Her feelings, of course, didn’t matter. Her son was the only thing that mattered, but Serena had no real reason to worry that Nate wouldn’t take to Blake. Nate accepted people. He was a happy kid, easygoing, content within himself. Maybe he was a little too mature for his age, but his extra dose of IQ undoubtedly came from Blake’s genes—which gave them a common thread to relate with each other, right off the bat.
Blake had too much integrity to make a promise he wouldn’t keep. He’d never rush something that wasn’t right. So all that was happening this afternoon was Nate and Blake spending a little time together. Just being together. Nothing more. There was no reason on earth to have this odd premonition it was going to turn into an afternoon from hell.
As he got out of his car, he spotted her in the doorway. She saw his slow smile. All the blood dropped from her brain and pooled in a nice warm hormonal puddle just below her belly. Thirty-two years of maturity instantly flew out the door when she pushed it open, thinking, Come on, you dimwit. Get a grip.
She got a grip and smiled radiantly back. “You’re early.”
“Too early?”
“It’s Saturday. No such thing as too early or too late, Doc. It’s real-life time on the weekend. And what’s that under your arm?”
“A little something I got for Nate. Just a game. I hope that’s okay. I thought if I brought something we could do together, it might be easier for him to have a reason to talk to me.”
“Bribery, you mean.”
“No, no—”
At his sudden stricken look, Serena rolled her eyes. “Come on in and relax. I was teasing.” Once he stepped inside, she meant to immediately fetch Nate, and yet for a moment she didn’t move. “He’s been playing something in the den this morning. I’ll get him, but first…”
“What?”
He was standing right next to her, so close that she could see those mesmerizing blue eyes of his, feel the sun’s heat coming off his skin, feel the electrical charge from kisses shared four days ago. Four long, long days ago. Stunning her like a slap was how fiercely and suddenly she wanted his mouth on hers again, could already imagine tasting him.
The only thing going seriously wrong with the afternoon so far, Serena thought ruefully, was her.
“First, I just want to be sure we’re still in agreement about doing this low-key. Nate knows you were a friend from when we were both younger. That it’s natural you’d stop by to say hi and catch up. Hang out for a few hours or whatever’s comfortable. We’ll show you around the place. Just take it easy.”
“Sounded like a good plan to me when we talked about it. Still does.”
And he still looked like the good man she’d first fallen like a rock for. The hair was fresh brushed, the chin fresh shaved. He wore tropic-weight khakis, sandals, a white T-shirt. Not true grubbies like normal people wore on a weekend, but probably as close to let-loose clothes as Blake owned.
There was nothing formal about the way he looked at her, though. His gaze shimmied down her length, checking her over as if they’d voted to play doctor and she was the patient. She was wearing an orange shirt and faded denim cutoffs, her hair braided and twisted up to get it off her neck in the heat—but she felt his gaze on her bare throat, her wrists, her long brown legs. Not sexual body parts. Just…regular body parts. But he made her feel as if she’d been touched. Intimately.
Still, Blake had barely stepped in the door before his expression changed. His gaze darted around the room and she saw hope in his eyes. Not for her, not about her, but about her son. Even though Serena’d told him that Nate was playing in the den, he was obviously hoping to catch a look at the boy. He didn’t look much older than Nate right then. Worried, hoping, expectant, like a child waiting for a birthday party but not quite sure the plans were going to work out.
“Hey, it’ll be fine, Blake,” she said gently. “We’re just going to have an easy couple of hours together. There’s nothing to worry about. We’ll have some serious things to decide later. But not today.”
His eyes shot to hers again. “I know that.” He sighed edgily. “And I promise I won’t say or do anything that makes him uncomfortable, Serena.”
“You wouldn’t be here if I didn’t trust you. Everything’s going to be fine. Just make yourself at home, okay?” Swiftly she turned and headed down the hall. “Nate? Honey, we’ve got company.”
