“We’d have to make it legal. I’d imagine Jim’s cousin would check. You’d have to live with me.”
“Not forever, though. Just until I could adopt Bobby legally. Then she could never take him.”
“We’d have to both adopt him. The courts aren’t going to give custody in a situation where the husband doesn’t want to be involved. As a birth mother who has terminated her rights in order for him to be adopted in the first place, you’re no different in the eyes of the court than Joe Blow off the street.”
She knew it was true, but hearing it from him was like a knife blade to the pain she’d carried around ever since the day she’d signed those papers.
“I don’t understand you at all. Why would you want to do this?”
His jaw tightened. “I have my reasons.”
“Uh-uh. No dice, Rich Boy. I had to spill my guts, now you start talking, too.”
For a moment his eyes looked hard and cold as ice. He glanced away, then sighed deeply. He studied the scarred tabletop as he spoke. “My father has been ill for many years. Ever since I was twelve and he had a massive heart attack, his health has been precarious and every day was a bonus. For too many years I forgot that, but I’ve tried to make it up to him since I moved back.” He glanced up quickly through thick brown lashes. “He had pneumonia this winter, and it put a terrible strain on his already-damaged heart. His doctor says he’s weakening pretty dramatically lately. I can see it myself.”
He stopped and toyed with his glass of iced tea, skimming wet circles on the table. She tried not to notice his long fingers, his capable hands. Then he looked at her squarely. “He wants badly to see me settled, wants to see me happily married and building a future like the one he’s always wanted for me.”
“But I can’t—”
He shook his head vigorously. “Don’t worry. That’s not going to happen. That’s not my future. I like my life just fine as it is.”
“So what is this, Michael? Why are you talking to me about—”
“I could give him the illusion. That’s little enough for me to do. I can’t do anything else for him anymore, but I could do this. I could give him a reason to think that the future he’s convinced I need is within reach. He won’t last long enough for me to give him a grandchild, but I could give him the hope, if you’d help me.”
“What about Bobby? I couldn’t stay married too long. I wouldn’t want Bobby to get attached to you.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll be careful. He’s young enough not to care about the legal issues. I’ll just be a friend. I actually like kids a lot.” There it was again, that swift stab of pain in his eyes. “But I won’t try to win your son over. And as soon as permanent custody is granted and my dad is gone, we can get a painless divorce. I’ll pay child support—I can afford it. I wouldn’t want your son to suffer because of any of this.”
She stiffened. “You aren’t going to buy me off. I’m through with rich boys buying their way out of things.”
“I’m not the rich boy who hurt you, Suzanne. If monthly support isn’t acceptable, then let me give you a settlement for his college education.”
“This isn’t about money. If we did this crazy thing, I’d be responsible for all my expenses and Bobby’s.”
A tiny smile flickered on that too-handsome face. “I doubt you make enough to pay my electric bill.”
“I’m not going to be indebted to you for money.” Just as she felt temper flaring, she beat it back. He was being decent, and her pride was striking out.
Suzanne reached across the table for his hand. The feel of his skin jolted her, made her very aware of the reality of what she was doing. But she was also deeply grateful. “I’m sorry. I’m just not used to leaning on other people. I can’t lean on you. If I could do this alone, I would, but you’re right. It’s a godsend. I don’t want your money, though. It’s enough—more than enough—that you’d do this to help me get back my son.”
She could feel tears threatening, but she couldn’t give in. In the morning they’d probably both decide that the whole idea was insane. But just in case, she had to set the ground rules.
“Separate bedrooms. If my money won’t go far enough, we’ll keep an account. I’ll pay you back somehow. I’ll play whatever part is needed to convince your father.” She drew a deep breath. “And no settlement at the end.”
A muscle in his jaw jumped. “You can’t tell me what to do with my money. If I want to set up a college fund for the boy, I’ll damn well do it.”
“You will not—” She exhaled in a gust and fell back against the booth. “This is hopeless. It would be worse for Bobby to go into a home where there’s fighting than to be with Jim’s cousin.”
“I never took you for a quitter,” he said, settling back against the booth. But his eyes bored into her. “It’s not hopeless unless you let it be. Difficult, yes, but not hopeless. We’ll put on a great show in public and give each other wide berth in private.”
“And what will Bobby think? He’ll be there in private with us.”
“We’ll keep things very civil and pleasant. You can restrain yourself enough to do that, right, Suzanne?” His gaze dared her to admit she lacked self-control. “I’ll be good to the boy, I told you that. You’ll give him the love he needs. You’re the expert on children, and you want to raise him alone anyway. If he doesn’t get attached to me, it will make things easier in the long run. But that doesn’t mean he and I can’t be friends.” His smile was wry. “Believe it or not, any number of people seem to think I’m pretty good at being a friend.”
Shame washed over her. He was making her a very generous offer, giving her a path to a dream she’d held so long that it had woven itself into the fiber of her soul. She could have her son back, and all she had to do was to pretend to be happily married to Michael when they were out in public.
