“That’s it,” Shannen encouraged as he grabbed hold of the coffee table. She didn’t mind that dull fingerprints marred the shiny surface.
Once steady, he reached out a foot, then instantly pulled it back again.
She chuckled. “You can do it, honey.”
Nicky flashed a grin before tentatively moving one foot forward. Shannen knotted her hands by her sides, positive that this afternoon he would walk to her.
He let go of the table.
Arms, bent at the elbow and raised to shoulder level, reminded her of a baby sparrow she’d once watched as it peered over the edge of its nest in a towering ponderosa pine.
Nicky wobbled. Her stomach performed several flips. Then, slowly, carefully balancing on legs as stiff as a robot’s, he took his first step...and his second. Tears of joy stung her eyes.
On the final step, Nicky squealed with childish delight, then pitched forward into the security of her embrace. Shannen laughed, hugging him close and pressing a kiss on top of his still-downy soft hair.
Truly, she thought, times like these made everything worthwhile. Unable to contain her thrill, she scooped him up and called for Maria. After all they’d been through together, Maria deserved to share in the excitement.
“Sí, señora?”
“Watch,” Shannen said, standing Nicky next to the coffee table.
Gone was the frown, replaced by a huge grin. Shannen’s nod of encouragement was the only cue Nicky needed. Eagerly he performed his new skill once again.
No matter how old she got, Shannen knew she would never forget these precious moments. It seemed like only yesterday he’d been a tiny, helpless infant. She swallowed the lump in her throat at the thought that, all too soon, these moments would also be yesterday’s memories.
From the doorway, Maria applauded enthusiastically. “Muy bien! Very good,” she repeated in English. “In a day or two, we run to keep up, sí?”
Shannen grinned up at the housekeeper. “Better make that an hour or two.”
While Maria finished preparing lunch, Shannen took Nicky outside. Holding her son’s hand, she met his proud grin with one of her own. Slowly they walked the length of the deck, the sun-warmed redwood feeling good against Shannen’s bare feet.
Nicky paused, pointing a childish fist.
“Hummingbirds,” Shannen supplied. She sat him on the railing where he could better see the miniature birds flitting around the feeder. Wrapping her arms around his middle, she held him securely in place.
She wished he would always stay small, innocent. She dreaded the day when he would question the other half of his heritage, question the whereabouts of his father.
As the image of Rhone Mitchell came to mind, Shannen quickly shoved it away, reminding herself he was part of her past and that’s where he would stay. She didn’t want Nicky to care. With unashamed selfishness, she wanted to be all he needed. Just as he was all she needed.
He turned inquisitive eyes to hers. “Pay?”
“Play,” she corrected. “We’ll play until lunch is ready.” Lifting him, Shannen caught the fresh scent of baby shampoo and powder. “Mmm, you smell good.”
As Nicky was recently prone to do, he took her face between his palms. Puckering up, he planted a wet kiss on her cheek.
Shannen’s heart swelled.
Reaching the small patch of grass behind the house, Shannen lowered Nicky to his feet. She held his hand, aiding his balance over the uneven ground, guiding him to his stockpile of yellow metal trucks and assorted cars.
“Vroom, vroom,” he said. Letting go, he sat, already absorbed in his make-believe world.
Shannen rested her shoulder against the bark of an ancient tree, new leaves providing shade from the glare of the cloudless Colorado sky. Here in the Rocky Mountains, the air was clean and clear, the sky bluer than any place she’d ever seen. She’d attended college in Colorado and loved it then. Returning had been one of the few benefits of leaving Rhone.
Damn. Why was he intruding on her thoughts today?
Maybe because the older your son gets, the more he resembles his father. The thought was as accurate as it was unwelcome. Further, it was laced with guilt.
Her husband had no idea Nicholas existed.
Stoically, Shannen told herself Rhone had made his choices and she wasn’t one of them. She had needed more from him than he’d been willing to give.
Threatening to leave Rhone had been tough, painful, because in spite of everything, she had loved him. Following through had been agony.
