If only every child had a father who cared as much as Matthew. His love, his commitment to his son was etched in his every expression. “I promise I’ll be careful when I spend time with him,” she vowed. “I don’t want to see him hurt, either.”
“I know.” There was certainty in his words, yet their time together today was the most they’d ever spent in each other’s company—they were still virtually strangers.
So she couldn’t help but ask, “You do?”
“I saw it in your eyes when you met him. You care.”
She smoothed her skirt over her lap, gathering her thoughts—Matthew deserved to understand where she stood in regards to his son.
She looked back up and met his gaze. “When Flynn was handed to you and Grace at the maternity hospital, I was honestly pleased to be able to give you a baby. Grace was so desperate to be a mother, and I knew the two of you would make great parents. But, yes, I do still care about him. Want the best for him. So, please don’t be concerned that I’ll encourage an attachment that will hurt him when I leave.”
A little of the tension seemed to leave his features as he nodded wordlessly and began to eat again.
After a few mouthfuls, the silence felt uncomfortable so she cast around for another topic.
“Do you have any allergies besides to penicillin?”
He arched an eyebrow and she realized she’d probably lost him by blurting out her question. “For when I buy ingredients tomorrow, I was wondering if you had a food allergy, like to peanuts or seafood,” she added.
“I’m not fond of olives or oregano, but no, penicillin is my only allergy.”
“It’s tough that it might have stopped you from donating your bone marrow,” she said without thinking, then cursed herself for reopening a painful subject.
A tortured look filled his eyes and she understood just how very much he’d wanted to be able to do that for his son. “Yes,” he muttered.
The depths of pain she’d once again glimpsed called to her like a siren’s song, demanding she ease the suffering.
“I’m sorry, Matthew.”
He gave a small shrug. “I just wish I could be Flynn’s first resort, not his last.”
She wanted to ask how he was coping, but it was too intimate a question and she had no right to pry. He’d invited her into his home so she’d be nearby in case they needed her bone marrow. He didn’t want her forming attachments to his son, or asking prying questions of him. She had to remember she was temporary. Nothing more.
Three
The next morning, Susannah was in the kitchen making toast when Matthew appeared, striding through the door, blowing her composure out the window. He wore trousers of darkest blue and a caramel business shirt—no jacket, no tie. The buttons at his neck and those leading down his chest weren’t yet secured, giving an unfettered view of the strong column of his neck and his Adam’s apple, then a glimpse of the smattering of dark chest hair. Her mouth suddenly went dry.
Until this morning, she’d seen his throat respectably outfitted in a collar and tie—even last night when he’d removed his tie, the collar had still covered the view now on display. Her heart thumped hard and erratically, which seemed an extreme reaction even considering this was the first time she’d seen his naked neck. Yet she couldn’t tear her gaze away.
“Good morning, Susannah,” he said, his voice smooth and deep. “Did you sleep well?”
She swallowed and determinedly looked back to the toaster. “Good morning. Yes, the room is lovely—I slept like a baby.”
“You mean waking every two hours, feeling hungry?” She glanced back to see his green eyes had taken on a devilish glint.
The unexpected humor relaxed her and she smiled. “Flynn wasn’t a good sleeper?”
“He was eight months before he slept through the night. But he’s good now.”
Matthew moved into the kitchen and reached toward a large silver machine. “I’m making coffee—do you want one?”
“Love one,” she said on a happy sigh. She’d been eyeing the machine before he came down and wondering if she should attempt to work out how it operated, but was wary of breaking something on her first morning.
As she moved aside to give him more room, she noticed his feet were bare. Her breath caught. She’d seen plenty of naked male feet before—they were freely on show at any beach. But it was different seeing Matthew Kincaid’s feet emerging from his suit trousers, moving around on his tiled kitchen floor. More intimate somehow. They were strong feet, broad with long toes and bluntly cut nails, and she had a vision of them sliding against her own feet. She shivered.
“How do you like yours?”
Her head jerked up to find him holding up a mug to highlight the question. His thoughts were innocent, it was hers that had been…best forgotten. That way lay danger.
“Black with one sugar,” she rasped.
He pressed a button and a subtle mechanical noise filled the space between them, giving her a chance to recover her breath. Why was he affecting her so much? Was it the intense situation they faced? The false intimacy of staying in his house? Or something about Matthew Kincaid himself?
Abruptly the noise stopped and they were again two people standing in silence, alone in a kitchen.
“I’ll make a proper breakfast tomorrow,” she said, feigning normalcy, “but for today, do you want something other than toast?”
“Toast is fine. I usually make Flynn an omelet in the mornings but if I’m on my own, toast is all I bother with.”
He leaned back against the counter, folding his arms over his muscled chest and crossing his naked feet at the ankles. She tried not to look as she slid two more pieces of bread into the toaster and moved to the fridge.
“Kara rang earlier,” he said. “She wanted to know if you’d take the morning shift with Flynn. She was going to do it herself but there was some sort of wedding disaster she has to see to.”
Delighted, she turned to him with butter in one hand and honey in the other. “She’s getting married?” This family could do with something joyful to celebrate.
