"I can do that." She scribbled another note. With Austin's generous help, it was all coming together. "So between the— Why are you staring at me like that?"
He didn't answer. His gray eyes bore into hers. She'd seen him angry before, laughing, sarcastic and distant, but none of those emotions had prepared her for the darkness she saw flooding his irises. "Austin?"
He blinked as if coming out of a trance. "Did you plan last night?" he asked abruptly.
"Plan it? I don't understand."
"Figures. When I asked you if it was safe for us to make love, what was I talking about?"
She gripped her pen tightly in her hands. This was so embarrassing. "About you know, sexually transmitted diseases. I've never been tested or anything, but you don't have to worry. There can't be a problem. I've never been with anyone else. "
He flinched as if she'd slapped him. "That's not what I meant. When I asked if you were safe I was talking about birth control. "
She felt her mouth open, but she couldn't speak. Birth control? Oh, no. She stared at him, at those fathomless gray eyes, at his unreadable expression, and thanked the Lord she didn't have a clue as to what he was thinking. She didn't want to know. Birth control. It had never crossed her mind.
Without thinking, she touched her stomach through the robe. It felt exactly the same. Panic flared, but she fought it down. She closed her mouth. "There's no need to worry," she said. "It was just one time. There's no possible way I could get pregnant."
* * *
Chapter 5
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Austin bent over the engine of his Mercedes, but he couldn't block out the sounds behind him. Straightening slowly, he reached for a rag and cleaned his hands. After tossing it down, he looked toward the slight valley through the grove of trees.
A large, empty house stood alone in a patch of sunshine. Grass stretched out fifty feet in each direction before blending into cultivated forest. Normally the house stood silently, a solid reminder of his achievements. He'd told the Realtor that he was buying the property because the barn and loft were perfect for his needs. What he'd never mentioned to anyone, what he'd barely admitted to himself, was that he'd bought it because of the house. The three-story building could easily hold all the kids from the children's home. It was a big old Victorian mansion, with more rooms than he'd bothered to count, two staircases and a master suite that could house a family of four.
He'd never spent a single night there. It was enough that he owned it. When he doubted himself, when he believed the lies his mother had told him as a child, when the foretelling of his future came back to haunt him, he walked to the top of the grassy knoll in front of the garage and stared at the empty, silent house. The big structure was his medal of honor, his proof that they'd all been wrong. He hadn't ended up a criminal in prison. He'd made it out. He might still be a bastard, but he was also his own man. He'd made his way.
Today, however, when he walked to the top of the knoll and looked down, the house was alive with activity. Volunteers had parked their cars near the front lawn. Children played in a side yard. He could hear their laughter and shrieks. Bits of conversations drifted to him. He caught a word, part of a sentence. It looked like half the town had turned out to help Rebecca get his house ready for the children.
Just two days ago she'd been naked in his bed, stirring softly in the bright morning light. Then she'd driven out of his life and he hadn't seen her since. He'd been half expecting her to show up and ask him to help. It was his house after all. But she hadn't.
He watched as a little girl in bright pink pants and white T-shirt toddled toward the trees. Before he could start walking toward her, an older child, a boy of seven or eight, saw what she was doing and ran to grab her hand. He pulled her away from the trees and back into the center of the game they d been playing.
Something tender and wistful caused Austin's throat to tighten. As soon as he recognized it, he banished the feeling He was getting old and stupid, he told himself. Who was he trying to kid? He had no room in his life for children, or a woman, for that matter. He wanted his relationships on his terms. Casual sex, minimal conversation.
Nothing long-term. Nothing else was safe. Rebecca was smart enough to know that about him. That's why she'd left without looking back. As she'd so bluntly put it, he'd done her a favor. They were both realistic enough to look at that night for what it was. No ties, no questions about feelings or love.
Love. He shook his head. Love was an illusion. Something men said to get women into bed and something women used to trap men, then steal their money. He didn't want any of that in his life. He didn't even want a relationship. God help him, that was all he needed. Some clingy female cluttering up his space.