He wasn’t an ogre. He never had been. They didn’t see eye to eye on politics, but he’d never been unkind to her. There was more than a little truth in his assessment—she led with her heart, always had. Just because he didn’t wasn’t wrong, it just wasn’t her way.
“What if you’re wrong?” she asked. “What if you’re crazy about Bobby and don’t want to let me have him?”
“That—” his voice grew tight “—will not happen.” He huffed out a breath. “Look, Suzanne, if you want me to put it in writing, I will. I don’t want a family. I don’t need one.”
“Why not?” She’d often thought him some sort of Casanova, some perpetual playboy with an Ivy League mind. Now she knew she’d judged him too quickly. There was a story here, and she wanted to know it.
“I had a family I loved very much. They’re gone. End of story.”
She’d heard once that he’d been a widower for years, but no details. “What happened?”
She was shocked to see his eyes hollowed out by grief. “I don’t want to discuss it.”
Shame washed over her again. “I’m sorry, Michael.” She reached for his hand, but he jerked it away.
There was pain here, and it was deep. Why had she never suspected? He’d perfected his cover, that was why. She had bought the fiction of a man who was everyone’s friend, whose life was a breeze.
“Don’t look at me like that,” he said. “I’m fine. It’s over.”
He was dead wrong. He’d erected barriers fathoms deep and oceans wide, but he hadn’t dealt with his grief, merely buried it.
His demeanor made it abundantly clear that the topic wasn’t up for discussion. And truthfully, he’d just given her the best assurance she could have that he wouldn’t want to claim her son. He had a child of his own who still resided in his heart, alive or not.
She should accept this boon for what it was—a very generous gift. He had reasons to need this marriage and so did she. They were reasonable people. And it was only for a little while. Only temporary. She’d lived with a hole in her heart for ten years. She’d have her child back, the child she’d never quit missing. She could play h
er part in the charade that would make that possible.
“All right. I think we understand each other and what we need and don’t need, what we want and don’t want. You’ll help me get my son, and I’ll help you make your father happy. As soon as possible, we’ll go our own ways, but in the meantime, we’ll deal together as reasonable people and try to make it as easy on each other as we can. Deal?” She held out her hand.
His mood lightened. His mouth quirked in a grin. “You won’t strain something trying to be reasonable, will you?” He closed his large, warm hand over hers, and she felt the jolt again.
“It depends. Do you leave wet towels on the bathroom floor?”
He laughed then, dimples winking, his even white teeth flashing. For one second, something inside her shivered as his very maleness swamped her.
“No. I have my faults, but that’s not one of them.”
She pulled her hand away, but she could still feel the heat of him buzzing beneath her skin. “Have we lost our minds, trying this?”
“Probably. But let’s do it anyway.” He stood and extended his hand to her. “Walk out with me. We need to get started convincing people that we’re a couple.”
Hesitantly, she slipped her hand in his, let him tug her to her feet.
But he didn’t stop there. He pulled her into his arms and before she could react, lowered his mouth to hers.
The kiss was quick but lethal. Michael lifted his head and stared at her, his own confusion mirroring hers.
Suzanne knew she should pull away, but she couldn’t seem to do it. The sense of safety in his strong arms was seductive. It felt far better than it should.
Mistake, her mind kept trying to say to her.
But before her voice could catch up, Michael lowered his mouth to hers once more.
And this time it wasn’t quick. It wasn’t casual.
It was more lethal. Devastating. When one arm tightened around her and the other hand slid into her hair, Suzanne felt her legs turn to jelly, her brain overload.
All the fire that had sparked between them in words in the past raced to a four-alarm blaze when they touched. As though they belonged to someone else, her arms slid around his trim waist, her hands sliding over the long muscles of his back, her mouth surrendering to his, her body softening against him.
Her response was gasoline splashed on flames. His powerful body tightened against her, and she thought she heard someone moan softly before she realized it was her own voice.
Michael broke off the kiss and let her go, then quickly pulled her back. She’d seen those green eyes in many guises, but she’d never seen them hot. And bewildered. Very much like her own must be.
Suzanne shivered. Michael dropped his arms and stepped back.
“This—” His voice was rough. It felt like sandpaper on her too-sensitized skin. “This could be a problem.”
She realized that many patrons had turned their way. Bobby, she thought. My baby. Nothing else mattered.
“It won’t happen again,” she said, furious that her voice was shaking.
Michael studied her for a long moment, his expression moving from stunned to almost amused. The heat still simmered in his eyes. “Spontaneous combustion is a force no one can control.”
There were many more facets to Michael Longstreet than she’d seen. She’d need every bit of her wits to pull off this charade.
She struggled to remember the Suzanne Jorgenson who’d traded barbs with him with abandon in council chambers. “Heat lightning,” she said. “It comes, but it doesn’t last. And it doesn’t come often.” She shrugged with an assurance she wished she felt.
One dimple winked at her. The smile was too much. No way would she check to see if the eyes were still smoldering.
“Don’t kid yourself, Suzanne. We’ll strike fire off each other. Often.” But to her relief, he shrugged and clapped a companionable arm around her shoulders. “But it’s just sex. And we’re reasonable people, right?”
