Cole Cameron's Revenge

by Sandra Marton

  "Think about Peter. You claim to love him-" "You-you son of a bitch!" Faith turned around and jabbed her finger into Cole's chest. "Don't you dare even suggest I don't love my-child. He's everything to me."

  "If that's true," Cole said softly, "then let me raise him as my son."

  The words, so unknowingly uttered, almost ripped out her heart. The lie she'd lived all these years was turning to quick­sand under her feet. She wrapped her arms around herself and took a step back.

  "No."

  A subtle change came over his features. A narrowing of his eyes, a tightening of his lips-she wasn't sure, exactly, she only knew that it frightened her.

  "I can force you to marry me," he said softly. "Is that what you want?"

  "What are you going to do?" It wasn't easy but she forced a smile to her lips. "Hit me over the head? Drag my body in front of a justice of the peace?"

  "Very creative." He smiled thinly. "And tempting-but unnecessary."

  "Really."

  "Really." Cole tucked his hands into his back pockets and ,rocked back on his heels. It was a posture she remembered from years back, when he'd come up with something he'd figured was clever-like the first time he'd suggested parking at the lake instead of going to the movies.

  Do you really want to see that James Bond thing? he'd said. Because if you don't, I have a better idea...

  A better idea that had led straight to where she was now. Courage renewed, Faith lifted her chin.

  "Perhaps you plan on hypnosis," she said politely. "I should warn you, I saw something on TV about hypnotism.

  No matter how good you are, you can't make a person do anything she doesn't want to-"

  "I can take Peter from you."

  The words dropped into the room like stones. She stared at him, too stunned to answer.

  "Did you hear me, Faith? I said-­

  'I heard you. But you're wrong. He's my son."

  "He's my brother's son, you mean."

  "He's mine! And I'm finished listening to this-this crap! To hell with you, Cole Cameron! You come marching back into my life after all this time, talking about what's right and what's wrong-"

  "How did my brother get involved with you?" "That's none of your business!"

  "Yeah. Yeah, it is, because I'm damn sure I know how it happened." Cole's mouth twisted. He grabbed her, shoved her back against the wall. "Did he come looking for you? Did he knock on the door one day and say, `Hello, Faith, I'm Cole's brother and oh, by the way, if you ever need me for anything, just let me know'?"

  She stared at him in dismay. He made it sound ugly but it was so close to the truth...

  "I can see it in your eyes, baby. That's exactly what hap­pened. Ted showed up, the innocent good Samaritan, and you squeezed out some tears or maybe you just sighed and said you were so lonely... God, how easy it must have been. My brother probably didn't know women like you existed. He'd have been a pushover, same as I was, even after my old man warned me what you were after."

  "You father warned you about me?"

  "Damn right." His eyes glittered with cruelty. "And I told him not to worry, that I'd get what I wanted without even singeing my fingers."

  His words stung. It wasn't as if she hadn't figured out the truth a long time ago. It was just that hearing him say it made it so real...

  "Well." She swallowed dryly. "I guess we deserved each other. You wanted what you got from me. And I-I wanted what I hoped I could get from you. Because it was all an act, Cole, every bit of it. I never loved you. Never!"

  She fell silent, appalled by the enormity of the lie, wanting to call it back but knowing it was her only protection against him, even now.

  "Honesty," he said, very softly. "At last."

  "Why not? There's nothing between us anymore."

  "You're wrong. There's Peter. He's the reason you're going to be my wife."

  She stared at him in disbelief. "Are we back to that?"

  "We never left it."

  "Let me get this straight. You're prepared to enter into a mockery of a marriage because you feel a moral obligation to your brother's son?"

  "This is a practical proposition. An arrangement that solves all kind of problems. You need money and a roof over your head. Peter needs a father."

  "Are you sure it isn't payback? After all, I chose Ted over the great Cole Cameron."

  Cole's face darkened. "You `chose' him the way a spider chooses a fly. I was the lucky one. I got away."

  "So we get married," she said coldly. "And everyone is happy."

  "Peter will be happy. That's what matters. I'll love him as if he were my own."