Shannen had made it as difficult as possible for him to find her. She’d done it to prove how serious she was about not settling for less. But all the while, she knew with his connections he could find her. If he wanted to.
Now Shannen didn’t want him to find her, fearing what he would do. She had kept his son a secret too long.
Despite the early-summer warmth, a cold chill crept up her spine and found root in her soul. Rhone could be a formidable man when crossed. No, better he never knew about Nicky.
“Lunch, señora!”
“Thanks, Maria. Be right there.” Cupping her hands to her mouth, Shannen called Nicholas. “Nicky, time to eat.”
“Uh-uh.” Animatedly, he shook his head. Just watching the motion gave her a headache.
“Uh-huh,” she affirmed, pushing away from the tree and letting blades of grass squish between her toes.
Nicholas rose on all fours, pushing his bottom upward. On wobbly legs, he stood. Squealing, he tried to run. Before his lack of coordination toppled him, Shannen swung him off the ground.
He giggled.
She laughed, grateful she’d been blessed with this child.
As she carried him up the stairs, she shuddered, remembering how, at three months premature, his life had hung in delicate balance. During those first tenuous weeks, the scales had threatened to tip the wrong way. And during those weeks that had seemed like months, Shannen had spent every available hour at the hospital, constantly hovering nearby, silently prodding her tiny son to fight. Ultimately, the pediatrician credited Nicky’s survival with her vigilance and his own will to live.
The day she took him home was the happiest of her life, but there’d been no one to share it with. Then, as now, Shannen felt a conflicting mix of emotion and adamantly refused to acknowledge the part of her that missed Rhone.
“I made his favorite today,” Maria said, setting a plate of hot dogs and mixed vegetables on the table.
Shannen placed Nicholas in his high chair and tied a Colorado Rockies baseball bib around him. She and Maria smiled, silently acknowledging that he wore more than he ate. He seemed so excited by his efforts, Shannen didn’t have the heart to help him.
Finally Nicholas blinked and yawned.
“I’ll put him down for his nap,” she told Maria, wiping Nicky’s face and hands.
“But your deadline...”
“I only have an hour or two of work left to do, and I can send it by overnight express.”
Maria shook her head, clucking. “I don’t know why you hired me.”
“So I can spend more time with Nicky,” Shannen tossed over her shoulder, an appreciative grin tilting the corners of her mouth.
Her foot barely touched the first step leading to Nicky’s bedroom when she heard a vehicle pull into the drive. Not expecting anyone, Shannen frowned, turning toward the door.
She juggled Nicholas onto her left hip and stood on tiptoe, looking through the peephole. She didn’t recognize the primer gray pickup.
A man climbed out, moving around to the passenger side. Brilliant red hair, piled high, met Shannen’s curious perusal. Dressed in tight jeans, the woman who emerged stood as tall as the man. Her knitted top stretched across a well-endowed chest, leaving little to the imagination.
The man had dark hair, straight and over his collar. The sides and front were slicked back, revealing a high forehead. Where the woman’s jeans were faded, his looked like they had yet to meet a washing machine and fabric softe
ner. Under the navy corduroy jacket, Shannen couldn’t help but notice creases down the front of the pale blue shirt—as though he’d just taken it out of the package and put it on.
Unimpressed, her frown deepened. She didn’t have the faintest idea who they were; and whatever they were selling, she wanted none of it.
A refusal already forming on her lips, she swung the door open.
Recovering from his surprise, the man lowered his hand from the brass knocker, speaking before Shannen had a chance. “Afternoon, ma’am. Sorry to bother you. My, my, that’s a handsome boy you have there. Bet you and his daddy are real proud.”
Immediately, Shannen regretted opening the door. She stiffened, hugging Nicky tighter. Looking into the man’s eyes made her skin crawl. They were dark, bottomless pools—cold and calculating. Shifting, they seemed to assess everything and miss nothing.
“Whatever you’re selling, I’m not interested.” She spoke firmly, hoping to hide her nervousness. She stepped back to close the door.
Boldly, the man stuck a scuffed boot against the jamb.
