by Susan Fox
Her ungracious host was waiting outside the door of a bedroom and she ignored his deepening frown when his dark gaze dropped to note the large bag that no doubt looked as heavy and cumbersome as it felt.
A gentleman would have offered to carry it for her, but because he might not have seen it sitting on the floor during his brief visit to the living room, he’d not had an opportunity to be helpful.
On the other hand, the rude way he’d walked out of the living room to lead the way here, easily outdistancing her and the sobbing boy as if they were both too disruptive to tolerate, made her conclude that chivalrous acts—if he even knew what those were—weren’t automatically conferred on those he deemed unworthy of them.
And this was the creature who would raise Cody.
Claire turned carefully with her burdens to walk through the doorway, and the sight of the bedroom made her heart fall. It was a child’s room, a little boy’s, and it had obviously been decorated by a professional. It was another hurtful reminder that Cody’s place was here now, and not with her. Everything, from the wallpaper to the drapes to the beds—and there were two of those—had been beautifully coordinated.
A variety of charming baby animals made up the wallpaper design that covered the walls above the glossy wood wainscoting, and were picked up again by a couple of lamps on the dresser and chest of drawers. The baby animals were repeated on the coverlets of both beds. A huge wooden rocking horse that looked as if it had been handcrafted generations ago sat in a corner.
A gigantic toy box with a safety-hinged lid stood open in another corner, but the area in front of low triple windows featured a miniature wood table and four little chairs. Two bookcases were half-filled with books that looked so new they might have been bought in a bookstore that day.
One of the two beds was a baby bed, but the other was a single bed with a solid wood headboard. Claire guessed right away that the tall silent man who’d followed her into the room had decreed the choice of both. First because he didn’t know which bed size was appropriate for the boy’s age and wouldn’t humble himself enough to ask, and second because he was a man with too much money to worry about an unnecessary cost.
Unless he’d figured the baby bed, if not needed, could be used by a future son or daughter of his own. Claire didn’t know much about Logan Pierce but she did know he was single, though after her unpleasant encounters with him, it was her opinion that the baby bed would go to waste. She couldn’t imagine that any principled woman would be willing to marry such a cold-blooded man and allow him to father her children, not even to have access to his fortune.
Claire carried Cody directly to the rocking chair that sat between the baby bed and the regular bed. She took a moment to pull a diaper out of the cloth bag before she let the shoulder straps to both her bags slide down her arm to the floor and turned with the boy to the baby bed.
With the ease of long practice, she managed to hold the boy and the diaper while she lowered the side of the bed. She laid him on the quilt-covered mattress then unhooked the boy’s little overalls to change him. The moment she got him fastened back up, she lifted Cody and carried him to the private bathroom that had also been expertly decorated. She disposed of the diaper, then set the fussy child on the counter next to the sink while she washed her hands.
When she finished and carried the boy out to the rocking chair, Logan Pierce hadn’t moved an inch from where he stood, watching everything. Claire ignored him and sat down with the tired little boy who was still fretting.
Claire had never been rattled by Cody’s crying or fussiness before, but today it put her on edge. The utter silence from Logan Pierce warned her he wasn’t taking this well, and Claire worried that Cody’s potential to have a good relationship with his uncle was being damaged a little more every moment he acted less than the perfect child.
Thank God there was no nanny evident, so Logan couldn’t send her away too quickly unless he wanted to manage Cody on his own.
The rocking chair was a fine one, and it moved smoothly. Claire kept her attention on the boy or on the wall or on the windows as she rocked and patiently soothed the boy by rubbing his back. He wound down fairly quick and after a few minutes he was resting heavily against her.
What would happen once she put him in the baby bed? Would Logan show her the door? Since she had no legal rights over the boy, she and Cody were literally at the mercy of a man who didn’t appear to know the meaning of the word.
But surely, surely the man knew it was a bad idea to banish her and let the boy wake up later without a chance to even say goodbye.
Claire pressed a desperate kiss to the boy’s forehead and felt again the stark pain of impending loss. Her heart was about to be torn out, but it was the boy who would bleed. How would he ever understand? How would he ever get over the trauma of being suddenly abandoned by her?
Logan’s gravely drawl pushed at her.
“He’s asleep.”
The message was clear. The boy’s asleep, so put him in bed. Dread made her brain add the words, Don’t let the door hit your backside on the way out…
Claire almost couldn’t force herself to stop rocking and stand. The seconds fell heavily, one by one, impacting her heart like sharp spears as she carried the soundly sleeping two-year-old to the baby bed and carefully laid him on his side atop the plush little quilt.
Unable to step away too quickly, unable to keep from taking what might be a last opportunity, she leaned down and kissed the boy’s satiny cheek. The wetness that blurred everything was almost impossible to hold back but she did. And then she straightened and quietly eased the side of the bed up until it locked into place.
She didn’t look at the big man who loomed at arm’s length as she stepped away to gather up her purse and the cloth bag. The bag would stay with the boy, but she needed to show Logan some of the things she’d packed in it.
