“Wait.”
“Ah, jeez…” Would he never get any relief? “I’ve really got to go.”
“This won’t take a moment. It’s about J.J. About his spiritual needs.”
John shook his head, certain he’d lost track of the conversation. Maybe he’d been wasting his time in another orbit all along?
“Have you thought about having J.J. christened, John? I know I’m not the most devout churchgoer in town…”
“Like I’d be the first to cast stones?” he drawled, unable to remember the last time he went. What’s more, he and Celene hadn’t even been married in a church, but rather in the office of a justice of the peace. At the time, speed seemed to be important, but now…
“I’m only saying that J.J. deserves better,” Dana continued in the gentle way that not only felt like water-drops on the forehead but also balm on the soul. “Call me superstitious, but he’s such a gift, John. Don’t be careless, and don’t take any chances.”
“I haven’t even thought of anything like that.”
“You were christened, weren’t you?”
“Yeah, of course. I guess.” He tried to remember, but couldn’t. His father hadn’t been the type to dwell on such things, and there’d been no mother to explain or nourish. “Uh, I forget the details. He’d need some witnesses, right? I guess there’s me and—”
“You can’t stand up for him, John. You’re his father.”
“Oh.” Back to square one. What the devil were fathers good for except…? Feeling wholly insufficient, not to mention expendable, he brushed his hand through his hair. “Look, can we talk about this later? I really do have to get moving.”
“Of course.” She stood, backed away. She couldn’t have given him more room if she’d become part of the farthest wall. “Forget I said anything. Go take care of your priorities.”
He’d have to be deaf to have missed the sarcasm in her voice, and he quickly backtracked. “Now wait a minute—”
“Damn you, John. How dare you dismiss this as inconsequential.”
“That’s not what I’m doing!”
“Then what is this—this brush-off I’m getting?”
How could he explain that if he stayed in this room for another moment, he would be in danger of undoing everything positive that had been happening since she’d come back to the Long J? Afraid to stay, afraid to say too much before she was ready, he grabbed his hat off the coatrack and muttered, “I’ve gotta go.”
It took her a while before she could settle down to her own work and stop grumbling about the way John had behaved. But even then, Dana wasn’t able to concentrate well.
Eventually she gave in and bundled up J.J. to take him out for a long walk around the perimeter of the house, bunkhouse and stables. She hoped that Durango wouldn’t come out and try to strike up a conversation, and felt guilty when she saw him at the window and merely waved before retreating around a corner.
It was John who controlled her thoughts. She didn’t understand him. She’d only been trying to help, considering the fact that they were both Catholic. Men didn’t usually pay attention to things like spiritual upbringing, and John was more negligent than most as a result of his background.
One thing for certain—she wouldn’t apologize for bringing up the subject of a christening. She might even consider contacting the priest at her own church for some kind of advice. He might even offer to do the blessing. It might not be the most conventional of ceremonies, but she wouldn’t feel right until something was done.
As for John…well, this seemed to indicate that he hadn’t progressed to where she’d believed, had he? The fact that it pained her more than anything she could remember in her life couldn’t be allowed to matter.
At least the exercise and fresh air did a good job. They were both tired out, and not long after she fed him his afternoon bottle, Dana carried J.J. upstairs for a nap.
And that’s where John found her hours later.
She opened her eyes to see him crouching beside the bed, looking weather-beaten and haggard, and quite concerned. “What’s wrong?” she murmured, trying to get her bearings and yet think of what could have happened.
“I think that’s my line. Are you all right?”
“Of course. Why do you…?” For the first time, she noticed that the room was nearly dark. She quickly glanced down to see that J.J. was still sleeping in the crook of her arm. “My goodness, what time is it?”
“Nearly six. When I saw the house dark, your car here, but neither of you around…I didn’t know what to think.”
She eased herself up a bit more. “I guess we got more tired from this afternoon’s walk than I’d imagined.”
“So you’re okay? Nothing’s broken, cut or…anything?”