“I’m with McPherson Realty, ma’am. I’m sure you’re busy. This won’t take long.”
Shannen glared, a surge of anger overriding her concern. In a flash, the months of self-defense training Rhone had insisted she take—would have insisted every woman take if he could—rushed back. She’d scoffed at his reasoning then, thinking she would never have cause to use it. And now, more than two years later, she wasn’t sure if she remembered how. She prayed she wouldn’t have to find out.
“My client here,” the man continued, nodding toward the woman, “is interested in buying your house.”
Taken aback, Shannen gave the redhead another thorough inspection. She didn’t look like the type who made her living on the right side of the law; certainly, she didn’t appear able to afford anything remotely resembling Shannen’s house.
She returned her attention to the man. “My home is not for sale. Now if you’ll excuse me...” Shannen’s expression dared him to defy her the right to refuse.
His jaw clenched, then he smiled. A smile that never reached his eyes. “Think about it,” he said. “I’ll check back, in case you change your mind.”
“Don’t bother. I will not change my mind.”
The man shrugged, his glance resting on Nicholas. “You say that now. Who knows what can happen...in a day or two?”
“Señora, who do you talk to?” Maria called from the kitchen.
Disgust and irritation rippled through Shannen’s reply. “No one.” She closed the door on the man’s smirk, the woman’s pout.
“The audacity of some people,” Shannen grumbled. Turning the dead bolt, she headed for the stairs.
Nicholas yawned again. Snuggling against her neck, he slipped his thumb into his mouth.
In his room, Shannen feathered a blanket—one that Maria had quilted—over his small, sleepy body and gave him a kiss.
“Ba,” he demanded.
“Bear,” she said, and retrieved the small stuffed animal from the corner of his crib. “Sweet dreams, my baby boy,” she said softly. For the next few minutes, she stood in the doorway, watching the easy, rhythmic rise and fall of his breaths. Breaths he’d once struggled for. Occasionally, still did. Being born too soon had weakened his lungs. A common cold or sniffles from seasonal allergies turned into bronchitis and pneumonia within hours of onset. She kept a supply of medication on hand to help prevent those complications. Although the chance he would develop asthma was high, she preferred to think of it as a phase he would eventually outgrow.
Shannen returned to her drafting table, forcing herself to concentrate on finishing the project. Over an hour later, she stretched and took a final glance at her work. Her critical eye was pleased with the job she’d done. A degree in graphic arts and fluency in six foreign languages had proven a profitable combination. Better still, she could work from home.
Piling the papers together, she prepared a package for overnight shipment. After telling Maria her plans, Shannen climbed into the driver’s seat of her four-wheel drive vehicle. She inserted the key in the ignition and hesitated, glancing at the house. Her house, she thought, brimming with pride. Hers and Nicky’s. Finding the log two-story and the rustic setting had been a dream come true. They were surrounded by forest and wildlife, a welcome contrast to the high-rise apartment she and Rhone had shared in New York. It wasn’t hard to understand why she’d been approached to sell. Shannen supposed there were those who would, if the price was right.
The Realtor’s dark, piercing eyes that had seemed to mock her nudged Shannen’s thoughts. She shook her head, trying to dispel the mental picture.
Before she could, a shiver traced across her shoulder blades and down her spine. Her breath caught and held. A spontaneous, undeniable feeling of being watched made her spin around in the seat.
For several seconds, she peered into the woods, looking for movement.
She saw no lurking shadows, nothing out of the ordinary. A hand over her heart, she gave a shaky laugh. Apparently, the stranger had unnerved her more than she’d realized. Come to think of it, the company he worked for didn’t sound familiar. To ease her mind, Shannen jotted the name and made a mental note to check it out while she was in town.
Shannen drove down the steep dirt road until she reached the outskirts of Dillon—a mountain community big enough for her to remain as anonymous as she wanted, yet have the conveniences she needed. Including a doctor.
