Mad About You

a loop, Ginny. I'm sorry if I'm not saying all the things you want me to."
    She pursed her lips. "I'm familiar with your coping strategies, Bailey."
    Her remark pierced his chest like a sleek blade.
    "What can I get you folks?" a bespectacled young man asked.
    "Two black coffees," Bailey said, his tone more abrupt than he'd intended.
    "Excuse me," Ginny said as the man turned to leave. "Make mine decaf with cream." The waiter nodded, then disappeared. She turned to Bailey and lifted her chin slightly. "Things change, Bailey."
    He passed a hand through his hair and sighed, his shoulders sagging. "Another good point. I suppose we need to get caught up on each other's lives before we can decide how we're going to handle this, uh"—he floundered for a few seconds—"parenting arrangement." A thought struck him and his pulse jumped as his gaze flew to her left hand. "Are you married?"
    "No. Are you?"
    He told himself the news cheered him because it meant fewer complications. "No." Indicating her attire with a sweep of his hand, he said, "You appear to be doing well for yourself."
    "I'm a systems analyst for a brokerage firm."
    "What exactly is a systems analyst?"
    "I design computer systems—my specialty is stock analysis."
    She'd always been smart and creative, but he was a little surprised. He angled his head toward her. "You? Computers?"
    She bristled. "I went back to college and earned a degree in computer science."
    Years earlier he'd resented the untimely interruption of their impromptu marriage—he hadn't considered at the time that Virginia also sacrificed dreams. "It's great that you finished your degree. I just figured you'd still be sculpting."
    She smoothed a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "I wanted to be self-reliant, so I chose something with more stability."
    Ginny looked a picture of independence, he had to admit. He could see her at work, all prim and aloof, with none of her coworkers suspecting that beneath the stuffy business suit lay a warm, sumptuous body—
    "Here you go," the waiter said, setting down two steaming mugs. "Can I get you folks something to eat?"
    Bailey looked at Ginny. "Did you have dinner?"
    "There wasn't time."
    "Me either. How about some soup?"
    She shook her head, a movement that highlighted her sharp collarbones. He felt a twinge of concern. "Ginny, you look exhausted. Eat."
    Her shoulders rounded slightly, and she nodded. "Okay." The young man bustled off to get them the house special. She swung her long legs around to slide from the booth seat. "I'm going to find the ladies' room."
    Bailey tried to not watch the way her body moved as she walked away from him, but he couldn't help it. He wouldn't have believed it possible to still miss her so much after so many years.

    * * *

    Virginia shut the ladies' room door behind her and exhaled all of the air out of her lungs. After a few shaky steps toward the tiny vanity, she gratefully sank into a lone chair, then leaned forward to bury her head in her arms.
    This morning she would have sworn she could handle anything life handed her, but she had been completely unprepared for the day's news. At thirty, she was about to become an instant mother to an eight-year-old she didn't even know. Topped with the knowledge she would have to forge a new relationship with Bailey Kallihan, she felt as if she had been plunged into a dark lake and left flailing for the surface.
    Virginia raised her head and peered at herself in the mirror. In the wee hours of sleepless nights, she'd harbored fantasies of being in a stunning gown and on the arm of a gorgeous man when and if she ever laid eyes on Bailey again—not looking like a resurrected corpse in a business suit. With shaking hands she withdrew a silver lipstick case and determinedly drew color back onto her mouth.
    It had taken her years to get over him. And when his rambling letter of apology had arrived at her parents' house two years before, old wounds had ruptured. Obviously written during a roaring drunk, he'd expressed regret over blaming her for their son's disappearance, and for calling her a careless mother. But instead of feeling absolved, Virginia had been overwhelmed with sadness that they were both still wrestling with lingering guilt and anger from their son's abduction and their aborted marriage.
    He hadn't changed a bit. Still shaggy-haired and outlandishly handsome, still hanging out in the same bars, still driving the same old hot rod. She'd seen his black Camaro in the