He hadn’t realized how much life and power Kerri’s optimism gave her until it was gone.
“How do I tell him?” Kerri asked, not looking at Nathan. “What am I supposed to say? Just kidding about that cure thing, kid? It’s so unfair. It’s wrong. All of it.”
Without thinking, he pulled her to her feet and into his arms.
“Don’t give up,” he murmured, holding her close. “You’re stronger than this.”
“I’m not. I’m having a breakdown. There’s a difference.” She sighed. “It’s hard to be strong. I’m faking it every minute. We’ve been living on borrowed time for years now, and I’ve always known it. I’m not giving up,” she repeated. “I just need a break.”
She didn’t hug him back, but that was okay. He wanted to offer comfort—something unusual for him, but he was going with it. When she rested her forehead on his shoulder, he felt the hot dampness of her tears.
“I’ve been willing him to stay alive, but I’m afraid I don’t have anything left. I’ve begged, I’ve pleaded, I’ve prayed, I’ve made bargains with God that will get me sent to hell, but I don’t care. I never cared about anything but keeping Cody going. Giving him the strength to hang on.”
She continued to talk, but he couldn’t listen. Not to this. He put his hands on her shoulders and eased her away, then took a step back.
Cody was her life and without him she would have nothing. She would never give up the way he had.
Nathan pushed the ugly truth away, but it refused to budge. It sat there, round and squat, daring him to deny what had happened. That he’d given up. He’d taken the easy road and he’d never been able to forgive himself for it.
“I’ll fix this,” he told her. “I’ll make Dr. Wallace get back to work on finding a cure.”
She wiped her face with her fingers. “How?” she asked, her voice shaking. “Stand over him with a gun pointed at his head? I already thought of that one. It’s not practical on a lot of levels. For one, your arm will get tired. For another, you can’t make someone care. It doesn’t work that way.”
“I’ll beat the crap out of him if necessary,” he muttered, knowing he would if he had to. “He can’t do this. He took the money.”
She looked at him. “It was a wire transfer, Nathan. You can’t refuse those. But I would suggest you watch your mailbox. I’ll bet he sends it back. Or gives it to someone else.”
“He can’t.”
“How are you going to stop him?”
“I’ll have Jason talk to him.”
“Lawyers can be scary,” she said. “But not scary enough. Besides, Dr. Wallace is old. You can’t beat up an old scientist.”
“If he’s old, it makes my job easier.”
Her mouth quivered slightly. For a second, he thought she was going to smile and started at his sudden need to see her spirits lift.
“I could have Tim do it, but he would be insulted by the lack of challenge,” he said.
She nodded, then began to cry again. She collapsed back on the sofa, sobbing as if her heart would break.
He stood there awkwardly, not sure what he should do. He’d tried hugging and that hadn’t worked. He was out of ideas and desperate.
He went into the kitchen and started opening cupboards. He found plates, glasses and food, but nothing to drink.
“Don’t you have anything to drink?” he yelled. “Vodka? Scotch? Cooking sherry?”
“Stop raiding my kitchen,” she said from the doorway. “No, I don’t have any alcohol.”
“Is it a religious thing?”
Despite the tears, her mouth turned up at the corner. He felt like a hero.
“I can’t afford it,” she said. “Nathan, this is the real world. I think milk is expensive. I’m not going to waste my money on something like vodka.”
“We have to talk about your priorities.” He crossed to the phone and picked it up, then dialed directory assistance. “Yeah. Songwood. The liquor store.”
He pulled a pen out of his pocket and wrote on a scrap of paper on the counter. “I’ll have something sent over,” he told her. “You have any preferences?”
“I don’t think they deliver.”
“They do now. I’ll get some food in here, too. What do you want?”
WHEN NATHAN KING DECIDED to take charge, he did it in a big way, Kerri thought as she watched him talk to the manager of her local Albertsons. He’d already persuaded the local liquor store clerk to drop off his order and now was negotiating the same treatment with the grocery store.
She knew she should have protested the gallons of milk, the jumbo laundry detergent and the pounds of meat and chicken he’d requested, but that would take more effort than she had. What did it matter if Nathan bought her and Cody some food? When the sky was falling, it was hard to worry about the little things.
After he’d hung up the phone, he put down his pen. “I got fried chicken for tonight. I didn’t think you’d want to cook.”
“That was thoughtful. Thank you. For all of it.”
He shrugged. “No big deal.”
“I’ll never get through all that liquor.”
“The Scotch is for me.”
“What about the rest of it?”
“One day you’ll want to celebrate. And you’ll be ready.”
“For a whole party?” She studied him, the hard lines of his face, his dark eyes. She never would have thought of him as a kind man, yet it was there…in him.
She glanced at the clock. “Cody will be home soon.” She was going to have to pull herself together. Make sure he didn’t know she’d been crying. “You can’t say anything.”
“I won’t,” Nathan told her.
“It’s better if he doesn’t know. If he believes everything will be fine, then maybe it will.”
“I agree.”
Did he? Really?
