by Mindy Neff
“I’m talking about my father.”
“Your father?” She felt like a parrot, but for the life of her she couldn’t keep up with this conversation.
“My birth father,” he said. “The man who refused to recognize me and my mother. The man who left us dirt poor when he could have done something about it.” He paused, his jaw tight, his dark eyes fierce. “The man whose name is Leroy Alexander.”
A split second of silence rang out as the name echoed off the walls of the dingy office. Josie’s knees nearly buckled.
Oh, dear God in Heaven, it couldn’t be. Surely she hadn’t slept with Bobby’s brother!
Chapter Four
Josie shook her head wildly. “I don’t believe you!”
“My mother wasn’t a liar, Josie,” he said tightly. “And I use the term father very loosely. I’m talking strictly biological, here.”
“Biologic—but…” No, it couldn’t be. His tone was defensive, terse, with an underlying thread of pain. She refused to recognize that hurt, or the validity of his claim. “Leroy would have said something,” she challenged. “Bobby would have said something. This has got to be some sort of a trick.”
His eyes narrowed, causing her to back up a step. “Remember this?” He pointed to his shoulder.
“What?”
“The birthmark.”
“What of it?”
“My great-grandfather—James Troy—had it, too.”
Josie felt perspiration drip down her palms. She couldn’t think straight. Oh, God, she had to think. Was there a trap here? Her hands trembled as she shoved them through her hair.
J.T. had been named after Bobby’s great-grandfather—at Leroy’s prompting. In view of the banana-shaped mark on the baby’s tiny shoulder, it had seemed fitting…and an absolute answer to prayers. She’d even wondered, if by some miracle…But no, that was ludicrous. She’d decided that Leroy was just caught up in the emotion of the birth of his grandson, that he’d seen in a simple mark of nature exactly what he’d wanted to see.
And now, before her, stood Chase Fowler, clearing up a three-year mystery she’d all but dismissed—and throwing her life into utter chaos in the process.
“Does anybody else know about this?” Surely not. The gossip mill would have nearly torched itself with the speed of spreading the word.
“I’m not exactly in Leroy’s confidence. Based on thirty-two years of silence, I’d venture to say you’d know better than me.”
“My God, I slept with my husband’s brother.” The words were out before she could stop them. Josie sank into the vinyl chair, overwhelmed. She’d thought things were bad before, now they’d turned into a hellish mess.
He didn’t say anything for several seconds, just stood there, rigid, watching her, his hands jammed into the front pockets of his jeans. Then he quirked one eyebrow. “I wonder if you’re really that good an actress.”
“Now what are you implying?”
“I’m not quite sure. Like I said before, you don’t fit the mold of a one night stand. But I can’t help but wonder if you didn’t get pregnant just to hang on to the Alexander money.”
“That’s ridiculous. I was married to Bobby Alexander.”
“My half brother,” he reminded her. “Who was terminally ill.”
Josie just stared at him. Something inside her felt on the verge of exploding. She wrapped her arms around her middle as if she could hold the madness at bay. He was dead wrong about her reasons. Money had never been an issue. Love. That’s why she’d done it. Only for love.
“Maybe you went through my wallet that night four years ago.”
“I did no such thing.” She was actually affronted that he’d even suggest the devious behavior.
“You had the opportunity. I was asleep. One minute you were in my arms, all soft and sexy and sated. The next thing I remember I woke up and you’d vanished without a trace. I had no idea who you were, but I have to wonder if you weren’t fully aware of who I was.”
“Chase, that’s absurd. And why would I even connect the name Fowler with Alexander? I’d picked you up on the side of the road, for God’s sake. You were just a face, a body.” Her memories of that night came flooding back, swamping her, overwhelming her with their power.
The fine thread of rationality she’d been holding on to snapped, releasing the madness. She couldn’t stop the words that tumbled out, words she’d never said to another living soul.
