Best Kept Secrets(59)

masculine. She remembered looking at the newspaper

picture of him kissing Celina when he crowned her homecoming

queen. As before, Alex's stomach swelled and receded

like a wave far out in the gulf.

"You kissed her, didn't you?"

He made an uneasy movement with his shoulder. "I'd

kissed her before."

"But that was the first real kiss, wasn't it?"

He released her and, crossing the shallow front porch,

thrust open the door. "You can come in or not," he said

over his shoulder, "it's up to you."

He disappeared through the door, leaving it open. Despondent

but curious, Alex followed. The front door opened

directly into the living room. Through an arched opening on

her left, she could see a dining area and kitchen. A hallway

on the opposite side presumably led into a bedroom, where

she could hear him rummaging about. Absently, she closed

the front door, removed her glasses and gloves, and looked

around.

The house had the stamp of a bachelor. Furniture had been

arranged for comfort and convenience, not with any decorative

flair. He'd set his hat on a table and tossed his coat



and gloves onto a chair. Other surfaces were clear, but the

bookshelves were cluttered, as though straightening up

amounted to cramming anything lying around onto a shelf.

There were cobwebs in the corners of the ceiling that caught

the sunlight as it poured in through the dusty Venetian blinds.

He caught her looking up at one of the cobwebs as he

reappeared, carrying a pair of aviator sunglasses. "Lupe

sends one of her nieces out here every few weeks. It's about

that time." It was an explanation, but hardly an excuse or

apology. "Want some coffee?"

"Please."

He went into the kitchen. Alex continued to walk around

the room as she stamped circulation back into her frozen feet.

Her attention was drawn to a tall trophy in one of the built-in

bookshelves. "Most Valuable Player" was engraved on it

in block letters, along with Reede's name and the date.

"Is this the right color?" He had moved up behind her.

When she turned he was holding a mug of coffee out to her.

He had remembered to add milk.

"Fine, thanks." Inclining her head toward the trophy, she

asked, "Your senior year, right?"

"Hmm."

"That's quite an honor."

"I guess so."

Alex noticed that he resorted to that catchall phrase when

he wanted the conversation to end. He remained an enigma

in all other respects. "You're not sure it was an honor?"

He dropped into an easy chair and thrust his feet out in

front of him. "I felt then, and still feel, that I had a good

team backing me up. The other nominated players were just

as valuable as me."

"Junior?"

"He was one of them, yeah," he replied, instantly defensive.

"But you won the award and Junior didn't."

His eyes glared at hers. "Is that supposed to be significant?"

"I don't know. Is it?"



He gave a scoffing laugh. "Stop playing lawyer games

with me and say what's on your mind."

"Okay." She leaned against the padded arm of the sofa

and considered him carefully as she asked,' 'Did Junior resent

your getting named most valuable player?"

"Ask him."

"Maybe I will. I'll also ask Angus if he minded."

"Angus couldn't have been prouder the night of the awards

banquet."

"Except if his son had been named most valuable player

instead of you."

Reede's expression turned stony. "You're full of shit, you

know that?"

"I'm sure Angus was proud of you, glad for you, but you

can't expect me to believe that he wouldn't have rather seen

Junior get the trophy."

"Believe whatever you goddamn want to. It makes no

difference to me." He emptied his coffee mug in three swallows,

set it on the low coffee table in front of him, then stood

up. "Ready?"

She set her coffee down, too, but she made no move to

leave. "Why are you so touchy about this?"

' 'Not touchy, bored.'' He leaned down to put his face close

to hers. "That trophy is a twenty-five-year-old, tarnished

piece of junk that's good for nothing except to collect dust."

"Then, why have you kept it all these years?"

He plowed his fingers through his hair. "Look, it doesn't

mean anything now."

"But it did then."

"Precious little. Not enough to get me an athletic scholarship,

which I was counting on to go to college."

"What did you do?"

"I went anyway."

"How?"