Good Guy Heroes Boxed Set

by Julie Ortolon

  “That depends. Are you asking about the movie, or the project?”

  “Is there a difference?”

  “A huge difference,” he said. “The movie is just what people see up on the screen. The real story is what goes on behind the scenes.”

  “What is your part of the production?”

  “The best part.” Enthusiasm shot through him as it always did when he talked about his work, obliterating his best intentions to avoid the subject. “The movie is titled The Seekers. It’s a sci-fi Western, sort of a Terminator meets the Wild West.”

  “Terminator meets the Wild West?” She laughed again. God, he loved that sound.

  “Yeah.” He leaned forward, folding his forearms on the table. “See, the seekers are these robots from the future that come back in time and kidnap women to help repopulate the planet. The main character is a woman from the present who is taken forward in time, then she escapes and tries to return home. Only, she overshoots her own time period, and winds up back in the Old West, where she meets up with the owner of a Wild West show.”

  “Does the robot go after her?” Kate leaned forward, captured by the story.

  “Of course.” He smiled. “There wouldn’t be a smash hit without lots of danger and suspense, not to mention a few hair-raising chase scenes, some mind-blowing explosions, and a few million dollars’ worth of special effects. Which is where I come in.”

  “You create the special effects, right?”

  “Not all of them. They have a whole team of people working on this flick.” He rocked forward on his elbows and lowered his voice as if relaying a secret. “But I get to create the robot.”

  “Really?” Her brows lifted playfully. “That is impressive.”

  “Yeah.” He held her gaze, enjoying the way he felt simply sitting with her like this, talking. He noticed a curl had fallen against her forehead and wished he could lift a hand to brush it away, just to see if her skin felt as soft as it looked. Her smile faded slowly as if she’d read his mind. Rather than turn away, she went very still and her breathing turned shallow. Tension coiled deep in his belly. He opened his mouth to speak, not sure what to say. “Kate, I—”

  “Hey there, stranger,” someone said from behind him, breaking the moment.

  “Mary Pat!” Kate jumped, then rose with a nervous laugh to embrace her cousin.

  Stifling his frustration, Mike stood as well to greet the bar owner. Though taller and slimmer than Kate, she had the same copper-bright hair, which she wore in a short, spiky style around features that reminded him of an inquisitive fox.

  “How’ve you been?” Kate asked.

  “Busy, as always,” Mary Pat sighed. “About time you came by, though. I never see you since you moved out to the lake.”

  “Oh, pa-lease.” Kate jokingly rolled her eyes. “You sound like Mom and Dad. Besides, it’s not like the road only goes one way. You could always come see me.”

  “If only I had the time.” Mary Pat glanced toward Mike and her eyes twinkled with curiosity. “So, are you going to introduce me?”

  “Sure.” Kate turned to Mike. “This is Mike Cameron.”

  “Cameron?” Mary Pat said as she offered her hand. “A good Gaelic name if ever I heard one.”

  “As Scottish as they come.” Mike winked as he shook her hand. “Though the blood’s thinned a bit since my grandfather sailed out of Glasgow as a deck-hand on a cargo ship.”

  “Oh, and a sailor too.” The cousin’s eyes sparkled with delight.

  “Mary Pat,” Kate laughed. Conflicting emotions played across her face as she glanced back and forth between him and her cousin. Was that speculation followed by jealousy? “We’re here to eat, not watch you drool.”

  “Well then.” Mary Pat beamed. “The special today is bangers ’n’ mash. You like pub grub, Mike?”

  “Absolutely,” he answered.

  “How about ale?” Mary Pat narrowed her eyes.

  “Are you kidding?” He grinned to let her know the answer was yes. “I prefer brown over blonde. Red’s even better,” he added as a wicked innuendo.

  “Well, all right then. Have a seat.” Mary Pat hollered their order toward the kitchen, then turned back. “You two enjoy your lunch. I’ve got to get back to work. And Kate, next time you drop by, bring that handsome man of yours, Dylan. I haven’t seen him in forever.”