“Bobby wanted a baby so badly. We’d been trying. I knew I was ovulating. But the doctor had just given me some devastating news about Bobby’s true condition—he wouldn’t be able to father children. The medication they were experimenting with, it had done something to his body. I thought, God, if only I was already pregnant. My body was willing, it was the perfect time…it would have been the perfect gift.
“Bobby deserved to have his heart’s desire. He was a fabulous man. The best. I would have done anything for him.” She didn’t realize that tears were tracking down her cheeks until a splash of warmth fell onto her clenched hands.
“And you did.” Chase’s quiet voice broke through the shroud of her past. She felt the gentle touch of his palm against the side of her face as he encouraged her to look at him. She hadn’t been aware that he’d moved, hadn’t even noticed when he’d squatted down in front of her. This behavior switch, coming on the heels of his nastiness just moments before, had her thoroughly off-balance.
“Did what?” she whispered.
“You gave Bobby his dream. My brother was a lucky guy.” Chase shook his head. Josie and Bobby, and most especially J.T., were technically the innocents here. He shouldn’t be fighting with her over his beef with Leroy. The main issue he wanted to take up with Josie had to do with his son.
“Seems to me you’ve spent a fair amount of time taking care of everybody else. Who takes care of you, sugar?”
He saw her green eyes fill first with protest, then gratitude. Hadn’t anyone ever told this woman how special she was? Once again Chase found himself wanting to ease her burdens.
“I can handle your farming needs. That’s my job. But I’d like to do more. Be more. Let me take care of you for a while…you and my son.”
“No.”
“Don’t do this to me, Josie. I’m not pushing you to acknowledge my paternity to the town.” He didn’t realize how much it would bother him to say that. But he had little choice in the matter. The woman before him was on the verge of breaking. He could see the fragile thread she held on to like a lifeline. Still, he had to try to make her understand his needs.
“Because of the circumstances of my own birth, I need to take some responsibility. I want to. I want to know my son.”
Josie felt everything within her become utterly still. She searched his vivid eyes, eyes that could gleam with suppressed amusement, or sharpen with intelligence, or cut like blue lasers in anger. She’d witnessed each of these emotions at one time or another. Right now, though, she caught a fleeting glimpse of hope. A silent plea. It had come and gone so quickly that she might have missed it if she hadn’t been looking so closely.
But she had been looking. And darn it all, that suppressed emotion had gotten a hold of her. She knew it wouldn’t let go.
“All right. You have a right to get to know J.T. But as far as taking care of me—of us,” she amended. “that’s out.”
“Why?”
“It just is.” She knew he was about to argue. “Don’t push me on this, Chase.”
Josie was tending the vegetable garden when she heard Chase’s truck come up the driveway. “Dang it.” She snatched out another weed, then stood, wiping her dirty hands on the seat of her denim shorts. Either the days were getting shorter or time was speeding up. She was nowhere near getting the chores done, and now she’d have to stop and entertain company.
The thought of just who that company was caused her heart to trip. Why had she ever agreed to this arrangement?
J.T., who’d been sitting smack in the middl
e of the cucumbers and lettuce, popped up. “Dang it,” he parroted.
Josie started to admonish him, then realized that to do so would only call attention to the slang words, making them new and curious. In that case, J.T. would surely test them out again. Best just to watch her own language, she decided.
J.T. raced around the corner of the house, then abruptly veered off course as a startled robin flew out from beneath an azalea bush. “Oh! Dat birdie scared me!”
Chase was close enough to have witnessed the little boy jump. Grinning, he squatted down so that he was eye level with J.T. “Naw. You probably scared him worse.”
J.T. seemed to like this idea. “Hi, man. What’s dat?”
“J.T.!” The tone of her voice had her son glancing over his shoulder, the stubborn frown on his face clearly stating he didn’t see anything wrong with his inquiry. Chase, too, glanced up. She’d never understood what it meant to be held by a man’s eyes. Now she knew.
Dragging her gaze away, she frowned down at her son. “The man’s name is Mr. Fowler—”
“Chase,” he corrected softly.
