by Leah Vale
But he refused to take a child away from his mother. He remembered the way Juliet hugged Nat's little body close to hers, tucking his head beneath her chin. Clearly she loved his son. She didn't deserve to lose Nathan simply because her family lived in near poverty. Besides, he could never willfully annihilate the Tightness of their one time together by portraying her as unsuitable.
The answer sprang to mind and sent his pulse racing. No one said he had to take Nathan away from Juliet for him to be raised here. Whether she wanted anything from Harrison or not, he decided to convince Juliet that some very drastic changes needed to be made in her life.
Willing his pulse back to normal, Harrison strode toward the front door and left the house, feeling once more in control.
There might be a tiny pinch of Prince Charming lurking somewhere in his calculating corporate soul after all.
Juliet stuck her fingers in her ears, squeezed her eyes shut so tight she saw little white lights and hummed the National Anthem, but it didn't work. It never did. No matter how hard she tried, her family wouldn't go away. She should have learned by now that wishing them away didn't work, but it never hurt to try. With a soul-weary sigh she dropped her hands into her lap and opened her eyes.
She looked from her mother, with a bad perm sticking out every which way from her head, to her
brother, whose filthy red baseball hat was turned backward, as always.
As they sat around the kitchen table, Mom and Willie were talking over each other. They both had an opinion about what she should do now that the father of her child had suddenly reappeared. And neither one of them had asked her opinion.
Well, she had one.
"Will you please listen to me for a minute?" she pleaded, but failed to draw their attention. "Excuse me!" she said loud enough to cut through the noise about a father's responsibilities and child-support settlements.
They looked at her for the first time since the discussion began. "Weren't you listening when I told you this..." She had to take a deep, steadying breath before she could say the name of the man she had once foolishly thought to be her soul mate. "...Harrison Rivers is not Nathan's father?"
"Oh, get off it, Julie," Willie said. "Any idiot can see the kid's his."
Frustration getting the better of her, she retorted, "And that qualifies you, doesn't it?"
"Stop it, you two," her mother snapped.
"He knew about the bike, didn't he?" Willie gave a curt nod of his head. "That's proof enough for me."
Her mom shifted toward her, the plastic seat cover beneath her squeaking. "Men don't go around claiming to be babies' fathers without cause, Julie." She reached across the yellowed, gold-speckled Formica table and put a hand on Juliet's forearm. "Why do you keep denying he's the father? From what your brother says, he seems decent enough."
"And stinkin' rich," Willie added. "He's got serious bucks. I talked to that friend of mine, Dave, who used to work on the loading dock at Two Rivers Industries, which was the name of the company on the business card he left, and Dave said that if Julie's guy is"
"He's not my guy," Juliet grumbled. How could she lay claim to a man like that? And since no fairy godmother was going to bibbidi-bop into her life and change her into someone he would want, she had no choice but to deny he was the one. She couldn't lose Nathan.
"He sure was your guy for...what, fifteen minutes?" Willie laughed then winked crudely at her.
She smacked him on the arm and made him squawk.
"Stop it, you two."
"Anyway," Willie continued, "if this guy is the same Harrison Rivers who's taking over the company so his dad can retire, he's worth millions." Willie said it like he was imparting the secret of life, then got up and went to the fridge.
The implications of his words hit Juliet full on. Her stomach rolled, and she had to swallow fast to keep from being sick all over the kitchen table.
Then she started to shake. The tremors were small at first, deep in her chest. But as Willie's words echoed in her head and both pairs of eyes in the cramped kitchen fastened on her, the reverberations spread throughout her like oil in a mud puddle.
Millions. Harrison Rivers had millions.
Her mother's normally dour face lit up with excitement as a thought occurred to her. "Maybe you could pick up with him where you left off!"
Juliet could barely speak. "He's already said he doesn't want me."
Tsking, her mother shook her head, then heaved a dramatic sigh. "You realize, don't you, that takes this thing to a whole new level?"
