Michael's Father (Harlequin Super Romance)

by Melinda Curtis

  And Cori couldn’t have imagined that the weight of her secret would fluctuate from confinable to bursting. The pressure of Blake’s disapproval was enough to keep her secret locked away. Most times, Blake seemed barely able to look at Michael, much less study his features and mannerisms and recognize himself there. His scorn scorched her in every word and look he directed her way. Those few times she’d glimpsed the Blake she’d fallen in love with—him helping her grandfather out of his car; those first few words they’d shared last night at the river; the stained, worn socks of a man not afraid to get his hands dirty with honest work—that’s when Cori longed to tell him the truth—

  “Are you asleep?”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CORI NEARLY JUMPED OFF the glider at Blake’s words. He stood not two feet in front of her, seeming to rise out of the shadows. Her eyes traveled over his jean-clad legs, past his lined denim jacket covering a red-and-black checked flannel shirt, up to his mouth parted in a tentative half smile, then away to the calm water in the swimming pool.

  “I guess you weren’t.”

  “No.” She swung her bare feet down to the cold flagstones, prepared to go.

  “Wait.”

  Cori glanced up at his face, anxious as to why he would want her to stay. Her heart pounded with apprehension. Could he have guessed about Michael? Should she tell him now? His gray eyes held hers steadily, with no anger or persecution, making her hesitate.

  “They need time alone with her,” he said unapologetically, as if she were some visitor rather than family. “They don’t spend near enough time with her. And they’ll probably leave her if you go up, too, seeing as how you’ve been gone so much.”

  Cori blinked but held Blake’s gaze, refusing to acknowledge the pain his statement inflicted. He seemed more a Messina than she did. For years, she’d comforted herself with the thought that her mother and brother were still on her side. The visits and telephone calls had been sparse, but warm. Here on Messina turf, the separation burned more acutely than before and was all the more painful since she’d discovered this little piece of herself that wanted to belong.

  The long hours away from Michael, the hard work for people who were never satisfied, the anonymity of living in L.A. without anyone to rely on. It wasn’t how she’d grown up and it wasn’t what she wanted for Michael. Not that she wanted to give up her career or her independence. She certainly didn’t want to play the role her grandfather preferred for her. She just wanted her family back.

  But her grandfather wouldn’t allow it.

  The only way she could be assured that her grandfather would treat Michael fairly was if she divulged her secret. Yet, if she told everyone the truth, her grandfather would either fire Blake or try to control him. She couldn’t do that to Blake five years ago and she wouldn’t do that to him now.

  Having nothing to say without giving away things she shouldn’t, Cori took a sip of beer. Now that she was being warned away from the house, she really wanted to go back inside. The air seemed sharper than before. Her toes were beginning to sting and her hands were cold and wet from the condensation on the beer bottle. When Blake didn’t say anything or leave, Cori wiped her wet hands on her jeans, one at a time, careful to keep her eyes off him.

  After what seemed an unusually long silence, Cori laughed dryly and tucked her feet back under her.

  “I guess I should thank you. For standing guard,” she said, for that was certainly what it seemed like. “You can go on home. I won’t go inside yet.”

  “No.”

  She glanced at him then. Blake stood awkwardly, hands at his sides, brows drawn down and a slight frown on his face. He looked irritated.

  “You don’t have to thank me. I’m doing this for Sophia.”

  “Of course.” She choked out the words. She meant nothing to him now, had probably meant nothing to him all those years ago. “She’s lucky to have you…and Jennifer…around. Thank you.” If Cori hadn’t been so set on making her own way all those years ago, if the condom hadn’t failed, she would have been the one her mother relied on now. Still, she had to be grateful that Blake watched over Mama so carefully.

  Cori sighed. She couldn’t live in the world of “what ifs” with Blake standing close enough for her to touch. If she lifted her arm, she could easily slip her fingers into the curve of his palm. She looked at his strong hand and then away. Mistake. She knew what those fingers felt like coasting over her skin. The thought sent a tingling response down her spine.

