The Sergeant's Secret Son

by Bonnie Gardner

  Block looked at her. Macy looked prim and proper as a Sunday-school teacher with that stupid robe pulled all the way up to her chin. It was hot as hell in here. No wonder she was flushed and sweating. No wonder he’d jumped to such a terribly wrong conclusion. He didn’t know what to say.

  “Well?” Macy asked, her tone challenging.

  “Well, what?”

  “I’m waiting for my apology. You of all people in the world should know that I am not capable of the terrible thing you accused me of.”

  “I did apologize.” Damn, that woman could keep him off balance.

  “No, you didn’t,” Macy said, her spine still stiff as a department-store mannequin’s. She was definitely prettier. “You said you owed me an apology. You didn’t deliver one.”

  Block muttered an impatient curse. She was right, dammit. He hadn’t actually given one. Why was the concept of admitting he was wrong so hard? He drew in a deep, long breath. “I’m sorry I jumped to the wrong conclusion,” he said. And, actually, he was.

  “Thank you,” Macy replied primly. “Apology accepted. Now, I suppose you and I are going to have to talk.”

  Talk? He had better ideas about what to do with Macy. And talking was not one of them. “About what?”

  “I assume you’re going to want visitation rights and all that stuff.”

  “Visitation rights?” He didn’t want visitation. He wanted the whole nine yards.

  “You know. You come to see your son at appointed times. Get to know him.”

  “No!” Block shook his head vehemently. “No visitation. I want it all. You’ve had him for over four years. I want him. Full-time.”

  Chapter Eight

  Macy gasped, but she recovered quickly. “Cory is my responsibility. I will decide when and how often you get to see him,” Macy said slowly, firmly. Her words were strong, but her expression indicated her fear as clearly as if she’d spelled it out. “He’s my son. He’s not y—” She stopped abruptly.

  “He’s not mine?” Block tried not to laugh. “You’ve already admitted that he is, and I can always have his DNA tested, if it comes to that. His blood type alone would convince most people.” He looked at her and dared her to challenge him.

  Macy’s face grew pale, but she didn’t respond.

  “Nothing to say?” Block gave her another chance to answer. “Okay then, all we have to do is work out the details.

  “You can make this easy, or you can make this hard,” Block said. Macy started to say something, but he stopped her. “You’d best think about what would be in the best interests of my son—and yours—before you go making any rash statements,” he warned.

  Macy stumbled toward the long couch and sagged limply to the cushions. “All right,” she said with a tone of defeat. As much as Block was glad that she had acquiesced, he hated seeing the fight leave her. “We need to talk about this calmly and rationally.”

  Something told Block that calm and rational was not going to happen tonight.

  One look at her flushed skin and those big hazel eyes and he was lost. His heart pounded so loudly, he was sure that Macy could hear it. “Before we talk, I need to do one thing,” Block said huskily, hoping that it would work, hoping that it would calm his racing pulse and make it possible for them to actually talk.

  He reached down for her and firmly pulled her up into his arms. She fought him a little, but he held her close and after a short moment, she stopped struggling in his arms. He tipped back her head, then he kissed her, long and hard and fierce, and hoped that the kiss would be enough to quell his desire for the moment.

  It was not.

  Her lips parted and he thrust his tongue in deep, exploring her inner recesses, tasting her, loving her, wanting so much more.

  Macy seemed to go limp and pliant in his arms. She moaned, deep down and low in her throat, and it was not the sound of protest, but pure unadulterated pleasure. It was all the invitation Block needed.

  He lifted her into his arms and carried her into the bedroom.

  Macy closed the door behind Alex and firmly turned the lock.

  AS FIERCE AS Alex had seemed, he was gentle, too. He laid Macy down on the bed, then sat beside her, pausing as if giving her the chance to change her mind. But, heaven help her, she did not want to change her mind. She did not want to stop.