“We’re fine,” she insisted, belatedly remembering that she was supposed to be miffed. It got easier when she realized that he didn’t seem in any hurry to get out of her way. “Did you make up for your lost hours this morning? You look tired enough to have,” she added, not entirely proud of the way she was behaving.
John pushed his hat farther back on his head, his expression growing grim. “I’d hoped you’d forgotten about my flare-up by now.”
“I’ve gotten over the hurt part, I guess. But even so, it’s difficult to forget when someone bites your head off the instant you walk through their front door.”
That won a sigh from him. He took her hand in both of his and held fast. “It had less to do with you than…oh, hell, you don’t want to hear any of this.”
“I prefer it to being chewed out.”
He shot her an impatient look, but seemed to remember to keep his voice down for the baby. “You worried me, all right?”
“Worried how? I’d warned you that I would be late.”
“People say things all the time that they don’t mean.”
“Not me.” Dana lifted her chin.
John frowned down at her hand. “All right, but that doesn’t change anything. It’s how I felt, and that’s that.”
“You’re getting autocratic again.”
“Don’t use that as a shield, honey. If you want to get mad, I guess that’s fair enough, but don’t throw accusations at me because I say something that makes you feel too much like a woman.”
“Don’t call me honey.” Despite the protest, she knew he’d hit a vulnerable spot. She’d been getting used to protecting herself by hiding behind the idea that he was big and bossy and liked to get his own way too often.
As J.J. stirred and pressed his tiny fists to his clenched-shut eyes, she brushed her hair back from her forehead. “We shouldn’t be doing this. We’re supposed to be on the same side. His.”
John studied his son. “Every day it’s a shock to look at him and know he’s part of me.”
“But you’re proud, too.”
“Damned straight.” He lifted his gaze to hers again. “I wanted to come back here and tell you that I’d thought about what you’d said earlier, that I’d come to the conclusion that you were right. All the way back I thought about how pleased you’d be. How you’d smile at me and hug my son. Maybe even hug me, too.”
Even in the deep shadows his eyes seemed to devour her. It took more than a little courage to focus on what he said rather than how he’d said it. “You mean the christening? John, that’s wonderful.”
“Is it? I won’t begin to suggest I know what I’m getting myself into. I know having a divorce in progress and not being a steady churchgoer will probably create complications.”
“I’ll see what I can do for you there,” she assured him. “The important thing is that you agree it should be done. Now who’ve you decided for his godparents?”
“Well, that gave me a few hours of trouble.”
Her spirits sank as fast as they’d risen. Maybe she’d been presumptuous, but she’d thought, hoped, that choosing might be easier for him.
“I decided I wanted Bud Hackman as his godfather. As much as he manages to tick me off, I
have known him most of my life. Reckon he’d do best taking care of the scamp if something happened to me.”
“Nothing’s going to happen to you.” Dana intercepted his impaling look and cleared her throat. “And so Kay’s going to be his godmother?”
He shook his head only once. “No. I hope she won’t be disappointed because she’s a great girl. But there was no contest deciding who his godmother has to be.”
“H-has to be?”
“Yeah. The question is, are you going to turn me down?”
She could barely contain her joy, and grasped his shoulder wanting to make sure he was real and that she wasn’t dreaming. “Of course not. Oh, my. Are you positive this is what you want?”
“Absolutely.”
“And you’re not doing this out of…for some overt sense of obligation or guilt?”
“Irish, I carry enough guilt to fill two fools my size,” he whispered gruffly. “But wanting you in my boy’s life doesn’t qualify under the category of guilt or foolishness.”
“John.” It was impossible not to lean closer to caress his whisker-rough jaw and his windburned cheek. Once close, she found it only natural to duck under the brim of his hat and kiss his cheek. “Thank you so much.”
He stiffened slightly, but only for a second. “That’s…that’s real sweet, honey. But I’m filthy. You don’t want to get near me.”
“It’s honest smoke and dust.”
