A San Diego Romance Page 6

  Coretta grinned. “That is a point in your favor.”

  The bell over the door rang, and two ladies entered the store. As Coretta set aside the bin of T-shirts to wait on them, Eliza took a deep breath. Coretta had given her a lot to mull over, as if she weren’t already overanalyzing the situation between her and Chris. Now she had even more to think about.

  Chris had a full, busy life; he’d said so himself. He had his children, his design work and his work with Prescott George all vying for his time and attention. That didn’t even take his dealings with his ex-wife into account. Eliza could tell her old feelings for Chris were resurfacing. What she couldn’t see was where she fit into his already packed life.

  Could he really have the time, space and freedom to let her into his heart?

  Or would she fall by the wayside in favor of his other commitments?

  Chapter 7

  Chris looked around the crowded gymnasium of Valley Arts Academy, searching the teeming mass of teenagers for the two that belonged to him. He’d arrived at the dance with Jack and Jojo less than half an hour ago, and they’d already made themselves scarce. He wasn’t really surprised by their disappearing act; they’d been doing that for about two years now. He guessed that was the age when kids discovered their parents didn’t know everything after all, and began thinking of them as “uncool.”

  He spotted Jojo then, partly by the bright color of her orange dress. After Jojo had refused to attend the dance unless she could have the dress she’d chosen, Chris and Sheila had reached a compromise. Sheila had agreed to let Jojo have the dress she wanted on the condition that she not be left out of her daughter’s wardrobe decisions for any future dances. He’d repurchased Jojo’s favorite dress from Ellicott’s, and tonight she looked lovely, albeit far more grown-up than he would have expected.

  He walked over to where she stood, chatting with two friends from her class. He waved at the other girls, then gently took his daughter by the hand. “Jojo, I’ve been looking for you.”

  “What is it, Dad?”

  “Can I talk to you for a minute?”

  She eyed her friends, who could barely hide their curious expressions. “Can’t it wait ’til later?”

  He shook his head. “Sorry, kiddo, it can’t wait. I promise you’ll be back with your friends in a flash.”

  “Okay.” She acquiesced, letting him lead her toward the plastic-covered table that served as the punch station. Once there, she looked up at him. “What’s up?”

  “We didn’t really get to talk before the dance, so I just wanted to talk about tonight.”

  She sighed. “How come you didn’t talk to me about this in the car, after you picked me and Jack up?”

  He chuckled. “Both your faces were buried in your phones. I didn’t think you’d be listening.” He gave her hand a squeeze. “Besides, I wanted to talk to just you. Jack doesn’t really need to hear what I have to say.”

  She slipped her hand out of his, propped her bare shoulder against the wall. “Okay, Dad.”

  “I want to make sure you understand the ways you should behave tonight. This is your first dance, and I...”

  Jojo let her head drop back, rolling her eyes. “Dad. Geez.”

  He couldn’t hold back his smirk at her combination of embarrassment and exasperation. “Ground rules, Jojo. Make sure you get your own punch, and don’t finish it if it tastes funny. Don’t leave the gym without letting me know. And if you’re going to dance with boys...”

  “I know, I know. Keep a full arm’s length of distance between us.” She blew out a breath, folded her arms over her chest. “Dad, you told me all this before. Can I go now?”

  He could see her expression and her body language; she wanted to get back to her friends. “Yes, Jojo. Just remember what I told you. And if anybody gives you any trouble, come and tell me right away, okay?”

  “I will, Dad.” She dropped her arms. “So far, no one’s given me any trouble but you.” She pursed her lips playfully.

  He shooed her away. “Go on back to your friends. I’m sure you don’t want to miss out on any more gossip.”

  She scurried away then, rejoining the two girls she’d been talking to. He watched them chatter for a few moments, gesturing and laughing. Soon, though, all three of them were looking down, eyes glued to their phones. He shook his head, knowing they’d probably started texting one another. He’d seen them do it before, even as they all sat next to one another on Sheila’s couch.