“Why are you here?” she asked. “What made you come over today?”
“Linda called and told me there was a problem. You weren’t at work and you didn’t answer your phone at home. I wanted to make sure you were all right.”
Checking up on her? No one had done that in years. Not since Brian—a lifetime ago.
“Don’t get too excited,” he told her. “This isn’t going to happen again.”
But it had happened now. She had someone to lean on, even for a moment. It felt good.
“I need to get cleaned up,” she said, and retreated to her small bedroom with its even tinier bathroom.
When she looked at herself in the mirror, she nearly shrieked. She looked like an extra from a cheap horror movie. Her skin was blotchy, her eyes and mouth swollen.
After washing her face, she put a cold, wet washcloth on her eyes for a couple of minutes, then went for a lot of concealer and mascara.
When she was sure she wouldn’t frighten her son, she returned to the living room, just as Cody walked in the front door.
“Do I know you?” Kerri asked.
Her son grinned at her. “I’m your only kid.”
“I don’t think so. I’m sure I would have remembered giving birth.”
“You’re really weird, you know that, right?” Then he dropped his backpack on the floor and moved toward her.
She let him hug her so she wouldn’t squeeze too hard, even though she wanted to hang on forever and never let go. When he stepped back, she pointed to Nathan.
“You remember Mr. King,” she said.
“Hi, Mr. King,” Cody said.
“Call me Nathan.”
“Okay.”
There was an awkward silence. Kerri picked up her son’s backpack. “Do you have any homework?”
“Just some reading. I did it at lunch. I’m hungry. Are there any cookies left?”
She pointed to the cracked, twice-glued cookie jar in the shape of a football and tried not to think about the fact that her son could do his reading at lunch because he couldn’t run around and play like the other kids.
“We’re having fried chi
cken for dinner,” she said to distract herself. “Nathan is having it delivered.”
Cody spun around. “Really? Takeout?”
“You bet. Mashed potatoes and gravy, along with coleslaw and rolls.”
“Sweet!”
“Because there’s something wrong with my cooking?” Kerri asked, pretending to glare at her son.
“No, Mom. It’s great. But sometimes, you know, a change is good. I like takeout. And restaurants.” He made a fist and pretend-punched her in the arm. “But your cooking is the best.”
“I know a pity compliment when I hear one.”
Cody grinned. “Can Brandon come over after dinner?” he asked.
“Sure.”
“I’m going to my room.” He took his backpack from her and maneuvered down the short hallway.
Kerri turned back to Nathan and found him watching her son. She tried to read his expression and couldn’t. Hardly a surprise.
“Are you okay?” she asked quietly.
Nathan turned to her. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”
“I didn’t know if this was hard for you. Being around Cody.”
“Your son has nothing to do with me,” he told her.
“I’m trying to be sympathetic.”
“Not required or welcome. We aren’t all emotional basket cases.”
“What?” She glared at him. “Excuse me? I’m a rock. Considering the setback, I think a small but tasteful breakdown was in order. Who do you think you are, judging me?”
She felt like backing the car over him. She wanted to be intimidating enough to make him cringe.
He stunned her by smiling slowly. “That’s the Kerri I want around. Anger is a lot more useful than self-pity.”
It took a couple of seconds for his words to sink in. “You are so not allowed to play me.”
“Whatever works. Besides, you played me first.”
“It was for a worthy cause.”
“So is this.”
Which meant what? she wondered. “You’re not easy,” she murmured.
“I don’t try to be.” Nathan shoved his hands in his front slacks pocket. “You trust the world and I trust no one.”
“I’m the optimist.”
“Which one of us is going to end up being disappointed?”
He was right about that. “But there’s more to life than being right,” she said.
“There’s winning.”
“Is that what matters most?” she asked, already knowing the answer.
“It beats losing.”
NATHAN HUNG UP the phone and reached for his wine. Kerri sat across from him at the table littered with the remains of their dinner. Cody had inhaled fried chicken like he hadn’t eaten in a week and then excused himself to go off to his room. Kerri was flushed from a single glass of wine, which fit with what he knew of her. She was a good girl, from the top of her glossy hair down to what he would guess were sensibly unpolished toes.
“You’re scary,” she told him. “Dr. Wallace is in big trouble.”
“Nobody screws with me,” Nathan said. “Jason will find out Wallace’s weakness and use it against him.”
“You could just sue him.”
“That would take too long.”
He waited for her reaction to his words, but there wasn’t one. The fact that her son was living on borrowed time wasn’t news to Kerri.
Laughter and a few shouts drifted back from Cody’s bedroom, where he’d retreated with his friend Brandon. Kerri shrugged.
“Video games. Apparently it’s very intense.”
“You don’t play?”
“I’ve tried a few times. I always get my butt kicked. I don’t have the time to devote to becoming an expert. I limit his access to the games, but not by much. He’s a good student. If he enjoys them, why not let him?”
Nathan knew enough to read between the lines. Cody should get in as much fun now as possible, because there wasn’t going to be a later.