  She wanted Alex with every fiber of her being. She wanted him here, she wanted him now, she wanted him…forever.

  Macy shrugged out of the stifling, hot robe. She shivered as the cooler air touched her damp skin, or maybe she shivered in anticipation. She swallowed hard, then swallowed again, as she watched Alex in the weak light streaking in from a crack in the closed curtains as he pulled the light, knit shirt over his head and allowed her to view the magnificent, sculpted muscles of his chest. How strong he looked. She moistened her lips as she remembered how almost diabolical he had looked in the rain and the lightning the night of the storm. Yet, she remembered him as a gentle lover so many years ago.

  Would he be so again, or would his anger come through?

  She slanted a glance at him, fumbling now with the closings of his trousers. Was his clumsiness due to eagerness or anger?

  No. She shook her head. She was not going to analyze this to death. She wanted Alex. She wanted him now. And no matter what came to be, she had to have this one moment.

  Alex must have seen that gentle shake of her head, for he froze in place. “Do you want me to stop?” he asked, his voice raspy and harsh. “I’ll leave now.” He drew in a deep breath that was more a shudder than a sigh. “I have never taken a woman against her will, and I won’t do it now. Not to you. Not to the…”

  He didn’t complete the thought and Macy wondered what he’d meant to say, but it really didn’t matter. He’d given her the choice, and she chose him. Now.

  “No, Alex,” she said, her voice uncharacteristically breathy and weak. “I want you to make love to me. I’ve been waiting for this for five long years.” Maybe she shouldn’t have said it, but it was the truth. She did want him. She’d always wanted him, and she probably would forever.

  He let out a long, slow sigh, then quickly dispatched the remainder of his clothing. Only then did Macy realize that she was still sitting there in her unbuttoned blouse and her shorts. She reached to push the shirt off her shoulders, but Alex brushed her hand away.

  “No, let me,” he whispered huskily. And he did.

  When he undressed her, it was as though he were unwrapping a birthday present, slowly, carefully, so as not to hurt the concealing layers, as if to save them for another day. He kissed one bare shoulder, then the other, then pushed her gently to the bed. “I have been dreaming of this for so long,” he whispered.

  “Don’t talk now,” Macy said, reaching up and drawing his face to her to kiss her. They had too much to talk about later. They needed to make love now. Maybe it would make a difference.

  She hoped it would make a difference.

  Alex kissed her slow, long and hard. He seemed to possess her, to own her, but then hadn’t he since that night so many years ago? All Macy could think about was that she wanted him, too. She moaned when his kisses seemed to linger too long. Every molecule of her body seemed to ache for him. She groaned with impatience.

  He lowered himself over her, and Macy could feel his hard essence pushing against her, but yet he held back. His arms were as hard as tempered steel, yet he trembled. He caressed her, tracing a line from just below her ear to her breast, then down to her navel, then farther below. He stroked her, teasing her until she could bear it no more.

  “Now, Alex, now. I cannot abide another moment of waiting.”

  A slow, half smile slid across his face, and Alex did her bidding. He shifted to fit himself between her legs, and then in one swift motion he entered her. For Macy, time stood still.

  BLOCK LAY, his head on Macy’s pillows, his hands linked behind his head, and wondered what to say. His skin was damp from their lovemaking, and it dried slowly a
s he tried to think. He hadn’t meant to end up in her bedroom when he’d come over here. They had important business to discuss. Business that in all their passion had been completely ignored.

  But still, this had seemed so completely right. Every time he’d made love to Macy it had seemed right. At the time. Then there were the interminable moments, weeks, days, years when they’d seemed wrong. When he’d tried to analyze it. And he’d yet to figure it out.

  “Alex?” Macy whispered from the crook of his arm. “We still need to talk.”

  Block drew in a deep, deep breath. “I know,” he said, but he didn’t know what to say. He waited for Macy to go on.

  “I think I understand your anger at all this. I really do. And I know we have to do what we must for Cory’s sake.”

