Beguiled Again: A Romantic Comedy Read Online Free

hit me, but I’m too stwong,” Anne-Elizabeth continued.
    “I did not!” Jeff said desperately, but the clamoring of the children as each babbled a different version of the fracas drowned out his voice. He closed his eyes in despair. Damn, nothing had changed. Chaos still surrounded Cecilia.
    His suit was rumpled and covered with dog hairs, and he’d already missed a meeting. Did he have time to go home and change before his next appointment? First he had to get out of this madhouse. Then maybe the world would shift back to normal.
    But when he glanced at Cecilia’s pale face surrounded by the anxious faces of her children, he felt a pang of… of what? What was it about her that grabbed hold of him, made him feel so protective? Those same waifish eyes, that same fiery mop of hair, that same full, pouting lower lip... No doubt about it, she’d turned out better than he had ever suspected a skinny fourteen-year-old possibly could. But what he was responding to was something else.
    He couldn’t explain the smile tugging at his lips, the amusement suddenly bubbling up inside him at the sight of her, the thought of her, the reality of Cecilia Greene crashing back into his life again, after all these years. He should be gnashing his teeth with frustration. Instead he was grinning like an idiot.
    What the heck had come over him? Whatever it was, he’d better get control of it fast. Without a word, he slipped out of the room.
    Ten minutes in this household was enough to convince him he didn’t have the time, energy or fortitude for any further dealings with Cecilia Greene.

CHAPTER TWO

    DISJOINTED THOUGHTS RATTLED in Cecilia’s head. Jeff had hit Anne-Elizabeth? Maybe Anne-Elizabeth had hit Jeff. Now that made sense.
    Unless he had been a dream... but no. If there was one thing she was sure of, Jeff Smith was real. Even now she could close her eyes and see that oh-so-familiar, yet totally alien face staring at her, sable brows arching wryly as he shook his head.
    Swept away in the undertow of fever and humiliation, she’d been too ill to care when he left. She levered herself up on one elbow and tried to read the wall clock in the kitchen. Peter came through the room with his toothbrush and pillow under his arm.
    “I’m sorry I was such a pest, Mom.” He ducked his blond head and dug the toe of his Converse high-tops into the carpet. “I balanced the checkbook for you. We’re staying at Carol’s tonight.” He stooped awkwardly and pecked her on the cheek.
    “Peter,” she croaked, fighting to keep her eyes open. “What happened to Jeff?”
    His thin shoulders stiffened and his chin thrust forward. “Don’t worry about him, Mom. He’s a jerk.”
    “I know,” she muttered hoarsely, sinking back into the cushions. “How well I remember.”
    An hour later, Cecilia struggled out of a restless sleep and walked on shaky legs down the hall to the bathroom. She squinted at her watch; it was seven-thirty.
    She washed her face. The aspirin must have done some good; the cold chills were gone and other than feeling a little woozy, she felt almost normal. She ought to call the kids back home, she thought guiltily.
    Suddenly the front door squeaked long and low, opening with more stealth than her children ever exhibited.
    She held her breath.
    She scanned the cluttered bathroom for a weapon, but found only dirty clothes and towels, nothing that would serve in her defense. She lifted a dirty sock. If she could get it close enough to the prowler’s nose...
    “Cecil?” Jeff’s voice floated down the hall.
    She dropped the sock as if stung. What in blazes was he doing here? She swung open the bathroom door and saw his dark silhouette in the shadow of the foyer stairs.
    “What do you think you’re doing?” she spit out.
    Jeff flipped on the light switch, and the yellow glare revealed his quizzical and bemused expression. A brown bag dangled from one hand; a soccer ball was tucked under his arm. His pearl gray