Almost Perfect

Chapter 3

Adrenaline pumped through Joe's body as he stared at the woman before him. His senses on full alert, he took in everything in a flash: wild red hair, heart-shaped face, green eyes, lush mouth, and an hourglass figure that had forever set his personal standard for how a woman should look. Beneath a yellow tank top and a long, rust-colored skirt, with a wide leather belt riding her hips, she looked as curvaceous as ever.

"I-I'm sorry," she stuttered. "I thought-"

His gaze snapped back to her face, and he saw her skin had gone white, making her hair and eyes even more vivid. Was this as big a shock for her as it was for him?

"What are you doing here?" he repeated, barely able to think over the sound of blood rushing in his ears.

"I'm going to work here. As the arts and crafts coordinator."

"You're going to what?" he barked in his battle voice. But this wasn't a battle. He wasn't shouting to be heard over gunfire, and his body wasn't in immediate danger of getting shot. He was standing in one of the safest places on Earth-the office of his mother's summer camp. The scent of pine and sage drifted through the open windows and doors. Outside, a bird was singing.

And Maddy was standing right in front of him.

Maddy Howard. Not Madeline Mills, the name of the woman his mother had hired. The answer hit him like a blow straight to the chest. His mother had done this. Deliberately! "I'm going to kill her!"

"I'm sorry." Maddy had the grace to blush. "I thought you knew."

"Did she tell you I run the camp for her? Did she mention that you'd be working for me?"

"Of course. I assumed… you wanted…" She took a step backward toward the door to the parking lot as if ready to bolt. "This was obviously a mistake. Maybe I should just-"

She was leaving.

His heart kicked back into high gear. He'd wanted to never see Maddy again, but now that she was here, more dazzling than ever, like some torturous fantasy brought to life, he didn't want her to just walk away. Jesus, how twisted was that? And how embarrassing to realize he still wanted her. Fifteen years after she'd cut him off at the knees, he still wanted her.

"This was definitely a mistake." He made his voice as flat as possible. "And yes, I think it would be best if you did 'just.' " He motioned toward the door, telling himself to leave it at that. She was already turning, already moving away with her head bent. A few more steps and she'd be gone from his life again. An invisible fist squeezed his chest. "Christ, Maddy, you never were good at thinking things through, but this takes the cake, even for you." Why the hell was he still talking? Shut up, idiot, and let her go. "What made you think you could breeze in here and spend the summer working for me as if nothing ever happened between us?"

That stopped her. Her head came up and her eyes flared as she turned back to him. "Maybe the fact that it happened years ago and I thought you'd be mature enough to be over it by now."

"Of course I'm over it," he snapped, and started to take a seat to prove how unaffected he was by her presence. Except his chair wasn't there and he nearly fell on his ass before he caught his balance. Wouldn't that have been great? He jerked the chair off the floor and slammed it in place. Dropping to the seat, he blindly shuffled papers. "Just because I'm over you doesn't mean I want you working for me. As I remember, you weren't exactly the most responsible person I've ever met."

"Not responsible!" She nearly choked. "Joe, I was barely more than-than a child back then."

"A child?" He raked her lush body with a pointed look. "That's not how I remember it." And he did remember. He remembered how she looked naked, how her skin smelled, how she used to laugh even while they were making out… even when his eager teenage body was driving hard inside of her. He remembered clearly how that felt.

Christ. Now he had a hard-on.

He ran a hand over his face. "I don't want you here."

"Your mother hired me."

"And I'm firing you."

"Because of things that happened when we were stupid teenagers?"

"No." He gritted his teeth, refusing to look at her. "Because you're not right for the job."

"Of arts and crafts coordinator?" Her voice went up an octave. "I have a fine arts degree. How am I not qualified to teach craft classes at a summer camp?"

"I know you, Maddy." He shuffled more papers, making a mess of his orderly piles. "You had three jobs in high school and you were fired from every one of them."

"Because you were always talking me into ditching work so we could go to the lake." When he still wouldn't look at her, she marched over and planted her hands on the desk. "Has it occurred to you that I might be a very different person now than I was then? People change, you know."

He looked up, straight into green eyes so beautiful his chest ached. "Not that much they don't."

"Apparently not." Temper added color to her cheeks. "You're still as pigheaded and-and… selfish as you were at eighteen. God, what did I ever see in you?"