“Oh, yeah? Who?” Nate’s tousled head appeared from around the door of the den. He glanced around, noticed Blake—and promptly hightailed it to the bathroom faster than a gunned engine.
At the sound of the door slamming, Serena’s mouth dropped. “Nate?” Embarrassed, she shot a quick shrug at Blake. “I don’t know what’s going on here.”
“Offhand, I’d say I seem to be the last person in the universe he’s willing to see.”
“No, no, he doesn’t even know you. It can’t be anything like that. And he knows his manners. Something must be wrong. I’ll find out what the problem is. You sit down, okay? Put your feet up?”
Swiftly she jogged to the bathroom, rapped once on the door, then poked her head inside. Nate wasn’t exactly in sight, but she noticed the small figure sitting in the bathtub with a gigantic turquoise towel over his head that didn’t precisely conceal him as well as he’d planned—particularly since he’d tried that hiding trick on his mom before. In times of trouble, she’d climbed into the bathtub to talk with him.
“Hey, handsome,” she said. “What’s the problem here? Dr. Blake came over to say hi to both of us. How come you took off?”
From beneath the turquoise towel came a small voice. “Come on, Mom. You know why. He gave me a shot.”
“But that was when you were sick.”
“Yeah, well. He wants me to carry a shot around all the time. You heard him. He expects me to know how to poke myself with a needle.”
“Sweetheart, you heard what he said. If you got stung by another bee, you could get sick really bad. The shot is to make you get better fast. Dr. Blake was treating you like a big boy, because he figured out that you were old enough to understand that nobody like shots, but sometimes that’s what we have to do. So they’re a pain. So what? They’re still better than being seriously sick for a long time.”
Nate heard this out, and changed tactics—but no way that towel was coming off his head yet. “Look, Mom. You let me make my own friends. You can make your own friends, too. But I’m not going near anybody who gives shots. No doctor friends for me.”
Serena poked her head under the towel to force a little eye-to-eye contact. “I think that’s being mean. And it isn’t like you to be mean. He didn’t come here to give you a shot. He just came here because we’re old friends, and he wants to spend a little time with us. So this is about manners. When someone comes to the house, we come out and say hello and shake hands. You know that.”
“Mom—”
“We also don’t decide whether we like somebody before we even know them—and you don’t know Dr. Blake at all. What if someone decided they didn’t like you because you have black hair? Wouldn’t you think that was unfair?”
“I’d think they were stupid. But it’s not the same. I just don’t think it’s a good idea to make a friend with someone who gives shots. Mom, you’ve told me a zillion million times that I should trust my feelings. Well, I trust that I hate grown-ups who give shots.”
Damn kid. Six years old and already turning her parental value lessons against her. She firmly pulled off the towel. “Come on, Nate. Think about it. You’re holding it against Dr. Blake because he tried to help you. Now does that make sense? You know it doesn’t. And worse yet, we’re both being rude now. You don’t have to like every grown-up who comes in the house, but I expect you to be polite. It’s the Cheyenne way to always be respectful to those older than us.”
Slowly Nate climbed out of the bathtub, but he sighed. His no-one-ever-suffered-like-me sigh. “Ice cream after dinner,” he bargained.
“Okay.”
; “Fudge ripple.”
“Okay.”
“Two scoops.”
“Okay.” God, she was so ashamed. How come real parenting always came down to bribery? But somehow she had to con her monster-darling into giving Blake another chance. Nate was usually so tolerant and easygoing, but she should have anticipated that doctors weren’t exactly the most popular people for urchins that age.
Back in the living room, Blake was standing at the window, jingling change in his pocket. He whirled around when he heard their footsteps, and his whole face lit up for his son. Serena felt a punch in her stomach she’d never expected. It was just that the yearning in Blake’s eyes darn near tore her heart out.
“Hey, Nate,” Blake said easily.
“Hey, Doc.”
“You were busy playing something in the other room, huh? And your mom made you come out.”
“Yeah, but it’s okay.” He shot out his small hand, as taught.