  Cori took another sip of beer. She’d been home two days and the wanting was killing her. She wanted to be part of her family again, to be accepted for who she was, not judged by mistakes she’d made. She wanted to buy back these past few years with her mother.

  And she still wanted Blake. She wanted to coax that begrudging smile out of him. She missed talking with him before going to bed each night. She craved his touch.

  There. She’d admitted it to herself. She longed to be with the man whose heart she’d scrambled over in her bid for independence. He was a good man. Responsible, loyal, honorable. And sexy. She could still feel the whisper of his lips beneath her ear.

  She brought her cool palm up to her neck in an attempt to erase the memory.

  When he still didn’t move or speak, Cori tilted the beer to her lips and used the opportunity to look him in the eye, daring him to speak, because there were so many things she couldn’t say to him, that she had to keep locked tightly inside. At any minute she expected to blurt out that Michael was his son or that if he was going to stand there forever looking at her, she could use a lot more than just his looking. It’d been a long time since she’d experienced the touch of a man.

  Who was she kidding? Blake had been the last man to touch her. Cori took another pull on the beer bottle just to keep herself contained.

  “Chocolate?” He thrust his hand in her direction, palm up, offering her a choice of several colorful M&M’s.

  Cori shook her head. It wasn’t that she didn’t like chocolate. Chocolate just didn’t seem the right treat to mix with beer. She’d noticed when they first met that chocolate was one of Blake’s few weaknesses. She’d even seen a bag of chocolate in the refrigerator just now.

  “You look like you don’t want to be alone.” Blake popped some candy into his mouth.

  “Isn’t that the understatement of the year?” Cori laughed, finally, blessedly, feeling the effects of the beer in her system. “I don’t have much choice, do I?”

  “It’s just a few minutes—”

  Her second bout of laughter cut off his words.

  And then it happened. The dam holding in her emotions cracked and she nearly drowned in a moment of panic as words came tumbling out. “It’s not a few minutes. I’m not a part of this family anymore. Do you know what that means?” She couldn’t bear him towering above her, so she swung her feet to the chilly flagstones and stood, which didn’t help because he was still a foot taller than her. He was now far too near, and the world tilted for just a moment.

  Not waiting for it to steady, she continued. “It means I gave up my life for my child. I go to work. I come home. We eat. We play games. We color. He gets a bath. I stay up and work. Alone. Not for a few minutes, Blake. Every day. Him and me. Alone.” Cori was so out of control, tears welled in her eyes. She took a tattered breath, then another sip of beer, determined not to cry.

  “And you, of all people,” she couldn’t resist adding, although it was dangerously close to the wrong thing to say, “shouldn’t feel sorry for me, because I love Michael. And I wouldn’t trade him for anyone or anything.”

  Because Blake loomed so close and she suddenly felt incredibly foolish yammering on like that, Cori stepped around him to stand at the edge of the pool with her back to him and several feet between them.

  “So, thank you for the offer of the company, but I’m used to being alone.” Please leave, she added silently.

  Blake expelled a breath. Then he came to stand beside her. Cori ref
used to look at him. The smell of chocolate drifted her way. She kept her arms wrapped tightly across her chest, the beer still clutched in one hand, biting down on her bottom lip to keep her mouth shut. She’d already said way too much.

  “I remember how hard it was with Jennifer at first. It seemed as if it was just me against the world.”

  His hand came to rest upon her shoulder. He gave her a gentle squeeze, then his hand moved across and down her shoulder blades, up, across and down. Warmth seeped through her sweatshirt into her back and it was all Cori could do not to lean into his hand or settle against his side and tell him the truth.

  “You have family. That’s more than I had. This is a rough time for everyone.”

  Cori refused to acknowledge his words. To deny them was to betray her family further. To agree was to belittle her love for Michael. His hand dropped away and the cold bite of evening air shot through her. She shivered, telling herself it was from the chill.