  Faith's heart lifted into her throat. "No."

  "You seem to think I'm giving you a choice." Cole's mouth hardened into a flat line. "I'm not."

  "Here we go," she said with forced lightness, "back to the unconscious bride scenario."

  "If you force my hand, I'll take the boy from you. I'll go to court and sue for custody."

  "You wouldn't," she said, her voice trembling. "Do you know what that would do to him?"

  "I'm not an idiot, dammit!" Cole ran his hands through his hair. "I don't want to take him from you unless there's no other way." He hesitated. "I can see that he loves you. And that you love him."

  "Am I supposed to thank you for that?" she said, with a bitter laugh. "For seeing that my child and I love each other?" "I'm not pretending it's going to be easy." "I'm amazed to hear it."

  "People marry for worse reasons than a child's welfare, dammit! , ,

  "Has it occurred to you that lots of children don't have fathers?"

  "Lots of children aren't named Cameron. They don't have someone standing by, willing to take on the responsibility of raising them."

  Faith laughed. "My God, how noble you are!"

  "The boy is unhappy. You said so, yourself, that kids shut him out."

  "That's why I want to move away. If I can start over-" "Trailer trash is trailer trash, wherever you put it." "You insulting bastard!"

  "I'm being honest." His voice hardened. "If you won't put Peter's needs first, think about yourself. You'll get a much better payoff from this arrangement than you would have if Ted hadn't gone broke." His nostrils flared. "But I'm telling you up front, Faith, I won't let you keep me from your bed."

  She stared at him. His jaw was set, his eyes steely. He meant every word. Fear made her knees threaten to give out, but she knew better than to let him realize it. If he sensed the slightest weakness, he'd strike like a cobra.

  "I'm not seventeen anymore, Cole. I'm not some dumb kid from the wrong side of town you can scare with empty threats."

  "You need to understand something about me, baby. I never make threats. I make promises."

  "There isn't a judge in this country who'd take a child from its mother and give it to a stranger."

  "I'm the boy's uncle. Hell," he said gruffly, "except for a quirk of fate, I could have been his father."

  Faith's breath caught. She stared at him, heard his words echoing in her ears as the floor tilted. She reached out, seeking balance, and Cole's hands closed on her arms.

  "Faith?"

  Let go, she wanted to say, but she couldn't speak. The room was spinning; the world was going dark. She felt Cole lift her into his arms.

  "Dammit," he said, "don't pass out on me."

  Why not? she thought, and tried to laugh, but she couldn't. All she could do was wind her arms around his neck and bury her face against his shoulder, let his strength flow into her.

  "Faith?"

  Slowly, the word began to right itself. "I'm-I'm all right now," she said in a papery whisper.

  She wasn't. He could see how pale she was, feel her trem­bling in his arms. Trembling as she once had when he held her, but then she'd trembled with passion, not with fear of him.. .except it hadn't been passion, it had been a lie.

  He let her down slowly, telling himself not to think about the pliancy of her in his arms, the feel of her soft body as it slid aga
inst his.

  "Sit down," he said briskly. "I'll get you a glass of water."

  She shook her head. "I don't want any water. And I don't want to sit." She took a breath, raised her head and looked into his eyes. "Cole." Her voice was rough with emotion. "Cole, I beg you. Don't do this to me."

  "Ah." He let go of her and flashed a smile. "I forgot how good you are at maidenly swoons."

  What was the sense in telling him she hadn't been faking? All that mattered was making him see the insanity in what he'd proposed.

  "Cole, please-"

  "Don't waste your time, baby. You have a choice. Marry me and remain a part of Peter's life. Say `no' and face me in court. It's up to you."

  "How can you do this?" she whispered.

  "Do what?" His eyebrows rose. "I'm offering to make you Mrs. Cole Cameron. I can think of half a dozen women who'd think that was a very generous offer."

  "I'm not one of them."

  "You were, at seventeen."

  His words mocked her. He'd never believe that they were true, that she'd have married him when he was nobody, when he had no money ... when all she'd wanted from him was his love.