A muscle in Blake’s cheek twitched as he gravely shook his son’s hand, grown-up fashion. “It’s okay if you’d rather go back to playing whatever you were doing. But I had this thing I’d like to give you first, if you wouldn’t mind.”
“Sure. Okay.”
Blake leaned over and handed him the toy store bag, but then paused uncertainly. “I’d better tell you, I’m around kids all the time, but almost always when they’re sick. It’s not like I get a chance to play with them, so I really wasn’t sure what kind of game might be up your alley.”
Again, Serena felt her heart catch. It should have been Nate’s eyes that looked hungry and hopeful at the idea of a present, but it was Blake who looked so nakedly yearning, so hoping to please. But then she saw the logo of the specific game when Nate pulled it out of the bag, and she had to swallow fast.
Most kids Nate’s age loved that game but Nate had outgrown it a couple years before. Blake, of course, had no way of realizing that his son had charged way ahead of his age group and had already turned into a pint-size computer guru.
“Boy, is this cool. Thanks a lot,” Nate said, and looked at her.
You can have forty scoops of fudge ripple, you darling. She didn’t say it, but she sent him the message with her eyes, hoping that her favorite son in the entire universe would just understand how much she appreciated his being so tactful.
“It’s all right? Really?” Blake asked.
“Yeah, really. It’s a real nice game.” Nate looked at her again.
Sixty scoops.
“I could play it with you. If you had the time,” Blake offered carefully.
“Sure, Doc. I’d love to play it with you.” Nate looked at her again.
All right, you blackmailing devil. You can have a lifetime of fudge ripple. Just keep being nice.
She crossed fingers behind her back as the two set up the game. She just wanted it to go well, for both their sakes. She wanted them to like each other, to find a way to relate to each other.
But somehow she’d never expected the heart-slug of emotion when she saw the two heads, so close, bent over the board game. Yes, she’d seen them together in the doctor’s office, and that first shock of seeing Blake with his son had eclipsed her heart then, too. But this was way, way more heart-twisting. This was sitting on a couch together. Not in a sterile, professional doctor’s office, but in a home—the way she’d never thought any of them could possibly be.
Suddenly Serena’s smile died. She was painfully aware of all the risks they were gambling with. Her son, having to come to terms with a father in his life. Blake, struggling with the knowledge that he was a father and what that meant to him.
And then there was her. Because Serena achingly realized that she was still in love with a man who didn’t love her—and never had.
Four
Serena was unsure how a short visit had turned into an all-day marathon, but somehow Blake was still here. Though she’d always considered washing dishes to be an insufferably tedious chore, tonight it was kind of fascinating. Everyone she knew washed dishes the same way—lifted a dish, rinsed or scrubbed off any loose food, then put the sucker in the dishwasher. Maybe it was boring, but anyone could do it. Even children. Even men.
But then there was Blake.
For the fourth time, he lifted a plate and just stood at her kitchen sink, holding it in midair.
If he didn’t quit this behavior soon, Serena thought grimly, she was going to be forced to kiss him. Damn the man, but he had to stop doing endearing things or she just wasn’t going to be responsible. He was the one who’d offered to do the dishes after being invited to their makeshift dinner of burgers on the grill. And that was fine. Except that every time he picked up a dish or glass, he stared out the kitchen window and completely forgot the washing job.
From where Serena stood next to him, she had the same window view as Blake. Nate was outside, rolling in the grass, giggling that big-belly, infectious giggle only kids can do. It was that time of early evening when only children would willingly be outside. All breezes had died. The sun, which had earlier burned off the clouds, was still choking high. Even with the water garden happily bubbling, the heat was intensely smothering. Nothing was willingly moving. Nothing was willingly breathing, except for her son, who was watching Whiskey trying to nap at the same time the old setter was being stalked and hunted by the two kittens.
“Darn kid cheated. Actually cheated. So I’d win a game of Candyland, for God’s sake,” Blake muttered morosely. His gaze was glued on Nate as if all life would end if he missed a single breath the boy took.