  “Thank you.” Now if Blake would just leave…

  “Don’t say that.”

  Cori turned to look up at Blake. He stood close enough for her to curl her arms around his neck and pull his lips down to warm hers.

  “You’re always thanking me for something, as if I’m some kind of…of…busboy or something,” he said, looking down at her with narrowed eyes.

  Cori blinked in surprise. She’d relied on good manners for too many years to count. Her smile and a few kind words had ironed over many a difficult situation.

  “Half of the time I know you don’t mean it. It’s just something you say to fill the air.”

  “That’s not true. That’s—”

  “Bull. You know exactly what I’m talking about. I’d prefer you were real with me like you were just now.” His eyes blazed down upon her. “Ranting about being alone and all your responsibilities instead of pretending everything is okay.”

  “But—”

  “That’s how you were that summer.” Blake’s hands landed on her shoulders. “Anytime I told you to get lost or ignored you, you were polite beyond belief. I don’t think nuns were as polite as you.” He gripped her shoulders tighter, then shook her gently. “It drove me crazy then. It drives me crazy now. Just stop.”

  His hands fell away as if he’d just realized he was touching her again. Cori fought to fill her lungs.

  “At first, I didn’t think you had anything beneath all that blond hair and lip gloss. Then for a while, I thought I knew the person beneath all that.” He inhaled sharply. “Now, after hearing you rant and rave like a real person…” Blake looked out at the fog-enshrouded vineyards and paused.

  Cori waited to hear what he had to say next, hugging herself against the crisp night air, against the painful knowledge that she’d hurt him.

  “Whatever happened, whatever it is, you can tell me. I’ll understand.” He looked down into her eyes, saying the things Cori had always dreamed he’d say to her.

  She opened her mouth to tell him they had a beautiful child and to lay her fears about Michael’s future at rest.

  And then he ruined it.

  “Tell your family, too. Things will be better for everyone.”

  “No.” Cori stepped back. The truth wouldn’t make things any better for Blake, not if her grandfather knew. In this case, the truth wouldn’t set anybody free.

  “What if they don’t want to hear the truth?” she choked out, spinning away, escaping to the house before she gave Blake what he asked for.

  HANDS THRUST IN HIS jacket pockets, Blake trod through the vineyard in the gray misty light of predawn, wishing that his life were as straightforward as the rows he walked between. Since he’d started caring for Sophia, he’d fallen behind in some of his duties for Salvatore Messina. And it didn’t look like Cori was going to be able to provide as much help as he’d expected.

  A crew of pruners was scheduled to trim back the kicker cane on the vines this week and a shipment of new vines that needed to be grafted to existing rootstock required inspection for pests and disease—transmitted too easily on delicate grapevines, attacking tender spring growth. Nonstop vigilance by the field manager was required to keep a vineyard healthy and productive. Blake was giving the Messinas spotty vigilance while trying to make sure Sophia was comfortable.

  After tossing and turning in bed all night, Blake gratefully greeted the alarm clock and a return to the vineyards, where he had at least some control over his life. Heaven knows, he was failing Jennifer, with her fluctuating moods and impossible expectations. Even his parenting books weren’t helping. There wasn’t much else he could do for Sophia, besides be there for her. And, although he didn’t know what was wrong, Blake’s eyes were sharp enough to catch that Mr. Messina wasn’t in the best of health, either. It seemed as if all Blake did lately was worry.

  Blake had worked hard to create something that resembled a family here, and now it was disintegrating. Jennifer wasn’t totally correct. They’d still be welcome in the Messina mansion after Sophia passed. It just wasn’t going to be the same without her.

  Then there was Cori. He didn’t want to think about Cori, yet he couldn’t seem to stop. Something was eating Cori up inside. Something more than worry for her mother. Blake could see it in her shadowed eyes and guarded expression, hear it in the frustration bolstering her words.