“Our sister Laurel is getting married. Kara is organizing the wedding. If it’s a problem, I’ll go. I’d planned on going into work this morning then spending the afternoon with Flynn, but—”
“It’s no problem.” She smiled, glad to be of use. “The only thing on my schedule was some shopping, and I’ll do that later.”
And the grateful smile that flashed across his face warmed her down to her toes and made any inconvenience worthwhile.
“Are you happy eating at the kitchen table?”
She glanced out through the glass doors to a little courtyard bathed in early morning sunlight. A wisp of serenity settled through her. “I saw a garden setting outside—would you mind if we ate out there?”
“Sure. It should be warm while the sun’s hitting it,” he said, walking over and unlocking the door. “In fact, it’s been pretty warm this year.”
She found a tray and piled it with plates, butter and spreads. Matthew put the coffees on the tray and leaned in front of her to lift it. The smell of clean skin and freshly laundered cotton surrounded her and her eyes drifted closed to savor the scent. When he moved away, her eyes flicked open again. Glad he hadn’t seemed to have noticed, she grabbed some cutlery and followed him out onto the paved area that was warmed by the morning sun.
A light breeze played with the leaves on the bushy shrubs that enclosed the little courtyard. It was like a magical area, away from reality. Stepping away from the table, she turned her face to the sun, and, cutlery still grasped in one hand, spread her arms out to capture all the rays she could. The sunshine was so divine on her skin, the light breeze lovely as it lifted the edges of her hair, that she could have stayed for hours, soaking it all up. If she were alone.
She dropped her arms and turned to find Matthew standing a few feet away, watching her with an intensity that stole her breath. Telling herself there was no need to be self-conscio
us, she shrugged and laid the cutlery on the table.
“I like the fresh air,” she said, a twinge of embarrassment still in her belly.
One corner of his mouth twitched. “I can see.”
Ever since she was little, she’d searched out the sun and the wind, running outside on windy days to play. And now, as an adult, it was still something of a guilty pleasure.
“Working in an office all day and living in an apartment, I try to find time to be outside whenever I can. Just to feel the sun and the breeze touch my skin. It’s…revitalizing.”
The pulse at the base of his throat seemed to beat more strongly and his light tone was forced. “Sounds like a smart plan.”
“I start to wilt if I stay inside too long,” she said, aware her voice was breathier than it had been moments before.
A heavy silence fell, setting every nerve in her body on edge, until the tension drew out to become a physical thing between them. His eyes darkened, sending a shiver down her spine.
Finally he cleared his throat. “You’re an interesting woman, Susannah Parrish.”
“You don’t like the outdoors?” Her uncooperative voice was close to a whisper.
“Love it,” he said, stepping across to hold her chair for her. “I just never think of it as something I need. I take Flynn outside to play, and we go to parks, but it’s something for him.”
As she sank into the chair, she watched him move around the table to take his own seat. His tone had been matter-of-fact, but she sensed there was a clue here to understanding Matthew Kincaid. She picked up her coffee and sipped, turning the notion over in her mind.
“You can’t live just for your work and Flynn. You have needs, too, Matthew.”
He stilled, gaze locked on her and she suddenly regretted her choice of words—she had no right to be dishing out advice. She cast around for a way to make it right, to take the unintended provocative edge away, but came up with nothing.
His cell phone rang and he reached into his pocket, not breaking eye contact with her. Then he turned and headed for the glass door and into the house. “Matthew Kincaid,” he said, closing the door behind him.
A trickle of relief flowed through her at the interruption. Though the courtyard was suddenly emptier, colder, without his presence. She rubbed her hands up and down her arms. In the short time since she’d arrived, she’d noticed that about him—he brought a room to life, as if there was a haze of…something…around him. Something almost magical. Even out here, outdoors, once he was gone, the air seemed flatter, the colors less vibrant.
The door opened and he reappeared. “That was the hospital.”
Her heart skipped a beat. “Flynn?”
“No, it was the lab.”
Her hands reached for the small table, and held firmly for support. “The tissue testing,” she said and he nodded. “And?”
He grinned, and his face transformed. “They think you’re a good match. It’s the first piece of good news I’ve had since Flynn entered that hospital.” He walked across to where she sat and took her hand, holding it between both of his. The touch of skin on skin was electric, sending a shimmer across every one of her nerve endings. “We finally have a backup plan, thanks to you.”
“Oh, thank goodness,” she said in a rush, partly from relief, partly from his hands still enclosing hers. She tightened her fingers around his.
“They’re still not sure if he’ll need it—” he dragged in a deep breath, and she could imagine the prayer he sent up “—but they’d like you to be available in case.”
She didn’t hesitate. “I’ve taken a week’s leave. I’m yours.”
Forty minutes later, she was entering Flynn’s room, more nervous than she’d been yesterday. The first time she’d been alone with him, it’d been for a few minutes while Matthew made a call. This time, it would be several hours with a whole lot more expectation that she could be fun and entertaining. Which would be hard enough given her limited experience with children, but it also all needed to happen while not encouraging any attachment. She placed a hand over her belly to calm the butterflies that had taken up residence.
