by Donna Fasano
The child tried to enjoy himself, that was evident in the smile that pressed his lips back forcefully. But his shoulders were tense, and he never relinquished his tight hold on the bench seat.
Couldn't Derrick see that Timmy was miserable?
She reached over and covered the boy's hand with hers in what she hoped would be a comforting gesture, but he slid over a scant inch and pulled himself free of her touch. Anna realized it was a clear sign that he didn't want her or his godfather to notice his distress.
"Okay," Derrick said suddenly. "Let's push her till her ribs spread."
He came about and let the wind catch the sails. Anna looked anxiously at Timmy and saw that his grip on the bench was even tighter than before. Her chest filled with compassion and she wanted badly to tell Derrick to take them ashore. But she didn't want to embarrass Timmy in front of his godfather, and she surely didn't want him to become angry at what he might see as her interference. So she didn't say anything. She simply sat there feeling wretched for him.
Finally it was obvious that Timmy could take it no more, for he said, "Excuse me, sir. May I go below?"
Derrick's smile never faded. "Sure, Timmy. Go ahead."
The man must be blind as a bat, Anna thought. How could he not see Timmy's anguish? How could he not notice the child's fear?
She watched Derrick watch Timmy disappear into the cabin and she continued to marvel at his stupidity where children were concerned.
He raised his gaze to hers. "Things are going great today, huh?"
Her eyes narrowed to a glare. "You really think so?"
Chapter 3
Derrick's expression melted into a mask of total bewilderment. "What?" he asked. "What are you saying?"
Her glare narrowed even further. "I refuse to discuss it when there's a chance Timmy will hear," she whispered, darting a quick glance toward the small doorway that led to the cabin and then looking back at Derrick.
A deep crease wrinkled Derrick's forehead, and his brown eyes held a multitude of questions, but he remained silent for the longest time. Finally he said, "We can talk soon. Timmy goes below and falls asleep every time we come out on the bay." The barest hint of a smile played across his mouth. "The sea air does that to him."
Evidently he'd expected his words to reassure her, but what he said only served to stir her anger further. He looked taken aback when her lips thinned with the fury she felt. She watched his jaw muscle tense and relax, tense and relax, in obvious frustration.
Well, he'd simply have to feel frustrated, she decided fiercely. How any man could have all the answers staring him right in the face and fail to recognize them was beyond her.
"'The sea air does that to him.'" Her disgruntled mutter became lost on the bay breeze. Did Derrick really believe that? The reason Timmy retreated below deck was so plainly obvious to her, she had to wonder why Derrick didn't see it for himself.
Was the man that much of an imbecile where children were concerned?
And to think that, whatever fear Timmy was experiencing, he'd experienced it before; he'd felt the need to escape to the cabin, escape to the safe haven of sleep every time he went out sailing.
Minutes passed. The beauty of this gorgeous day was marred by her deep concern for Timmy. She was aware of the salt-tinged wind blowing, the sun shining, the water slapping against the hull of the boat, but she simply wasn't able to enjoy any of those things. Not after what she'd learned about Timmy.
That poor child.
She ran agitated fingers through her long hair and sighed. If she was going to talk to Derrick, she needed to get her emotions under control. If she didn't, she just might lose her temper and end up shouting at the man. He obviously didn't know what was happening with Timmy—even if it was happening right under his nose.
Closing her eyes and lifting her face to the sunshine, Anna tried to think peaceful thoughts. She was certain that Derrick was oblivious to what Timmy was going through: the boy's frustration at wanting to help and not being allowed to; his fear, of what she was still uncertain, but she suspected it was either the boat or the water; his need to deny that fear; his self-isolation. Yes, Derrick was unaware of these things.
He had gone through so much—literally changed his life for the child. If he'd had any inkling of what Timmy felt he'd surely have...
