by Linda Morris
“It’s complicated.” Was it ever. That was the understatement of the millennium. “It had more to do with me and my doubts than it did you.” She chewed her lip. Now was the time. It felt right—as right as it ever would. She couldn’t let it slip away. “Paul, we have to talk.”
“No, we don’t.” He pushed his chair back so suddenly it shrieked across the floor.
“We don’t?” She stared at him.
“I’ve noticed we get into trouble when we talk. Especially when we have big, serious conversations. The kind that start out with ‘We have to talk.’ So, let’s not do that.” He nodded at the iPod on a nearby table, currently playing a slow instrumental track, something with a smoky saxophone line. “Dance with me instead?”
She looked at his outstretched hand, hesitating. “Only if you promise me we’ll talk later.”
“If you insist. Although I really don’t think it’s a good idea.” His lips quirked, but she couldn’t be sure he was joking. She didn’t understand this mood he was in. Did he really think they could be together and never carry on a conversation?
True, the idea had its appeal, considering her track record with relationships, but, even to her, it seemed impractical at best.
Then she moved into his warm embrace and forgot everything except the strength of his shoulder under her hand, the warm clasp of his hand in hers, and the promise in his eyes. They swayed to the music, really not moving much at all. But that was hardly the point anyway. She wanted to be close to him, to touch him, to savor his nearness and have her senses teased with the sharp scent of his aftershave.
He met her gaze and she returned his, suddenly nurturing a hope that maybe, just maybe, it would all work out. Clasping her hand, he led her to the living room to one of the small sofas and pulled her down to sit next to him.
Her heart fluttered as he leaned in and took her mouth. He was gentle and undemanding, but that wouldn’t last. Peace never lasted long between them. Desire, fresh and uncontrollable, always rose to take its place.
She’d tell him the whole truth. She would. Later. Right now, urgency caught at her and wouldn’t let go. She shifted against him, and his hard thigh brushed against her knee. She let her hand wander, touching the muscle of his thigh through the fabric. He cupped her breast through her top, and a flutter of anxiety went through her. It had been so long since she’d been with a man. No one since him, and he had been her first after a dry spell even then.
Thank heavens she’d had the foresight to wear a lighter, sexier bra today, instead of one of the thick padded nursing bras she’d worn since Jack’s birth. She’d brought the condoms too, trying to tell herself it didn’t mean anything. Just because she brought them didn’t mean she had to use them. She was only being prudent. Yet a part of her she knew that when she slipped them into her purse, she’d made up her mind.
His mouth pulled away from hers to move along her jawbone, feathering soft kisses against her skin, until he touched a point below her ear that sent a shudder through her.
“Oh, no.”
“No?” he said, not pausing for a moment, but pulling her hair aside to pay more attention to her ear. His teeth nipped the lobe, and she shut her eyes. The gentle tug at her hair sent languor seeping into her blood, and his breath shimmered on her skin like hot oil. “You want me to stop?”
“No. Don’t listen to me. I don’t know what I’m talking about.”
“I’m writing that down.” He shifted to the other side, taking that earlobe into the wet heat of his mouth, and she sighed.
“Write it down later. You have more important things to do right now.”
“Oh, yeah? Like what?” His fingers traced across the tops of her arms, sliding up under the edge of her sleeveless shirt to brush across her collarbone.
“Yeah, something like that.”
He twitched the top button on her blouse, and she roused, fighting her way out of lassitude. What he was doing felt so good, she had to fight a tendency to slip into a passive observer role. What was the point of that? She wanted to be every bit as much a part of giving and receiving of pleasure as he was.
Pulling back a bit, she challenged him with her eyes and began unbuttoning her blouse. His eyes darkened, his gaze never moving from her hands, his hands sliding slowly down the soft skin of her bare arms. He parted the edges of her blouse, face rapt. One of his hands slid into her camisole and bra cup to caress the nipple. She’d barely registered the pleasure of his touch when another sensation intruded, one that her pleasure-fogged brain took a second to process: the pins-and-needles sensation of an imminent letdown of breast milk.