"I think we both know the answer to that." He longed to say something crude that would slice her to the bone, but the words stuck in his throat. "You can't work here. End of discussion."

"You can't fire me!" she shouted back. How like Maddy. Tell her she can't do something, and suddenly it's the one thing she's hell-bent to do no matter what. "It's not your camp. It's your mother's."

"Yeah, but I run it for her." He came out of the chair with his hands on the desk, bringing them nose to nose. "And I say-"

Her scent hit him like a punch to the gut, a wild, sweet fragrance that went straight to his brain and triggered a barrage of memories. The taste of her lips. The feel of her nimble fingers on his body. The expression on her face as she straddled his lap. The sound of her voice saying, "I love you."

That memory cut the deepest.

His gaze dropped to her lips. All he'd have to do to taste that sweet, generous mouth again was lean forward a few inches. She gasped softly, as if reading his mind.

"Madeline?" His mother's voice came from the parking lot.

Joe jerked upright a heartbeat before she came hobbling through the door as fast as she could move with her cane. With frail bones and cotton white hair, she might look every one of her eighty-plus years, but her blue eyes were as bright as ever.

A smile lit up her wrinkled face. "There you are! Harold at the gate told me you were here." She extended her free arm. "It's so good to see you!"

Joe stood in rigid silence as the two women hugged, although he wanted to pick his mother up, carry her outside, and demand to know what she'd been thinking to hire Maddy and not warn him. She wasn't stupid or insensitive. How could she do this?

"It's good to see you too." Maddy closed her eyes as if to savor the embrace. "I've missed you so much."

"Which is your own fault," Mama scolded.

"Please, don't start," Maddy whispered barely loud enough for Joe to hear.

Mama leaned back at arm's length. "And look at you. More beautiful than ever." She glanced at Joe. "Don't you think she's more beautiful than ever?"

Maddy blushed and looked at the floor.

"Mom," he said as calmly as possible. To the rest of the world she might be Mama Fraser, but since the day the adoption became final, to him she'd been Mom. "Could I have a word with you?"

"Certainly." She smiled at him and waited.

"Outside."

"What's wrong with right here?" she asked so innocently he thought his head might explode.

Maddy lifted her eyes to glare at him. "He wants to tell you to fire me."

"Now why would I do that when you just got here?" Mama squeezed one of Maddy's hands. "I'm looking forward to having you around, dear."

"Well, I'm not looking forward to it," Joe said. "And frankly, I'd like to know how Maddy even heard about the job in the first place."

"Because I wrote to her, of course," his mother announced, as if it should have been obvious. "We needed a new A and C coordinator, and I knew she'd be ideal. Besides, with her being newly widowed, I thought the job would be good for her. One of the reasons I bought the camp after I lost the Colonel was because nothing soothes a grieving heart better than being around young people."

"Widowed?" Joe stared at Maddy. She was a widow? He hadn't even known she'd married. The few times his mother had mentioned her name, he'd either changed the subject or left the room. Although-duh!-that explained the different last name. What was wrong with his brain?

"That's right, dear." Sorrow clouded his mother's eyes. "I know having her here might be a bit uncomfortable at first, but you're both grown-ups now, and I know you're man enough to handle it. Besides, it'll be nice for me to have Maddy around. All the other girls are so young, I'm lonesome for a woman to talk to, one who knows how it feels to lose a husband."

Joe knew right then that he was sunk. What could he possibly say? "No, I'm not man enough to handle this"? Or, "I realize you saved me from a life headed straight for the streets or prison, but no, you can't have a companion to help you grieve"? He couldn't even say, "Come on, Mom, the Colonel died years ago," since he also still missed the man every single day.

Mama smiled at him, her blue eyes twinkling. "You don't really mind, do you?"

He smiled back tightly. "Of course not."

"Fine, then." She patted Maddy's arm. "Maddy, honey, I have my golf cart out front. Why don't you follow me in your car to the Craft Shack so I can show you where you'll be living?"

"I…" Maddy hesitated and her gaze darted in his direction.

Had she suddenly changed her mind? Again? Too late now, baby, he wanted to tell her. You're just as trapped as I am.

Maddy sagged in defeat. "That'll be fine."

When the women had gone, Joe dropped to his chair and rubbed his face with both hands. Crap! He'd thought last summer was long, after he'd learned his knee was toast and he would never return to active duty. This, however, had the makings of the longest summer of his life.