  Unreasonably, Blake wanted to know what burden Cori carried. Did the boy’s father give them trouble? Was she unhappy living in L.A.? Would her life these past few years have been different if Blake’s pride hadn’t forced him to let her go?

  Straightening his shoulders, Blake strode purposefully out of the row onto the gravel road. Rusty, dented trucks lined the drive. A nursery delivery truck parked farther back. Hispanic men in worn flannel, blue jeans and scuffed boots tumbled out of doors at his appearance, anxious to receive instructions and start the day’s work.

  Before he could reach the crews, they parted for a sleek black limousine. The car pulled up next to Blake. Silently, the window opened to reveal Salvatore Messina. He’d taken to using a limo, claiming it allowed him more time to work, although Messina Vineyards’ headquarters was only a fifteen-minute drive from the main house. Blake suspected the limo had something to do with Mr. Messina’s health problem, but he respected the old man’s privacy enough not to ask what was wrong.

  “Good to see you out early,” Mr. Messina said, craning his neck to survey the workers and the trucks.

  With Cori still on his mind, Blake nearly asked Mr. Messina if he knew what was bothering her, not that his boss would answer even if he knew.

  Blake pushed out a heavy breath. He couldn’t be content worrying about Sophia dying, Jennifer’s teenage angst and Salvatore Messina’s increasingly mercurial moods and failing health. Nope. He had to add an obsession with the unknown problems of the woman who’d refused his love.

  “Did you hear me?”

  “What?” Blake quickly recovered, shifting his weight and forcing his attention back to his scowling employer, who had every right to be irritated. “I’m sorry. Say again.”

  “I said, who’s grafting those new vines?”

  “Robley and his crew. I’ve got Villalobo’s bunch pruning.” Most of the crews had worked on the Messina property before. They were well acquainted with the plants and Blake’s preferences. They knew the land so well, they pruned and planted almost instinctively, without much direction from Blake. Just what he needed this year.

  Mr. Messina stared at Blake in silence. With Mr. Messina, silence usually meant one of two things—intense displeasure or withheld information. In this case, Blake suspected Mr. Messina’s displeasure about his choice of work crews, based on the way his employer’s silver eyebrows sank.

  “Go over each leaf. Carefully.” Salvatore Messina eyed Blake speculatively.

  “Yes, sir.” Blake hid his frustration behind a neutral expression. He suspected it didn’t matter who he’d chosen to graft, but in Blake’s rush to get back on top of things he had irked Mr. Messin
a by not including him in the decision.

  Under the circumstances, Blake was doing pretty damn well, running the vineyards while fulfilling Sophia’s wish to be taken care of by those she loved. Still, disappointment swelled in him. Blake usually prided himself on exceeding Mr. Messina’s requirements. Lately, he’d had trouble meeting his employer’s minimum expectations. If there was ever a time Blake deserved to be chewed out by the old man, it was now.

  Mentally preparing himself, Blake met his boss’s dark stare evenly.

  Surprisingly, instead of issuing recriminations, Salvatore Messina rolled up the limo window and drove away.

  With a sigh of relief, Blake glanced at his watch, then hurried over to give instructions to each foreman. He needed to hustle if he wanted to have breakfast with Jennifer before school and help Sophia through her morning rituals.

  “WHAT’S THE BIG DEAL, Cori? It’s just one day.”

  “Sid, this is nonnegotiable. I can’t go.” Cori wasn’t leaving her mother to fly down to Los Angeles for a business meeting with the new Bell-Diva vice president of marketing. She’d decided last night to try to mend things with her family without letting her grandfather know who Michael’s father was. She was determined to make this super-mom thing work—her job, parenting, taking care of Mama. Today it was all coming together.

  She finished grating cheese for a cheese and bell pepper omelette. Unfortunately, omelettes weren’t something Cori made frequently. Okay, ever. The closest she’d come to cooking eggs was when she added them to the boxed cake mixes she sometimes made. But Cori felt confident she could improvise successfully.