“Oh, God.” Anxiety flared in her abdomen. She pulled back, but it was too late. He withdrew his fingers from her bra, rubbing his fingertips together and frowning at the moisture there.
“What is this?” He looked confused, not angry, which could only mean he didn’t yet realize what it was.
“Paul, I’m so sorry. It’s breast milk.”
“Breast milk?” If the situation hadn’t been so serious, she would have laughed at the expression on his face, an uneasy hybrid of horror and total confusion. “You’re nursing?”
At her stiff nod, he frowned. “You had a baby?”
She nodded again.
“I knew we had to work together, and I didn’t want it to cause trouble.” Okay, that had sounded steady. Calm, even. “I’d already lost one job, and I was just getting back on my feet again. I couldn’t handle losing another.”
“I don’t understand. Why would you lose your job if you admitted you had a baby? Screwball can’t fire you for something like that. You could sue their asses off.”
“It wasn’t Screwball I was worried about.” This time, she couldn’t keep the quaver out of her voice. Panic was setting in. “I was worried about you.”
“Me? Because I’d be angry if I knew you had a baby so soon after we were together?” He shrugged. “I admit I’m a little—I don’t know, surprised you found someone so soon after we were together, but I guess I can understand. We had no way of contacting each other, and we never thought we’d see each other again. We had no commitment. Are you still seeing the guy?”
She closed her eyes in a useless attempt to stop the tears from falling. Instead, they squeezed out from under her lids and slid down her cheeks. Crap. Oh, Lord. She pinched the bridge of her nose. Stop freaking out. Turn off your brain. Stop thinking and say the words. “He’s yours, Paul. My son, Jack, is yours.” She opened her eyes.
His mouth hung slightly open. “Bullshit.” He stood so violently, he nearly knocked her back. “What are you talking about? I can’t believe you’d try something like this. We used a condom. He can’t be mine.”
She stood up, stung. “Yeah, a condom that had been in your wallet how long? A year? The thing was obviously defective! It didn’t work and, I don’t know, I guess it was the right time of the month.” She threw her hands up.
“Sounds like it was the wrong time of the month to me.”
“Don’t you dare! You might be mad at me, but don’t take it out on Jack. He’s innocent. He’s the best thing that has ever happened to me, even if his father is an asshole.” She stood, buttoned her blouse, and looked frantically around for her purse. Tears stung her eyes. “I’m going home.”
“Oh, no you’re not. I’m your ride, if you remember, and you’re not leaving here until I get answers to a few questions.”
“You can’t hold me here against my will!” she shouted. “I’ll call a cab. Even this one-stoplight town has to have some kind of a cab service.”
“Simmer down. No one’s holding you prisoner, for God’s sake.” He rolled his eyes. “You owe me a few answers, and you’re not leaving until I get them.”
“Fine. Fire away. I’ll tell you anything.”
He paused, and she had the sense he didn’t know what to ask first. “Why have you been lying to me all this time?”
“I didn’t think of myself as a liar, but—”
&
nbsp; He shook his head, and she stopped, without the heart to continue. “You overlooked a million opportunities to tell me the truth. A liar is exactly what you are.”
Her knees went weak. God, he was right. She was a liar. She had no excuse for what she’d done. It had seemed reasonable at the time but, little by little, the deception had snowballed. The room swam. Before she realized it, he’d taken her by the arms and eased her back down into a chair. “Have a seat. I don’t want you fainting on me and knocking yourself out cold.”
She met his gaze, surprised by the kind gesture, but found nothing of kindness. Those changeable blue-gray eyes had gone flat and cloudy.
He scowled. “Knowing you, you’d probably file a lawsuit against me.”
“Paul, don’t.” God, she’d known this was coming ever since she first began deceiving him, but this was so much worse than even she’d expected.
“So, tell me. You said it had something to do with losing your job, but that doesn’t make any sense. Why on earth would I have anything to do with your livelihood?”