He remembered having the same thoughts about Daniel. His son had—
He drew in a breath as an unexpected pain shot through his chest. It was emotional rather than physical, but breath stealing nonetheless.
After all this time, he thought, surprised the ache still existed. He would have said he was over it. But maybe one never recovered from the death of a child.
She picked up her wine and took a sip. “So, Nathan King, tell me about yourself. I only know business stuff. Do you have family?”
“There’s no need to discuss my personal life.”
“Ooh, doesn’t that sound pompous. Does that stick up your butt make it painful to sit down?”
As soon as she spoke, her eyes widened and she set down the glass.
“Did I say that out loud?” she asked, sounding horrified.
“Yes.”
“I am so sorry. That was rude. This is my house and you’re a guest and I should keep comments like that to myself.” She took another drink. “But if you don’t tell me, I’ll just go to Google and get the info that way.”
“I’m surprised you haven’t.”
“I know some things from my research. There’s a reporter who really hates you. Grant Somebody.”
“Grant Pryor. I know him.”
“What’s his deal?”
“He wants to work for a real paper. He thinks the right story about me can get him there.”
“That’s a lot of pressure. For you, I mean. Holding someone’s career in the palm of your hand.”
He smiled. “Now you’re playing me.”
“I know. It’s fun, isn’t it? So why you? Why not some other rich guy?”
“Because I’m a coldhearted bastard and that makes me interesting.”
“Do you really see yourself as a bastard?”
“We’re not having that conversation.”
“All right, but now you have to tell me something about your family.”
“You don’t want to know.”
“Yes, I do.” She smiled. “Come on, Nathan. We’re practically friends. Who’s around still? I know you have an ex-wife, but is that it? Mother? Father? Siblings?”
“One sister.”
“There. Was that so hard?”
Not for her, he thought. But maybe for him. He didn’t like thinking about Frankie, about how she blamed him for what had happened.
“I was pretty young when my parents died,” she told him. “It was a car accident. My grandmother raised me. What about you?”
He supposed in her world the exchange of personal information was natural and expected. It wasn’t in his.
“My mother shot my father, then turned the gun on herself the second year I was in college,” he said flatly. “My sister was seventeen and at home at the time. She walked in on them after the first gunshot.”
Kerri’s face froze in horror. “Oh my God. That’s terrible. For all of you. Nathan, I’m sorry.” She reached across the table and rested her fingers on his hand, as if her touch would help.
“I’m fine,” he told her. “It was a long time ago.”
“Where’s your sister now?”
“Here. In Seattle.”
“Are you close?”
“She blames me for what happened,” he said. “Because when I left, things got worse. My dad was a drunk. A mean drunk. He beat the crap out of my mom and me. Although he never touched Frankie, he wasn’t an easy man to live with. I got out—a football scholarship to USC. That left Frankie by herself to deal with it. Dad picked on her verbally because she wasn’t…” He hesitated. “She has some problems.”
Kerri frowned. “Like what?”
“OCD, mostly. She gets something in her head and it doesn’t go away.”
“Is she seeing a doctor or psychologist?”
“I have no idea.”
Kerri’s eyes widened. “How come?”
“We have nothing to do with each other. I’ve tried to talk to her, get her help, but she won’t have any part of me.”
He�
�d done more than try. He’d practically kidnapped her to get her into a place that was supposed to be cutting-edge, but Frankie wasn’t sick enough to be committed. She’d simply walked out. Sometimes he was convinced she didn’t want to change. That she was happy being on the fringe.
“I support her,” he added, knowing it was stupid—both the mention and the reality of it. She used most of her salary to fund that idiotic out-there ecology group she belonged to, and looked for ways to punish him.
“I’m sorry,” Kerri murmured.
“Don’t be.”
“I can’t help it. I’m very softhearted.”
“You’re wasting your energy on something that doesn’t matter.”
“We’re talking about your family.”
“Mine, not yours,” he reminded her.
“You’re a total cynic.”
“You’re a softhearted fool who assumes the world is a good place.”
She fluttered her eyelashes at him. “I’m also really, really cute.”
She was that, he admitted. More than cute. Sexy. There was something about the way she moved, the openness of her smile. He’d known a lot of beautiful women, but no one like her. Her combination of innocence and determination baffled him. How could she have blackmailed him into giving up fifteen million and yet still be so damn trusting?
Unexpected heat surged within him, making him want to pull her close and kiss her again. He’d liked kissing her before and wouldn’t turn down a repeat performance. There was only one thing standing in his way—he couldn’t know if she was responding because she enjoyed what he was doing or if it was because she owed him.
His ego said of course she liked kissing him, but his brain was less sure, which put him in a damned uncomfortable position.
He stood. “I need to get back to the city.”
“Okay. Want to take some leftovers? There are still a couple of pieces of chicken.”
“I have a full-time housekeeper who cooks for me.”
“Then never mind. We’ll keep them.”
She rose and followed him to the door. “Thanks for coming to check on me,” she said. “You made me feel better, which I didn’t think was possible.”
Accidentally Yours Page 8