Cody’s vitamins and his baby book were included in the contents, along with a detailed printout of everything to do with his health, from vaccinations to doctor’s names and the schedule of future appointments for checkups.
She’d even photocopied the meticulous little diary she’d kept, but that, along with a baby book containing photos and keepsakes identical to the one she’d made for Logan Pierce, would stay with her forever.
Claire carried her things to the door, taking a few seconds to pause and glance back at the sleeping boy before she reached the hall. Because Logan had followed her and his big body blocked her view, she leaned to the side for a last glimpse.
Cody was lying asleep just as she’d left him, so there was no excuse to linger. She turned and went on out the door into the hall and started back the way she’d come on legs that felt heavy and weak. They reached the wide doorway to the living room before she stopped and turned back to Logan.
“Will you check on him regularly? It will upset him to wake up in a strange place.” She hesitated, wanting badly to add the words without me, but instead added, “Alone.”
Logan tilted his head back the tiniest bit as he stared down at her. Claire felt the cut of his dark gaze and quailed a little inside. The man was stern, and as unmoved as a column of stone. She’d never felt so powerless against anyone or anything in her life before this man had crossed her path. He was taking everything that mattered to her and she almost couldn’t bear the roaring frustration of being unable to prevent it or to even slow him down.
Claire had never hated anyone in her entire life, but she was close to hating this man. And if he harmed so much as a hair on that sweet boy or failed to love him wholeheartedly or unconditionally, or abused him, she’d somehow find out about it. And when she did, she’d also find the means, some way or somehow, to destroy Logan Pierce.
“Are you so eager to dump him off and get home?”
Logan’s low words shocked her and she almost pinched herself to make sure she was actually awake and that something wasn’t wrong with her hearing. Or was she just so desperate to be able to stay a
s long as he’d tolerate that she was having a delusion?
Claire couldn’t answer the question at first, but when she registered the challenge to her devotion, she felt a flash of anger.
“I’m not eager to leave him anywhere, Mr. Pierce.”
“Especially not with me,” he added as smoothly as if he’d read her mind. Claire’s gaze fell from contact with his.
“I’m…worried for him. You clearly expect me to just leave him here and not come back. Do you realize how traumatic that will be for him?”
Now she looked up at him, unable to keep the rest from boiling out.
“He’s not a week old or a month old. He’s a trusting little boy who’s lived his whole life with a woman he thinks of as his mother. Do you have any idea how devastating it will be for him if I’m forced to leave him here forever, with a man he’s never met before today?”
That was the moment Logan reached for her arm. She flinched and tried to draw back, but he caught her elbow and she nearly jumped out of her skin. The bolt of electricity that went through her from his steely fingers sent a heavy wave of weakness through her.
“We’ll finish this in private,” he growled, and before she could react, he was ushering her on past the living room then down the long hall that paralleled the front of the house. The power in his grip, though it was amazingly gentle, was a silent manifestation of male strength.
Whatever he’d just said about finishing this in private, Claire was terrified that he was about to throw her out of his house.
CHAPTER TWO
THEY’D almost reached the hall entrance into the front foyer before Claire found her tongue.
“Please, Mr. Pierce, I don’t care what you do to me, but please think of the boy.”
She felt his big body go taut, as if his muscles were bunching in preparation to inflict violence. She was almost too dizzy with dread to register that they’d passed the entry hall and were truly on their way to some other destination besides the front door.
The large book-lined room he led her into was obviously a den or office. He paused, his grip on her arm pulling her to a halt too while he shoved the door solidly closed behind them. Only then did he release her.
“Pick a place to sit,” he told her gruffly then crossed the room to a huge desk that sat faced away from a set of glass double doors to the patio beyond. There were two leather wing chairs just this side of the desk, but there were two more at the side of the room on either side of a low table where another tray of iced tea sat. Judging by the lack of heavy condensation on the outside of the crystal pitcher, it must have just been brought in.
Claire stood edgily near the door, relieved to not have been thrown out of the house, but furious that he’d marched her in here like that. She didn’t want to “pick a place to sit.” Logan didn’t look like he planned to sit for at least a week either. They were both wound up and tense, and she was so on guard with him now that she didn’t want to go anywhere near him.
She was still tingling from his warm grip, still amazed that the crushing power she’d sensed in his fingers had been restrained to the point of gentleness. As big and strong as he was, his gentle grip was a stunning contrast.
She caught a glimpse of frustration in the way he yanked open a desk drawer and pulled out a thick file of papers. He appeared to be furious, but to his credit he didn’t explode, though she could read anger in every line of his body. Seeing that was another confirmation of the contrast between brute strength and gentleness in him, but she didn’t dare read so much into so little.
He pushed the drawer closed with a snap then walked to the wing chairs at the side of the room with the file. He shot her a surly glance.
“Are you gonna sit or not?”
Claire saw even more frustration but there was also a glimmer of discomfort, almost regret, in his dark eyes before they went flat and cold again.
Intrigued and marginally encouraged by that humanizing hint of discomfort, she walked over to the wing chair opposite the one he stood next to. She took the straps of both bags off her shoulder then sat down and placed them on the floor at her feet. That seemed to mollify him somewhat so he sat down.