Long and painful.

Frankly, he'd rather take another bullet than face Maddy every day for the next twelve weeks.

Maddy wanted to kick herself as she followed Mama Fraser's golf cart up a rough dirt road that wound between hardy cedar trees and mammoth boulders. Coming here really had been a mistake. She should have left the minute she realized that. Actually, she had offered to leave-until Joe had made her mad.

She rubbed her forehead in a vain effort to stave off a headache. She hadn't lost her temper in years. Yet two minutes with Joe and words were flying out of her mouth before they even registered in her brain.

Why in heaven's name hadn't Mama Fraser told him to expect her? If the woman was trying to play Cupid, her aim was way off.

And how foolish Maddy suddenly felt for her own thoughts of reconciliation. She cringed just thinking of all her silly dreams about spending a friendly summer with Joe. This could easily turn into a nightmare!

The road reached a level area on the side of a mountain. Mama pulled to a stop before a two-story adobe building nestled against a stand of aspens. Stepping out of the car, Maddy took a moment to survey the valley.

The view literally stole her breath. Far below her, the river reflected the blue sky as it meandered past tall cottonwood trees. The camp comple-mented the landscape with a scattering of rustic buildings, while mountains lined the horizon. All the shapes and contrasts called to her artist's soul, making her fingers itch for a paintbrush.

"What do you think?" Mama asked, using her cane to cross the hard-packed earth.

The woman's frailness provided a startling reminder of how many years had passed. Mama had been in her mid-sixties the last time she'd seen her. The Colonel had still been alive. And Maddy hadn't even met Nigel, or Christine and Amy. A lot of years, and a lot of living. What would the next decade or two bring?

She turned back to look at the valley. "I'd say it's beautiful, but that hardly seems adequate."

"There are some things words alone can't express. Which is why God gave us artists. And why so many artists are drawn to the Land of Enchantment. I'll be eager to see what it brings out in you."

If I stay. A weight settled over Maddy's heart.

Joe's mother moved toward the car, peeking through the window to the backseat. "Looks like you brought a bit more than the standard camp trunk."

"I never learned the art of packing light."

"Well, let's get it all up to your apartment."

"Mama…" Maddy stopped her when she reached for the door handle. "I'm not sure this is wise-"

"Now, Madeline, you're not thinking of running scared, are you? The girl I knew had more spunk than that."

"The girl you knew has learned a lot in the last few years. Like, it's not always wise to rush straight

I ahead, ignoring all the warning signs. Reckless actions can lead to head-on collisions."

"Is that how you see what happened between you and Joe? A car wreck?"

"What would you call it?"

"Fate." She nodded and opened the door. "Now come on, let's get your things."

"I got it." Afraid the woman would try to carry the suitcases herself, Maddy wrestled the biggest one out of the backseat. She could always carry it back down, she assured herself as she followed Mama up a staircase along the outside of the building. "You know," she said, grunting as she heaved the luggage up another step, "fate isn't always a good thing."

"It isn't always a bad thing either." Mama pulled herself along, using the handrail. "Oh, I admit, at the time I was plenty miffed at you for breaking my boy's heart, but I think it happened the way God intended. You two may have been perfect for each other, but you both had some growing up to do. So God yanked you apart for a bit. Now he's brought you back together." Reaching a small landing, Mama stopped to take a set of keys from the pocket of her leisure pants.

"Actually, you brought us back together." Maddy worked to catch her breath, feeling lightheaded from the altitude. "You realize Joe is extremely angry with you right now."

"He'll get over it." Mama opened the door and stepped inside.

"From what I just witnessed, he's not a man who forgives and forgets too easily." Maddy dragged her suitcase over the threshold, ready to argue fur-ther, but the apartment distracted her. The dim light from a single-bulb fixture revealed a tiny, one-room efficiency with a partial wall dividing the kitchen and dining area from the sleeping area. The stale scent of disuse hung in the air.

She nearly laughed, thinking she'd certainly come a long way from her upscale house in the hills of West Austin. But the simple truth was that after growing up in a barely middle-class neighborhood, she'd been a little uncomfortable in Nigel's circle. Not that he'd been mega wealthy, just several rungs up the ladder from a family living on a cop's salary.