“Remember that night in the Crimson Lounge? I told you about Tony Raffi, the broadcaster I dated when I worked for the Invaders.”
He frowned. “Something about how he got you fired or something when things went bad?”
“He had a fiancée who pulled strings to get me canned when she found out. I’ve already lost one job because of a bad relationship. When I realized I was pregnant, I tried to find you, but I couldn’t. I didn’t know your last name. I visited the Crimson Lounge, I even described you to the hostesses and tipped them to give me a call if they ever saw you again, but nothing. I didn’t even know where to start. I knew you’d played some baseball in college, but that didn’t exactly narrow it down. I took out some ads in the local papers and local online services, but I didn’t know you were from out of town.”
“We didn’t do a whole lot of talking that night.” His jaw, so hard, gave nothing away. It was a cold statement of fact, not a hot memory of a sweet night of pleasure. Not like it was for her.
“No, I guess not.” At the time, it had struck her as wildly romantic. Sexy. Now it seemed foolish.
“You could have said something the moment you walked into my office in Plainview. Instead, you acted weird, standoffish. You should have told me then.”
“I was so shocked, I didn’t know what to say. Especially with Tracy there. All I knew was I desperately needed this job and couldn’t screw it up again. Sideline reporting was out for me as a single pregnant woman. It might be illegal to discriminate, but no broadcaster wants to deal with that kind of controversy. Besides, I was looking for a job, not being fired from one. They could pass me over and cite any one of a dozen of reasons for it, or say nothing at all. It’s not like I had a case that could stand up in court, or any money to hire lawyers anyway. I have a ton of debt and Jack to support. Giving birth with no health insurance is very expensive, FYI.”
“I’m sure it is.” For the first time since she’d told him, he didn’t sound utterly furious. Just cold. Removed. Uncaring. “You think you could have mentioned that at some time along the way that, I don’t know, you had a kid and he might have fifty percent of my DNA. And if you’re so broke, why didn’t you want my financial help?”
“This isn’t about me wanting money from you. It’s about me wanting a way to make a decent living. At least you admit he’s yours.”
“I admit nothing. I don’t trust you any further than I can throw you. I want to get a look at him. “
“I can assure you, I’m telling you the truth.”
“That hasn’t been my experience so far. Where is he?”
“Here.” She pulled out her phone, hands shaking, and swiped through the pictures until she came to the most recent snapshot of Jack, a picture of him in a baby swing in the park, his plump legs poking through the holes in the harness, a smile on his chubby face. “He’s staying with my parents in Florida.”
She shoved the phone at him, and he took it in a nerveless grip, nearly dropping it.
He frowned, seemingly at a loss. “I want to meet him.”
“You’re in luck,” she said weakly. “My friend Kendra is coming up in a few days, and she’ll be bringing him. You can meet him then.”
“See that I do.” He handed the phone back to her, his expression never changing. “I’ll take you home.”
The drive to her duplex was silent, with Paul’s hands never leaving the wheel and his eyes never leaving the road.
God, of all the times she’d ever wondered what the hell he was thinking, what he was feeling, this was the most exasperating. His face betrayed nothing, and she couldn’t press him. Not right now. Things would get better. He’d had a huge shock, but at least he wanted to meet Jack. And call her biased, but Jack could win over anyone. Paul probably needed time to adjust to the bomb she’d just dropped on him.
Chapter 8
Paul reached for the doorknob just as Willow held the door to her duplex apartment open for him. It was an awkward gesture, considering she stood half in the doorway, half out.
Fitting. An awkward gesture for one hell of an awkward situation. She’d called him three hours ago to tell him Kendra was here with Jack. Their flight into Louisville had been delayed, and he’d waited until she called and told him the baby was here. He’d announced he’d be right over, but she’d objected, explaining with an edge to her voice that Jack needed to rest up from the trip. Apparently traveling made babies grouchy and tired.
But how was he supposed to know that? It wasn’t like she’d given him a chance to be in his child’s life.