  He moved away from the punch table, closer to the small stage that had been set up in the front of the gym for the DJ. In a corner to the left of the stage, he spotted Jack, sitting at a table with his debate team buddies. Just like Jojo and her girlfriends, all the young men around the table were staring at their phones.

  He wanted to groan, but he knew better than to judge them. He spent his fair share of time on his own smartphone, and because of his workload, there wasn’t any getting around that. He could imagine plenty of the other kids’ parents were similarly tethered to their devices. He really didn’t have to imagine, because when he looked around at the other chaperones posted in various spots around the gym, he saw most of them looking down, their faces illuminated by their glowing screens. In a way, the kids were probably just mimicking what they saw at home.

  He went back to his station by the snack table, thinking about the high school dances he’d attended. He remembered those awkward gatherings in ninth and tenth grade, where boys and girls would stand on opposites sides of the gym, watching each other. They’d remain that way for an hour or more, until one brave soul left the boys’ side to ask a girl to dance. If she shot him down, he would likely leave rather than slink back to his boys wearing the stench of defeat. If she agreed, the rest would soon pair off and fill the dance floor.

  Something similar was happening now in Valley’s gym. Most of the boys were on one side of the gym, while the girls held court on the other. The presence of smart devices and the music made the scene a little different, but Chris could see that the fragile, uncertain interactions between boys and girls of this age were still just as complex as they’d been twenty-odd years ago.

  As the night wore on, Chris helped himself to a few snacks and a cool glass of punch. The dance floor filled up during songs with popular dances that the kids all seemed to know. He could remember doing the Electric Slide at a few dances back in the day, and though the current line dances looked different, the concept remained the same: catchy song plus easy-to-follow dance steps equaled a jam-packed dance floor.

  The end of the dance drawing near, Chris watched the kids shuffle toward the sidelines as the DJ put on a slow record. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a young man approaching Jojo. Turning in that direction, he discreetly watched their interaction. The young man leaned close to Jojo’s ear and spoke to her, after which she blushed and nodded. Chris watched as the boy led Jojo away from her grinning girlfriends and out on the dance floor.

  “That’s Anthony Jordan,” a voice beside Chris announced. “Jojo’s got a huge crush on him.”

  Chris shifted his attention toward the voice and saw his son Jack standing next to him. “Jack, what do you know about this guy?”

  Jack shrugged. “He plays on the basketball team, I think. I know he’s in chess club, and he pretty much keeps to himself when he’s not on the court or playing chess.”

  Chris drew a deep breath. Young Jordan sounded like he was on the up and up. “What grade is he in? How old is he?”

  “Dad, I don’t know him like that. He’s in tenth grade, but that’s all I got for you.” Jack took a sip from the paper cup of punch in his hand. “What do you want me to do, take his fingerprints or something? Maybe get a blood sample?”

  “That won’t be necessary.” He chuckled at his son’s offer. Jack’s dry sense of humor and penchant for sarcasm meant there was never a dull moment raisi
ng him. “What about you, Jack? Any girls out there you want to dance with?”

  Another shrug. “Not really. Girls seem like a whole lot of trouble to me.” He tossed his empty cup into the trash. “Oh, there’s Brady. Later, Dad.”

  “Meet me by the front office when the dance is over,” Chris called after him. “And thanks for the intel.”

  “No prob.” Jack disappeared into the crowd.

  Standing alone again, Chris looked out on the dance floor, his gaze landing on Jojo and Anthony. He smiled when he saw the wide gulf between them. Jojo’s hands rested on Anthony’s shoulders, while his hands were on her sides, just above the waist. She’d seemed restless and uninterested during their talk earlier, but at least she’d taken his advice to heart. And in the end, her willingness to do that would matter more than anything.

  That’s my girl.