“I ’member,” J.T. chimed in. “Whatja got?”
Josie let out a weary sigh and shook her head. It looked as if her lesson in manners would not be met with either comprehension or cooperation.
Chase held up the object in his hand. “It’s for you. An airplane, sort of like the one I fly.”
“Oh, boy!” J.T. started to reach for it, then remembered himself and looked back at Josie. “’Kay, Mama?”
She nodded absently, unable to take her eyes off the gentle, reverent, awed expression on Chase’s face as he looked at his son. J.T. cradled the toy plane in his small hands, then took off at a run, his sound effects several octaves off-key.
“J.T.” Josie called. “What do you say?”
“Thank you, Mr. Chase.”
“Just Chase,” he corrected.
“’Kay.”
Josie’s gaze riveted on the flex of muscles in Chase’s thighs as he rose. His attention was still on J.T., who frolicked in grass that hadn’t seen the blade of a tractor in way too long. Her heartbeat thudded in what she was coming to recognize as fear. She’d agreed that he should know his son, but she suddenly wanted to take back the words.
He was a fine specimen of a man, but she couldn’t stop thinking about Chase being Bobby’s half brother. Now that she was looking for it, she supposed there were similarities. He had the Alexander coloring, and their heights were a pretty good match—Bobby had been tall and slender. But that’s about where the comparison ended.
There was something extra about Chase, a certain look or attitude that could generate both fear and respect. He had the look of a bad boy about him, with his midnight hair swept straight back off his forehead and a slight five o’clock shadow covering his upper lip and chin. His blue eyes were serious now as he watched J.T. play in the yard, but Josie had seen the corners of those eyes crinkle in amusement or the dimples in his cheeks flash in moments of teasing…or passion.
There was no doubt about it, this was the type of guy that had daddies wanting to lock away their daughters. Lean and tough were the words that came to mind when she looked at Chase…and sexy.
Lordy, Lordy. A wave of guilt nearly buckled her knees. Here she stood, in the side yard of the house she and Bobby had lived in, admitting to herself that she was passionately attracted to another man…Bobby’s brother.
“You okay, sugar?”
That lazy drawl of his was going to be her undoing. “You shouldn’t be buying my son gifts.” She was appalled at her snappy tone.
His distinctive blue eyes gleamed with amusement as he held his hands up in a gesture of surrender. “It’s just a toy. There’s no call to get violent over it.”
Josie hadn’t realized she was holding the gardening spade in front of her like a weapon. She felt a little foolish. In spite of herself, she returned his grin. “Sorry.”
“Okay, tiger. Lead me to the bed.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Now where in the world, I wonder, is your mind?” His grin widened as he advanced on her in that slow moving, dangerously sexy way that had her heart and stomach changing places. “Did you forget why I was here?”
Surely she hadn’t given him the impression that…
“The crib?” he reminded. “The bed that needs hauling down from the attic?”
Josie had the good sense to step out of his reach before he could touch her. This man’s touch could send her up in flames. Knowing that, admitting it, upset her to no end. He was dangerous. He had the ammunition to unravel the whole fabric of her life. And her son’s.
She couldn’t allow herself to forget that. Couldn’t allow herself to be swept away by his charm, by the vivid, erotic memories of his touch. No matter how much she yearned to relive that touch, she just couldn’t.
“This way.” She stalked around him and nearly broke into a run in her rush to get to the house.
“Uh, Josie?”
“What?” She’d just reached the front screen door and was in the process of pulling it open when his voice stopped her. It sounded suspiciously as if he were about to strangle on laughter.
“You’ve got dirt on you.”
“Where?”
“Your butt.” Straight-faced, he brushed by her and let himself in the house in a slow moving, yet purposeful stride. “Nice butt, too.”
Josie whipped around and brushed at her backside. “Charming of you to point that out for me,” she muttered.
His chuckle told her he’d heard her.