In the front room, an attractive dark-haired women sat on the couch reading.
“Paul, this is my friend Kendra. She brought Jack here for a visit.”
She looked up from her book and smiled. “Nice to meet you.” He nodded at her, in no mood for a cordial greeting to any friend of Willow’s.
Like many guys, Paul had at least occasionally thought about being a father someday. He hadn’t exactly dwelled on it, but when he had considered it, he’d figured it would happen after a couple of years of marriage, at least, to give them time for fun before responsibility set in. That was how it worked, right? They’d throw away the birth control and have a few weeks of untrammeled, carefree monkey sex while they tried to conceive. Then he’d have a nine-month pregnancy to get ready for it. He’d paint a nursery and his wife’s girlfriends would throw her a shower. The big moment would take place in a hospital delivery room, with him watching and helping every step of the way. Well, he’d help as much as any guy could at such a moment, which probably meant not very much.
Never had he imagined a woman telling him, “Hey, you know, by the way, this baby you’ve never laid eyes on? He’s yours.” On the way here, he’d made every turn and stop by rote, his mind racing to make sense of what he’d learned, but having little success.
He knew only one thing: He was mad as hell at the woman who’d done this to him.
“He should be waking soon.” As she said it, a weak cry came from above.
He pushed past her and climbed the stairs. He needed to see Jack. Needed to see him now.
A hand brushed his arm, but he shook it off, so intent was he on getting upstairs yesterday.
“Don’t frighten him.”
“I’m not going to frighten him.” He went up the stairs and turned at the top, following the soft whimpers. In the doorway, he stopped. A travel crib was set up in the corner. Through the mesh side, he could see a baby lying flat on his back, wearing a green sleeper. His chubby legs waved as he fussed, his face screwing up and turning pink.
A funny feeling made something flip over in Paul’s chest. His son. That was his son.
“Can I hold him?”
“Sure.” She lifted the baby to his arms, careful to nudge his head into the crook of Paul’s arm, where it would be supported. Instinctively, he pulled the warm weight closer, snuggling him next to his chest.
Willow mur
mured something, either to the child or to him, but Paul heard none of it, his attention captured by the tiny human in his arms.
He raked his eyes over Jack, desperate for some sign of paternity, or some feature that couldn’t be his.
He saw nothing. Jack looked like any other newborn. Cute, a little pudgy, with wisps of darkish hair on an otherwise smooth head.
Furthermore, this baby couldn’t be his. They’d used protection, like he had every time he’d ever had sex. Growing up without a mother, and then constantly trying to run interference between his father and pretty much everyone else in life, had honed his already keen sense of responsibility. He was a veritable Boy Scout when it came to being prepared.
Of course, he hadn’t had to use a condom in a while. He’d been with his ex-girlfriend Susan for a long time, and eventually she’d gone on the pill. Then she’d tired of life in Plainview and moved away, and he hadn’t been with anyone since. That condom in his wallet had been pretty old.
Still. Stuff like this didn’t happen to him. Guys who forgot to use condoms, or got lazy, or figured “just once” without protection didn’t hurt—they were the ones who ended up getting somebody pregnant. Not guys who took it seriously and did everything right.
He couldn’t see much resemblance between him and Jack, but what did he know?
Meanwhile, while Paul had been searching for a sign, Jack’s fussing had turned to downright squalling. His eyes were shut tight now, mouth opened in an unrestrained howl, his stubby little fists outstretched in a gesture of rage.
I understand how you feel, buddy.
“I think he needs to eat,” Willow said, coming closer until her breast brushed against his arm. “Can I have him?”
“Sure.” He answered without thought, shifting Jack to Willow’s arms, trying not to touch her unnecessarily. Her touch did crazy things to him, and he didn’t need that kind of complication right now.
Things were complicated enough as they were.
But as he watched Willow unbutton her bra, without any sexual intent, and then lift the edge of her bra to let Jack nurse, the little tableau before him didn’t seem that complicated.