Movement at the stern of the boat drew her attention. She turned her head and silently watched as Derrick tied off the tiller and disappeared below deck. When he came back up, he closed the hatch behind him and his curt nod told her that Timmy was asleep.
Derrick handed her a bottle of chilled fruit juice. "I want to talk," he told her. "Just give me a minute to get things under control."
He went forward and released the line that held the mainsail taut. Quickly and efficiently, he lowered the sail and folded the heavy material accordion fashion over the boom. Anna saw how tense and serious his handsome face had become. Her anger was gone now, it had dissipated in the wake of the realization that Derrick honestly didn't understand what Timmy was experiencing. She inhaled deeply, wrestling with a sudden indecision over exactly how she should go about telling him all the things she'd discerned during the past couple of hours.
All she knew was that she had to tell him. She had to be up front and honest with the man. It's what he'd asked her to do, wasn't it?
But after years of working with the parents of her students, she'd learned that adults rarely wanted exactly what they asked for. Time and again mothers and fathers had come to her for honest opinions concerning their children. And Anna had found it prudent to temper the truth with a little compassion.
It wasn't her intent to hurt Derrick's feelings or make him feel at fault. However, it was imperative that he change his "parental tactics" where his godson was concerned.
But how do you tell someone that he's going about raising a child all wrong? How do you tell him that his idea of a father's role is slightly off kilter?
One word whispered softly through her mind... gently.
Derrick dropped anchor and the sailboat swayed in the slow current of the bay. Then he came close to her, easing himself down onto the bench seat beside her.
"Okay—"
He spoke the single word and then she watched his throat muscles convulse in a tight swallow—an action that caused her insides to curl with some unexpected, unnameable heat.
"—tell me."
When she didn't speak right away, he reached out, pulled the bottle of juice from her hand and twisted off its lid. He handed the bottle back to her.
She grasped the juice, the cool condensation on the smooth exterior of the glass moistening her fingertips. Anna fought the urge to press the chilled bottle to her suddenly warm cheek.
Why should she feel this hesitation? she wondered. He wanted her opinion—he'd asked for it.
Anna looked at the tight lines of strain around his eyes, tension she wanted desperately to ease by making him smile. This is silly, she thought. These unwitting emotions she was feeling—the indefinable warmth in her gut, the desire to ease his stress—might lead someone who didn't know the situation between herself and Derrick to think that the man meant more to her than he should.
This is silly, she repeated silently to herself and shoved the idea aside. But the thought of relieving his stress remained in her mind just long enough for her to decide it would be best to ease into delivering her bad news.
"I have seen some things between you and Timmy that I think we should discuss," she told him softly. "But first I want to ask you a question."
"Okay." His brow knitted together even as he nodded. "Go ahead."
She focused every ounce of her attention on Derrick and inhaled deeply, only vaguely aware now of the fresh sea air around her.
Cocking her head a fraction, she said, "When you went below just now, you tied off the tiller. Why didn't you ask me to take over for you for the few seconds that you were gone?"
The breeze blew a strand of her hair across he
r face, and she reached up instinctively to smooth it back.
"And when you lowered the sail just now," she said, before he could respond, "I could tell it wasn't an easy job for one person. Why didn't you ask for my help? I'm sitting right here. Doing nothing." The air felt suddenly heavy and she chuckled lightly in an effort to alleviate the tension that was gathering around them like thick clouds. "I mean, I know I'm not as experienced as you are on the water, but I certainly could have lent you a hand—"
She stopped abruptly when she saw the apologetic expression on his face.
"Oh, Derrick." Anna reached out and placed a reassuring hand on his sun-warmed thigh. "Please don't get the wrong idea. I'm not insulted."
Anna would have believed it impossible for his frown to deepen. She was wrong.
"I don't understand," he said, his tone grating with the confusion he was obviously feeling.
She licked her lips and slid a little straighter on the seat. "I'm just trying to prove a point. And I'm trying to prove it without attacking your relationship with Timmy."