Dr. Jonathen Peterson was more than Nicky’s physician. She considered him a good friend, though not long ago he’d made it plain he was interested in far more than friendship. Shannen might have been, too, if the circumstances were different. As Jon frequently reminded her and failed to understand why, she still had legal ties to Rhone. She’d explained that initially, she’d pursued a divorce but wasn’t now because she was afraid Rhone would find out about Nicky. Jon discounted her fears of what Rhone might do, arguing that any judge would side with her. Shannen wasn’t so sure.
Furthermore, as if her life weren’t complicated enough where men were concerned, she knew it was a matter of time before Jon demanded she make a choice. Though she couldn’t blame him, she didn’t much care for being on the receiving end of ultimatums.
After dropping her envelope at the post office, she drove to Jonathen’s clinic.
“He’s been expecting you,” a young receptionist greeted. “Come on back.”
In Jonathen’s office, Shannen took a seat, grabbing the magazine she’d left there last time. A few minutes later, he entered, his blue eyes offering a welcome that a part of her wanted to accept. The less sane part. The same part that had fallen for the cool, handsome looks of Rhone Mitchell.
With abstract interest, Shannen noticed Jonathen made no motion to remove his lab coat or the stethoscope draped around his neck.
“Sorry, Shannen,” he said, a smile of regret tinting his eyes. “I’ll have to take a rain check on that cappuccino I promised you. I had a couple emergencies this morning, and I’m running behind schedule.”
“I understand. We’ll make it another day.” She tried not to show her relief. Today she just wanted to be home. The harder she tried to forget about the real-estate agent, the more his strange visit replayed in her mind. It was on the tip of her tongue to tell Jon about it, but as he’d said, he was busy.
“About our dinner date tomorrow, I’ll pick you up—say sevenish?”
“That’s fine,” Shannen said, rising. “Oh, before I go, I need to get a prescription refill for Nicky.”
Jonathen scribbled some indecipherable hieroglyphics on a piece of paper, scrawled an illegible signature across the top, then ripped the sheet from his pad. “Bring him by for an official visit soon.”
“I will,” she promised, folding the paper in half and slipping it into her purse.
At the drugstore, while she waited, Shannen asked the pharmacist for a phone book. She checked companies in the realty section.
There was no listing for McPherson.
“May I use your phone?” Shannen asked, somehow managing to keep her voice level. At the pharmacist’s nod, Shannen punched in the number for Information, her finger shaking.
“I’m sorry, ma’am,” the operator finally said. “I don’t show a listing for McPherson Realty in the area.”
Trying to slow the frantic pounding of her pulse, Shannen replaced the receiver. Immediately she grabbed it back and dialed home. One ring. Two. “Come on, Maria,” she urged. Three rings. “Answer.”
The recorder clicked on.
Shannen made every effort to stifle the panic that tried to claim her while she paid for the prescription.
The police. Should she call the police? Walking briskly to her car, she discounted the mental suggestion. Her tendency to be overprotective was based, she knew, on an ever-present fear of losing Nicky. She’d come so close when he was born, she’d never completely recovered. On more than one occasion, she’d played into the cruel games of her imagination.
Still, the need to know Nicholas was fine had her driving as fast as she dared.
Shannen parked in the driveway and grabbed the keys from the ignition. She slammed the car door, heading for the house.
“Maria! I’m back!”
In the answering silence, Shannen noted that no scent of dinner filled the air. Maria usually started cooking by now. “Maria?” Probably upstairs with Nicky, Shannen told herself.
At a jog, she took the stairs two at a time, only to discover the nursery empty. She pulled aside the colorful drapes and glanced out the window, hoping to see her son and Maria in the backyard. When she didn’t, Shannen called the housekeeper’s name again and headed downstairs.
Shannen’s pulse had added a few extra beats and her breaths came in shallow bursts. Calm down, she warned herself.
Earlier thoughts of Rhone returned. Fear of his discovery had her momentarily gripping the banister. But if Rhone were here, surely his vehicle would be parked out front.
Dark, shifting eyes superimposed over Rhone’s image in her mind.
The Realtor. Oh, Lord, had he made good his threat and returned? “What if he’s hurt Nicky and Maria?” Her voice cracked on a wave of sheer terror.
All I Need Page 2