"Oh, yeah," Willie concurred as he brought a beer back to the table.
Of course it took things to a whole new level. The level with high-priced lawyers and bought-off caseworkers. The level where someone like her could never stand a chance against someone like him. The level where all her tears and pleas would carry about as much weight as a foam anchor.
Why couldn't he have been some average guy who might have decided he wanted her for more than one afternoon of fun? A regular Joe-shmoe she could have had a future with.
Before the tremors building inside of her reached a crescendo and she shattered right there in front of them, Juliet shoved back her metal-legged chair, its legs screeching along the floor, and bolted to her feet. "It doesn't take this thing anywhere," she choked out. "Because there's nothing there in the first place. Nat's mine. Nobody else's. Mine!" She slammed her open hand down on the tabletop and glowered at her mom and Willie, huddled around the table like a couple of witches around their pot.
"If you're going to act like that you surely won't have a say in what we decide to do," her mother reprimanded.
Willie offered, "I think we should be talking maternity suit."
Juliet ground her teeth. "That's what you wear when you're pregnant and have to go to work."
He nodded. "Right, right. What we should be discussing here is a maternity settlement."
Juliet threw her hands in the air. "Paternity. Paternity settlement.
Don't be such an idiot."
"You're the idiot," he jeered.
"Stop it, you two."
Willie grumbled, "At least you were smart enough to get knocked up by a millionaire."
Juliet went to the sink and leaned her weight on her hands on the rim. The distorted view of the sunset silhouetting the back shed out the small, cracked window above the sink began to swim as tears filled her eyes once again. She hadn't been smart at all, letting herself believe in a dream on a bike.
"I'm not sure a paternity settlement is the way to go, Julie," her mom answered as if Juliet had thrown those words out as an option she would consider. "I think, personally, that child support payments are-"
"No, no," Willie interrupted. "I think the guy should hand over a huge chunk of change up front now, while he's still all doe-eyed over finding his kid."
The image of Harrison crouched before her son with a sticky length of red licorice in his hand and an enraptured smile on his handsome face made Juliet groan softly. Then that image shifted and became Harrison hovering above her, his river-green eyes murky with passion.
She remembered how she'd buried her hands in his lush, golden hair and pulled him down for a kiss. He'd kissed her soft and slow, like he'd known kissing wasn't something she'd done a lot of, like he'd been coaxing a smoldering ember to flame. And, oh, how she'd flamed.
His mouth had felt like chocolate just starting to melt. His hard, flat stomach had been so hot upon hers she'd thought he'd cook her to the marrow. They had been so good together, so right. Like they would never part.
But they had, and now that she knew who and what he really was, they were so, so far apart. There was no way they would ever be together again like she'd dreamed. He was rich. And he'd already made it plain he didn't want her. Juliet squeezed her eyes shut and forced the memories away before turning to face her family.
Her mom shook her head, making her fuzzy curls quiver. "No, I think monthly child support payments would be the most profitab
le-"
The tension that had brought Juliet's shoulders up around her ears snapped her like a dried birch twig.
"Profitable!" She stared slack-jawed at her family. "I can't believe you actually said it! Is that all Nat is to you now? Something you can make an easy buck off? Can't you see that Harrison isn't going to hand you a wad of money and let me keep Nathan?"
She pointed a trembling finger at her brother. "Willie, you saw how he looked at Nat. He's going to want him." Her lip trembling ncontrollably, she looked between the two of them. "Don't you care that he's my baby? My world? Don't you care about either one of us?"
"Mom cares enough to give you a roof over your heads and food in your bellies so you don't have to go to work or school or anything," Willie shot back.
"So I don't have to work? Who do you think tends that store out there? When was the last time you stood behind the counter?"
"Hey, I'm scheduled to start on the green chain at Dover Creek," Willie protested.