Here, though-here was a nice small space she could make her own. A place to escape, paint, and start life anew.

Mama sighed. "Our last A and C coordinator had the place decorated up so cute. It looks downright spartan now."

"It's fine," Maddy assured her as she pictured the possibilities. A pretty tablecloth to cover the wooden spool that sat between two folding chairs. A comforter and sham for the single mattress on the metal frame. And for the tired old armchair sitting in the dark, dusty corner, a slipcover and a reading lamp.

"The good news is"-Mama moved toward a wall of curtains-"around here, we do most of our living outside." With the pull of a cord, she opened the drapes to reveal a wide sliding glass door. Sunlight poured in, transforming the cramped space into something bright and wonderful.

Maddy abandoned her suitcase and followed Mama out onto a huge balcony with a full set of grapevine furniture. An array of clay pots held the remnants of plants that hadn't survived the winter, but Maddy could easily picture this outdoor living room teeming with greenery and cheerful Sowers.

She moved to the short wall and gaped at the view, which was even more spectacular from this vantage. Then her gaze fell to the office, and her enthusiasm plunged. "Mama, why didn't you tell him I was coming?"

"Because he would have insisted I take back the job offer. Now you're here and it's too late."

"And you laid a great big guilt trip on him to make him let me stay."

"Yes, I thought that was nicely done." Her eyes twinkled.

Normally, Maddy would have shared Mama's humor. Now she could only sigh with regret. "Maybe it would be best if I did leave."

"Is that what you want to do? Leave without a fight?"

"To be honest, my mind is going in so many directions, I don't know what I want."

"Then I'd say you have some thinking to do. At least stick around until you know what you want."

Know what you want. The words from Jane's book echoed in Maddy's head, stirring all the old longings that had once been so much a part of her. Longings she'd lost along the way. To be an artist. Not just the competent one she was now, creating pleasant oil paintings, but to somehow find the key to unlock the potential she knew was inside her.

Facing the view, she yearned to unpack her paints and set up her easel right here, with a hundred images waiting to be captured in every direction.

"Well, I'll leave you to get settled," Mama said, moving back toward the sliding glass door. "You're free until the staff meeting."

"Staff meeting?" Maddy pulled herself out of her thoughts as she remembered what Joe had told the other coordinators. "Oh. Yes. Four o'clock." Biting her lip, she looked down at the office.

"Now don't look so worried. Joe has all afternoon to calm down and he's hardly going to make a scene in front of the girls."

"I wouldn't count on that," she called to Mama's retreating back. When the woman's laugh drifted back to her, she felt another old longing well inside-why couldn't she have a mother like Mama? Someone with grit?

When she was alone, she glanced at her watch. She had three hours until the meeting. Plenty of time to check in with Amy and Christine to let them know she'd arrived safely.

Back inside, she wrestled her suitcase onto the mattress, snarled at her copy of How to Have a Perfect Life, rummaged past several pairs of sandals, and dug out her sturdy little laptop. Seconds later, she was plugged into the phone jack next to the big ugly chair.

Opening her e-mail, she scanned new messages from her friends. Over the years they'd kept their e-mail conversations going until it was now as much a part of their daily lives as waking up in the morning. This time of day during the week, Amy would be sitting at her desk and generally responded within seconds. Christine wouldn't respond until she woke up to get ready for the graveyard shift at the ER.

When she finished reading, Maddy started a new thread.

Subject: Well, I made it.

Message: And can I just say, I want to shoot Jane Redding for writing that book? "Leave your past behind." What a crock!

Amy: Uh-oh. I take it your first meeting with Joe didn't go well.

Maddy: You might say that. Which proves Jane was wrong. The past never goes away. It's like the clothing mistakes in the back of your closet. You can forget about them for long stretches, but the minute you dig past your current clothes, there they are, right where you left them, some of them even uglier than you remembered. They haven't magically vanished, or gotten pretty while you weren't looking.

Amy: I don't think Jane meant we should or could forget it. I think she meant we have to accept it and move on, without letting where you've been control where you're going.

Maddy: Ugh! Christine, why aren't you online? I need a bitching buddy, not maturity. Although, Amy, you're right. I'm sure when I'm feeling calmer, I'll agree. Right now, though, I'd rather shoot Jane. Or Joe. Yeah, actually, I could really get into shooting Joe.