She thought she heard laughter in his voice, but she wasn’t looking at him again tonight. That was too dangerous by half.
So she just patted the hand that lay on her shoulder and smiled for the audience. “Reasonable, that’s right. Now get me the devil out of here.”
Michael laughed and led her outside.
Three
Warm rays of sunlight on his face awakened Michael. He levered himself up from the bed, not happy that he’d overslept. A glance at the clock told him he’d have to hurry to squeeze in his morning run. He scrubbed his face with both hands, then slid them upward through his hair.
And then it hit him.
He fell back on the mattress, arms outspread. The night—and his impulsive gesture—came flooding back.
He was going to get married. To Suzanne Jorgenson.
Jerking upright, he pulled on a pair of ancient sweats and shoved his feet into his running shoes. He barely spared a glance for the treasured panorama from his bedroom but as he crossed to the hallway door, his gaze fell on the connecting door that led from his bedroom to an old-fashioned dressing room…and then to the bedroom Suzanne would have. The house had been built by a San Francisco shipping magnate in the last century and it had four bedrooms, two large and two small, all on the second floor. He used one of the smaller ones for an office, and the boy would need the other, which left only the room originally designed for the magnate’s wife.
Separate bedrooms had seemed perfectly reasonable last night, but that was before that last kiss. Now he wondered if maybe these weren’t separate enough.
Michael began his warm-up stretches, his mind lost in thought.
He should have expected it, he guessed, that swift punch of need. It was an understandable reaction to the wealth of passion he’d already seen in Suzanne’s devotion to her causes. He had to admit that he’d wondered, sitting there on the dais watching her eyes spark as she argued fervently over one thing or another, if that fervor would translate to the physical.
He’d underestimated how much. And seriously underestimated his own reaction to it. The woman would strip a man of every rational thought and leave him happily witless.
Suzanne might be small, but she packed a punch.
But that wasn’t the part that worried him most. For all that she could make a man want, it was the new vulnerability he’d seen in her that gave Michael pause. This was a dangerous game they would play—assuming she wasn’t having second thoughts as huge as his.
He’d have to track her down this morning and take a good look in her eyes. Given how badly she wanted her son, he suspected she’d go ahead, no matter her doubts. And he’d given his word, so he wouldn’t retract his offer.
He finished his last stretch and cast one more look at that connecting door.
Shaking his head, he pounded down the stairs. He’d hate to drill into the antique doors, but locks were made to control temptation, if he needed them. Kissing Suzanne last night had been an impulse but a very good lesson. Having her close would be a constant physical temptation, but he had his warning.
He’d have to be very careful. A woman like that could make a man lose his head. Good thing he wasn’t a man who let his body rule his mind.
But that kiss, that feel of her pressed against him—
No. Suzanne needed his help, and he was a man of his word. If she still wanted to go through with it, he would not let her down nor let physical attraction complicate an already thorny situation.
He raced out the front door and let the cold air slap sense into him.
Suzanne slipped out of the last room housing one of her charges and walked down the hallway of Emily’s House, already thinking about Monday’s move of the kids to Hacienda de Alegria, the Colton ranch. Mentally compiling her to-do list, she was lost in thought when she heard his voice. Her gaze arrowed toward the man who’d made last night a very bad one for sleep.
Michael stood with a couple of staff members and Dr. Jason Colton, patiently answering questions about the water cr
isis. He hadn’t seen her yet, so Suzanne was free to look her fill. She needed to do it, to put him into some perspective. To remember that he was merely extending a helping hand in return for her help in solving his own problem. That was all this was, nothing else. A simple, bloodless, temporary marriage that each of them needed for different reasons.
If only he didn’t look so good. Dressed in his usual jeans and boots and wearing a long-sleeved forest-green shirt, he held his leather jacket over his shoulder with two fingers. Tall and so at ease in his skin, he smiled and laughed easily as he talked with the trio.
She wondered if anyone else in Prosperino knew he was a fraud. That Mr. Romeo Rich Guy had a heart that had never healed after a loss he refused to discuss.
She wanted to know what had happened, but he’d made it very clear that the topic was off limits. And maybe it was better that way, she thought as she watched his dimples flash around a smiling mouth.
Because that mouth was a problem. Suzanne lifted one hand and pressed her lips, still able to feel the touch of his.
No wonder he had hot and cold running women. The man could kiss…oh, how he could kiss. She’d have to add one more item to the list. Separate bedrooms weren’t enough.
No kissing. No touching. Only her son could matter, and her plans were clear. She needed this sham of a marriage only until she could make Bobby hers again. Michael had promised to keep his distance, but she could already feel how keeping her own could become a problem.
Just then he looked up and saw her. Quickly she dropped her hand, but she couldn’t seem to move.
He said something to the group and shook hands with Dr. Colton, but he hardly took his eyes off her. With that long ambling stride of his, he headed in her direction, his gaze holding her in place.
“Good morning,” he said, the smooth baritone voice sliding easily over her jangled nerves.
She slid one finger beneath her hair and tucked it behind her right ear, gripping the strap of her purse tightly with her other hand. “Good morning.”
Sweet Child of Mine Page 3