Juliet ignored him. "And as far as going to school, you know I can't afford to go anywhere yet."
"How do you know, when you've never even applied to any schools or tried to get financial aid?" He found an old wound of hers and poked it.
Juliet clamped her teeth together and fought the tears blinding her and
the raging swell of helplessness that threatened to strangle her.
"You don't know a thing about me," she choked out, then left the kitchen.
The frustration exploded within her, and she started running-through the living room, through the empty store, and out into the dusk-shadowed gravel parking lot. She mentally winced when the busted screen door hit the wall after she blasted through the door. She prayed the bang didn't wake her baby. But she didn't stop running. She knew if Nat cried out her mother or Willie would go to him. At least she could count on them for that.
With barely a glance in either direction at the lights of oncoming traffic, Juliet darted across the two-lane highway and plunged down the embankment. She followed the well-worn trail until it ended at the stone-strewn edge of the McKenzie River.
Taking her usual seat on a smooth boulder, she tried to focus on the dark water slipping by, to let the steadiness of the river seep into her soul and smooth the rough edges of her pain like it had smoothed the rocks around her, but her tears made it impossible. Juliet buried her face in her hands and let loose the body-racking sobs she'd been doing such a lousy job of containing.
She was being pitiful and feeling sorry for herself, but she didn't care. At this precise moment she didn't have the strength to care. She'd think of a way to keep her baby out of everyone's clutches later. Right now she just wanted to cry and curse the day she'd fallen for Harrison Rivers and taken the one and only chance of her miserable life.
A blur of sun-blond hair and bare limbs dashed through Harrison's headlights. He shoved his foot down hard on the brake pedal and swore.
Thank heavens he'd already been slowing to turn off into the gravel parking lot of the little store. If he'd been going full speed, he wasn't sure he could have stopped in time. Twilight was a dangerous time to drive as it was, without crazed females bolting out in front of him.
He didn't have to look twice to know the woman who'd nearly become his hood ornament had been Juliet, but he did look to see where she entered the underbrush and disappeared over the edge of the road.
Finishing his turn into the parking lot, Harrison brought his Porsche to a stop alongside the rusted gas pump. After leaving his father and grandmother at home, he had jumped in his car and headed back up the river. He'd told himself he was coming to see his child, his boy-but after seeing Juliet blaze across the street without so much as a look-see, he acknowledged he'd come to see her. He needed to make sure she didn't hold some power over him beyond the comfort she'd unwittingly given him during his time of grief two years ago.
Getting out of his car, Harrison spared a glance at the storefront. While the white-and-red plastic sign read Open, the interior of the building stood dark except for a glow coming from the rear. Somebody better be in there, because his little boy certainly hadn't been in his momma's arms when she'd darted in front of Harrison's car.
But as he started across the parking lot toward the road, the image of Juliet tucking their baby's head under her chin flitted through his mind again. Somehow he doubted she'd leave Nathan unattended. Obviously she loved the child.
His child.
The knot that had formed in his stomach earlier today tightened. He hoped talking to Juliet about what had happened would loosen it a bit.
Though her reaction to his declaration of paternity made him certain this talk wouldn't be congenial, he had to make her see he wouldn't settle for less than what was best for their son. And he firmly believed disappearing back down the highway for good wasn't in Nathan's best interest.
Taking considerably more care crossing the two-lane highway than Juliet had, Harrison jogged across the street, then started down what seemed to be a trail through the blackberry bushes and other underbrush growing on the embankment. His leather-soled loafers proved slick on the gravel-strewn dirt path, and the waning light made it difficult to pick his way down the trail, so he was forced to catch himself with his hand several times to keep from sliding down the incline on his rear.
The soft murmur of the river confirmed his suspicion of the trail's destination, right before he emerged from the bank's growth onto the rocks at the river's edge. The paleness of the stones reflected what light still hovered in the air, so Harrison had no trouble spotting Juliet. Her slender back to him, she sat huddled atop a thigh-high boulder, her arms folded on her drawn-up knees and her head resting on her forearms.