The twin to the large leather wing chair she sat in looked too small for the big man, and she was again impressed by his size and obvious physical power. Cody had mostly been around women. The few men he’d had contact with were smaller in stature than Logan Pierce and more…well, civilized looking. Perhaps this explained why Cody’s first glimpse of his towering uncle had startled and upset him, and Claire began to worry about that too.
Though helping Cody adjust favorably to his uncle was akin to cutting her own throat, Claire was suddenly just as desperate for the boy to not be afraid of Logan as she was for Logan to genuinely love the boy and treat him kindly.
Her grim host tossed the thick file of paper onto the table between them. Fortunately, the small table could accommodate both the tray and the file.
Ignoring the propriety of offering his guest a glass of iced tea, Logan settled back in his chair and his dark gaze again cut over her face.
“That’s everything I have on you,” he growled, meaning the file, before he started detailing a list. “Honest, hardworking, long-suffering and patient with fools and promiscuous stepsisters, never been in trouble, churchgoing, self-employed from the week after the boy was born, and as chaste with men and as saintly with abandoned babies as a Mother Theresa. It’s a damned wonder you weren’t quite perfect enough to find a lawyer with enough smarts to get a file like this in front of the judge.”
Claire sat, wide-eyed and frozen in breathless shock at the litany of attributes he seemed to resent mightily, while they also managed to be a litany of backhanded and grudging compliments. Plus, he was all but declaring that she’d been victimized by an incompetent and ineffectual lawyer.
Did he feel guilty about steamrolling her in court? Perhaps, but it was clear that he resented feeling that guilt. Or was this a sign that he hadn’t truly wanted to win so much? Had he changed his mind about taking on the challenge and responsibility of raising his late brother’s orphaned son all by himself? Claire waited a moment more, both to somehow think of something to say as to give him an opportunity to go on speaking if he was going to.
“I’m not sure I understand what you’re getting at, Mr. Pierce, and I have no idea why you seem to be angry,” she began calmly when he hadn’t said anything more. “You got everything you asked for in court, while I got seven days after the judge’s ruling to bring Cody out here and turn him over to you.”
The surly line of his dark brow nettled her into adding softly, “If anyone’s entitled to be rude and cold and resentful, I don’t think it’s you, sir.”
She saw the glittering flare that shot through his dark eyes before he controlled it. The stern line of his mouth appeared to relax the tiniest bit.
“How bad do you want to keep the boy?”
Claire’s heart leaped with hope. Was he serious? Otherwise, it was a cruel question if he was merely bating her to draw her out so he could somehow use her answer to hurt her. On the other hand, what if he was asking because he wanted to confirm something for himself before he made some sort of offer that would give her at least minimal contact with Cody after today?
Oh God, she didn’t dare trust him. She was devastated enough over the impending loss of the boy. Claire thought about it a moment longer then decided she might as well answer his question. What did she have left of any value aside from whatever time—probably no more than minutes or, at best, hours—that she might yet get to have with Cody? Nothing else mattered to her but him, not even her pride, and without Cody there was nothing more anyone could ever take from her or hurt her with.
“Did your investigator write in that file that I love Cody just as fiercely as if he were my own little boy?” she started evenly. “That the very best moments in my life are when he’s smiling and happy, or when he discovers something new or when he learns how to do somethi
ng he wasn’t able to do before? Is it written anywhere in your file, Mr. Pierce, that I’d lay my life down for him without a second thought? Or that I’d kill to protect him?”
How she managed to say all that while holding back an ever-rising tide of strangling tears, she didn’t know. She lifted her chin the slightest fraction and finished.
“Did your investigator print a warning page in there somewhere? Something that might read, ‘Caution. Don’t ever mistreat the boy, or this chaste, long-suffering, churchgoing, Mother Theresa clone might come after you with mayhem in mind?’ That’s how much I love the boy, Mr. Pierce. So yes, I’d probably do just about anything to keep him if I had no respect or regard for the law.”
The moment she finished speaking the words, Claire felt sick. What had she been thinking? She needed whatever goodwill this man might be able to stir up. The fact was that she’d been distraught for months now over the impending loss of Cody. This past week had been sheer hell, and suddenly all her rigid control was crumbling. Her heart was screaming with desperation and vicious pain. Somehow she managed to get the words past her tight throat.
“I apologize, Mr. Pierce. I’m very upset. Beyond upset. I’m a little frantic about how Cody will survive all this when he doesn’t know you at all. He’s just a little boy, such a sweet little boy…”
Claire’s breaking voice made her stop, and it was a good thing. No sense further damaging things between them by showing even more emotion or by threatening Logan Pierce any more than she already had.
That cold black gaze probed hers and then cut over her as deliberately as if he was dicing a vegetable.
Oh God, she really had blown it. Blown it completely. Surely he would immediately usher her out the front door and drag her to her car. After her threat of mayhem, he might even have someone follow her all the way to the highway and probably to the county line.