  Dylan? Mike’s mind stumbled over the name. Who the hell is Dylan? “I like your cousin,” he said absently as he took his seat.

  “Thanks.” Kate chuckled. “I kind of like her too. Most of the time.”

  “So…” He drummed his fingers on the table. Dylan couldn’t possibly be a husband, could he? His gaze shot to her left hand to confirm the lack of a ring. Surely he would have noticed one before now. Or she would have said something. A boyfriend, then? That would certainly explain her insistence that they not become involved. “So,” he started again, trying to sound casual. “Who’s Dylan?”

  “Hmm?” She glanced at him. “Oh, my son.”

  “Your… son?” His head dropped forward as his brain tried to function around that bombshell.

  “Yeah.” Her whole face changed, softening with pride and a love that clearly came from deep inside her. “He’s seven, and the smartest kid in his class.”

  “Seven,” he repeated numbly. He wasn’t sure whether he felt shocked or relieved to learn Dylan was her son, not her lover. “I, um, take it the father is no longer in the picture?” He regretted the question instantly as he watched the softness vanish. A wall dropped over her features.

  “Of course Edward is still in the picture… when he cares to be, which isn’t often. We’re divorced.”

  “I see.”

  She eyed him with cool detachment. “Do you have a problem with that?”

  “No, no problem. I just didn’t picture you as having a kid.” At least not one that isn’t mine. What an egotistical and ignorant assumption, he realized, as if she’d spent her whole life simply waiting for him to show up. God, he felt like a jerk.

  She leaned back in her seat. “I take it then that you don’t like children.”

  “Actually, I do,” he assured her. “I love kids. In fact, I’d like to meet him.”

  “No.” She shook her head. “Definitely not.”

  “Why not?”

  “Mike.” She folded her hands on the table. “I think we need to get one thing straight. I am working for you, temporarily, because, quite frankly, I need the money. My personal life, however, is my own. Understood?”

  “Certainly,” he assured her, not particularly liking the answer. He’d prefer she spent time with him because of the attraction between them, not because he was paying her.

  Their lunch arrived, and Mike spent the meal wondering how he felt about Kate having a son. Thinking about marriage had shaken him enough, but an instant family?

  To distract himself from that unsettling thought he started to reach for his phone, but remembered his promise to leave it off during lunch. Tension danced up his spine as he imagined the emails and text messages piling up. What if some of them were urgent? Someone on the animation team could be waiting for him to answer a question. Delays cost money. Threatened deadlines.

  The tension tingled down his arms making his nerves jump.

  Glancing down, he found his plate empty, which meant technically, he’d finished lunch. Except Kate still had several bites left. She pushed the food around leisurely, as if wanting to linger. The thought would have thrilled him, except for the no phone promise. He looked at his watch. Drummed his fingers. One quick peek, he thought, so he could relax and enjoy being with her. That was the whole point of not having the phone on, wasn’t it? To focus on your lunch date? So, wasn’t obsessing about the phone being off counter productive?

  “If you’ll excuse me,” he said, setting his napkin aside, “I’ll be right back.”

  At her questioning look, he nodded toward the restrooms.

  He returned moments later, relieved he
’d checked, since he’d found three urgent text messages from the FX supervisor. The second he slid back into the booth, however, Kate glanced up. One look at the disappointment in her eyes and he knew he was busted.

  ***

  “MOM,” DYLAN SAID that night as he settled into bed, “am I ever going to see Dad again?”

  Kate straightened from her task of picking up toys in the loft. “Of course you’ll see him again, sweetie. Why wouldn’t you?”

  Dylan’s narrow shoulders shrugged beneath his Transformers pajamas. “Tomorrow’s Friday, right? The third Friday of the month?”

  “Oh, Dylan.” She sat on the bed facing him. She’d completely forgotten which weekend was coming up. In the two years since their divorce, Edward had so rarely taken advantage of his visitation rights, she’d even stopped expecting him to call. A self-preservation measure, she supposed, to lessen the debilitating floods of anger. Reaching up, she brushed a black curl off Dylan’s forehead. “I know it’s hard, but you can’t take these things personally.”