  "You're right. I'd have been giddy with excitement." She flashed a smile that was dazzling and, she hoped, careless. "But it had nothing to do with how I felt about you, Cole. Didn't you just tell me that? It was the name I wanted, not the man."

  He took a step forward. An icy tremor danced along her skin when she saw the glitter in his eyes. "Be careful," he said softly.

  "Why? What more can you do to me? You've already threatened to steal my son-" Dammit, her voice was shaking. She was shaking. She knotted her hands at her sides, forced herself to meet that insolent green stare without flinching. "You know what, Cole? I've had enough. Get out!"

  "How come you're always trying to get rid of me?" His eyes moved slowly from her face to her feet, then to her face again. She felt as if he were undressing her, not with love or even with desire but as a show of power. Her cheeks burned with humiliation. "I can remember a time you used to beg me not to leave you."

  "Another part of the act," she said coolly, and had the pleasure of seeing his eyes darken.

  "Don't make the mistake of underestimating me, sweet­heart." He took another step toward her. "I never lose a fight."

  "That's because you fight dirty!"

  "I fight to win, Faith. You'd better think about exactly what that means."

  "I know what it means." Her voice trembled. "There are organizations that will back me."

  "Sure. They'll turn Peter into a media sensation. That's one hell of a way of showing how much you love him."

  "I do love him. And he loves me. Have you thought of that? How he'd hate you, if you tried to take him from me? How unhappy he'd be?"

  "Kids adapt. And if he were unhappy, it would be your fault for not choosing to do the best thing for him."

  "Just listen to you! You've taken your whole sick proposal and turned it on its ear." Faith glared at him. "I'm not the villain! You are."

  "I don't think Pete will see it that way, not after I explain that all I wanted was for us to be one big happy family."

  "Peter," she said, numb with pain, hating him with every beat of her heart, every whisper of her breath. "My boy's name is Peter." Her eyes met his. "And you're-you're des­picable." Her voice shook. "I wish you'd never come back. I wish-"

  He moved quickly, looped a hand around the nape of her neck. She dug in her heels but his grip was relentless as he forced her closer.

  "You won't mind being my wife," he said roughly. "You'll still have the Cameron name. You'll have money. The only thing different is that this time, you'll want to be in your husband's bed."

  Tears rose in her eyes and blurred her vision. Don't cry, she told herself, whatever you do, don't give him the satisfac­tion of seeing you cry.

  "I'd sooner be in a convent."

  Something flickered in his eyes. "Is that what you told my brother?"

  "I'd never have said anything like that to him. I loved your brother!" That, at least, was the truth. Ted had been her best friend, the only person who'd ever shown her kindness.

  "Did you?" Cole's voice hoarsened. "Tell me if you cried out in his arms, the way you cried out in mine."

  "That was a lifetime ago. And it wasn't love. It was-it was sex."

  He drew her, hard, into his arms. She tried to turn her face away but he tangled his fingers in her hair, forcing her eyes to meet his. "You're right. And the hell of it is that I've never forgotten how good it was. Answer me! Was it the same with Ted?"

  She looked at him, this man she had once loved, and wondered what would happen if she told him the truth. The answer came in a heartbeat. He would never believe her. The past was a construct of lies. Too many lies, that cut too deep.

  It was time for one last lie, to keep her safe.

  "No," she said, "it wasn't the same with Ted. How could it have been? I didn't love you."

  She cried out as his hand tightened in her hair. Hatred, raw and hot, blazed in his eyes.

  "Love," he said, and laughed. "You don't know the mean­ing of the word. We're two of a kind, baby. We never let emotion get in the way of what we want."

  "And you think my son's better off with you? With a man who has no heart?"

  "Love for a child is different. It's the other kind that's a lie. The kind that makes a man think he wants one woman above all others, that makes him defenseless and weak."

  "No," she said, but he'd already slid one hand down her spine, lifting her to him so that she could feel the heat and hardness of his aroused flesh.

  "That's right," he said softly, reading her face, seeing the sudden bloom of color in her cheeks. "What men and women feel for each other hasn't a thing to do with love. I didn't understand that, when we were kids. I wanted you so badly I figured it had to be something special." He lowered his head toward hers until she felt his breath on her skin. "You taught me the truth, Faith. Love is just a word. Desire is what it's all about ...and, damn you, I still feel desire for you."