She knew the invitation she was issuing, and when John mouthed a soundless word—she thought it was her name—then closed the distance between them, she didn’t try to move away. Not even when he claimed her mouth with his. Slowly, cautiously, he kissed her the way she’d kissed him on Thanksgiving.
Dana forgot the darkness, feeling as though she were being lifted out of the room and raced to the stars. Behind her closed eyelids she could see them, brighter than any she’d ever seen in the sky. Warmer, too. She sighed with pleasure at how wonderful it felt. How gently persuasive.
Cocooned by the feeling of protectiveness she felt emanating from him, she relaxed even more. Her lips parted. He hesitated momentarily. Then ever so slowly he tilted his head and took the kiss to a new, deeper level.
He tasted of the mints he’d been habitually sucking ever since giving up smoking, and coffee, too, as his tongue teased hers like an elusive summer breeze. Hot but fleeting. Wanting to experience the sensation again, she murmured softly against his lips.
“Are you sure, Irish?”
It was a fair question, but she didn’t have an answer. Caught up in the moment, she only wanted to feel. She eased away from J.J. Her hands grew restless, and without her consciously making the decision they crept around his neck, seeking his hair. His hat tumbled off, but at that point neither of them seemed to care much. The rhythm of the kiss was deepening, growing more sensual, spreading a heat that involved every inch of their bodies.
Without breaking the momentum, John began easing her backward. “I’m here. I’m with you all the way.”
All the way. The phrase went through her mind like a bolt of lightning. She froze beneath him. “John? Wait a minute.”
“Don’t be afraid, sweetheart. I want to get closer to you, that’s all. Nothing’s going to get out of hand.”
As he spoke, he slipped one hand from behind her and caressed her cheek, her arm, then lightly covered her breast. She couldn’t believe the frissons that swept through her body, except that they left her feeling as guilty as they did tempted.
“Let me up,” she said shakily. “Now.”
It was almost impossible to see his expression in the charcoal gray of dusk, but she could feel the wariness radiating from him. “I need more, Dana.”
“Is that what this is all about? You ask me to be your son’s godmother and think it entitles you to anything else you want? Well, I’m not the tramp you married.”
He swore softly and backed off the bed. A moment later he switched on the bedside lamp. The brightness stung her eyes and affected J.J., too, but even the baby’s complaints couldn’t make her stop staring. He looked like a wild man, a fierce giant, towering over her. An intimidated J.J. began whimpering, then burst into a long wail.
John scooped him up into his arms, but his gaze stayed locked on her. “Why does it always surprise me when you say something that’s intentionally meant to cut me down to size? For someone with the face of an angel, you’ve got the tongue of a witch.”
“That’s not fair!”
“Fair? Getting a wife I didn’t want wasn’t fair, either, but one thing I’ll say for Celene—she was never afraid of her passion!”
He might as well have accused her of being frigid. Nothing else he could have said or insinuated could have hurt more. It made Dana realize that despite the history they shared, he didn’t really know her at all.
J.J. began screaming at full volume, which had Dana quickly reaching for him. “He’s probably soaked. Let me have him and I’ll change him before I go.”
“Forget it. He’s my son. I’ll do it.”
Chapter Seven
“I see. Then there’s no more reason for me to be here, is there?”
“Damn.” John couldn’t believe he’d driven past the entrance to the police station.
Yes, he could. He’d been doing mindless things like that for the past two days. Ever since Dana had walked out on him.
“Hold on, pal,” he said, glancing over at his son before making a turn toward the public library. Its parking lot adjoined the police department’s. “Sharp right turn coming up.” They wouldn’t mind if he left his truck there for the few minutes it would take him to complete his business. Also, the weather was pleasant enough for the longer walk. Kind of cool, though, even for this December morning.
After he shut off the engine and freed J.J. from his new car seat, he took care to lay a corner of the baby blanket over his son’s face as he’d been taught, to protect the boy’s fine skin and fragile lungs. Only then did he push open the door and step out into the fresh air.