He was about to head back to his garage when a shiny new minivan pulled up in front of the Victorian house. Travis Haynes, the local sheriff, stepped out, then hurried around to assist his very beautiful, very pregnant wife down.
Austin told himself it was rude to stare, but he couldn't look away. He'd known Travis since they'd been eighth graders in junior high. Elizabeth was the first woman his friend had ever found happiness with. They practically glowed when they were together. Travis had taken a lot of teasing from his brothers and from Austin when he'd fallen for Elizabeth. Austin wondered how much of their good-natured ribbing had been generated by envy.
As Austin watched, Travis hurried off, then returned quickly with a chair. He placed it in the shade and made sure Elizabeth was settled before going off to help the others. Another car pulled up behind the van. Kyle, Travis's youngest brother, got out and went to greet his sister-in-law. They talked briefly, then laughed. The sound of their amusement floated to him, taunting the silence around him and making him want to walk over and join them. He knew Kyle and Elizabeth would welcome him. There was certainly enough work for an extra volunteer.
He took a single step toward the house, then stopped and turned back to the garage. With a shake of his head, he banished all thoughts of the people working close by. He didn't need them. He didn't need anyone. He'd always been solitary. It was safer that way – easier to hide the truth from everyone. It wasn't as if he was lonely.
He made a few adjustments on the car engine. The Mercedes required a lot of work, but it was worth it. Like the house, he'd bought it because of what it represented. He didn't care what other people thought of his wealth – he flaunted his possessions for his ghosts. When the mocking voices from the past rose up to smother him, he silenced them with a list of accomplishments.
Sometimes he stared at his investment statements, unable to believe the balances in his accounts. He knew he'd been lucky. His ability to predict trends, to visualize a substance and then chemically engineer it, had earned him independence and a fortune. For whatever reason, God had reached down and touched his brain, allowing him to work his magic in his lab. Several large aerospace firms and the military had tried to buy out his patents, but he would only lease them, holding on to them for the future. He wasn't sure why. Certainly not for his children. He didn't have any.
Unless Rebecca was pregnant.
Austin straightened slowly. He'd done his best not to think about her. Hell, he'd even considered finding someone else to be his regular bed partner, but he couldn't seem to stir up any interest. For a brief moment he allowed himself to fantasize about the possibilities if Rebecca had been different. If she'd been experienced and willing to get involved with something unemotional and temporary.
"Yeah, right," he muttered, leaning against the side of his car. He had a bad feeling that if she was that type of woman, he wouldn't have wanted her in the first place.
He swore. He'd just admitted he wanted her at all. What was wrong with him? He couldn't be interested in a woman like her. She was the marrying kind. She'd been a virgin at twenty-nine. He wasn't sure he'd ever met a virgin over the age of eighteen before. Most of them were smart enough to stay clear of him. But not Rebecca. No, she'd come calling, practically throwing her
self at him. Thinking her sexy thoughts and then staring at him with those big brown eyes. How was he supposed to resist that? It wasn't his fault.
He drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. He was going to have to talk to her eventually. Find out if she was pregnant.
Pregnant. The thought made his blood run cold. Please, God, anything but that. He couldn't bring a child, his child, into the world. He knew what would happen – the same thing that had happened to him. No one deserved that kind of life.
When the horrors from his past threatened, he ignored them. In a few days he would go to the house and they would have a rational conversation. Like two adults. He was probably worrying about nothing. After all, they'd only done it once. What were the odds of her getting pregnant?
Before he could figure them out, a small sound distracted him. He turned toward the noise and saw a young boy standing on the driveway in front of the garage. He wore clean jeans with a blue T-shirt and scuffed athletic shoes. White-blond hair hung down to his eyes. The boy didn't say anything, just stood slightly outside the garage, looking in.
"Hi," Austin said.