What he had initially thought was another sound of the river turned out to be Juliet crying. Her soft, soul-wrenching sobs touched him so deeply he clenched his jaw against the sensation. She was crying because of him. He knew it.
Seized with the urge to comfort her, just as he had been compelled to be a part of her two years ago so she could comfort him, Harrison made his way toward her. One of his loafers slipped off a poorly chosen rock and his foot plunged into a small, stagnant pool of orphaned river. The splash sounded like a shotgun blast.
Juliet's head jerked up and she swiveled on the rock toward him. She stared at him, her posture like a mouse caught in a hawk's sights. A full minute passed, and he was about to identify himself when she finally spoke.
"You." That one word held a wealth of recrimination and mistrust. "What do you want?"
Feeling like an invader of sanctuary, Harrison raised a hand, palm up, toward her. "We need to talk."
With stiff, jerky movements, she turned to face the river again and pulled her knees up tighter to her chest. "We have absolutely nothing to talk about."
Harrison drew in a fortifying breath of river-moistened air and started toward her once again, only to realize he still had one foot ankle-deep in water. Releasing the breath with a sigh, he extracted his sodden foot from the puddle and gave it a shake. Nothing about this was going to be easy. Absolutely nothing. But he had to make her listen. Not only for Nathan's sake, but for their sake, too. They had to put to rest what had happened between them so they could move forward as rational adults.
Not caring anymore where he stepped, Harrison moved to her side. This close, he could easily make out the features of her profile. As before, he was struck by her loveliness. Little wonder he'd never completely forgotten her. Seeing her, free from the earlier distractions, Harrison confirmed again that he'd had very good reasons for never contacting her. She was more than a threat to his vow to never care about a woman enough that he lost control of his emotions; she was an all-out assault.
Not even the hardness of her expression diminished her effect on him. Once again he found himself wanting to get lost in her, to forget about the burdens he carried, the frustrations he bore. He wanted to meld with her and not have to manage or dictate or supervise, but just be.
&n
bsp; Damn it.
Thank God he wasn't the same irresponsible man he'd been over two years ago. He couldn't allow himself to give in to the out-of-control desire he apparently still harbored. He was stronger now. He could risk having her in his life. As the mother of his child. Nothing more.
"Juliet," he whispered. Her knees dropped away
from her chest an inch or two, as if the sound of her name on his lips weakened her defenses. "Juliet, please. It's just you and me here. You don't have to pretend. We need to talk about our son."
She finally looked at him, but in the failing light he couldn't identify the emotion in her tear-swollen eyes. "He's my son. Not ours. Not anybody's but mine."
He heard what he hadn't been able to see. The tortured strain of her voice told him what she was feeling, why she'd been crying. He wasn't surprised when she pulled her knees up tight against her again. She was feeling besieged.
"Look, Juliet, I know how you feel. I know you're afraid. Of what, I'm not exactly sure, but-"
"Oh, so you know how I feel? How is that? Considering you don't even know me."
His empathy beginning to give way to frustration, he leaned in close. "You and I both know how well I know you."
She jerked away from him like she'd been slapped. Harrison pulled back and let out a noisy breath. He was doing this all wrong. She would never let him help her if she stayed mad at him. He needed to make up for the damage he'd done before he found out about Nathan.
"I'm sorry, Juliet. Today has been a little trying for me, too. It's not every day a man walks into a store to buy gum and walks out a father. So forgive me if I'm not as patient or as understanding as I should be."
She turned to look at him again. "Is that the only reason you stopped? For gum?"
Harrison squinted hard at her, trying to cut through the gloom to see what emotion swam in her dark eyes. He wanted to be sure that he had been right earlier, that she had been waiting for him to come back for her. The possibility revived the wildness he'd felt then. He did his damnedest to clamp a lid on it.