“You might as well wait up, Chase. You’re going to need help getting that bed out of the attic.” Turning, she searched for her son. “J.T., honey. You need to come in the house. Mama’s got to do something.”
“No!”
“Don’t tell me no, young man.”
“Plane, Mama,” he whined.
“I know, sweetie. Bring the plane inside and play for a while.”
“Big plane.”
“Yes,” Josie agreed, distracted. “Inside now.”
He felt his eyes getting a little sleepy, but if he said anything, Mama might make him have supper and go on to bed. He didn’t want to do that. Especially since he had this new airplane. The nice man had said it was just like the one he flew. J.T. thought that was pretty neat.
In an effort to keep himself awake, he made several running passes around the living room, trying out different types of airplane sounds. Then he remembered something.
Squirming up on the couch, careful not to drop his toy, J.T. pressed his face against the window. He could see some yellow planes way far past the cotton. When those planes flew over the barn, they looked pretty big. From his place at the window, though…J.T. glanced down at the toy in his hand. Why, it looked about the same size to him. Maybe he’d just go on over there and see. If he ran real fast, he could play a little bit, then come back before Mama and Chase got the bed set up. Maybe he could even bring one of those planes back—then he’d have two. He didn’t think the big man would mind.
Hopping off the couch, he stuck his fingers in the little crack of the door. He had to set his airplane down and use both hands to pull. When the door popped open, he picked up his toy and skipped real quicklike down the porch steps.
“Good grief, I’m hotter than a fox.”
Chase cocked an eyebrow and grinned. “I told you I could manage on my own.”
“I’m sure you could.” Josie’s eyes strayed once more to the flex of muscles in his arms. Soon, now, she was going to stop noticing this man’s virility. “But Mattie—she’s the maid over at the Alexanders who practically raised me—always said that many hands make light work. Now the bed’s all put together and the sun’s still up.”
“We were racing against the sun?”
“Not really. It’s just the more daylight hours there are, the more things that can be done.”
“In other words, you’re busy this evening and
you’d like me to be on my way?”
Josie felt her skin heat and hoped he’d put it down to exertion. Why did she suddenly feel tongue-tied? She supposed that all this closeness, watching him strain as he hefted a mattress over his shoulder, or brushing up against him in the tight confines of the attic, was getting to her. Just the sight of him wielding a screwdriver, his long, tapered fingers wrapped around the plastic handle, could send her into an orbit of fantasies.
It was ridiculous. She wasn’t normally prone to impulsiveness. Just because she remembered the skill with which this man made love was no reason to let down her guard.
And standing in a room, separated only by the width of a bed, was not the place for Josie to be with Chase Fowler.
“I do have some things to do, but…” She hesitated, unsure of what she was about to propose. “If you want, you could play with J.T.”
“Kind of like baby-sit?”
“Oh, no. I’ll be here—”
“I know what you mean, sugar. I’d like to spend a little time with him. Thank you,” he said with quiet sincerity.
She didn’t see how she could resist that sincerity. The mother in her was proud of her son, wanted to show him off, wanted everyone in the world to know and see the specialness she saw in her little boy. But inviting—allowing—Chase to be alone with J.T. was courting danger. She wanted to go back on the agreement, yet she couldn’t bring herself to do so.
God help her, a selfish part of her actually yearned for his presence, for his steady strength, for the sweet, sensual promise she saw in his eyes. For the reprieve an extra pair of hands would give her. Time to herself. Time to catch up on her lingerie orders which had gotten terribly behind schedule when she’d had to take over Leroy’s duties.
Never before had a decision been so fraught with peril. Not even when she’d picked this man up on the highway. Then, she’d acted out of desperation, on impulse. Now she had entirely too much time to think, to worry over every little thing that could go wrong, to anticipate the changes, the risk.
She made the mistake of looking into his eyes. And found herself trapped. Snared like a frightened doe in the high beams of a semi. Afraid to move. Afraid not to. Even when he came around the bed, she held still, wanting, aching, desire so fierce and powerful she thought she’d scream with her frustration.
