Linda Lael Miller Bundle by Linda Lael Miller Read Free Book Online Page B

alabaster forehead and smiled. “Hello, Roz,” he said.
    The bewildered joy in Rosamond’s face made Shay ache inside. “Riley,” she said again.
    Garrett nodded and caught both his former stepmother’s hands in his own strong, sun-browned ones. “How are you?” he asked softly.
    Tears were stinging Shay’s eyes, half blinding her. Through them, she saw Rosamond hold out the doll for Garrett to see and touch. “Baby,” she said proudly.
    As Garrett acknowledged the doll with a nod and a smile, Shay whirled away, unable to bear the scene any longer. She fled the room for the small bathroom adjoining it and stood there, trembling and pale, battling the false hopes that Rosamond’s rare moments of lucidity always stirred in her.
    When she was composed enough to come out, Rosamond had retreated back into herself; she was rocking in her chair, her lips curved into a secretive smile, the doll in her arms. Garrett wrapped a supportive arm around Shay’s waist and led her out of the room into the hallway, where he gave her a brotherly kiss on the forehead.
    “Poor baby,” he said, and then he held Shay close and rocked her back and forth in his arms. She didn’t notice the man standing at the reception desk, watching with a frown on his face.

4
    W hen Hank disappeared into Garrett and Maggie’s sleek motor home, a lump the size of a walnut took shape in Shay’s throat. He was only six; too young to be away from home for a whole month!
    Garrett grinned and kissed Shay’s forehead. “Relax,” he urged. “Maggie and I will take good care of the boy. I promise.”
    Shay nodded, determined not to be a clinging, neurotic mother. Six or sixty, she reminded herself, Hank was a person in his own right and he needed experiences like this one to grow.
    Briefly, Garrett caressed Shay’s cheek. “Go in there and get yourself ready for that party, Amazon,” he said. “Paint your toenails and slather your face with gunk. Soak in a bubble bath.”
    Shay couldn’t help grinning. “You’re just full of suggestions, aren’t you?”
    Garrett was serious. “Devote some time to yourself, Shay. Forget about Roz for a while and let Maggie and me worry about Hank.”
    It was good advice and Shay meant to heed it. After the motor home had pulled away, a happy chorus of farewell echoing behind, she went back into the house, turned on the stereo, pinned up her hair and got out the crepe trousers she’d made for the party. After hemming them, she hurried through the routine housework and then spent the rest of the morning pampering herself.
    She showered and shampooed, she pedicured and manicured, she gave herself a facial. After a light luncheon consumed in blissful silence, she crawled into bed and took a long nap.
    Upon rising, Shay made a chicken salad sandwich and took her time eating it. Following that, she put on her makeup, her new crepe slacks and the lovely, shimmering sequined top. She brushed her hair and worked it into a loose Gibson-girl style and put on chunky silver earrings. Looking into her bedroom mirror, she was stunned. Was this lush and glittering creature really Shay Kendall, mother of Hank, purveyor of “previously owned” autos, wearer of jeans and clear fingernail polish?
    It was. Shay whirled once, delighted. It was!
    Promptly at seven, Mitch arrived. He wore a pearl-gray, three-piece suit, expertly fitted, and the effect was at once rugged and Madison Avenue elegant. He was clean shaven and the scent of his cologne was crisply masculine. His brown eyes warmed as they swept over Shay, and the familiar grooves dented his cheeks when he smiled.
    “Wow,” he said.
    Shay was glad that it was time to leave for the Reeses’ beach house; she had rarely dated in the six years since her divorce and she was out of practice when it came to amenities like playing soft music and serving chilled wine and making small talk. “Wow, yourself,” she said, because that was what she would have said to Hank and it