Page 44 of Confessions

“Promise me you won’t call.”

“Tonight,” she replied, as the boys clambered down from the table and hurried out the back do

or. Despite the first drops of rain falling from the sky, they climbed on their bikes and headed toward the sitter’s home to wait for the bus.

Nadine cleared the dishes and stacked them in the sink. John was becoming more and more defiant. Until this point, she’d been lenient with him, convinced that she couldn’t come down on him too hard or he’d want to live with Sam. He couldn’t, of course—she had custody. But Sam had been making noise about wanting more time with the boys and if he went to court again and John pleaded to live with his father... “What a mess!”

She’d have it out with John tonight and lay down the law. If he brought up living with his father again, then she’d deal with it. Hopefully it wouldn’t come to that.

She placed a call to the school asking for a conference with John’s teacher, then started collecting her cleaning supplies. Before she could concentrate on her son, she had to spend the day dealing with Hayden.

She passed by the small room that had been the pantry and she frowned. Inside, the shelves were filled with scraps of leather, buttons, paint and beads. In her spare time she created earrings and pins, hair clips, studded jackets and even tie-dyed shirts, whimsical designs of her own making; she’d begun to sell some of her work and had orders stacking up for more of her “wearable art.” But lately it seemed that she didn’t have an extra five minutes in each day, and she needed to devote hours to her craft if she ever wanted to make enough money from it to support herself and the boys.

“Someday,” she told herself as she shut the pantry door and picked up her bucket of soaps and waxes.

She climbed into her old Nova, sent up a prayer that it wouldn’t die and smiled wretchedly as the engine turned over on the first try. Wheeling out of the drive, she turned toward the north shore of the lake.

And Hayden.

Chapter Seven

HAYDEN’S JEEP, THE one Nadine had seen when she’d left yesterday, wasn’t parked in the drive. Though the electronic gates were open, there was neither hide nor hair of him on the grounds. She knocked on the door, and when she didn’t get a response, let herself in with the key she’d received from Bradworth.

“Hayden?” she called, and his name echoed back to her through the empty rooms. Strangely, she felt more alone in the house today than she had yesterday. She observed evidence that he’d been in the house. Drink glasses had been left in the den beside an opened bottle of Irish whiskey, a sleeping bag had been tossed across the top of the huge bed in the master suite and the shower stall was still wet with drips of water. She swiped at the shower sides with a towel and wondered how long he planned to camp out here. A couple of days? A week? A month? As long as it took to sell the place? Not that it mattered, she reminded herself.

Chasing wayward thoughts of Hayden from her mind, she spent three hours on the second floor, sweeping away cobwebs, cleaning two fireplaces and polishing the floors while she washed all the bedding she’d found in the closets. She plumped and aired out pillows and kept notes of repairs that were needed, from the leaky faucet in one of the bathrooms to the gutters that were overflowing with pine needles and downspouts that were clogged and rusted.

She also created a list of supplies and was oiling the banister leading to the first floor when the front door opened and a rush of winter-cold air swept up the stairs. Startled, Nadine nearly jumped out of her skin.

Hayden, carrying two sacks of groceries, strode into the foyer and stared up to the landing where she was working. His gaze was cold as a glacier in January. “You lied,” he said, his lips white with rage.

“I...what?”

“You lied to me!”

“I didn’t—”

He dropped the bags and took the stairs two at a time to loom over her. She felt as if she were stripped bare. “I don’t know what you’re raving about, but you scared the devil out of me just now,” she said, feeling color stain her cheeks. “I didn’t hear your car—”

Grabbing her wrist, he said, “I think the devil’s still in you, woman.”

“You’re talking in circles.”

“You’re not married,” he said flatly, and she stiffened. His gaze raked down her body to glance at her left hand, which was covered with a latex glove.

So that was it. She braced herself. “Not anymore. But I never said I was married,” she replied hotly. “You jumped to conclusions.”

“Then what was all that talk about your husband not minding if I stayed for dinner?” His nostrils flared in suppressed rage and his lips tightened in silent fury.

“He wouldn’t.”

“Of course he wouldn’t!” Hayden whispered hoarsely, his face pushed so close to hers that she could see the movement of his nostrils as he breathed. “He walked out on you two years ago.”

“I don’t see that it’s any business of yours—oh!” He jerked her roughly to him. He was so close that a wave of his breath, hot and angry, fanned against her skin.

“I don’t give a good goddamn whether you’re single, married or a bigamist,” he snarled, his nose nearly touching hers. “But, as long as you’re working for me, I expect you to be honest.”

Her temper grew hot. “You’re a fine one to talk of honesty, Hayden!”