school, it occurred to me that you both might enjoy the trip.”

      “Do we get borscht?”

      The corners of her lips curved. “I could ask.” She pushed her plate aside when she saw the gleam in his eyes. He wasn’t laughing, she thought, as much as planning. “I don’t want you to get the wrong idea. It’s simply an invitation from friend to friend.”

      “Right.”

      She frowned at him. “I think Freddie would enjoy a big family meal.”

      “Right again.”

      His easy agreement had her blowing out a frustrated breath. “Just because it’s at my parents’ home doesn’t mean I’m taking you there for…” She waved her hand as she searched for an appropriate phrase. “For approval, or to show you off.”

      “You mean your father won’t take me into the den and ask me my intentions?”

      “We don’t have a den,” she muttered. “And no. I’m a grown woman.” Because Spence was grinning, she lifted a brow. “He will, perhaps, study you discreetly.”

      “I’ll be on my best behavior.”

      “Then you’ll come?”

      He sat back, sipping his coffee and smiling to himself. “I wouldn’t miss it.”

      CHAPTER TEN

      Freddie sat in the back seat with a blanket tucked up to her chin and clutched her Raggedy Ann. Because she wanted to drift with her own daydreams she pretended to sleep, and pretended so well that she actually dozed from time to time. It was a long drive from West Virginia to New York, but she was much too excited to be bored.

      There was soft music on the car radio. She was enough of her father’s daughter to recognize Mozart, and child enough to wish there were words to sing along to. Vera had already been dropped off at her sister’s in Manhattan, where the housekeeper would holiday until Sunday. Now Spence was directing the big, quiet car through the traffic toward Brooklyn.

      Freddie was only a little disappointed that they hadn’t taken the train, but liked snuggling up and listening to her father and Natasha talk. She didn’t pay much attention to what they said. Their voices were enough.

      She was almost sick with excitement at the idea of meeting Natasha’s family and sharing a big turkey dinner. Though she didn’t like turkey very much, Natasha had told her that there would be plenty of cranberry sauce and succotash. Freddie had never eaten succotash, but the name was so funny, she knew it would be good. Even if it wasn’t, even if it was disgusting, she was determined to be polite and clean her plate. JoBeth had told her that her grandmother got upset if JoBeth didn’t eat all her vegetables, so Freddie wasn’t taking any chances.

      Lights flickered over her closed lids. Her lips curved a little as she heard Natasha’s laugh merging with her father’s. In her imaginings they were already a family.