  * * *

  Monday evening, Eliza strolled through one of the galleries at the San Diego Museum of Art. The current exhibition, exploring the art of the twentieth century, had many intriguing pieces. So far, the paintings had been her favorite, and as she stopped to admire one, she glanced over her shoulder. Seeing Chris lingering in front of another painting mounted a few feet away, she thought about the surprise in his voice when she’d asked him to pick her up—at home—and bring her here. Now he knew she lived in the cottage on her parents’ property. He hadn’t said anything about it, but she could tell by the way he’d been acting that it was on his mind.

  Not wanting to overthink it, she returned her attention to the painting she’d stopped to look at.

  As she contemplated the artwork, resisting the urge to trace her fingertips along the smooth brushstrokes imprinted in the oil paint, she wondered what the artist’s process was like. She didn’t consider herself a creative person, though she had to tap into that side of herself to design displays at her boutique. And while she loved the thrill of setting up a display that caught the attention of her customers, she saw little connection between that and the talent and skill displayed in the painting.

  Her mind switched gears when he entered her space. She felt his presence even before he moved behind her to slip his arms around her waist. Her body responded to his touch, every nerve ending seemed to tingle with the electricity of his nearness.

  She turned in the circle of his arms, pecked him on the cheek and slipped out of his grasp. “Chris, not here.”

  “What’s the matter?”

  She leaned in, whispering in his ear. “Put the kibosh on the PDA, will you? At least until we leave the gallery.”

  He smiled. “As you wish, Eliza.”

  Rolling her eyes at his silliness, she started walking again.

  He followed, shortening his long stride to walk next to her. “What did you do over the weekend? I mean, besides working at the boutique.”

  She shrugged. “Not much, really. I was either at the store or at home catching up on my shows all weekend. How about you? Anything exciting?”

  He chuckled. “In a way. This was my weekend with the kids. The arrangement I have with my ex is to get them every other weekend.”

  “Did you and the twins do anything fun?”

  “They did. The school dance was Saturday night. I came back to the store to pick up Jojo’s dress that morning, but your manager said you’d gone on coffee break.” He paused by another painting. “Anyway, I chaperoned the dance.”

  “Sounds like fun.”

  “For the kids, maybe. For me it was somewhat dull, but I liked being there to keep an eye on them.”

  They found a low bench just outside the gallery and took a seat. While Chris recounted the happenings of the school dance, Eliza listened. Hearing the way he spoke about the twins and seeing the expression on his face when he mentioned their names, it was clear how much he loved his children. It must be a profound feeling, loving a child you’d helped to create. She wouldn’t know, having no children of her own. One day she hoped to know the joy of motherhood, but for now, she spent as much time as she could with her nieces and nephews.

  He stopped then, as if sensing how she felt. “I’m sorry, Eliza. I didn’t mean to ramble on about the kids. Let’s just say they keep me pretty busy.”

  “I’ll bet they do, and it’s fine. I don’t mind at all.” She squeezed his shoulder. “It’s nice to hear you talk about them, because I can tell you love them very much.”

  He smiled then. “Jojo and Jack are the best and brightest things in my life. All the hard work I put in at the drafting table is really for them. I’m working to secure their future.” He looked away then, chuckled. “Hopefully they’ll repay me by taking care of me in my old age.”

  She laughed. “It’s the least they could do. Then maybe you’ve got a shot at having someone to push your wheelchair. I just have to hope one of my sisters’ kids will look after me, since I don’t have any of my own.”

  “How many nieces and nephews do you have? Vaughn’s told me, but I’ve forgotten.”

  “We’ve got three nieces and two nephews, between our two sisters.” She gave their names and ages. “The oldest is about to start high school in the fall, and the youngest is still a year away from preschool, so quite an age range.”

  “Do you babysit them?”

  “Sometimes. But never all five at once.” She giggled. “I love them, but I don’t want to be outnumbered and overpowered, you know?”

