Perfect Partners(28)
Author: Carly Phillips

Alix let out an ear-piercing shriek. Griff knew better than to ignore his niece and welcomed the few minutes alone.

“I’ll get her.” Without meeting her gaze, he untangled himself from Chelsie and gritted his teeth when the cool air hit his naked skin.

In silence, she slipped out of the bed and closed herself in his bathroom. He drew a steadying breath as the door clicked shut behind her. After donning a pair of jeans, he grabbed the shirt she’d been wearing. He pulled it over his head, but the chill remained.

Chelsie’s warmth, which had been a part of him just minutes before, seemed long gone. And he missed her.

Griff returned quickly, before Chelsie could have a chance to formulate any regrets. The strength of what they’d shared stunned him. He knew they needed to deal with the aftereffects before either could place too much—or too little—emphasis on making love.

He plopped Alix down on the center of the mattress and rejoined Chelsie in bed. Alix rolled and flopped around on the large bed, apparently happy to be out of the confining crib.

Her dark eyes met his. From her expression, she, too, recognized that this was hardly the usual morning after. Whatever he was about to say got cut off by Alix, who threw herself into his arms. Her cheerful babble provided the only buffer between the two adults.

“Hey, squirt. What do you say you play on the floor a while. I’ve got some business to take care of.” He placed her on the carpet beside the bed where he had a ready stack of toys for her to play with.

“No.” Alix climbed back onto the bed with little agility but lots of gusto. At six-thirty in the morning, he had to admire her spunk.

Chelsie smiled, but the emotion didn’t reach her eyes.

“At times like these, it’s hard to imagine life with more than one kid.” He ruffled Alix’s soft curls with his hand.

“Is that what you want?” Chelsie asked.

He paused to think. One look at his niece and he had his answer. “Yeah.” He gave Alix a playful tug on her hair.

Griff glanced at Chelsie, realizing for the first time that she had retreated to the far end of the bed. She’d changed into her sweatshirt and jeans from the day before, covering the body that he’d memorized inch by tantalizing inch. He didn’t like the not-so-subtle message she projected.

“Scram, squirt,” he whispered in Alix’s ear. The little girl climbed between Griff and Chelsie. “Not exactly what I had in mind.”

Alix smiled, showing the dimples that charmed everyone she met, then reached for Chelsie’s hair. “Mommy.”

Griff groaned. But to his surprise, the knife-like pain that usually accompanied Alix’s pleas for her mother had dulled somewhat. In large part, he suspected, he owed that step forward to the woman sitting next to him.

“It’s Aunt Chelsie. You know that.” Reaching over, he ruffled the little girl’s hair.

He looked over his niece’s head to smile at Chelsie. She met his gaze, but in her eyes, he saw the haunted look he’d come to recognize and hate at the same time. He couldn’t come up with one reason for her to have withdrawn.

“Give me a few minutes to get her settled and we’ll talk,” he whispered.

Chelsie shook her head. “I’m late.” She scrambled out of bed.

“At”—he glanced at the clock—“six-forty? Where could you possibly have to be on a Sunday morning?”

“The shelter.” She gazed at his nightstand, a ploy clearly enabling her to avoid his stare.

“I thought you were sticking around to take care of us.”

She looked from Alix, who chattered happily, back to Griff. “Both of you look much better. And clearly you have the energy to take care of her.”

“So you’re running away.”

“Leaving for a while.”

“You’ll be back?”

Her silence hit him like a slap in the face. “Don’t let us keep you, then.”

His icy tone must have melted some of her barriers. “Please don’t make this harder,” she pleaded.

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t. We went into this like two adults. As I recall, I asked you to be sure. So what’s with the sudden withdrawal?”

Her frantic gaze again darted to Alix and back to him. “Just give me some space, okay? I’ll be back. I promise.”

“Okay.” What choice did he have? He’d never force a woman who didn’t want to stay and he’d never hold on to a woman in that much pain. Looking at Chelsie’s trembling body, he knew that she was.

His first instinct had been to cast her in the role of villain, as the woman who deserted him like his mother and ex-fiancée. He could no longer accept that explanation. He’d come to know Chelsie well in the last few weeks, even better in the last twenty-four hours. Her role in the custody hearing no longer tortured his thoughts. She’d made her own way without the help of her parents, chosen a career that benefited others and not herself.

He even understood her role in the custody hearing now, understood why and believed her regrets. Family was important to her. The caring woman he’d come to know wouldn’t turn down her parents’ request for help. The irony was she’d lost them anyway. In all the time they’d been together with Alix, she’d never once mentioned her family or their abrupt departure for Florida. According to Ryan, charity functions were rampant down there this time of year. Chelsie’s priorities he understood. Theirs he didn’t.

But there was more to Chelsie than her caring nature. Something haunted her, had kept her from her sister and niece before, and caused her to run now, which led him to the possibility she was running from herself and not from him.

The probability didn’t lessen the feelings of abandonment he’d hoped never to experience again, but the knowledge allowed him to let her go in peace. He, too, could use the time to sort out his jumbled emotions.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

He shrugged, but said nothing. Ignoring her seemed the easiest means of blocking his pain. She reached down and retrieved her sneakers from the floor.

He leaned back against the pillows and shut his eyes, waiting until he heard the thud of the bedroom door before opening them again. The noise emphasized the point. He was alone.

EIGHT

Chelsie drove for hours, seeking solace that eluded her. She’d get lost, circle the same roads four or five times, find her way, and just keep going. She had nowhere else to turn.

Her work, always an escape, was now tied to Griff. Her office, her papers, her things all sat in boxes in the upstairs of his house. Though she could go back to the city, her tiny apartment held little appeal. She’d furnished her cold apartment as a reminder. The decor clearly stated this was no place for a child.