  “I’d like to get to know my son,” Alex finally said.

  “Yes,” Macy answered. “I suppose you do. I don’t know why I’m surprised. Maybe it’s because I’ve seen too many men who don’t seem to care.”

  Block pushed himself up on elbow and shifted to look at her. “You didn’t think I’d care?”

  Macy shook her. “Not really. I’d seen too many examples of the other.” She paused, and looked down. “I’m sorry.”

  If there had been a magic phrase that would have made it all better, those words were as close as they’d come. “I’m sorry, too,” Block said. He just wasn’t sure what he was sorry for.

  AFTER FOUR HOURS of heated passion, as well as talking, all Macy and Alex had agreed on was that she would allow Alex to get to know his son. They had actually set up a “date” for tomorrow afternoon after church.

  Alex had finally gone home, with only that little detail settled.

  Macy sagged against the locked door and rubbed her weary eyes. She was not looking forward to her afternoon with Alex, especially after her lapse of the last few hours. But there was no way that she would let the man take her son—their son, she had to remind herself—out alone. At least, not until Cory was used to him.

  She shook her head as she turned out the lights and headed for bed. The way Cory already idolized Alex—she still had a hard time thinking of him as Cory’s father—she had no doubt that her son would adjust to the situation far sooner than she would. But she had to be certain that Alex would not cut and run with her son.

  How was she going to survive the next twenty-four hours? How was she going to be able to be with both of them and pretend that nothing was wrong? When she was with Alex, she either wanted to love him or hate him, and neither reaction was appropriate for a family outing.

  Was that what tomorrow afternoon would be? A family outing? Or would it be something just short of medieval torture? Macy took her nightgown out of a drawer.

  As she dressed for bed, she made up her mind not to think about that. Then she laughed ruefully. All she could think about was Alex and their interlude. Not thinking about him was next to impossible. That was going to be about as easy as trying to thread a needle in the dark wearing mittens. Tomorrow and what would happen with Alex were all she could think about.

  Macy turned out the light and prepared to lie awake all through the long, lonely night.

  SOMEWHERE OUT THERE in the night a dog barked and every other dog in the neighborhood seemed to want to add his two-cents’ worth. Block lay in the dark, hands linked behind his head, and listened until the last howl faded away. It wasn’t as if he had anything else to do.

  He’d lain in bed for three long hours watching the glowing red display on the alarm clock tick off the minutes. He might as well have stayed up and watched television. He would have accomplished as much thinking as he’d done lying awake in bed.

  He rolled over and punched his pillow, trying to make it comfortable enough to allow him to sleep. Like something as simple as a too-soft bed was what was keeping him awake. He’d been trained to sleep anywhere, anytime and under any circumstances, from a plush hotel room to a sleeping bag in a rocky cave. It wasn’t the furniture. It was the glorious exhilaration of love combined with his unshakable feeling of betrayal. It was this dilemma.

  He settled back and ended up linking his hands behind his head again.

  What the hell should he do about Macy?

  Sure, he desired her body; they’d proven that, but did he want the house-and-white-picket-fence thing? He wanted her and her son, but the thought of committing his heart and soul terrified him. He’d never even considered the prospect. Not as long as he’d been in the air force and had always put his career first.

  And there was still the problem of Lyndonville. If he wanted to be a part of Cory’s life, his son’s life, he was going to have to stay around. He’d never wanted to return to Lyndonville, but the last few days had been eye-opening for him. The town had changed for the better. Maybe he could consider a future here.

  With Macy.

  And her son.

  In the meantime, he had to get through tomorrow. He had to prove to Macy and to himself that he could be a father to the boy he’d only just met.

  What did a thirty-six-year-old man do with a four-year-old boy on a Sunday afternoon? Even if his mother was with them? Especially if his mother was with them.

  Lyndonville didn’t exactly have anything like Disneyland where they could spend an afternoon of fun and pleasure. And Macy had admitted that she and Cory had already gone to see the one movie suitable for a four-year-old in the theaters right now.