  His mouth twisted to the side, and her heart twisted with it.

  “Dylan, I know I’ve told you before, but it really isn’t your fault Daddy would rather work than spend time with you. He just… well, he just doesn’t know how to have fun. Not like you and me, eh?” She tried a smile, but felt it slip away. Somehow, the mention of fun made her think of Mike. She realized she’d enjoyed being with him today—and that she hadn’t enjoyed a man’s company in a long time.

  “I guess.” Dylan covered his mouth and coughed.

  She tipped her head to study him. He’d looked tired and pale since she’d picked him up from school. “How’s your chest feel?”

  “Okay.” He coughed again, making her wince at the deep, gravelly sound.

  “You think you need the nebulizer tonight?”

  Rather than argue, as he usually did, he nodded. She tried not to show alarm at his easy acquiescence as she prepared the small machine that sat on the nightstand. Flipping the switch, she handed him the breathing tube and watched as he placed it in his mouth like an oversized straw.

  “Which book do you want tonight?” she asked. From the time he was little, long before he could understand the words, she’d read to him while he inhaled the medicated mist.

  “The Rabbit Book,” he said around the tube, referring to one of his favorite books, Guess How Much I Love You by Sam McBratney.

  She retrieved the worn volume from the jumble of books on the rickety shelf and settled against the headboard beside him. The Mickey Mouse lamp enclosed them in a small circle of light. With the quiet hum of the nebulizer playing in the background, the rest of the world faded away as she read the words she knew by heart.

  Dylan’s small, warm body leaned against hers as he lost himself in the story. He smelled of bruised grass and little-boy sweat and the soap he’d used in a halfhearted effort before climbing into bed.

  At last she heard him sigh and felt his body go slack. The tube slipped out of his mouth. She checked her wristwatch to mark the length of his treatment. Fifteen minutes. Perfect.

  Closing the book, she quoted the last line as she kissed the top of his head: ” ‘I love you right up to the moon—and back.’ “

  She turned the machine off and sat in silence, absorbing the stillness of the cabin. With her son’s comforting weight against her, she should have felt content and full of life, and yet, she felt… a void.

  She knew this emptiness all too well. It had started as a small ache that widened into a bottomless chasm during the years of her marriage. Toward the end, she and Edward had merely gone through the motions of being married, living in the same house, sleeping in the same bed. They fell into a rhythm of him working around the clock in his constant quest for money and prestige, and her retreating into her Dear Cupid column when she wasn’t focusing on Dylan.

  On top of Edward’s obsession with success, she hadn’t fit into his world. She found it ironic that their relationship had actually started out as the exact reverse of where it had ended. In college, she’s been the one who had fit in, while he hadn’t.

  And a man like Edward needed to fit in. He craved attention and approval.

  That need had made her the perfect girlfriend. While attending UT, she’d had a very active social life, filled with people who flocked to her as someone friendly and fun. She’d also had a knack for noticing the wallflowers and misfits and drawing them into the fold. She’d used that ability to help Edward when she’d noticed his handsome but sullen eyes as he watched her and her friends at a dorm party one night. As a sheltered only child from a wealthy family, he’d spent very little time around people his own age. Her friends deemed him an arrogant bore, but she’d seen a lonely soul. So, she’d taken him under her wing.

  He’d responded by falling crazy in love with her, putting her on a pedestal for her exuberance for life and ease with people.

  How quickly that had withered away when they left college, married, and entered the world in which he’d been raised. Her inability to converse with people much older than her about stock portfolios, trips to Europe, and rounds of golf had lowered her in his eyes.

  Would it have been so hard for him to return the favor and help ease her way into his world? Given time, she would have found her way. Edward’s criticism, however, had hampered the process, causing her to gradually withdraw.