Derrick shook his head. "Now I'm really at a loss," he told her. "I didn't ask for your help lowering the mainsail, but what does that have to do with my relationship with Timmy?"
"Just bear with me for a moment." As she made her plea, she lightly pressed her fingertips into the rock-hard muscle just above his knee.
The feel of his firm leg beneath her touch made her eyes dart to her hand. She hadn't realized she'd continued to touch him. That spiraling heat returned with a vengeance deep in her belly, and she became startlingly aware of how the soft, springy hair on his leg tickled her palm, how solid his thigh felt beneath her fingers, how hot his skin—
She pulled her hand back, curled her fingers into her palm, and rested her fist on her lap, hoping she didn't look as self-conscious as she felt. Her cheeks flushed hot, and she glanced out at the thin strip of land across the bay.
The sound of her heart pounded in her ears, and she made a frantic scramble to get hold of herself. She cleared her throat and directed her gaze at Derrick.
"You've spent a lot of years alone," she began, relieved that her voice sounded quite normal. "You're a strong man. You've become self-sufficient. Dependent on no one but yourself."
"I'd agree with that."
Anna could tell by his tone that he had no idea where the conversation was going. But despite his uncertainty, he was showing a huge amount of patience, and that helped her to relax.
"That's not a bad thing, in and of itself," she said. "But it could cause... problems. It could..." She let the sentence trail and felt the hefty weight of frustration press on her as she searched for words that would explain her thoughts yet at the same time wouldn't offend his masculinity.
Derrick leaned over and took her hand. "Look, Anna," he said. "I have no idea what you're getting at. I'm sorry I didn't ask for your help with the boat. Yes, I've spent most of my life on my own. Yes, I stand on my own two feet. I'm sure in my ability to take care of myself." He shook his head the tiniest bit. "But for the life of me, I can't figure out how all this fits in with Timmy." He grinned at her. "I would think you, and anyone else for that matter, would want Timmy to have a guardian who was strong-minded and capable and able to do the job. So the point you're trying to make seems pretty disjointed to me."
Before she was able to take offense, he slid his other hand over top of hers. His skin was warm and smooth.
"Now, I know I've made some kind of huge blunder where Tim is concerned," he went on. "And whatever I did, it caused you to look at me a few minutes ago as though I were some kind of monster. So I want you to stop beating around the bush and spit it out. I can take it." The smile he gave her was boyishly charming. "I mean, you've already told me I've got a strong character, right?"
Anna couldn't help but return his smile. "So I did," she said.
Then Derrick shrugged. "I got the impression, though, that that's somehow part of the problem."
His golden brown eyes glinted with sunlight.
"You're going to have to help me understand that," he said. "I always thought that having a strong character was a good trait. I thought that being independent and self-reliant were good things."
Very good things, Anna said silently.
Finally she found her voice. "But the situation is a little different when it comes to family." She stared up at him, hoping she'd get the words right. "That's what you and Timmy have become, you know."
"But I should no longer be strong and independent?"
"I'm suggesting," she began slowly, "that you try being less strong, less independent. You need to be strong enough that Timmy knows he can depend on you." Here she faltered slightly, but forced herself to go on. "But you need to depend on Timmy too."
Derrick was frowning again. "But he's a five year old child."
"That doesn't matter." Anna set down the bottle of juice and brushed her fingers through her hair. "Timmy needs to feel needed. Otherwise he won't feel part of the family unit."
Anna tried hard to ignore the humming that radiated along her skin. The electric vibrations began when Derrick had sandwiched her hand between his. The urge to protect herself, to withdraw from him was great, but she fought it for the simple reason that her intuition told her he needed emotional support, and he was getting that support from touching her. Whether his need came from a conscious or subconscious level, she couldn't tell.