A tall woman with short, stylishly cut dark auburn hair hopped up from a chair against the wall and motioned with a finger against her lips that Flynn was sleeping while she tiptoed over. Her brilliant green eyes were the same shade as Matthew’s, but she was too old to be a sister.
“You must be Susannah,” the older woman said. “I’m Elizabeth, Flynn’s grandmother. Thank you for filling in.”
“It was no problem.” As she turned and saw Flynn, her breath caught in her throat. His sweet little body was curled around the brown teddy, with the covers coming up to his waist. An almost physical pull beckoned her to his bedside, insisted she hold him.
The pull surprised her…and scared her. They’d been concerned about Flynn becoming attached to her—perhaps she should be as careful not to let herself become too emotionally involved with him, or risk breaking her own heart when she left.
“He’s only been asleep for about ten minutes,” Elizabeth said, “so he’ll probably sleep a bit longer. It’s hard to tell—he’s tired all the time from the anemia so he’ll probably want to nap a couple of times while you’re here.”
“I’ll be fine.” She spoke the words to Matthew’s mother, but her gaze didn’t waver from Flynn. “I’ll let him set the pace, and I’ll be sure to encourage him to rest if he seems tired.”
“Kara said you were a friend of Grace’s?” Elizabeth’s tone was politely inquisitive, but Susannah understood her need to ask—this was a grandmother about to walk out and leave her only grandchild in the company of a stranger.
“Yes,” she said, weighing up the amount of information to disclose. With a lie, it was best to stick as close to the truth as possible. “We knew each other a number of years ago. The last time I saw her was just after Flynn was born.”
“You met Flynn?” the other woman asked, her head tilted to the side. “I’m sorry to sound so curious, it’s just that I don’t remember you from the baby shower.”
“Just the once.” At his birth. “I missed the shower—I was moving to Georgia about that time, then Grace and I lost touch. I was very sorry to hear about her passing.”
Elizabeth turned a pained look to her grandson. “We all were. For Grace, for Flynn and for Matthew.” She reached for her bag and, while her face was averted, brushed at her cheek. Susannah’s heart clenched tight for the pain this family had been through.
When Elizabeth straightened, her face was composed, even if her eyes glistened. “Nice to meet you, Susannah. I hope to run into you again sometime.”
“Likewise,” she replied, and watched Matthew’s mother slip out of the room.
Now she was alone, Susannah allowed herself a chance to stare at the little boy for timeless, heart-wrenching minutes. He was simply perfect.
Finally she dragged herself away and eased into the chair. She rummaged through her bag for a pen and notebook then began making notes to email her assistant later. After her presentation yesterday, the PR plan for the bank’s rebranding had been given the green light. She might have left soon after, but her assistant and the rest of the team could handle the preliminary work, and Susannah would be home long before the launch to take control of the rest of the plan. And she would stay in regular contact via phone and email.
She tapped the pen against her chin. A week ago, this project had been the most important thing in her life, and now…her gaze drifted over to the sleeping child before she forced it back again.
And now it still needed to be. She’d be leaving Charleston soon, and when she did, her career would again be her main focus. She loved her job, and was proud of being in a senior position at only twenty-six. She had a tight group of friends at home, too—she hadn’t had a chance to explain her trip to Charleston to them yet, just a quick text to all four saying she was out of town and would explain when she got back. It was a good life she’d built when she and
her mother had moved there three years ago. A life that anchored her and pulled at her to return.
When she’d finished making the notes, her mind drifted to dinner. She didn’t regularly make elaborate meals, since it was just herself at home, but when she had an excuse, cooking was something she enjoyed. The only thing she knew about Matthew’s tastes was he liked chili beans. Did he like desserts, or did he prefer a second helping of savory? Rich flavors or mild? She’d have to wing it the first time and see what worked for him. Ideas started to form and she jotted them down to make the trip to the supermarket easier.
Movement at the edge of her vision caught her attention. Flynn stretched and yawned then his large, sleepy eyes locked on her.
“Hello, sweetie,” she said, moving to sit on the side of the bed. “Your grandma had to go, so I thought I might spend some time here.” She was sure Elizabeth would have briefed him, but she wasn’t sure how disoriented he’d be after waking.
He nodded. “Hello, Sudi.”
Then, he leaned into her and yawned again. His little body was still warm from sleep and she wrapped him in a protective embrace and laid a cheek on his silky mop of hair.
Without meaning to, she turned her face and pressed her lips against the top of his head in a kiss. In that moment, she didn’t want to let him go—he was so warm and soft and trusting in this just-woken state. She held the kiss a few seconds longer, wanting to create a memory—the feel of his small body, his scent. A memory she could carry with her forever.
When she released him, he pulled back and slowly blinked at her, curiosity in his eyes. “Are you my new mommy?”
Her heart stilled in her chest and she couldn’t get her throat to work. Flynn seemed unaffected by her silence; he simply continued to watch her with soulful eyes.
“Why would you think that, sweetie?”
“You kiss like a mommy,” he said matter-of-factly.
She drew in a shaky breath. “That’s just the way I kiss all little boys and girls.”
He didn’t seem put off. “You singed like a mommy last time.”
What Happens in Charleston... Page 4