  He kissed her then, taking her mouth with greedy demand. His kiss was brutal but she didn't care. If anything, she wel­comed the cruelty because if he'd been tender with her-if he'd been gentle...

  Maybe he knew. Maybe he understood that she could want him and fight against the wanting only as long as he hurt her, because his lips softened, moved against hers in question in­stead of demand.

  "Faith," he whispered, and suddenly it was a summer in the distant past when his kisses had meant everything, when she'd loved him. It broke her heart, to remember. And it made her want him with a desperation that drove everything else from her mind.

  She made a little sound, one born of years of empty dreams, and wound her arms around his neck. Cole groaned murmured her name again just the way he used to, as if it were the only word he needed or knew.

  "Faith," he whispered, "open to me," and she did, oh, she did, she parted her lips, sought his taste, took his tongue into her mouth eagerly. He slipped his hand under her jeans, his fingers hot on her naked flesh, seeking out the heat and damp­ness he knew awaited him. She groaned, moved against his questing touch.

  "Yes," she said, "yes..."

  "Mom?"

  The whispered word exploded into the silence. They broke apart. Faith swung around and saw her son standing in the hall in his pajamas, his hair tousled, his old teddy bear hanging from his hand.

  "Mom," he said again, "what are you doing?"

  Faith wondered what would happen if she admitted that she couldn't possibly answer the question, not even if she'd been the one who'd asked it.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  COLE was the one who finally came up with a response.

  "Your mother had-she had something in her eye." Pa­thetic, he thought, even as he said it, but it was all he could think of. It seemed to work. Peter looked in his direction as if he'd just realized he was there.

  "Hey," he said happily, "you came back!"


  "Hey yourself, champ. I told you I would, didn't I?'

  "Did you have a bad dream, sweetheart?" Faith held out her arms and tried not to think about what might have hap­pened if Peter hadn't come downstairs. "Is that what woke you?"

  "Uh-uh. I just thought I heard voices..." He grinned. "And I did," he said, and launched himself past her to Cole, who caught him and swung him around.

  "How you doing, Pete? You okay?"

  "Sure. I'm fine." The boy hesitated. "You said you'd watch that movie with me."

  "I know." Cole set the child on his feet. "I'm sorry about that. I should have called to say I'd run into some problems."

  Peter beamed up at him. "That's okay. You couldn't help it, right?"

  "Right," Cole said easily.

  Wrong, Faith wanted to say. Don't put your trust in this man, Peter. But she smiled instead and held out her hand. "Come on, sweetheart. I'll take you back to bed."

  "Would you like some cookies?" Peter said, ignoring her. "Mommy always lets me have some, when I can't sleep."

  "Sounds like a great idea."

  "Peter." Faith cleared her throat. "Sweetheart, it's awfully late. And Mr. Cameron was just leaving."

  "I'm s'posed to call him Cole. And I already invited him to have milk and cookies."

  "He's just being polite, Peter. He doesn't actually want-"

  "Sure I do." Cole ruffled Peter's hair. "I love cookies. Especially... I don't suppose you have Oreos, do you?"

  Peter grinned and reached for his hand. "The double kind," he said.

  Faith watched the man and the boy walk away. After a few seconds, she followed them to the kitchen, stood by stiffly as Peter got out the milk, two glasses and the Oreos. Cole swung him onto a stool at the counter, then sat down beside him. I might as well not be here, she thought, as she watched her child listening, enraptured, to the lies spewing from the lips of the man she hated.

  "I'm sorry I didn't get back to see that video, Pete. I got caught up in business but I promise, it won't happen again."

  Peter nodded and said he understood. But he didn't, Faith thought bitterly. How could an eight-year-old possibly under­stand that Cole would lie whenever it suited him? Not that it mattered. Cole could have brought the house down around their ears and her son would have found a way to explain it. Her little boy was knee-deep into hero worship of this stranger ... except, he wasn't a stranger. He was the man who'd fathered him.