  Block had no doubt that if he and Cory were allowed to find their way on their own that they would not have a problem. After all, they’d gotten along great the other day just tossing a football in the backyard, and it was no secret that the kid was impressed with the fact that he was in the air force.

  He chuckled. Of course, he’d have to straighten the kid out about the differences between air force and army and generals and sergeants.

  He couldn’t help thinking it could be kind of fun.

  Or it would be if they didn’t have Macy standing between them.

  What should he do about Macy? One minute he wanted to strangle her and the next he wanted to kiss her senseless. No, he didn’t want to kiss her. He wanted to make love to her and never let her go.

  Until the next time he wanted to kill her.

  Block had not spent much energy on romance since he’d been in the air force. There’d been little time for relationships, and the nature of his job made it difficult to get close to a woman. According to other guys on the team, their wives and girlfriends hated to be kept in the dark about assignments, and liked even less being stood up when duty called them to go off on missions at a moment’s notice that they might never be able to talk about. It hadn’t seemed worth the effort to even try.

  Sure, he satisfied his needs from time to time with a willing partner, but he’d never been in a steady relationship, and he hadn’t wanted or felt he needed one. Maybe if he had, he’d be better prepared to deal with this completely unfamiliar situation.

  Was every woman as maddening and frustrating as this Macy? Is this what every man went through when he was falling in love?

  Love?

  Where had that thought come from?

  How could he even think about love? He was still so angry with Macy about hiding the existence of his son from him that he could barely think clearly. Sure, the sex had been great, but…He was still damned angry at Macy for her duplicity.

  How could she have let him go for five long years not knowing that there was another piece of him out in the world? How could she equate him to every lowlife bum she’d ever come across?

  Block let out a long, low sigh. One of these days he was going to get that infuriating woman to explain everything, but for now, he had to sleep. He yawned and stretched and rolled to his side. If he didn’t get at least a couple of hours of shut-eye, he’d be useless tomorrow. And he needed to be at the top of his form to get through the day.

  How was he going to have fun with his son when he had the kid’s stern and disapproving mother watching him
like a hungry hawk?

  It still made him mad as hell that Macy had seen fit to keep them apart all this time. How might it have been if they’d come together to make a family way back when?

  Trying not to think of all he’d missed, Block finally sank into deep, exhausted sleep.

  MACY COLLECTED Cory from the church nursery after services and waited outside the fellowship hall for Alex and Gramma Willadean. The sun hadn’t yet heated up the day and a gentle breeze blew in from the south. Macy knew that it would be as steamy as ever in a couple of hours, but for now she enjoyed the warmth of the sun.

  She’d dressed with care, trying to strike a balance between comfort and respectability. Her only concession to vanity had been to wear her long, curling hair loose and free around her shoulders. She remembered how Alex had played with it that one night when…

  She turned her attention to her child. A churchyard was not the place to be thinking what she’d been thinking. Cory raced around, playing with another boy who had also been liberated from the nursery section.

  Part of the question of what to do today had been solved when Willadean had suggested they all go out together for Sunday dinner, and Macy thought she might actually enjoy the treat. With Willadean there to act as a buffer between Macy and Alex, she thought they might be able to keep from arguing, though she was sure that would come later.

  “Here comes Gramma,” Cory squealed gleefully and scampered over to grab Willadean by the hand and drag her toward Macy.

  Macy had to smile. Willadean was in her usual church “uniform”—a floral print dress with a large, starched white collar, black patent-leather bag and matching shoes. The floral print might change, but the rest of the outfit never did.

  Then she caught a glimpse of Alex, and her heart flip-flopped. He never ceased to look wonderful. In fact, even last night when they were so angry they could scarcely keep their voices down low enough to keep Cory from waking, he’d looked terrific. This morning, spectacular seemed the appropriate word.