A cop his age named Grady was pulling out from behind the station as he started across the parking lot. Grinning, the officer braked to let him pass. John nodded, but didn’t return the smile. He wasn’t in the mood to be overly friendly, and he certainly didn’t have a sense of humor this morning. He was too busy stewing over the fact that a lot of work waited for him back at the ranch, and that he wouldn’t be here at all if it wasn’t for what Dana had started and then dumped into his lap to finish.
“Would you look who’s here,” the desk sergeant drawled as he entered the station. “Hi, Dad.”
Ignoring the mild taunt, John went straight to Bud, who stood in the doorway of his office, leaning against the jamb and nursing a mug of steaming coffee. “Can I talk to you a minute? In private,” he added, tossing the wisecracking cop a brief but speaking glance.
“Sounds like somebody got up on the wrong side of bed,” the seated officer drawled.
“Okay, Cooney, that’s enough.” Bud Hackman stepped aside to let John enter, then shut the door. “I’ve gotta admit you do look as if your head hasn’t been near a pillow for a week.”
“Two days,” John muttered. He lowered himself onto one of the hardwood armchairs facing his friend’s desk and, after crossing his legs, settled J.J. in the pocket the position created. “J.J.’s been cranky,” he said, lifting the blanket from his son’s face. The baby immediately scrunched up his face and sputtered, letting him know what he thought of having had his vision blocked for all that time.
“No kidding? Hey, little cowboy.” Bud leaned over to tickle J.J.’s chin.
“Better not do that,” John warned, confident of what would happen next. “He doesn’t much care for strangers.”
Instead, Bud’s gentle stroking and repertoire of animal sounds won him a delighted smile and a series of excited gurgles. John decided he shouldn’t be surprised. After all, nothing else had gone right in the last forty-eight hours or so; why should he expect his kid to
be different from anyone else? The only thing missing was a declaration from the governor making it National Prove Paladin’s A Jerk Day.
“That’s my boy. What’s your old man talking about?” Bud asked J.J. in a grating falsetto. “Why, aren’t you a great big fella? In fact, you’re almost big enough to wrestle one of your daddy’s calves, aren’t you?” He straightened and slapped John on the back, adding in his regular voice, “So what’s the real reason behind the long face and the visit?”
As annoyed as he was that Bud had seen through him, John was relieved to get down to business. “Women.”
Bud tugged at the knees of his khaki slacks and settled on the edge of his desk. “Uh-oh. What did you do to Dana now?”
He couldn’t keep from gaping. “What is this—a damned conspiracy? First Durango, now you. Why automatically assume it’s Dana and that I’m at fault?”
“Because, despite the mess you got yourself into with Celene, you’re a one-woman man. Your mistake was setting your eye on probably the only filly who doesn’t get palpitations over us big, strapping types. But has that ever slowed you down? Not my pal, Bulldozer John. Naw. He takes one look at that skittish little filly and decides, ‘That’s for me.’ Never mind that she’s been hobbled and rears back the instant a male hand reaches for her. You figure she’s supposed to be a danged mind reader and know you don’t mean her any harm. But when she tries to run, anyway, you end up acting the same way her old man did. Jerk those reins. Show her who’s boss.”
That did it. John adjusted his hat more firmly on his head and began to shift his son up into his arms. “I should have known better than to waste my time coming here.”
Bud swore under his breath. “Okay, okay. Sit.” He pushed him back onto the chair. “I’m sorry.”
“You got that much right.” John could feel his blood steaming. If Bud had been any other man…“Do you think I told you about my mistake with Dana just so I could have it flung back in my face one day? Do you think I wouldn’t take back that day if I could? But I can’t. She was determined to go off with that damned Guy Monroe, and it didn’t matter that I knew she thought it was all business and on the up-and-up. I knew what a snake in the grass he was. So I lost my head while trying to make her listen.”
A Father's Promise Page 10
