Jesus. "Tell me your family was out searching for you."
"No." She shook her head. "The boys were attending NASA summer camp. I guess my dad thought I was staying with a friend, and he went off on his own research trip. The house was all locked up."
He stared at her. "Is this the funny part?"
She actually laughed. "Yes. I had to run away, but when I went back home, I had to break into my own house. The irony!"
"I don't think that word means what you think it means."
Her eyebrows came together in a frown. "Of course it does. What I just described is situational irony - when the outcome is contrary to expectation. It's all about the reversal, see. I ran away, but when I went back, it was as if, instead, my father ran - "
Shaking his head, he took her face in the palms of his hands. Her words sputtered out. Her silver eyes lifted to his. It was the storeroom at Captain Crow's all over again. The laundry room, when he'd first been compelled to kiss her. There was just something about this woman.
He was smoldering at her. Without even trying. Without even wanting to.
His mouth descended toward hers. She stayed where she was, pliant as before, caught in the heat between them. Before he could touch down, she broke free.
Her feet actually scrabbled on the hardwood floor in the hallway. Sighing, he watched her go. Damn woman. Damn, damn woman.
His tactic had been proved to work. He supposed he could feel some satisfaction in that. Going sexy on her had sent her on the run. He'd gotten her out of the room.
But...she'd still made her way under his skin.
The irony!
CHAPTER EIGHT
SHOVING ASIDE a deep reluctance, David Quincy marched down the path that would lead him to the place where his wife had run on her escape from their home. On her escape from him.
After five days without her, he'd come to the conclusion that it only made sense to initiate a calm, reasonable discussion about their situation. He blew out a long breath of air and allowed himself a moment's pause. Tess might ask him to give up her and the kids. Considering the possibility stabbed his gut like a dull knife, but he was a by-the-numbers realist. It's what her absence was leading to, wasn't it? And if that was indeed what she asked of him, he'd find a way to grant her request.
After all, not long ago he'd come to the realization that he didn't deserve any of them.
They'd manage without him, of course. The bigger kids were consumed with their own pursuits. Baby Russ was fine too. Though David hadn't held his smallest son since the day of his fortieth birthday, he appeared to be thriving.
His black dress shoes sank into soft sand. Immediately, grains made their way between his socks and the leather insole. He accepted the petty discomfort with his usual stoicism. Sure, he should have worn something more casual than his business clothes, but he'd been sitting at his desk, staring at spreadsheets without seeing a single column when he'd made the sudden decision to visit.
Looking toward the surf, David caught sight of his daughter. Stretched belly-down on a beach blanket, she wore bug-big sunglasses and was up on her elbows, her nimble thumbs tapping, engrossed in the modern teenager's version of talking drums. It seemed just yesterday she'd been wearing princess tiaras and dipping her digits in finger paints. In a skimpy bikini and with her mother's long legs, she appeared almost full-grown.
Past the need for him.
Her head turned his way, and a smile stretched her mouth, her straight white teeth beautiful. Still, nostalgia squeezed his heart as he remembered those long months when she'd come home from every orthodontist appointment with different colored bands on her braces: orange and black at Halloween, red and green at Christmas, two different shades of blue that time he'd taken her himself.
She'd asked for her father's favorite color.
Now she jumped to her feet. "Dad!" she cried, waving.
He crossed the beach, the soft sand slowing his steps and helping him maintain his newly developed detachment. "How are you, honey?" he asked her. "How was school this morning?"
"I don't know why I'm wasting any of my summer vacation in a classroom."
"The honors history seminar will look good on your college apps."
Rebecca made a face. "Now you sound like Mom. I thought you were on my side. You told her I should get to