The boy looked up. The tilt of his head caused his bangs to fall to the side, exposing big blue eyes. All morning Austin had heard the laughter and excited screams of the children as they played. The not unpleasant sounds had reminded him of his time in the Glenwood children's home.
However, the child in front of him didn't look as if he'd participated in any of the games. His expression was wary, and sad, far too old for a seven- or eight-year-old boy.
When the child didn't return his greeting, Austin tried again. "What's your name?"
"David."
"I'm Austin." He held out his hand. The boy stared at him, then slowly moved into the garage. They shook solemnly Austin gave him a quick smile, but the child didn't respond. His face was pale, as if he hadn't spent any time in the sun with the other children.
Something tugged at Austin's memory. David. Had Rebecca mentioned the boy when she'd explained why she needed the house? Was he the one who'd lost his parents and sister?
"Am I in trouble?" the boy asked quietly.
"For what?"
"Rebecca said we weren't suppose to come up here and bother you. I was just lookin'. I'll go back now."
Austin recalled the rest of the boy's story. He had relatives fighting over his parents' estate, but no one wanted him. Austin knew what it was like to be cast aside. As long as he lived he would never forget his own mother's angry words as she'd dumped him on another relative or friend.
Without trying, he remembered being in her old Mustang. She always made him ride in the back seat, as far away from her as possible. They'd pulled up in front of the house of one of his uncles. He'd tried to fade back into the dark upholstery so she would forget he was there with her but it hadn't been enough. He could still hear the silence after she'd turned off the car's engine, then the strike of the match as she'd drawn it across the matchbook. He inhaled the acrid smell of sulphur and the scent of her cigarette.
She'd half turned toward him then, her hazel eyes staring at him, loathing oozing from her as visible as sweat. "Uncle Fred said he'd keep you for a few weeks. I've got to get a job. You're just too damn expensive, Austin. Stop eating so much. And don't get your clothes dirty. You're a pain in the neck, kid. When I run out of relatives willing to take you in, I'm gonna dump you completely. So don't screw this up, you hear?"
Her hair had been the same color as his, black as midnight Even then, at five or six, he'd thought her beautiful. And very cruel. He'd loved her and hated her with equal intensity. By the time he was eleven, she'd beaten and starved all the love out of him. When she'd finally made good on her promise to put him in a children's home, he'd almost been relieved.
He fought off the memory, mentally flinging it away from him, hating the weakness that allowed him to remember or give a damn. When he refocused on the garage, the boy was already turning away, prepared to go back alone to the new children's home.
"Do you like cars?" Austin asked.
David stopped in his tracks, then slowly looked back. "I used to. My family died in a car crash."
He spoke matter-of-factly. Austin was appalled. The boy must have heard adults saying the words over and over again for him to deliver them without emotion.
"Are you afraid of them now?" he asked.
David's mouth twisted as he thought about the question. "No. I don't think so. I wasn't there when it happened. I was spending the night with Randy. His mom let me stay with them until I came here."
Austin tried to imagine what the boy had been through. First he'd lost his entire family. Then, he had relatives who didn't want him, only his money. Finally he'd found some kind of peace at the children's home and the damn building had burned down. It was too much for anyone, let alone a seven-year-old.
Austin dropped to a crouch. He was close enough to touch the child, but he didn't. He remembered his own distaste when strangers had tried to cuddle him. That kind of affection had to be earned.
"Why'd you come up here, David?" he asked, careful to keep his voice low and friendly.
The boy shrugged. "Rebecca said you had a bunch of tools and stuff. I used to make things. You know, with my dad. I helped him make a bookcase once. He let me put on the varnish." David's thin chest puffed up with pride. For a second Austin thought he might smile, but his mouth remained straight.
"Maybe we can work on something together," Austin offered without thinking. He instantly wanted to call the words back. He didn't have the time or inclination to get involved with some kid. Besides, the problems with the estate would be settled and David would be moving on.