"Let me get this straight," Derrick said. "I need to need Tim. But how—"
"Not necessarily," she interrupted. "We both know that you can survive without your godson. We both know that the need is pretty one-sided here. Timmy needs you to provide for him—a place to live, food to eat, clothes to wear. He needs you for basically everything. He needs you to love him." She looked into his face. "But it's going to be imperative that you allow him to feel needed, too."
There it was, that frown again. Anna barely squelched the urge to reach up and smooth the pad of her thumb across his forehead. He was being more open-minded, more tolerant of her opinion than she ever thought this headstrong man would be.
"I think I may be getting it," he said at last. "I have to make Tim believe that I need him."
Her heart swelled with warmth and it showed in her wide smile. "That's exactly right," she said. "And the great thing about it is that it should be pretty easy to do."
The chuckle that escaped from his throat was full of relief. "So, you are going to give me some suggestions. You don't know how glad I am of that."
His laugh was a rich, pleasing sound that started her heart pattering in her chest. He was so very handsome, especially when his features were softened with that sexy smile. Anna found her mind drifting—something that wasn't a rare occurrence for her.
"Suggestions," she reminded herself aloud. "Yes, well... what you need to do is give Timmy some responsibilities. Does he have chores to do around the house? Your home is his home now, and he should be responsible for its upkeep."
"But, Anna," he lightly scoffed, "the child's only five."
"Don't let that get in the way," she said. "Make him keep his room clean. Take out the garbage. Dry the dishes. Anything. He may not do the jobs as well as you could do them, but believe me, making him responsible for some small chores will be the easiest way for you to make him feel like you need him."
"What makes you think he'll want to help out around the house?" he asked.
Remembering the indecision on Timmy's face and his suppressed urge to help gather the supplies for this sailing trip, Anna said, "Oh, I think he'll be eager to lend a hand."
"You really think so?"
Anna grinned. "Very eager."
"Okay," he said, shrugging one shoulder a fraction. "I'll give it a try. It does make sense. In the Navy each member of the crew had a job to do." He gazed out at the water, his tone lowering as though he was talking to himself. "A job that made him a responsible member of his division."
"Well, now," Anna commented, "I don't know
that you'll be able to run your home like the Navy runs a ship. Kids are too unpredictable for that."
His dark eyes were once more on her.
Even though they were out on the wide expanse of the bay, a light breeze blowing about them, the serious expression that sobered his handsome face seemed to take every molecule of oxygen out of the air. Anna felt herself freeze, as though she was waiting for something dramatic to happen.
Time seemed to slow, and she felt mesmerized by the mysterious aura that suddenly seemed to enfold them.
Although she hadn't actually seen Derrick move, she was aware that he'd slid closer to her. One of his arms rested along the side of the boat behind her back, the other still grasped her hand. They were pressed together side by side, thigh to thigh, hip to hip.
"You're one intelligent lady, Anna Maxwell," he said, his voice caressing her like some richly scented fragrance.
Her first instinct was to negate his compliment, but his tone was thick with sensuality—sensuality that overwhelmed her to the point that she wasn't able to put two coherent words together in her head, let alone make them come out of her mouth.
A tiny voice in the back of her mind told her that this wasn't right, that there was a reason she shouldn't allow herself to be swept away by this gorgeous man. The same tiny voice reminded her that there was something else she'd intended on telling Derrick. Something important. Something that had to do with Timmy. But for the life of her, she couldn't bring the information to the forefront of her brain. Not when such utter confusion was reigning there at the moment.
"I'm so glad you agreed to help me with Timmy."
His words were heady. And the sound of his sincere gratitude only acted to further intoxicate her already stuporous thoughts. The tiny voice of warning and reason was completely obliterated as something new and exciting overtook her mind.
Desire.
She wanted to be near this man. Closer than she was now. She wanted to tug off his shirt and flatten her palms against his broad chest. Wanted to feel his arms tighten around her. Wanted to press her nose to the curve of his neck and smell the heated scent of his sun-warmed skin. Wanted to taste the salt from the air that surely clung to his lips.
