Tough Love

“One lucky strike with a small wooden bat. It’s superficial. In a few days it’ll be back to normal.”

“Did you call the police?” she demanded.

“No.”

“No?”

Amused, he half smiled. “It was just an altercation, and they learned the error of their ways. No reason to drag the cops into it.”

“But...why not?”

He sighed as if harassed. “I don’t need to be mothered, okay? Got a mother, a pushy one. You’ve met her. Got an older sister, too, who likes to butt into my life. That’s enough female concern, believe me.”

Not wanting to chase him off, Vanity reluctantly let it drop. “Fine.”

Her attitude didn’t put him off. “Now you.” He turned his hand over to effectively displace her touch, then laced his fingers in hers. “Why do you have a hang-up about being gorgeous?”

Her face heated. “I’m not.”

Enunciating clearly, he said again, “Gorgeous. And for some reason, you’re bothered by it.”

Shaking her head to deny it, she lied, “That’s not true.”

“Vanity.”

“It’s not a hang-up.” It was totally a hang-up. A dumb one to boot. But still... “It’s reality. Looks fade, beauty is only skin deep, all that. If you find me attractive, I’m glad.”

“I find you very attractive. Anyone with eyes and a brain cell will agree. Especially anyone male.”

Okay, so she knew she wasn’t a hag. She’d been shopping in the mall when a local talent scout begged for her info. If his office hadn’t been there in the mall, she would have kept walking. But it had intrigued her.

So, not a hag. Better than just average. She appreciated that nature had been kind to her. Sighing, she gave a dramatic, “But...”

“But?” he prompted.

Flattening her mouth and staring him in the eyes, she stated the truth. “I don’t want looks to be the only thing you see.”

For the longest time he scrutinized her; contemplative, understanding. Curious. “There’s more to it, something more personal.”

She gave up. “Yes, personal.” To help her get through the uncomfortable confession, she toyed with the front of his shirt...and sneakily opened a button on his flannel. “My mother was beautiful.”

“She looked like you?”

“More...refined.” How to explain that? “Higher cheekbones, a narrower nose. I have my mother’s coloring, but I favor my father.”

“Then both your parents were attractive.” His eyes searched hers. “You explained about your mother’s family, and I know you said your dad was an only child. But didn’t he have any relatives?”

“He had uncles and aunts, and a few cousins. They weren’t close, and we don’t stay in touch. Some of them live in England, a few in the Bahamas.”

Stack’s fingertips did this interesting, stirring thing where he lightly touched her, tracing her jawline, up and around her ear. She inhaled and tried to focus enough to get through the explanation. “Dad had a mistress.”

Oh, wow, she hadn’t meant to just blurt that out.

His mouth went crooked with a reluctant smile. Definitely not the reaction she’d expected.

Scowling, she poked his chest. “What’s funny about that?”

He quickly sobered. “Sorry, your word choice... You’re saying he cheated?”

Somehow “had a mistress” sounded less awful than “cheated.” Her mother had developed the practice of prettying up reality with loftier word choices. Denial in its finest form.

Perhaps, Vanity decided, she shouldn’t do the same. “Yes.” Her throat tightened, but she forced out the words. “He cheated.”

“They were divorced?”

It shamed her to admit the truth. “Mom felt the only thing worse than Dad leaving her for a younger woman would be to go through the disgrace of a divorce.”

Stack whistled. “Old school.”

Her heart cracked a little at that attitude. “Marriage should be forever.”

Taking her words seriously, Stack slid a hand around her neck. “Love should be forever. Without it, it’s not a marriage anyway.”

So true. Sadly, her mother had never realized that. “I’m sure you’re right. But she stayed with him anyway, and he stayed with her, and after they died, his mistress expected to inherit.”

“But she didn’t.”

“Not a dime.” Vanity had almost felt sorry for her. Almost.