But he needn't have worried. David nodded, but didn't look enthused, as if too many people had made promises and then not followed through.
Austin rose to his feet. "We'd better get you back to the house before everyone realizes you're missing."
"They won't notice until dinner. Rebecca does a head count then. But I'll go back." David glanced up at him, as if searching his face for something. Before Austin could speak, he turned and started walking away.
"David."
The boy paused.
"I'll walk you back."
He looked surprised.
"Really?"
"Sure. I don't want you getting lost."
David glanced through the trees toward the house, then back at him. "I can see everyone. I won't get lost."
Again Austin dropped to a crouch. This time he placed his hand on the boy's shoulder. He met his troubled gaze. "I was making a joke. I know you won't get lost. I'll feel better if I walk you back. Is that okay?"
David's white-blond eyebrows drew together. "I guess." He glanced at the hand on his shoulder. Austin thought he might pull away. He could feel the boy's bones through the thin material of his T-shirt. But David didn't step back, and Austin wondered if he'd misjudged the child. Maybe he wanted to be held and hugged. His parents had probably touched him. He might miss the contact. Unlike Austin, whose only regular physical closeness with his mother had been the back of her hand across his face.
Austin squeezed gently, then stood up. As they walked toward the other children, he tried to make conversation. "What do you think of the house?"
"It's big. I like the yard. There's no swings, though. At the other place there were swings."
"What else do you like to do?"
David shrugged but didn't answer. Before Austin could think of another question, he heard someone calling his name.
He looked up and saw Kyle jogging toward him. A deputy sheriff, Kyle was the youngest and tallest of the Haynes brothers – about six-two – with the Haynes-family dark, curly hair and good looks. He was a good kid who had a way with women. As Kyle came to a halt in front of him, Austin grinned.
"What's so funny?" Kyle asked. A lock of hair flopped onto his forehead. He brushed it out of the way with a familiar, impatient gesture.
"I was just thinking of you
as a kid, but you're not anymore, are you?"
"Nah. I'll be thirty next year. Practically over the hill."
"Time to settle down and raise a family." Austin made the observation mockingly.
Kyle planted his hands on his hips and glared at his friend.
"Yeah, sure. I'll find the right woman and get married right after I figure out the answer to world peace. Why are you just now showing up here? It's nearly two o'clock."
Austin glanced at David who was openly listening to their conversation. "This young man came to visit me. I'm bringing him back."
Kyle grinned and grabbed Austin's arm. "I don't think so," he said, hauling his friend toward the house. "You're going to help me paint."
Austin glanced at Kyle's jeans and shirt, for the first time noticing they were covered with flecks of white. "I don't have the time."
"Bull—" Kyle glanced at the boy. "Uh, make that I don't believe you. You're the one who donated this house in the first place, so it's your fault we all had to come and do work. The way I see it, you don't have a choice about helping."
"I don't, do I?" Austin allowed himself to be pulled toward the front steps. He glanced behind and saw David standing uncertainly on the lawn. He pulled free of Kyle's grip and turned to the boy. "Looks like they're going to force me to paint. You want to help?"
David stared up at him, his big eyes wide and blue. He wanted to believe him, Austin could tell. He wanted to participate and have fun, but he was afraid. Austin felt as if someone had reached inside his chest and crushed his heart.
He knew exactly what David was thinking because he'd been there. The boy took a step closer. "Looks like you've made a friend," Kyle said. "I didn't know you liked kids."
David froze. Hope fled his expression. "My aunts and uncles don't like kids, either." His voice sounded wary and far too old.
Austin told himself it would be easier just to walk away. David wasn't his problem. Rebecca or one of the other volunteers would take care of him. If they noticed one small boy standing on the sidelines. How would David grow up? Would he withdraw more into himself, or would he lash out, funneling his hurt into anger and rage, becoming a bully, hurting others before they hurt him?
Marriage On Demand Page 7