  “I get it. Five kids and one adult is a little risky. You could have mutiny on your hands.” He winked.

  She felt her heart flutter in her chest. How could a man be this handsome? There had to be some law against it, yet here he was, out in public being gorgeous. His dark eyes settled on her face, and she felt so overwhelmed by his attention, she had to look away for a moment.

  “What’s the matter?” He asked the question in such a casual tone, one would think him unaware of the effect he had on her.

  She cleared her throat. “Nothing. I... It’s just a little hard to think when you look at me like that.”

  A smile stretched his lips. “Oh, really?”

  She heard the teasing in his tone. Balling up her fist, she popped him playfully on the shoulder. “Quit it, Chris, or else.”

  “Or else what?”

  She gave him her most serious look.

  “Well, I see some things haven’t changed. You’re still a piece of work.” He grabbed her hand, gave it a squeeze. “I’ll try not to set you off, even though you’re kind of cute when you’re mad.”

  She pursed her lips. “Don’t make me box your ears.”

  He stood, pulling her up with him. “There are a lot of things I want you to do to me. But that’s not one of them.”

  She cut her eyes at him, but didn’t say anything. If only you knew how much I’d like to explore that notion.

  Leaning closer to her, he said softly, “I want to kiss you, Eliza.”

  Meeting his eyes, she said nothing, but gave him a small nod to indicate her willingness. As she turned her face toward him and tilted up, he lowered his lips to hers. Again, he kept the contact chaste, and again, she felt the rising heat warming her insides. He brushed his soft lips against hers several times, lingering at the last pass as she marveled at the sweetness of his kiss. When he eased away, she passed her tongue over her lower lip.

  “Have I smoothed things over between us, Eliza?” His voice dragged her back to reality.

  She answered truthfully. “Yes, you have.” Who could be annoyed after a kiss like that? She certainly couldn’t.

  “Good.” He gestured toward the exit. “We can go, if you’re ready. Would you like to go get some ice cream?”

  “Homemade?”

  He scoffed. “Is there any other kind?”

  She let her smile show through. “Sounds good.”

  “Great. I know just the place.”

 
Chapter 8

  Chris sat at the small wrought iron table in front of the Gaslamp Creamery, a waffle cone of fudge ripple in hand. Eliza sat across from him with a dish of strawberry ice cream. There were only two other people there, a mother and daughter, sitting a few tables away. The sky had darkened, with the setting sun yielding to the coming night. The air felt as cool and light as his mood.

  He watched her, noting the delicate way she raised the plastic spoon to her mouth and the soft smile that touched her lips as she enjoyed the cool, creamy treat. A breeze blew by, lifting the tendrils of her hair as she ate.

  She’s so beautiful. He’d spent the last hour and a half walking through an art gallery with her. The place had been filled with priceless works of art, sculptures and paintings by renowned artists from all over the world. Yet nothing he’d seen there could ever compare to her graceful beauty. When he looked at her, he could still see remnants of the young woman he’d fallen in love with, lying just beneath the accomplished, self-assured woman she’d become.

  She cleared her throat. “Chris, is something wrong?”

  “No, why do you ask?”

  She tilted her head slightly to the right. “Because you’re staring at me.”

  He averted his eyes. “Sorry about that. It’s just that the way you eat ice cream is...well...kind of cute.”

  Her brow creased. “Cute? Hmmm. Haven’t been called that in a while.”

  “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, though.” He didn’t know if he could stop watching her, but at least he would try to be more discreet about it.

  “No biggie.” She picked up her spoon again.

  He shifted his focus back to his rapidly melting cone. He bit off a few chunks of sweet, crispy waffle cone, following that with a few mouthfuls of the rich, cool ice cream. It seemed like ages since he’d had a good fudge ripple, and soon, enjoyment got the better of him. Before he knew it, he’d polished off his entire cone. Feeling a dribble running from the corner of his mouth, he reached for the napkin holder in the center of the table.