“Yup, he did.” Since he’d been holding the milk glass for a good sixty seconds without moving, Serena pried his fingers loose and deposited it in the dishwasher. Swiftly Blake picked up another plate, as if conscious he’d been slacking and was determined to now do double his share. Except that his gaze sneaked out the window again.
“And then I blew up his volcano.” Blake’s voice sounded bleak and guilt-ridden.
“I don’t think we need to exactly call that a tragedy.” Tactfully, slyly, she removed the plate from his hand. “It was just a vinegar and baking soda volcano, after all. We make them all the time. It’s one of our favorite science experiments. The next time you’ll know not to use quite so much baking soda.”
“That’s not the point. It was the kid’s volcano. The six-year-old kid’s. And I’m the one who blew this stuff up all over your kitchen.” The eyes turned to her were on fire with the depth of his anguish.
“Um, Blake, maybe we could lighten up? Nothing earth-shattering or life-threatening happened. Trust me. This kitchen has seen a few disasters before.” By dancing around him—God knew, nothing was going to make the man budge from that window and get out of her way—she managed to scoop up the silverware and the last of the dishes. Two seconds later the dishwasher was slammed shut and switched on. Blake still hadn’t moved. Then he looked at her, not seeing her, not seeing anything but failure spelled in capital letters.
“I did everything wrong I could possibly do. Even the squirt guns. I was so positive you’d be opposed to his having guns—”
Her jaw almost dropped in surprise. “Well, of course I am. But squirt guns are hardly the same thing as guns, Blake. I mean, what’s a hot summer without a squirt gun? Naturally I have the biggest and the strongest squirter because I’m the mom.” She thought she could woo a smile, but no.
“He hates me, Serena.”
“He does not.”
“He’s never going to forgive me for giving him a shot. And then the game I brought was all wrong. Stupid.”
“It’s a good game for that age group. You had no way of knowing that Nate was beyond it. You’re just getting to know him, for heaven’s sake.”
“Yeah, well. After everything I screwed up, he’ll never want to get to know me. He even tried to show me the computer game, that Wild Warriors? I killed off the hero in the first two minutes. I screwed up everything. Nate’s going to hide if I try to visit again.”
S
he opened her mouth…and closed it. She wanted to say something reassuring, but the truth was, Blake had screwed everything up. Just as he’d said.
Any other time, the situation would be totally funny. Blake wasn’t just good with kids. He was incredible. Even when he’d been a snot-nosed medical student, the older docs would call him in if they had an unhappy young patient, because Blake had such an unbeatably soothing way with children. But he’d walked in, seen Nate and froze. All afternoon, he’d been stiff as a rod. Artificial. Bumbling. Instead of just being himself, his conversations had been more formal than a zombie’s.
She tried teasing, the way she had years ago when they were both in medical school—back then, her purpose in teasing was so he’d never guess how much she really cared. It worked then. All too well. “Remmington, you’re whining. Quit it.”
“Whining? Me?” He looked startled, as if such an accusation were unimaginable.
“Look,” she said patiently, “we’ll set up something else. Maybe the three of us could go fishing or kite flying, something like that. But next time, don’t try so hard, for Pete’s sake. Just relax. Loosen up. Be yourself.”
“Relax,” he echoed. “Loosen up…” He sounded as if he were gravely trying to memorize a set of instructions.
It was the last straw for Serena. She hurled the dish towel onto the turquoise counter and reached for him.
A hug was all she had in mind. Kisses had proved so volatile the other night that there was absolutely no chance she wanted to drive even near that ditch again. But a plain old ordinary hug was necessary. Blake was so miserable that she couldn’t stand it, and she’d never seen him in such a disastrous state. Normally he had a terrific sense of humor and a natural sense of compassion. Even though he was being downright goofy about always doing the right thing, he still had a gift for making others feel comfortable around him. Yet with Nate, he’d been as comfortable to be with as a porcupine.
You Belong to Me Page 5