  What had broken her heart far more than the deterioration of her marriage, however, was watching Edward’s growing disinterest in their son. He’d started out endearingly excited at the thought of being a father. She still remembered his awe the first time he’d held Dylan at the hospital. She’d quickly realized, though, that his idea of parenting echoed how he’d been raised. The mother did everything so the father, the bread winner and head of the family, wouldn’t be disturbed. Sons were something fathers bragged about to friends, not actually dealt with on a daily basis.

  Her insistence that the nineteen fifties were over and she expected him to be a part of their son’s life had irritated him. He’d seen her requests for him to spend time with Dylan as unreasonable demands because they interfered with his work. As the years passed and Edward’s business grew, his irritation had turned to anger, until he’d finally erupted, shouting at her for being a burden rather than the asset he thought she’d be, and letting her know he didn’t have room for that in his life.

  From that moment on, she hadn’t even attempted to salvage the marriage. If he wanted her and Dylan out of his life, she’d gladly give him that.

  Except she couldn’t. Not completely. Because Dylan, like any normal child, wanted his dad. It tore her up inside.

  For Dylan’s sake, she’d cling to the hope that someday Edward would see the light. That he’d look at Dylan and see what an amazing child they’d made. Surely that could happen. Edward and his father had a decent relationship. They weren’t close or demonstrative, but Mr. Bradshaw showed pride in Edward. They didn’t pal around together, but they talked on a fairly regular basis.

  If Dylan could at least have that, she’d keep trying.

  Which meant she needed to call Edward and remind him, again, about his visitation rights.

  Easing Dylan under the covers, she tucked him in, then made her way down the ladder from the loft. The clock on the mantel read eight p.m., late enough that Edward should be home. Not that he would have quit working for the night, he’d just be doing it in the comfort of his home office.

  She closed the door to her bedroom to keep Dylan from hearing and used the phone at her desk. As she listened to the ringing, she told herself to be calm but firm. After the fifth ring, the answering machine picked up. She closed her eyes to fight the tightness in her chest as Edward’s voice came on the line followed by the beep.

  “Edward, it’s Kate,” she said. “If you’re there, pick up.” She pictured him at his computer, his hands poised over the keyboard as he debated answering. “Edward, please, this is important. We can’t keep talking to each oth
er through our answering machines.”

  She pinched the bridge of her nose in a useless attempt to hold back a headache as she waited. Still he didn’t pick up, even though she knew in her gut he was probably there. “Okay, I am calling to remind you that tomorrow is the third Friday of the month, and I need to know if you’ll be picking Dylan up from school. I realize you’re busy, and it may have slipped your mind, but it hasn’t slipped Dylan’s. He’s smart enough and old enough to know you’re ignoring him. Please don’t do this to him. And please, will you just pick up so we can talk?”

  She waited. Nothing but silence greeted her. She started to give up and disconnect, but the thought of Dylan stopped her. She knew Edward well enough to know the one sure way to get him to respond.

  “Okay, you know what? If you don’t want to see your son, I’m fine with that. I’ll call my lawyer so we can renegotiate your visitation rights. While both of our lawyers are at it, they can reexamine the amount of your child support payment in light of the fact that your income has increased since—”

  “Kate, hi!” Edward’s voice broke in, sounding completely thrilled to hear from her. “I’m so glad I caught you before you hung up. I was just walking in the door when I heard the machine.”

  Yeah, I’ll bet . She rolled her eyes. “I was calling to see if you plan to take Dylan this weekend.”

  “Oh, hell, I’m sorry, I’m afraid I can’t.”

  “Surprise, surprise.”

  “I tell you what,” he said in that smooth, urbane manner that used to make her melt like butter but now made her stomach curdle. “How about next weekend? I know it’s not one of my appointed ones, but I happen to have a couple of tickets to the Longhorn baseball game at Disch-Faulk Field and the client I was going to take bailed. Dylan likes baseball… doesn’t he?”

  Fury shot through her at Edward’s ignorance about his own son. “Just because he isn’t good at sports doesn’t mean he doesn’t enjoy them. But so help me, Edward, if I tell Dylan you’re taking him to a Longhorn game only to have you cancel at the last minute—”